waking dream
please, as your
slow and painstaking
walk to nothingness
isn’t an awakening
at all, at all, at all
you’re of a cyclical
constellation
a pattern of recycled
swarms, a cluster of dust
trying to out filter the
gravity of self-worth
How can you have “common sense” when the introduction to your indoctrination probably differs from so many…? Maybe the question is what is “common sense”? Should you dissect each word into syllables of variable circumstances, as to discover what is meant? Maybe a Venn Diagram would be useful, as to pin-point where common sense is truly exhibited in all human occasions of which that validates worth: labor, money, intellectual bullshit…
Wreckless is to give all of yourself to another.
You’d become harshly aware of the unforgiving cold
once they’re gone, and suddenly you’ve been freed to a sea of silence
at the top of a mountain where there’s nothing left but ice
the unfathomable void, where loneliness has encased itself
to no one to contend to. The sunlight blinds you with tears of longing
bare tears, full of memories, tending towards trepidation.
If you consider the consequence
of a loner’s heart, an irrationality
beats full of irreverence to relativity
to spatial dynamism.
Wanting a ruinous rain
to rid these cursed thoughts…
If you consider these
then they will appear
when you believe you
need them the most
and hope will transcend
into belief of the undoing
trust won’t be an instinctive
feat of the mind crawling out of body.
One of my pet-peeves is seeing people standing around doing nothing.
Then spin
a wheel of string
rope to play hangman with
buy time making
cardboard sleeves
just in case
drench a spineless shirt wet
without purpose
groove a grave in.
Hot coffee burns
lukewarm finger tips
nervously preparing
another lie–
There’s always something to be
Re
Dun
Dun
Dun
Dant:
paper
napkins
styrofoam
cups
plastic
spoons
sporks
forks
knives
Go Here!!
Swab slabs for red tape feelers
appearing in the dark
early morning’s stock rooms
after-hour cheap cockroaches
re-stock stocked shelves
a different kind of vermin
catches clockwise
the wheel churning
dynamic stale Splenda
an apron in slow motion
a smorgasbord of the top ten
most talented
next showcase:
Insecure Specials
End
less
List
less
events in Crayola:
Italian Panini
amused eyeballs
Cuban Sub
electricity
Cajun Chicken
clapping to attention
Tuna
Big smiles at the door
clean floor needing a good scrub.
If I must forget…
then let it be the time
when our dialects got in the way
instead remember that day
I brought her beads of rain
in a jewel glass so she can marvel
at the rainbow it made.
Let me forever keep the excitement in her eyes then
as they shine so vividly with golden brown visions.
If I must forget…
Then let it be the time
I lost the rhythm of her hymn
and was selfish in my desires.
Instead remember that initial embrace
where time was forgotten, was frozen
all that was present was the heart of happiness.
Like a stupid pioneer
I’ve labored the earth
searching for her tenderness
with a nonsensical reason
I’ve toiled the terrane
with a nonsensical reason
in vain, I’ve wanted to invent
wanting invention to resemble what I’ve felt.
I shall continue to create
the foolish, a heart ablaze,
waiting silently in my studio for her return.
To be that close
as midnight catches
us sheltering under
a peep of an awning.
To be that close
to only the rain
coming in on us
you reminded me
of a place I would go
running away with you
with you, with you next
to me, I reminisce
a daydream of a place
of a place where the air
hummed an unspeakable
glee whispering in the wind
Oh if only you knew what it meant to me…
…suffers me in green vines
as all of my being is fighting
all of my being is pleading
as soon as I know my threshold
has come, and devastated my conscious
breath with all those silent wishes
gripping to a tendency of faith
that I’ll still be here to cherish my longing
longer, to promise me tomorrow…?
While waiting for the train
a hopeless demeanor draped
a dismay so dread
that I begged for atonement.
And relief came to be placed
inside bubbles, my childhood
was reflected in magenta rays.
A horizon that included all of us
It was no longer a blister
a globule of air anymore
But real.
relinquished midnight
to your unrequited
howling moon
a cascading curse
pretending to covet
your bad choices
with promises
of a better tomorrow…
relinquished midnight
come sing for me
as my moon howls
a cascading curse
pretending to covet
my bad choices
with promises
of the sun rising
tomorrow my words
my words would
won’t remind you
of my pleasing smile
stained with an unrequited
emanation…
Catch me when
I’m not an awkward butterfly
lighting almost on the exhausted hibiscus
a weary comfort for a glimpse
an imprint on the fading sun
Catch me when
I’m not a bitter blue caged parrot
calling out for jack daniels like my owner
not owning a thing but a feathery bird
Catch me when my cliche is filled
jelly rolled happy joy, sunshine sprinkles
too consumed with sugary goodness of opposites.
Do parallels meet in the infinite demise of one?
Do we call them an equilibrium?
a jelly roll, then a shot of jack?
“…the oppressed…exist in a dialectical relationship to the
oppressor, as his antithesis-that without them the oppressor could not
exist…The oppressed can over come this contradiction in which they
are caught only when this perception enlists them in struggle to free
themselves.” — Paulo Freire
endeavors
I wasted them
too much on You: an unspecified person or people in general
word phrases, such as “Fuck them”, even with good intentions
built on good things, I am afraid of losing, and I still want to hold onto, as is
diagrams, making a backlash blueprint, a deja vu
fully endorsed for You to fully forget the previous
a most cunning I, a most depleted but
where’s yours, where’s mine
reminiscent comet
ricocheting the earth’s surface
eclipsing the sun
burning with spinning promise
scattering cinders of hot bread
thoughts shattered across the hemisphere
where You, I, we live.
Because of these.
No, these…
that declared war on my native tongue.
I’ve been suffering the insufferable,
suffocated,
sullied,
sullen,
stunted.
Silenced of words to scream out that which submerge
for life savers to be thrown at my pleas.
Not knowing what to say has swallowed my delight.
All that remains is a bloated ill-figured shape.
To converse with the sensible is beyond exhaustion.
I’m a child again trying to talk in “big people’s business”,
stuck in between sentences with stuttering importance.
Gone mute now, a Carthusian monk’s vow is my tongue
I’m but a beggar for a point of view
some kind of vision that will help me escape
this state, where even grunting seems useless…
That notebook holds my heart in its stem
That notebook holds love in its leaves
flicking a new chance on a page, I watch
every time, I watched her naked body
through the curtains of each misspellings
as I try to replicate her touch, her, her gaze
erase the words that doesn’t see the depths of her
a notebook heart, and I want to divulge
through my bloody blue ink everything
this leaf gives me, and I want to draw her
laughter so you too can be made exuberant
by her foliage, her dance of unknown syllables
that colors my dreams every night, and brings me
closer to possessing the fleeting secret of joyousness
When I hear you howl|
I hear you inside me|
I hear you ghosts talking
about yesterday’s melody|
You dream about yesterday’s fatuus
slow as today’s coming close
as me meeting sunrise’s dust|
Has already been done|
So much so I’m walking
for my turns of nothing
but nothing never keeps
never coming getting
getting even with nothing
but my two tacos, just
a hole that hungers
that permeates a want
that thinks about getting closer|
And when I get closer|
I watch what will tip me over
running over, in a splendorous lie|
If you can, if you will, I dare the mirage|
If anything, what tonight has taught me is that I depend too much on an unreliable device, and most frightening of all is that my memory isn’t as sharp as it use to be.
I wanted to say it’s because I’ve gotten lazy, which is possible, but when you’re kinda both a visual/audio person it is sort of suspect, especially when most things today entertain both simultaneously without having a huge satellite dish on your roof (as a kid I always thought that the peeps who had huge satellite dishes were either trying to communicate with the dead and/or aliens) you just need to know how to work a damn handheld device (yeah, that sounds dirty).
I googled memory loss, because I freaked out that I couldn’t remember an address I saw in my email enough times that even a five year old would remember (okay maybe not a five year old, but whatever).
And of course smoking cigarettes came up, and of course I suddenly hear the stern warnings of my doctor who refuses to call me X, but prefers XYZ which just adds to the sternness of her tone because the only person who called me XYZ was my mom, and it usually meant I was in trouble. Which reminds me of this song by Turbo Fruits, but I’m totally detouring by association because I’m hooked on cigarettes, and I don’t want to deal. Also I’m very bored, which means I blah, blah, blah, and smoke some more. Maybe I should take-up a sport… Ugh.
Speak to me
and appear\
in different
tongues…
don”t talk to me
\in english
cause it’s dead++++++
================
阿里郎
了阿瑞宁
I’m a part of your syntactic voice
that speaks to you when you’re
alone and wanting a God to save you.
I’m a part of your sentence
that brawls a branch you crawl on for
survival, the one you call onto
when each and everyone forgot
your name, building your totems.
I’m a part of your debt
that you forgot existed
and want to bury with gold
want to repay me with sterile isolation.
I’m a part of your secrets
that beckons me near afraid
you’re the intruder in the dark
that grew apart from me.
We were brave
letting in a thought
letting in a memory
of your face we touched
let an idea be entirety
dance in front of us…
analyze this softness
one you can’t predict…
Don’t you remember the first time
oh but I reminisce when we didn’t know
what we were doing, but doing it anyway.
What happened?
Did the fire burn out?
Even as I carry a cause
so burns a joyousness.
When I look at you
as I speak in tongues
when we’re together
it hurts surrendering
to the vanishing pitch
mixtapes with our own voices
thoughts gathering together
it hurts surrendering to waves
crashing in, to an exuberant boom
promise of a spark extinguishing.
COCOYEA 
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