words

Your words dissipate and move away with the wind;
I carve mine in rock,
Burn them into the face of the moon
And encode them in the current of my DNA

Still; nothing is forever,
And these timid atmospheres retract at your reproach
In the death rattle of this terrible year

October gives way to cold depression,
Endless assaults on the psyche
And your careless dismissal of my presence
Only adds to this introspective disease

Still; nothing is forever,
And my words hang around even in the shadow of your shunning,
Protracted, loud,
Powerful in their pronouncement of my worth,
Affirmations,
Truths of this indelible being.

2019sm

Every moment
In which I refrain
From reaching out
I grow,
Reaching inward
The spirit swells
Against this temporary casing
Until I feel
As though I may burst
Through the shell
Escaping
Issuing out
Back into the wilderness
Of the source

Every breath
I cycle through
Is eternity
All of this
Is forever
As I vibrate
Longingly
Against the greater energy
Waiting to merge
My spirit
To the passing stream
Of every other

2019sm

Sunday mornings possess a particular phase of gravity, perched perilously
at the edge of criticality

I wake up, empty
And realize I must fulfill my capitalist quota;
Burning through invisible credits will make me whole again

Lurching through the crowd of listless others
I am aware of our oneness
Lost in the fog of space,
Powerless to the gaping maw of systemic spending,
Exchanging little units of our existence
For creature comforts,
Body wash,
Mouth wash,
Nicotine patches
And all manner of temporal attempts
At cleansing the body and the spirit,
All rising in price in lockstep
With the total entropy of this human system

I buy more bread to rot in the cabinet
And my discharge rate peaks
And crashes at 145 dollars and 73 cents

I return to my little cell and empty endless plastic bags of neatly packed things before sending them out into the ocean,
To choke the aquatic brethren,
Those who refused to grow legs and ascend to this other dimension
To suffer outright among the upright vertebrates
To poison the air and further increase disorder

I sit quietly and watch the ceiling fan rotate,
Imagining the swirling chaos at the heart of everything,
Feeling my insides pulled to the surface,
Back to the deep resonance of totality,
My consciousness lunging toward the gate

2019sm

Old men, so terribly afraid
They lean forward and turn the volume up
Their loud and angry thoughts overlap
With the cable network news master’s

Old men so close to the end
They chase the scent of blood like Aztecs
Believing that power rests at the heart of violence
Undoing the only way forward

Old men so hardened by time and yet
So fragile to any and all challenges
Against their phallocentric egos
Impotent to the raging truth of time

Old men so blinded by their singular vulnerability
They must band together like barnacles
Sucking at life’s erosive corners
While proudly growing senile
At the expense of their precious seeding,
The earth overrun and undone
By old men with too much time left

2019sm

Coming alive with midnight
Catching the subconscious in parallel rituals
Cigarettes stuck on repeat as I listen to all the fan motors click on and off before the second sleep
Rolling clockwise with the sun’s steady influence
Across the face of our little bubble

Relativity is stretched to its limits in my bedroom
Gravity wells dip and rise as I fumble around in the dark
Swimming in the endless particle streams
As all manner of subatomic states spin and flip around and through my restless form

I catalogue the sky in its stellar rotation
Sparkling maps of neurons in the firmament
Firing impulses in the overmind
Semantics confuse these minuscule human illusions
We are all just thoughts
Spontaneously arising and disappearing
In the universe’s wakefulness
Brief contemplations
Observations of itself
Little nodes of energy driven by the same seamless and perfect serpentine belt
Stretching across the endless definition of space
Shining back at the synaptic cosmos in ultimate recognition
Just thoughts
Arising and dissipating
Swirling about the truth
Anti-clockwise

2019sm

Suffering is purity
All human entanglement
Distilled to concentrates
Elements to be reasoned upon
Reckoned with
Consumed by

Leaving one life with trashbags in hand
Filled with memories
Longing for space in the new and different
Or yearning for annihilation
Freedom from the traipsing gait
Of so many clustered failures
Spilled out like constellations
Outlines of emotional sagas
Burning brightly at the edge of infinity

Time in its penchant for strangulation
Forever dancing intangibly
Giving shape to existence
Driving forward to the unknown
Spectral geometries so fleeting and abstract
There for a moment
Gone for eternity

2019sm

Lights up my spine like hotel windows
Street lamps that never dampen
The racing electrical impulses
Breathe nerve into the moment

Measure being by the wine glass
Your friends are your worst enemies
There is only you and I
Silence and sound

3 pounds of grey matter
Overflowing with so
Much
Noise

What is the frequency of all this matter
And what does it matter how it all ends
Alone aside a vacant pillow
Surrounded by weeping pillars

I live only now
Not before or after
Just in the waves of neural dialogue
Present for the presence of the terminal axiom

2019sm

Interlacing fields form the frame
Predictive algorithms construct the image
Where are you in it

There is only me,
The itinerant idiot
Toiling away at the heart

Far from reason
I let this become my image
Again

Endless apologies thread the signal
All this but for bad dreams
And emptiness

I burn this wicker effigy
The flicker of promise is summoned again
The season lives indefinitely
Alight among the trees,
The clouds,
The various animal brethren
Who bathe in the temporal warmth
Of yet another passing

2019sm

Whiskey in the dark
Straight
No chaser but the memories of an old man
Defining a pattern to follow
To actualize in the after
Knowing better yet knowing that knowing so holds no relevance in the solipsistic ego

I can see your face now, old man,
More clearly than when you stood before me
Wavering
Ranting needles at the walls
I see through you
I see into me

Recursively
Self defining self like programmed cell deaths
Burning at the edges,
Cold at the center
Consuming one another for the warmth to sustain

I become you, old man,
In the pattern you have set I interweave my own
So that only the matrix of our higher forms are present
Negating these murky brown stained and soiled shadows
Allowing photons
to pass through
Lighting up the path
For our future selves

2019sm

A million conversations intertwining and unwinding within the cave of my skull
Always it is this way
The thoughts reflect back from the bone walls
Echoes, trembling in the dark
And what little light is present reveals ancient carvings, primitive drawings and verses scrawled and etched into every illuminated surface
Longing for an answer, a call back that isn’t my own tremulant voice
Echoes, harmonics resonating then recessing
Echoes, scared and infantile feedbacks
Forever folding inward

Watching loved ones enter the earth,
Merging with the energy in the dirt
Escaping the loop while we remainders of the body
Stand stoic in the rain, clutching the ring as it spins
To keep from flying off into our own ever after
Clinging to this ticking rock
As it rolls through cold and vacuous space

2019sm