things which, in the past few months, i’ve randomly thought and subsequently written down

Lies come in all shapes and sizes
but they all crush the same when added up.

***

One who does not know the distress of another,
but believes he may,
is allowed nothing himself to know of himself.

***

Without the dictation of willed presentation of spirit,
there is but emptiness and caustic platitude.

***

Those who seek to nullify another are without themselves.

***

A chorus without chords is silence, which holds its own music, in a way.

***

Preachers who move amongst the wind cannot see through it-
but in falling into it, they are thrust onto each other
and must tumble together.

***

There is no ‘zero’ in nature. Even within empty space, there is infinity.

***

In a land of opportunity,
My hands are on my hips and
Twinkle in the sunlight, giggling;
Happy and aloof.
Cigarettes too many, most
Dignifying random hosts aplenty
And outward on my own, no longer.

Breezes whisper motionless please,
Followed by a land-lock.
Hug your people long and soft or hard…
But long, please.
And huddle in.
See jazz in all beings.

***

That which is fixed only seems random inside ignorance,
even when the odds are in your favor.

***

Anger is the brash of the bridled.

***

An idea i had, and an idea, an idea

Christianity is night;
Islam is day;
Judaism is the mountain;
Natives, the plains;
Buddha has its forest,
And where does the forest begin?
When all of these together
Is the art of eARTh.
And yet somewhere I’ve forgotten something…
Oh, Scientology:
Made up bullshit based on money.

Hey look, i made poetry
About all of the above having been wrecked and buried,
Because god is unclear
To the forcefully married to him.
And yet as i leave for a smoke, bewildered
I am still coming back for to say:
You are all so correct and all so fiction
‘Cause you wanted it, wanted it
Wanted it Your way.

And now i’ve remembered:
Percentages cows…
Hindi extr’ordin’ry
Yet still pointing toward clouds.

***

Listen to the woods. For your soapbox is a trashcan.

***

A man lonely at night alone in the city is not but alone in the city at night.

***

With or without insanity, i still feel surrealistic.
What a blessing.

***

Bring a pencil everywhere.
The ink won’t run
And the peace won’t tear.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s