WAKING EYES
Focus
On
The feeling
Of home.
Not the seat in that room.
That is not home.
Focus
On
The eyes
Of your soul.
Remember
What it was
To love
Being.
Remember
What it was
To not Think
But to feel the wind
On skin
And taste
The pollen and the dust
Of the earth.
Remember
What it was
To be Alive
With Sensitivity
And attention paid
To the pleasures
Of Life
Enjoyed.
How good
I am
At enjoying
Life.
How old
I am
To know
What it is
And what it is not.
How lovely
To hear the music
Of the birds
Who are innocent
And rhythmic
And tuneful
Singing for a mate
Or protecting home
Not boasting
Not blaming.
How lovely the color
Of the sun on a branch
Of the moon on the water
Of the flower on a shrub
Of the brick on a shelter
Of a shrine in a temple
Of a mask on a tribesman.
Remember love.
TO THE AGING ARTIST
“Has-been”
Never is.
To be
The Artist,
One
Must be present
At all times.
SO,
To hold on
To She
That has passed,
Would be
To become
Part ghost.
We are
Fortunate
To always love
What is
The wind,
The water,
And the smell of burning wood.
SMOKETOWN EXXON
Hey…
So there is a land of cat energy people—
People owned by cats—
People who are fused to cats…!
It feels like a meditation you cannot exit:
It is a loop of nonstop looping variations
Building off one little root
Trying to come up with another variation but often the topic is so limited that
It’s just a silly stupid incessant little loop…!
I WANT FOOD
FEED ME
I WANT TOUCHING
TOUCH ME
I AM STALKING PREY
ALMOST GOT IT
WANNA KILL THE MOUSE
I AM GROOMING
MUST BE CLEAN
So this cloud that is created
From the energy of this loop…
It is an ether
Made of these
Simple concerns.
It is alive…or perhaps it is dead…
It is a closed circuit
In that the cats don’t really
Ever evolve
Because they have cat brains—
They’re feline brains.
The cats are not linked in
to politics
or science
or anything that has to do
With the tangible evolving universe…
Perhaps just the ancient fixtures
Of needs and desires for warmth…
So the cats…
The cats are a world
To themselves…!
When I exit the land of the cats
I feel
Lucid
I feel
Clear ears
I feel
Intelligent
…BECAUSE…
The cat—
It is obsessed.
And the topics are limited…
And it has nothing to do with me…!
THE CAT BURGLAR
Sifting through my thoughts
This purple cat
Sits on his atrophied rear
Searching for a way into my house.
He needs evidence
He needs an avenue for relief
From the suffering upon his
Hungry body’s brow.
A parasite
A poison
A tall tree
He has how many lives left?
Who knows.
He has been feeding on people’s thoughts
The thoughts that construct their realities…
The thoughts that are as patch cables
Between names.
Perhaps he has even been eating
The collective reality
Of the entire world
As his fishy, mousy, bird-y feast.
He builds a bed
From those who dream.
Feedback loops send
Subliminal reasons backward
To instigate a landslide of warm
From someone else’s world.
He gets
Temporary relief for his flesh.
He has achieved
A transmutation of energy
Off of the cat and onto the human sleeve,
The neighbor’s house,
The girlfriend’s skin.
EVIL
Throwing the scent off,
Music is a mean business.
You must disguise who you are
By giving me the burden
Of the smell of your
Angry bitter blaming
Greedy entitled
Toxic bird throat.
Who better to carry
Your fetid scent
Than the sweetest and most naive,
The most giving
Of the bunch?
That’s right
I’m calling you out.
You are coveting
The flower of
The Little Mermaid.
You,
Ursula or maybe Medusa,
A Dark Queen anyhow,
Having tentacles around
All throats.
There is She
The Stealer.
There is the sweet Maiden.
There is the Knower
Who might smell like
Nothing at all.
Or rather, there are The Knowers.
And I am fine with being
One of Her crew.
I just know I was the maiden once
As a child.
Were you ever?
Did you ever see other women
And think how beautiful they were?
Or did you only see
Your own beauty
And wish for it to dominate?
I will not fall easily.
I know my scent is Good
And strong.
I know that evil must fight
To bring me down to your level
Carrying the burden
Of your foul stench.
THE COFFIN
You, vampire,
Live in your sleep,
Preying on living beings on the astral plane,
And when you wake,
You go into your coffin
And you dream your day,
While longing to be asleep.
Away with your dead head.
Your toxic desire
To see what you dream
In the daylight,
And to possess what you can’t have
During the night,
Is perverse and depressing.
I choose life over death.
I choose heaven over hell.
I reject your coffin.
When I awaken into my day
I open my door
And I am alive with the grass and the trees
And the birds and the bees,
And when I sleep
I tolerate
Your draining presence.
AGAIN—
When I awaken into my day,
I illuminate myself,
I charge myself,
So that I can survive
Nights with you,
And your closed hearts,
Preying on the peace
And the real love
I manage to gather
Whilst awake.
THE SCHEMING MAN
There is a man
Trying to arrest from me
My free will
My ability to choose from within.
He throws distractions before my vision,
Asking for me to enter
Into his paradigm.
Fulfill HIS wishes.
Make HIS dreams come true.
Allow HIS survival.
Granting access was all my fault,
So now I need to transcend reality itself
To keep my head on my shoulders
To keep my eyes seeing what I want to see
My hands doing what I want to do
My voice saying what I want to say
My ears hearing what I want to hear.
His ego shouts like a train whistle:
I live my life inside a teapot
Where the steam screams.
I pretend a room of my own
But only inside of HIS room
Where I am not alone.
Phone is off,
Which is the only shelter I have.
How can I make a living this way?
He doesn’t care.
He has me ensnared,
Panicking,
And that just makes it easier
To colonize me,
To rape and pillage my sleep—
The property that was my body
And my natal energy
Now named his to keep.
I can’t stand his face
And the sound of his throat
As it gapes and then folds.
Does he know what he is doing?
Is he truly this malevolent
Creature?
A lion or a goat?
A bat or a spider?
/Who knows how much weight
I had been holding
Before I realized
The metaphysical mysteries of life
Are really just a manifestation
Of greedy desires and addictions
For health, youth, wealth
And knowledge of fire./
Toilet Games
Having a roommate
Who shares the head
Got unlucky again
No water, he’s dead
Having a friend
Who wants the bed
His back is crooked
He wants to shed
Having a bae
Who wants the room
He smoked his lungs
He hates his tomb
Having a city
Stuck under a cat
The spirit is lazy
And everyone’s fat
Having a state
Sniffed by a dog
His arthritic leg
Won’t give him a log
The owner grew ill
A long time ago
She’s lost her will
They gave her a pill
Quicksand is here
And all around
If you lay real still
You might hear the sound
Outrunning the muck
Might get you unstuck
But laying down
You always get fucked
The Way Shit Goes
Give me my shit back
I don’t take shit from nobody
You fucked up my shit
I didn’t do shit to you
Everyone stole my shit
Nobody wants your shit
Your shit is nasty
Your shit doesn’t make any sense
You’re the shit
You ain’t shit
That’s some crazy shit
That’s weird shit
You don’t have any of your own shit
Stop shitting on me
Fuck your shit
Eat shit