Sunday, bloody Sunday

I have seen them come out of the walls at night, clawing for me to give them what they need, but as I think of all the things that give light in this world, those creatures disappear into the labyrinthine world they come from-for everything that is simple brings me back to you, to see that glimmering beacon of hope that I hold on to while they attack me, tempt me, feed off me and all the crap that I generate, for what else but to satisfy the angry gods above. Not that it really matters anyway, I still get high if I want, and do anything I want, cause I can, and no matter what happens to me out there, the darkness can never penetrate my soul, which is glowing, radiating in the fragments of creation swirling around in the widening gyre, spinning until the falcon cannot hear the falconer, and the center falls apart. The Days End before the blinking Eye of Providence, that weeps watching His children breaking apart in the cyclone of history, that cannot hold anymore. Anger of centuries beckon in the whirlpool, and all around indignant desert birds show no emotion, completely indifferent to any plights or pleads for mercy. Then across the sky comes a glowing ball of light….. 

Grandiose day, but who cares, I deserve it.

Across the sky a screaming came, blazing its way through the minds and hearts of the inhabitants of the land of shit and copious excess. Draining rivers of lucidity to enter ways of dreaming on soma and substances to get the hell out of it all for a while, but not just that, no, more and more ever growing waves of light blaze higher and higher in the sky, opening of God’s arms wider and wider, ever expanding consciousness and twisting of DNA structures giving you two more chromosomes now, oh my there it is, truth and love for nothing but the significances of plastic trivia, you there, you there asking me for something that you don’t have, can’t teach this to you, this is not something that can be learned or acquired through instruction or reading books or taking classes, but hours and hours and hours and thousands of more hours of doing it, fucked up on something or other alone, alone, no one around, in a quiet room, ten years of solitude will do that for a person, I suppose, at least for me, because I harvested my talent alone, fucking alone, fuck this loneliness that I seem to not be able to ever leave, yet so much is there in that beautiful sky for everyone, my sky, my projection, here among these words that will take you there. Come take my hand, and I will take you there, I promise to that place that you have never been. Have you ever seen the way that words seem to evaporate sometimes into the ceiling coming out of people’s mouths visible and clear, we see those tunnels after taking too much buproprion losing it all again, drunk again, oh my here we go here we go fucking yeah getting rich, you know oh yeah, fucking this I’m coming to the point now where money doesn’t fucking matter and I don’t care cause I’m getting famous in Maryland, yeah, fuckin yeah! Living well is the best revenge to anyone who is down and out. Grow grow here we go again away into the light, the brilliant light that someone has created for you, when the world is growing older, and you are growing younger, you seem to evaporate too, that stone that you tossed into the sea you felt the way the stone splashed into the fucking ocean of hate, you hated yourself then, you hated everyone, now this is love for everyone cause they got me rich they helped me do this seemingly impossible task, watch the way the vibrations seem to shake your head when you put on a good song, such as Bach, fucking classical music is so fucking good, it makes reality shine in authoritative resonance of lugubrious affections for romantic return to classical soul of Adam and Eve, back in the beginning, cause I am very very old, much older than I look. I’ve got to go, talk to you later dear. 

This Bitch Ruined My Life!

When I met the bitch, I thought that she was special, had that glow, ya know, that light that made her seem to be significant manifestation, that to me, appeared to have entered my life for some reason that was beneficial to my existence, but turned out, she ruined my fucking life, tore out my heart, and stole all my shit. Fuck you Sandy Ruffner, that was when I was in sixth grade, I’m thirty six now, but it ruined my life! I’m tore apart inside from it. I want to fucking kill her fucking kill that whore! That beast of the devil fuck her, I want to burn her on the stake, and make her eat my shit!

Thank you

Here in this White City, everything glows brightly,

And I walk anywhere I want freely,

To see whatever it is there is for me, radiating with light,

Warmth and compassion from above.

Thank you for the time spent in penitence for I have grown,

Into my manifested dream self, of which  I cannot say how I

Have done exactly, yet now I have expanded my consciousness

And am growing rich. Fuck being poor, I had my taste of it,

And it made me sick to think of staying there, so I learned

How to use my brain to generate money, in this glorious White City,

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

NO IDEAR

When the stars melt in your eyes, I've heard that song before, times ago, when the earth was nearly fresh with logistic penitence that no one seemed to hear as I do at times, but that's the situation that I hear myself in when the divination comes from above for where this comes from I've no single clue, I I just enjoy it as a neat cool way to demonstrate the beauty of God's creation that seemingly nothing could stop, completely and utterly immutable and concealed by nothing but glory from on High. The Greek chorus sings along with the energy of chosen love that commands me to do this, this, tap tap taping on these invincible keys that hear me and feel my breathing, low, sallow and pure morning love for everything we ever need is here inside the dome connect now, find it now, bleed into the river of Love that cries underneath some compressed blessing unto great heights to consciousness dreams undertow of an Oedipal lust crawling pressing through shadows, knowing nothing but creation in the rivers of light. Oh my, the light, we see the brilliance shine upon us from where the dawn belongs. Gently we go, unreal city, sailing to Byzantium with the clever scriptures of traveling the tunnels of reality. Who cares, we leave, we go, away from here for a while, in this subonscious winding road

Dr. Mind-Bender, fuckers

Drowning the visceral revelations to make a path for realistic, conventionality of understanding circumstances in between the daydream of a breaking dawn and an undertow of heaven’s gate, that like the reality of this fragmented Eden, nothing but energy really matters, nothing is real, asshole. Just waves and vibrations, that like the pulsating gravitational authorities of the moon and planets, has not come into fruition among anyone but those who are really seeking some kind of enlightenment, that I, like the rest of you, are not chosen for. There is something about the way the sidewalk glitters when those divine being walk down the street, invisible to everyone, but realer than the cigarettes they are all craving, or anything else to smoke away the brutality of the insignificances found in the puzzles of searching for a deeper valance when none really exist. Shadows of last year are gripping the eviscerated ways of purging memory and shit from the soul. Parabolas of light, envelope me here, in this seat where lucidity has found me, among the joys of a leper’s hallowed laugh, among St. Vitus movements where there may be nothing but acceptance and bribery from the last survivors upon the eclipsing light of the century, when little beasts sit on power, and the immorality of the master is always in inverse proportion to the innocence of his creatures. Paranoia is the spice of life, kind of like intellectual K-2, or something like that. Here’s to not ever going gently into that good night. Wolves, savage animals growl in hunger pains behind the scenes, dimensions of divine consciousness. This is being alive, inside my glorious brain. Dr. Mindbender, mother fuckers.

Love and all her sickly ghosts

Down and down the pernicious gyre turns,

But God looks down and sees a few he likes,

Plucks them up like orchids and uses them for his own

Purpose, to spread this good throughout this realm

Of Light, Brilliance, Shit, and Truth.

Hear my words, I’ve seen those films, those eyes,

And I know, I know the limitations of my own ignorance,

Smile that little evil smile, wink at the Sun, and go on my way home.

The beauty of the Mind is terrifying and tastes like candy,

The shores of the seas of consciousness, white, warm and sandy.

Another sun screams across the sky,

The purple sky, immortal dome awaiting you there.

That simple cord of a guitar,

Revolutions of elliptical mars,

Power of humility, lost pride,

Across the keyboard my fingers glide,

To see the End is not an end but a real Beginning,

Hold me as I hold you,

Ego lost, this is the world’s now, not my own,

A little divinity to hold, Christ’s financial loan.

five minute poem, literally

Lucid Dreaming

The stars seemed to form new constellations that night,

And I was the creator of the Universe, as I took her hand,

Brought it to my mouth, and kissed it, acknowledging

Her flesh with my lips, as though she were

The Queen of a new horizon, one so vast and wide,

Only in dreams did she inhabit, yet this seemed real,

The air was crisp, I could see through everyone,

Just like in real life, only as my eyes twitched rapidly,

Against my eyelids, I knew this was just a fantasy,

A hypnogogic hallucination, and as the movie played out behind

My closed lids, the night was a syrup,

 Poured all over  me, crazy in fire, crazy in love with my dreams.

Becky fucks her whorish fist

Becky coyly smiled as she put her left hand down the front of her yoga pants, knowing that she could finally masturbate in privacy. She felt the velvet opening of her slippery vagina, and proceeded to put one finger insider herself, while her thumb slowly circled her swelling clitoris. She closed her brown eyes, and envisioned Tom with his ten inch penis, penetrating her with all his might, banging away at her quivering love box, pulling her hair, and squeezing her little neck. She loved to be choked more than anything while being fucked like a rag doll. She lay down on her bed, and took off her pants, and spread her legs apart, then began inserting her fist up her vagina. She was pretty loose these days, having at least twelve dicks a week punishing her once-tight cunt, with their thunderous pelvic thrusts. She was really wet, and needed no additional lubrication, as she fist fucked herself, moaning with pleasure and a hint of pain. She was seventeen years old now, and had seemingly lost the last fabric of her innocence last summer, when she was gangbanged by ten college frat boys at a party. It was after that she gave herself to the lascivious demons of whoredom. She sacrificed herself to man after man, until her pussy was stretched to the point that allowed one bald skin-head named Rick, to stick the top of his head up her vaginal cavity. It hurt a little, but not nearly as much as it should have,              

                It had been a long day working as a cashier at her local grocery store, and her pussy stank pretty badly. She liked the way that she smelled. The more like a rotten tuna fish sandwich the better, and she especially loved it when a guy would go down on her after she worked a long shift, so he could become victim of her pugnacious aroma. She knew that most guys couldn’t stand it, but they acted like they liked it. She supposed this was one of the last remnants of chivalry left over from the middle ages, when guys performing cunnilingus had to be brave and able to withstand the horrifying scents of the medieval cunts. But today, it was just herself, which was also very beneficial in that she didn’t have to worry about getting the guy out of her apartment afterwards. They always liked to stick around, smoke her weed, shoot her dope. When she was alone, she was able to pleasure herself in peace, and also wouldn’t have to worry about conversing after the sex act. Her left hand was busy pleasuring her pussy, while her right hand proceeded to fondle her b-cup tits. She felt her taught nipples, as she rode the waves of oncoming orgasm. Then she felt her body go into convulsions, as the waves of pleasure rocked her back and forth, and then, with one giant grunt, she felt her pussy release what seemed like a gallon of vaginal liquid, all over her bed. She gushed and gushed, like Old Faithful, the sexual geyser between her youthful legs, pushing forth the pent up sexual energy of Kundalini into a cosmic splash of feminine supernova.  When the convulsions were over, she sat up out of her sexual trance, and reached for her needle, which she proceeded to fill with a combination of morphine and heroin. Then tied her arm with a cord, to reveal her veins, and then shot up. One heavenly orgasm after another, she rode the waves of sexual and chemical hedonism, until her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep. Then dreaming of nothing, escaping lucidity and the pains of waking life with her vein fucking needle, while the neighbors downstairs ate their family dinner, and talked of little league baseball and the PTA meeting tonight. As was life, dichotomies of the people who grind against the moral code of life, and those that rigorously follow it to their deathbeds. Who the hell wants to spend their time thinking of the squares in this world, when they could spend time thinking about the whores and fuckups, like Becky, which is exactly why I chose to tell you of five minutes of Becky’s existence, than focus on the boring lives of the neighbors downstairs.

Madness of a generation

I really need to get back to that time not so long ago when I used to do this! Fucking this, tap tap taping at random keys on a keyboard, getting in to touch with the Jinn that bit me last night, oh, shit, about ten years ago, I was twenty six, and doing this like a maniac, writing. I think that the writer only gets better over time, the longer one is alive, the more one realizes ones potential, and limitations. Fuck this, I’m going to write everyone a little story about opportunities and possibilities, looking back and thinking of the time when that little girl ruled my life, and afterwards, when I was truly set free in creativity, and endurance. I’m immortal now, this time, touching these magical keys just as I once did a decade ago. It’s really not that hard, all you have to do is remember that fucking bitch who bit you last night, the whore that slept with you, fucking you, not you fucking her. She’s inside me all the time. I’m not sick but I’m not well, and I’m so hot, ‘cause I’m in hell. Been all around the world and found that only stupid are breeding. DMT, something that I really would like to try, is inside me all the time, and I’ve learned how to access the spirit molecule without taking anything, just doing this, angelic communion with killing my mind, and escaping into these simple words that battle through the ages of fables and reconstructions, Brittney Spears is nuts, and so am, therefore we should get married, the god damn this fucking shit, and when you rule the material world, you have something inside you like a fire that will never go out, never because I have ruled the landscapes that you may call the kingdom of troubled elves that move these walls, indications that the outer space alterations have stayed with me over these years.  Rational indications that the Emmanual Swedenborg within, speaks through me now, if I want Him to, I am the Voice of God, and when the mutations of my name are thrown around the rooms of anarchy, during times of attempted reconstruction of the paradoxical forces that are attempting right now, toyou’re your mind like a rational beast of Islam within, whatever it is, whatever it is. And with that, here’s  your little story! Yes, yes, this is it. It will come down on you like the one who never ever tried to see through you, as if it were a chosen fantasy of yours that the potential conglomerate of your mind. The church bells ring, here them ring, cleanse your spirit, and open your eyes, this is the time when the hand of God reaches out to me, holding me nearer, seeing my blessings that I have achieved through natural selection. I’m smarter than most people, doesn’t that just feel wonderful, well, not especially, when you don’t even hear her in the wind, I’m doing this right now with my eyes closed, singing the anthem of God’s constructions, in the mind’s lair of Golden Girl Parodies, and drinking cup after cup of coffee, like Voltaire on a Davenport, standing next to his Masonic Brothers in gleaming anticipations of the Golden Dawn of Yeats, speak to me now, you little devil, you little fucking devil’s spawn, mutant boy, too smart for the world you live in, that is actually allot simpler than you really think it is. Most people are not even aware of anything at all, aside from the careful readers, and writers of the intricate domes of collecting various articles of things, pop culture, dreams, drugs, become a sponge, pic things up, and write about them, the ceiling potential is unlimited, just beware, that the ease of this mission, is only because you signed that contract with me, oh, here they come, delusions, rampant delusions, that fill your mind, and trample on your soul, just like that time I impaled those girls. Isn’t that a terrible beauty?

The Filth is Rising

There were galaxies in those eyes, he could see them, staring through the ether at him in the middle of the night and trying desperately to find him, keep up with him, but every time he changed his address,  he moved to fast, and all hope to reconstruct fabled promises of the past, seemed to evaporate in the crisp air of winter.  He was cold as a frozen lake in winter, alive underneath the surface, but his surface veneer was a thick layer of ice. His eyes told their own story, not galaxies, but universes of things that could have been, but may never come. But, yet, he pressed onward, against the current of opposition, for what reason but pure, lucid thought is always better than to not think at all.