I draw my voice in these letters And drink from my heart like a poison well Regurgitating a thought In an attempt to make meaning of the madness
Line by line, what’s at the end of each line But a statement racing towards making sense Of myself in light of shadows Waiting on a delayed train of thought Like slow release and gradually learning to feel again
Breathe in a vape pen, the ink is a progressive boil Rolling its way into meaning while stillness fools the onlooker Standing stationary at the surface Till the fire...
On Sunday morning I went out for a while in the neighbourhood; I bought some raisin bread. The day was warm but a little sad, as Sundays often are in Paris, especially when one doesn’t believe in God.” - Michel Houellebecq
Near where I live is a Quaker meeting house, and an Anglican church I’ve been in once, but only to help with a stall at a farmer’s market.
On hot and humid Sunday mornings, I sit on a bench in the shadow of a tree, and watch the leaves and motes of dust, falling like notes in a composition, ...
a l l natural o r g a n i c m a r i j u a n a: through the chillum pipe, lift me to highest h e i g h t s, where bright streets of burnished gold my wing-tipped feet lend ceaseless flight. stars shine without the trace o f night; w o r d s i hear are yet u n t o l d. darkness gives sovereign rites to m y fiction h y p e prima donna, sarcastic, v i r a l fall.
My love is unequivocal. To sin, a manor born, and in that house we dwell, us mortal billions. Begin to understand, I beg. The hell I fear is not a Middle Age dungeon. I would not hurt you if I could. For my eternal condition is just as tied to origins of wood and rock. The bleak, corrupted earth. That your urges are of Sodom does not mean mine are worth a damn. The caul of man drips with venom.
The hell I fear is death without my God. But we are still brothers, from womb to sod.
The time now squandered. Years have rolled by. Tears of a screaming generation. Heartache bursting through. I hear you talking of trival matters. Nothingness in the shade of the coming storm. A chaos to wreck every little foundational truth. Every cornerstone crumbling before naive eyes. Wake up! See beyond a jaded view. Overland and out to sea. Further than any boundary. Seperate from spite. Away from the fagility of the human state. Open horizons. Deeper belief. Soul searching that defines spirit. ...