the end of the world

two monks
from different
schools
fought on tirelessly
on a raised
platform of
blood soaked sand
unaware of the paradise
surrounding them
they quietly
spoke to themselves
the same fable
of eden
the gods sat
in awe and wonder
as these 2 demons
tore each other apart
for they had never been cast out
but only
put into a circle that they
could leave
at any
time

speaking in poetry

 I lay my bass
guitar
across my body
and hit the
b string
    in the same
cadence of the song
on utube
without the volume on
just feeling the vibrations
flow through
my being....
u flow thru me
a current
leaping
the synapses
the axons and
dendrites
becoming and changing
my timeless soul
I have infinite capacity
for ur
love
infinite
capacity
for the dirt road I
walk down
like so long ago
with my father
along the fields
to  an old
sandpit
selecting rocks
the most wonderful thing
is a memory
that
forever
renews
and colors
my
soul...
today I made
soup
and wrote this

painting

a photograph

captures

asinglemoment

but nothing real

and a movie

but a series of photographs

neither come to life

without injecting

our own reality into

the ephemeral glimpses....

glimpses of our

time continuum

our most cherished and hated

memories nothing but a series of pictures

endlessly

photoshopped in our

heads

ahead... a fantasy collage

constructed of bits

and pieces of the past

and we are

not so good at witnessing

the wild and elusive

present.....

somewhere

somewhere, a distant planet

an old man

in a tattered grey coat

hobbled down the

twisted dusty road

turning over      every stone

looking for god...

as a child he sought

only those stones

he could skip across

the river of life

or oddly shaped, mysteriously colored

anomalies.....

but he was fascinated almost more

at the old ones,

their unfathomable disinterest

at the unimaginable treasure he held in his hand,

and yet today

he still possessed

these solid bits of what was gone by...

a rock is only a rock?

but hidden beneath that vast infinite space

an unseen heaven

and a hell as present as the rock itself

life on an asteroid

voices lost

in the wind

floating across worlds

calling out

to who or what

unable to touch

anything solid,  instead

can only feel

the ephemeral wisp

of another cryingout...

lost in a sea

of unimaginable

isolation and loneliness

why then

to be surrounded by

ghosts that jostle

and bump

along the packed avenue

of vacant souls

can we only

touch the untouchable

why then

does the death

an alien people

in a windswept desert

become more

meaningful

than the one

standing right here

without love

pple whither

and die away

but what

kind of love?

between a friend

a lover

a man and woman,

a woman and woman, 

a man and man

a brother or sister

and what of us

who have that

love...

yet still are empty

what vast hole

is so big

that it cannot be filled

and yet

it is...

that unrelenting

unfilled love

between a mother and 

child

time is not a second or a minute
seasons cannot be measured
a blossom does not happen in an hour
but a moment with u forever treasured

without u a minute's an hour
in ur arms an hour but a moment
the gentle brush of a flower
lips on skin eternal enjoyment

what is this thing called time
how foolish a clock
that cant compute the sublime
passages never to be unlocked

drained of energy

i wish i had some

to go and play

and run in the sun

sitting and crying

i know what is wrong

thinking won't help

i have to be strong

i sleep in the day

lie awake all night long

and cringe when they say

i have to be strong

i certainly hope

im not the last to be gone

how in the world

will i ever be strong....

post apocalypse recovery...

when i was young
i never thought
i would become old
now im old
and i never think
of anything
like that
at all....
what a wonderful
life
full of sicknessdispaire
lossesfailures and
disappointments...
addictions
and falling short
so short
of
anything
has led me right
here to where i am
so full of joy
and love
every day
bright beyond compare...
what i
fear most
is that in heaven
there will be
no
suffering...
and in hell
there will be
endless
provisions
of
comfort