Dharma girl, No lava spill

 

Thought for long enough
For sure it’s time to head
Time to ease the greed of picking fruit
From a land already dead

Time to go I guess I should
Try to live like Dharma says
Try to empty my big fat head

A Band-Aid that surely hurts to rip
You’re own fault girl
Told you twice
Not to get addicted to the trip

Ah yeah, the sweetness of connection
Can’t draw blood from stones
Nor should you seek long lasting affection
Soulmind slaps the ego’s face for craving the boy’s attention
It’ll never happen, it never really could
Dharma girl stay far away from things that look too good
Only when you close your eyes will you find everlasting love
If you concentrate enough, the Dharma says you surely would

No time for you to recompense
An almost love that made no sense
Be it metaphysics or chemistry
Be glad you got to feel his energy
And recall it with an image of his lovely, happy face
Maybe it could keep you safe

Your restless heart breeds the urgency
For you to tame right down your fervency
And you’ll become a zealot of emotionless peace
Learning like a child in training
Not to yearn for things that burn and disappear
And so you see your path is clear

The only road is for you to quell
The passion fruit that fuel your hell
Your oxymoron life
It’s the pleasant things that bring you strife

Don’t waste a single moments wisdom
The slightest time was just enough
Did you guess that fate would disclose
That neither chose to call the others bluff

Though how much I wish we could have spent
A few afternoons in bed
Three bottles of red each
With a microscope to his head
Maybe he’d finally concede
To my cataclysmic lava spill
A momentary truthful break
From my unwavered perfect still

Stopped rolling long enough
for a heart of stone to gather moss
Pick it up, kiss it and proceed to scrape it off
There’s no time to wait around
You surely see each other’s fate
Feel no loss from the hand your dealt
And let it hold no abstract weight

Tune back in, to move in tandem
With the weightless, eastern way
And all the pains of my human dumb
Will surely melt in the eastern sun

 

 

 

Coffee Cups

Oh how very nice it all is
The bustle, the coffee cups and the shite talk
She doesn’t trust her boyfriend (if he is even that)
This random bus shite talker
How very great it all is
To have something going on
She has education and  coffee cups
And a fast paced heart
A caffeine sick soul

A slow metabolism for life’s hurdles
But a fast reaction

And some people long for that life
For mind numbing and  propaganda
Taylor Swift is catchy yeah
And she must be better than I am, so
(Well she is famous)
Not as famous as Hitler though
(He must be better still)
They both  have different ways to kill

The mob
You must have something going on
As many things as you can
Quantity over substance
The mob
The hazardous pricks
The mob of coffee cups
And, ha, education
Out of school like an educated fool

How very good it is
The head holes
The pseudo goals

The mob
The oblivion
The throb
The ever-going beat of  neediness
And consumption
I’m a fool for it too
I consume smoke
I consume when I don’t need to
But I think that they
Consume  themselves
Put themselves up high on some shelves
Beside the others that look, talk and  love
Just like them

I’ll go to war with Henry Charles B.
And hold the ground that allows me life

Go On Now, Go ’way

Go on, Go ’way

The constant face of catatonia
The gaunt and elegant face of void
The blank fucking wall where which I bounced my needy thoughts,
Off the wall, in my grasp
Off the wall, in my grasp
The same empty return
The face that barely twitched
As I spilled my soul on a greasy table top
The fuck that fucked me up
And depleted sweet ego to nothing
The face that only changes to sniff the scent of fresh flowers or to voicelessly say
‘I told you so’
The face I kissed with warmth dismissed
The sack of meat, that part of cosmos
That barely vibrated , that I vibrated for
The dead end Cul de Sac
That looked real nice but went nowhere
The dead man is gone

The frequent fix that killed my will
I hope you lessen day by day
What I might have attained
Is lost in dirty memory,
An image stained with dead eyes
Two, only two times did I vocalize my unheard cries
Your  slow, slippery, slither, quality lies
Blatant snakery, shaking our foundation of all but fakery
And there’s no harm in getting belligerent
Lower levels of cosmos
The brain is dead, not well fed
Poisoned instead
Not just from substances but from where attention lays
Mindless computer games in a daze
Phase out slowly,
I’ll try to coldly neglect the lump of death that was left in my chest

Go to where you’ll go
Some of where you were before I met you
And some of somewhere else
Blabber mouthing about the side of the universe you never met
Out with some lay with a wet spot between the legs
Talking illusions, image-thought confusion,
Hallucinations of solid reality walls
Get hit by reason, watch it, it crashes
It falls
Big costumes for men who feel small
Big grins for men with no teeth at all
A straight jacket for a backboneless sack of homeliness
A nest egg full of empty kegs and useless legs
Wheelchair barer, stare at the fair ones
Seduce them with lies till they’re beside you long enough to develop blind ties

The room with mirror walls
Only reflects the self
A mind to be checked
The only echoed sound,
The illusions of thought
The raw hallucinations my dream catcher never caught
Float in the air as I stare into space
Fucking rat race,
In tune to find one’s own pace

The toxic drug I spill into my mouth
Is the ink from the quill that finally got out

 

Dear Friends Of Many Faces

Dear Friend of Many Faces
I relish all of our moments and I see them like the bright orange molten embers that dance through the dying wood
Immeasurable, terribly bright and absolutely unkeepable
I watch these moments pass all the while silencing the violence of my innate urges to catch them all and box them up in glass cases
As a spectacle for me in my museum ‘Friend of Many Faces’

We have done so many things and been so many places
And for so many lovely moments passed my minds been left bereft of any traces
So many times entangled in the depths of your conversations but times mostly melted the memory of the words that cracked open revelations made and the fullness of the colour of the bricks I used to pave the path that I still walk day in, day out
And would I carry these bricks on my back? Oh I would without a doubt
And use them to pre build my tomb and inside them indefinitely sleep
But in this slice of cake we live where these things weren’t made to keep
You’ve not been made to be held as my possession
And I admit frustration in my learning of this lesson
The facts of this universe don’t yield to my depression that in this slice of cake we live, we only get one taste to savor
Ultimatum is there? No. That we all have different flavours
So the time we share together will surely end as short as quavers on the scores of our adventures from birth till death

The arms that held my crying head, the body of loves that shared my bed
The walls that hid me from my mother, the breath of life that stood beside me exhaling the same smoke in those evenings full of youthful wonder, the teeth that tore my dread a sunder
The muscle that plunged my head deep down under water then lifted me to my first gasping intake of what I call real life
The fingers that stole the bottles I drank which set my soul on fire

For all of you the same desire lingers
That I could keep you all so close to be my muscle, my teeth, my breath
That you could hang around forever and be mine until my death
But for most of you I’m sure I’ll find that the coloured bricks you use to pave your paths with will lead you finally away
Not quite intentionally but I hope with some deliberation

Friend of Many Faces, friend of different minds
As time goes by erosion and creation form a separation
And we are named as different kinds of this and that
A fucking mish mash of things it is
But nature does just what it wants
Sun up, sun down and change persists
I see but glimmers of you as we stand at polar ends of space and view
from odd off angles
making our beds at counter sides of society, the great big fucking hoax
And the bitter joke is that even still, there is no time for us to kill
And if I had a full cake of slices I’d merge our consciousness together of our virtues and vices
And melt them into a hot pot of party animals, coffee shop ponderers, world wanderers, intellectual savants, Jesus Christ’s, devils and fucking dopes
And spend eternity trying to get to the bottom of it all
But crispy death, the dry leaf falls and is finally crushed by the busy man’s shoe as he thinks upon his lovely spouse that isn’t you

Friend of Many faces
I see nothing for me to try
But let nature do just what it wants and let the fires die