::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Anyone Ride a Harley? Listen to this.

deep dark side

see here's the thing
the thing
its here

with wings dripping black with tar
and eyes
its eyes
drill straight into my soul

look away!
look AWAY!




HERE is the thing.

i cannot bear to speak about
cannot bear

courage.  courage.  courage.

look into those eyes.

i can do this.

the thing, subdued,
I leave the mirror.
To begin to speak to you.

Monday, December 27, 2010

cheers, indeed.

Let's lounge in our own morosity,
stew in the mire of our own disappointments,
every failure, revisited,
every heartbreaking memory uprooted and purged into our laps,
so that we might spend a few dreary hours gazing at its beautiful dysfunctional existence.
Remember what we used to say, pleasantly demented.

Let us sit here,
drink our whiskey
and reflect
on the pleasantly demented history of all that has gone awry in our lives.

So we might be all the more grateful for all that has gone right.

Friday, December 17, 2010


Insomnia, Again. 
goddamn brain.
This Mind, The One That Refuses To Rest,
Images, Theories, Ideas—All Swirling Through This Overactive Consciousness 

Meanwhile, The Earth
it Spins
And Without The Sun This Mind Becomes A Vacuum
Where All Thought Is Instantly Ubiquitous, Yet Nihilistic.  
Each Point Both Brilliant And Banal. 

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Someday He'll Be Famous.

This is my younger brother.  He's incredible.  Pass the video around!

Friday, December 3, 2010

what is real?

the cold has come.
toes exposed.
shivers up this spine
winter creeps over this nude form

i resist the urge to run through the streets
raving subconscious slipping out
as words drift from dream to reality

i wake.  Cold in the night.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

On hope.

How is it that in this world where life is brief and love is fleeting that we allow for waste? We life in a world where every moment SHOULD be spent protecting the fragile life that still, somehow, is only held together by, lets face it, mostly luck and very little planning.  We (citizens of Earth) have this mentality of us versus them, always trying to take more, to be better than our neighbors all around. When will we realize that there is only one planet for all to share?

Monday, November 29, 2010


anyone can see it
the fear that rises up 
from somewhere so 
you're afraid to look there. 

what is it, love, that makes you tremble in the sunshine?

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

the loud, dangerous, beautiful world that is.

Life, so fleeting -- like birds on a line,

first full, heavy 

with burdens which bring great joy
and knowledge
and music
but constantly changing,
each little burden called away
by some greater cause,
or blown away by harsh winds,
or frightened by the great,
beautiful world that is.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Instinct-- (some notes from my ramblings)

Pieces of midnight ramblings, hope you like it-- it goes along with this.   

She was a pretty little thing.  Happy and smiling, just beginning to form the sounds that eventually would become words, although now it was all gibberish, gurgles and squeals of delight.  The simplest things, a cool summer breeze, sent her into spiraling, unbridled joy at the fresh, earthy smell carried on the wind.  It calmed her, too, as she drifted off to sleep in her Papa’s arms, blissfully unaware of the dangers the future held. 
Elisesofia Petlykov ran. She ran through dark, empty streets, her cloak billowed behind her, the hood drawn tightly around her face.  Silent, but urgent, like a street cat, chasing its next meal.  She did not look back.  Only forward, searching for the number on the door of the safehouse.  4498.  She had memorized it years ago, as a child—but had never once imagined this day would occur.  All these houses, silent, each exactly like the next: dark, dirty, windows locked and curtains, usually just a black cloth, closed to block any light—from the inside or out. 


Well, the Earth once told me a story, though I didn’t know it at the time, of the rest of my life.  I walked down a path in the woods, weaving my way through the trees, breathing in the clean, fresh, earthy air you find only in a forest nowadays.  Birds darted among the trees around me, singing their song and hoping to find a mate.  Critters shuffled in the underbrush, scampering around as I came through their woods, startling them.  As I walked a long, for a moment I felt completely at home.  Yes, this is where I belong.  

doubt vanquished by love

I turn to see your smile and my heart skips a beat, 
my smile in return, involuntary.

I struggle to pull air back into these lungs, 
trapped in those eyes that reflect my own soul.   

You take my hand, eyes locked, 
minds interacting on a level that transcends speech--
and smile, softly, at the tear that comes, each time.

doubt vanquished by love

Saturday, June 12, 2010


bright light flashing against dark clouds, 
cool breeze flows over warm skin, 
involuntary horripilation, 
remnant of a distant life

water falls from the rumbling sky,
raindrops calm summer's burnt skin, 
cool, humid air rushes into warm lungs,
carrying earthy flavor

watch in wonder as the world rumbles

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


there is a place,
                                    its in my mind,
where rivers flow,
across a valley,
                                    green and good,
into a basin,
                                    deep and blue,
that spans the distance
                                    from me to you.

flowing water on the mind, that rushes, cold and clean... ...
forging a new way through stubborn stone,
that life might find some solace amid the ruins.. .

Sunday, February 14, 2010


The sky is pink,
fading to blue as the slowly rising sun
illuminates winter clouds that hang,
stationary over the city.

Slow jazz floats through the air,
hanging with a smooth viscosity
that reminds me, oddly, of you.

You, drunk, slow,
sitting with your legs swung over the arms of that
arm chair,
your silly smile slowly stretching into a smirk that would make the Cheshire
as I tip the whiskey bottle again
and take a long drink.

And we stayed like that,
sipping whiskey straight from the bottle,
watching the sky change until the dark was gone
and I could sleep.

Monday, February 1, 2010

"Sometimes its as if the heart is torn from the chest"

the heart swells
it bursts
it bleeds

until the blood is gone

and still 

it aches
it needs

all that remains is darkness
abyss, void-- that escapes definition

where once you were, smiling, warm, 
where once you were, real, whole

where once skin 
would flush and lungs would 
gasp and lips would 
tremble at touch, no, thought--

the memory does not fade,
drifting away with time as some, ignorant of love, suggest
the pain does not dull into a slow constant throb, 
it is a constant stream of electricity that surges 
-with even the most minor of mental whisperings- 
of your presence. 

and yet
each day comes
again, with the sun
and goes, 
again, in the dark

and the sirens sound, 
racing off to another's pain

and the world- 

oh the world didn't stop just for us, no, 
only my world.

and each day brings the swelling, the bursting and bleeding and the constant electrifying
and each night, too, a new surge, stronger than each preceding, 
because this mind will not permit
will not permit the memory to fade.

because every moment of love, 
every flush 
and gasp 
and moment 
where trembling hands reached out to find you in the dark

was worth this lifetime of struggle 
to balance survival against the truth of losing you. 

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

(Laws of Nature)

Somehow in the dark
when sleep fails
thoughts drift through the night
on autopilot.

And there you are. 

Standing in the sunshine
that breaks through the green
smiling, in the forest
at me. 

-- who in true form,
mud streaked face and mussed hair
look up at you,
with the deadly intoxicating scent of cyanide,
floating up  from cupped  hands
hands in which I offer you
just one of the secrets of the forest
I so love. 

And then you’re gone.

Whipped away by the sounds of the city, sleeping—
sirens pealing through the night
A reminder of the spontaneous nature of chaos.

Chaos, through which all things are formed, destroyed, reformed. 
Order only returned with energy, work- manifested in countless ways.

Sleep comes as the mind, assured that these laws of nature hold true
releases the last image of you--
smiling, in the forest
at me.