Sunday, February 26, 2006

earth moods

making the earth speak is quite difficult but also quite possible since it speaks to all thoughs who listen with what they know and have known i seem to be cought in a loop ive talked of this before but dealing with dreams on the phone that i never call into the night lights we dream and have drempt

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

any of these things

I don’t have, had any of these things.  When does the price come down as, living life costs too much too?  Burning my fingernails in my coffee-n there is nothing left to sit on in this time warp called conic distortion.  Where does the ever-expanding explanation of music make sense to the different languages that are.  Paying the doorman again for the door to infinity I end up else where?  Read the red working ants as they burn there way into the lost shining sun that circles in their minds eye.  Ever green lines under the skies that grow and grow into mush.  This girl is bright this girl is now their right.  Perfection becomes the most imperfect thing that existed in the list of things to do next.  True believers don’t believe anything and everything they do believe is not real.  Proven trust comes past the endless flow of Buddha’s path that leads nowhere and that is where I have been but still are I am.  Flowing following freely into the abyss of bliss.  The boat floats in the tub till I pull the plug.  I’ve drown in my thoughts of nothingness that I can’t resist their effected drifts into the real.

Monday, February 20, 2006

That would not fly

That would not fly if you dropped it out a fifth floor window.
What if you test it with your washing machine?
I’ve upgraded the washing machines OS to a new level of understanding.
We can see other things that are not real yet we need to make them real.

Toying worthless pages – books have no meaning to Gaia the great.
The skin of an orange blesses our little hut with our mindless nut.
Trust in ever-wavering crescent tides of life and lifelessness turmoil.
Vast in understanding under the sands of timeless effortless expressions are.

Perched on a preaching stool inside the batters box of cookies.
Pronouned by endless corrections of it, is I not me or he.
Tongue in eye like candy in a bottle of juice is.
Is it not well enough to see the bouncing pogo sticks stick in the mud?

No not what I was thinking but what I thought again and again over the days of lifeless existence where things don’t matter but matter is a thing we must create with the energy we have left and right I am in saying so.