The Copenhagen Maybe

Flat streets, angelic blue eyes and faceted, clear minds.

We list, we ply. Drunk, presenting a smiling and

pleasant dance of maybe, yes let's, no not today, hesitant,

charming, panting, spring prance.

Enchanted fey-play, yes, but planting genuine

layered residence in a fragrance sought.

These seeds spin globes, and drop

the reticence, feed the playful,

artful passions, crescere the resonance,

and present a whole new world;

a melange of potent, lovely sense.

O

I

suffer

I want

Suffer

I want more

Suffer

I want more from life

Suffer

I want more friends, more family

Suffer!

I want more comfort, more possessions

Suffer!!

I want more recognition, more reputation

Suffer!!!

I want the best, the most, the greatest

SUFFER!!!

I don’t want this pain

Suffer!!!

I don’t want to be so much for so many people

Suffer!!

I don’t want so many things, I have enough

Suffer!

I don’t want to work so hard for love

Suffer

I don’t want much out of life

Suffer

I don’t want

Suffer

I don’t

suffer

I

O

Words

Words
Sense Signals
From Cranial Channels
Marks for Mind
Subtler than Sand

Strictly Signposts
Roses are Unfaxable
Tears are Untextable
Soul, Unspeakable

As Phone to Phone
Inside to Inside
Words are Wires
and Much is Missing

Among Communication Cables
Poetry Outperforms All
With Words Woven and Wound
Richness is Received

More

I think I want more. Do you want more? I could really use more. Because I don't have enough. But if I had more it would be great. Wouldn't it? Once I have more I will be satisfied, I would. I would get to that place where I'm not right now. Because I'm not there yet, but I see where I want to go. It just requires a bit more. So I'm looking for it, and it kind of leaves me dissatisfied because I don't have it: that little bit more. It's kind of like a gnawing, a little empty burning inside. I hope I find more soon.

Smack, the door

Smack, the door

The street whirs and clops, slides, squeals and drips. Crunch through alleys, and check your back

Then briefly raised eyes note the noise, the neighbors, never before seen strangers, the colors of the sky, the rote on the path

Shifting fabric, tight leather and make-upped lips, blouses and bling, the singing blind, the mariachi band, the dark skin, single-minded, not interested, do not threaten me, but check out my fucking ass

Hot caffeine heats the hand, quickly downed grains turn queasy with fruit and the heavy sack of books, business cards, cell phone Ready for action

Rolling wheel, shift, shift, shift, move, stop, shift, move. Dodging breathing barriers, hips, elbows and sickness, avoid mouth and eyes, no thank you, no, no time, no change, no nothing

Making for the green walking man but getting the orange hand. Paused, momentum held like the coiled jackhammer spring. Single-minded staring

Clang, grunt, clang, metal on metal, release, stone chunks shift, fly, katharsis, release, yes, clang, yes, clang, Yes, clang, YES, CLANG, YES, getting down at the orange hand

Spit, sip, glance, shift, green man, walk, heavy bag, shift, young skirt, hips, glance, stirring sex, hand on door. Impromptu plans, girl onto the bed, naked breasts, beautiful everything and wild fucking, a devoted, wonderful person, a lifetime of joy

Eyes up and jump onto the rising metal teeth, squeezed between, another sexually needy, breathing, caffeine loaded being, avoiding physical anything, dreaming too

Repeat five times. Sixth floor. Countdown of nine, eight, seven...

Fluorescent bees greet, along with juvenile seats

Pause

The Dream and the Jewel

Sweet sweet One!
You are a joyful thing
A glittering priceless Soul
Hidden in heavy velvet wrapping

Truth Joy Bliss Glory Grace
Is Soul
Uncovered
A gem shining
Limitless light

This Material Mirage
Looks real
But like a dream
It is forgotten as soon as you
Wake Up!

Soul's eyes, when they open
See the safe signs of a home
She forgot in that dark dream
Where everyone told her
She was crazy

Why be content with the wrappings,
Pretty though they are?
Why lie around dreaming,
If the dream keeps biting you?

Open up
All is One
God in me salutes God in you
We are nothing
We are everything
We are perfection

A sick soul is a soul divided
A cracked gem loses its luster
Find a good doctor
Who has the right medicine
Who gives you comfort
Who brings you back home

A garden with a tree

Growing into the sky, leaves plummeting down to the earth only to shower the fragile and ever-changing lives of thousands of species struggling to survive.

A tree with thick and gnarled trunk, like a huge knotted muscle, rough with slowly peeling great slabs of bark.

This tree, stretching through all the atmospheres, its top leafy tendrils play with the arcing brilliance of solar flares and create delicate designs in the passing dust.

How lucky this tree is to be where it is; all the circumstance in the universe bent towards creating the unlikely and irregular conditions spawning its birth.

Growing inwards, outwards, sideways, deeper and deeper... becoming more and more, a symbiosis of many races, and many people, no longer distinguishable from each other. No longer can we say the tree ends and the other begins.

The tree is changing,

and maybe it is this knowledge which gives it a glimpse of something more, something like a universal knowledge... maybe...

And maybe the tree knows that one day it will come crashing down,

its branches that reach across the world having aged,

its leaves, fallen,

its needles having dried,

the tree's roots will transform back to earth,

all of its parts will stop pumping the nutrients of life through the great tubular veins beneath its skin.

There will be one last blooming of flowers,

one last casting of spores,

as the tree utters its death poem and cries out through the colors and seeds in the sky.

Beautiful, it will become the garden,

Beautiful, it will die

Beautiful,

Birth

Noise Chaos Movement

Business Romance Philosophy

City Job Family

Ripples Bubbles Waves
Dive

Ocean Depth

Crystal Elixir Peace

Consciousness

Eyelid Flash Sun

Moon Ether Luminesscence

Awareness Understanding Joy

Freshness Bliss Courage

Freedom

Thought

Birth

End

Happy

Love is seeing things clearly

Joy too

Maybe sadness

Touching terrible tarantulas

Tantrums

Greed Is, Anger Is, Desire Is

Is Not

Is icing on the joy cake

Is Not needed

Is moderately tasty

Is Not health food

But I enjoy it with pure clean water,

And Thanks

Thanks

Peace

Art's like a garden-
Living decoration

A long talk
With a good friend
Or enemy

Can you translate
God's palette?
Smell, colour, taste, touch, sound
Light dark invisible

Art is creation, of course
and destruction, salvage, transformation
dispose recycle waste conserve
scream sing whisper

END

A Strange Type

On the bluff this morning
Breakfast is served
Raven circle
And make rough music

A strange type
Who sits above a busy town
Eating potatoes
Running from God

Running to God

Elephant eons parade
Down infinity road
This day is a speck of dust
Floating to oblivion

Humanity makes me think of a wheat-field
Go ahead, grow tall
But never forget the harvest
When your fruit will be tossed in with all the others'

Just another grain in God's bread

A strange type,
Who plugs poetry into ether
Talking to himself
Running from God

Running to God

On the way to Mendenhall lll

Thicker than water,

Depth from cold breath, and simple neat breadth beneath feet, and snowy steps, a frozen creek.

Crunch, scrunch,

Loud, white, words, when you are alone the world breathes with you, and your soul is airborne,

Trees, stillness, snow, stillness, moving water, stillness, physically these things are pieces of your mind, pieces of a gold mine, pieces of sublime, pieces, pieces, pieces

Pieces of a bigger picture, pieces of the simplest existence fixture, the ultimate tincture, concentrated until, expanded, exploded, up, down, around, lost and... found

re-found, by a creek and white voices that speak beneath feet, deep.

On the way to Mendenhall II

Here is my response:

Taste 40,000 spruce needles
And the blood
of dying glaciers

Sip an aspen leaf-
Thousand pebble,
Superpotentized
Homeopathic

A manfly
is drawing precious fluid
from the mountain's artery

Consciousness
is water ever-fresh
Use it
to wash away any stain

On the way to Mendenhall

My friend lives out of town & has no running water. She must draw it from a wild stream. The water has the freshest, most exhilarating taste I have ever experienced. She wrote me this poem:

i met you for the second time
plastic bucket walled with ice
hanging from the stark willow hand
above a now thickened rectangular entry
that someone chopped out in haste (or care)
it may really not have mattered to them
just to get your water
but as long as i say thanks.

different than the first time
more vehicle tracks and another scoop show your use
many layers of snow and spilt water
making it hard to reach within the depths
on my knees plunging a five gallon jug
with not yet frozen hands
and I wonder if I'll be able to come to you again,
Stony Creek?

A wonderful quote

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
-Mark Twain

In a space, relieving myself of fever whispering dreamy limits.
Destitutely being swept along, not for long, living to be in service, appreciated, indeed.
Money matters most, in situations like people breaking bones and cutting beauty for fear like panicked eyes, ear to ear, teeth-baring, salive spitting howels because the darkness is attacking. I don't know and I don't know. Scaring the children into scaring the children.
I can feel filthy; pleasant conversations vainly radiating liberal sensations of mock understanding, skin-deep is what is creating.
For fear of life? For fear of trifling? For loving addictions, satisfying ones own pleasant predictions in mock religion? For wasting.
And yet wisdom, age-old; behold facets manifold gained through pain of unknowing. Being the mind-blowing, mindfully not knowing.
Walking brightly, while blindly going.

What's Going On?????

I heard from someone on the street
That a friend of mine is in jail
For stabbing her daughter's father
In the chest and the groin.

From this decision she made
Imagine the reprecussions
Ripples spreading
Through me, you too have been impacted
By what you've just read.

Actions spring from thoughts
Everythought matters
Everyword creates
And the whole world's screaming.

From one couple
A whole tribe is created
One little lie
Soon becomes an ocean of lies...
And one good word
Brightens the universe.

originally posted by Perfection of the Static

Post number one

The first of a collaboration concept. Whatever may be, may be. (kay sirrah sirrah...)