ANOTHER DAY  (6-7-89, San Diego, CA; spontaneous  stream of semi-autobiographical, impressionistic, free-flow-spill)  

another day      
       usually  he spits      
at all the oblivious      
       pathological dominance      
yet thinks n he  at times      
       some gene  some thing      
gone bad  or only      
       berserk  perhaps      
controls  affects      
       or quirks this lad      
some mutant things      
       strange prominence      
arrives n mind      
       just waiting to be had      
but will he take it      
       just look at all      
this evidence      
       for here n resides      
his confused sense      
       thus finds he      
at such a wonder n      
       and so  slips further      
away  beneath most days      
       where looking up      
he sometimes sees      
       outlined graves      
and other such illusions      
       where logic rains n      
thunder n  roll n fall      
       unheard n pointless      
but seen n mud puddles      
       pool n here  formed      
of yet more words      
       lightning crash      
crack splash the black      
       yet somehow  he knows      
only he heard      
       so he blegs n  blats      
n begs for blats n  blegs again      
       just for fun        
self amusement      
       or maybe just      
for the hell of it      
       to bend those      
straight lines      
       to see  to feel      
the space between      
       to dwell on things      
sweet mysterys n    
       though others dont      
think so well of it      
       but such are his      
criterion n why not      
       long crossed      
the paths of tolerance      
       no desire at all      
to compete or win      
       mind inscribed      
with belief  or fact      
       that there is      
no place n there      
       are no friends      
here for him      
       or there for that      
no care n the eyes      
       of those who roam      
much less his own        
        now prolonged      
denial  of any true      
       home sweet home        
of known  or      
       assumed origins      
all the pain      
       he ever felt      
waits inside to be      
       dealt back out again      
he senses it there      
       but hopes he never      
finds  nor pulls      
       its figurative trigger      
good n bad      
       just waiting      
to be had      
       the power to deny      
the power to deliver      
       does such vagueness      
make you mad      
       or does it      
make you figure      
       even those who      
seek his thighs      
       n find his eyes      
find caves of need      
       that have heeded n  
like bubbles trapped      
       n glass  he cant      
break out  they        
       must break n  
n then from somewhere      
       even deeper within      
cool hate  or love      
       relates like bubbles      
trapped n them      
       to cast away      
without hearts touch      
       so much of him      
as he  at times      
       does of them      
save for the skin      
       we are all      
more or less      
       thus condemned      
yet with it      
       we are damned      
even more so      
       he notices at times
how the eyes of some  
       so often seem  
to stare n seek
       to destroy
or tear apart      
       two unknowns      
out of judgment      
       or out of fear      
sparks extinguished      
       gone      
still feely  he      
       goes on again      
crawling out      
       crawling in      
even betwixt      
       the crust n  flux n      
flim n  muck n      
       mire worlds      
of lower case      
       crus ta cean        
yet  his world      
       feels lower still      
amid the ruin      
       the sin n swill      
in his mind      
       if not in fact      
for real        
       for truly  there s  
no difference here      
       by either choice      
or accident      
       he became this      
broken wheel      
       that futilely spins      
n squeals      
       but seems to      
go nowhere      
       only he knows      
how far n     
       deep it goes      
how real  this journey      
       he cant slow      
so pick n he there      
       through all      
despair  n wound      
       of trial        
n countless      
       tears  shed n    
suppressed      
       for years n years      
beyond his child n      
       struggle doom  
n other programmed      
       fears  yet still
hopes n heart      
       some day to find      
a flower  so pure      
       he dreams      
unfolding like      
       a bursting star      
brighter though      
       it seems      
the power of      
       all things n him      
the same        
       in you n me      
cuts sharp      
       as a knife      
like fireworks      
       going off      
n the night      
       bursting into      
cosmic bloom      
       bursting beyond      
the hurting tune      
       of life  he      
sometimes      
       gloomy whistles      
bursting above      
       the frightened      
brittle heads      
       of all oppression      
locked n dreads      
       or knot  
he soars  into      
       his golden hour      
somehow begot      
       if not forever      
then for now      
       for surely this      
becomes his      
       holy cow      
the cut that      
       whittles out      
such sweet  sad      
       understanding      
then quite      
       by surprise      
his open hands      
       his heart n mind      
suddenly realize      
       as he  himself      
becomes      
       a faster vibration      
of energy      
       of higher      
frequency light      
       much more      
commanding      
       beautiful n real      
than anything      
       he has ever      
known before      
       as his senses      
n attention      
       extend      
divine awareness      
       expands      
lovingly into all      
       a tingling rises      
on the rushing wind      
       the universe speaks      
where even his skin      
       will now listen      
more deeply      
       to the magic      
of this      
       n every      
passing      
       moment  
still yet  
       to  
come