everything that happens is from now on

been here and there lately,
on the lamb, off the lamb.
found me a babygirl,
and she's so lovely. =]

...

Everything is as it's always been.
This never happened.
Don't take it too bad it is nothing you did.
It's just once something dies you can't make it live.

crooked teeth

this weird imbalance of energies distrupting the flow, maybe when things arent in harmony you cannot hear the river over the discordancy. so the river doesn't fluently move to the rhythm of the moment but is affected by outside elements, thats what we all want isn't it, a groove we can fit in with, skin to call our own, and a place to call a home.we've all climbed up some stairs, taken a fall or two, all building up to this even plane of potential and kinetic energy, the forces inside yourself. yeah?? just moving to your own groove, it's all there waiting to be felt out.

learning

soothing vibrations all around
flowing gentle waves of sound
floods my mind with memories
and lifts me slow off the ground.
these trees they grow all about
in rows and sets with branches reaching out
they touch this sky and feel it breathe
an ancient energy one must experience to recieve.

make of it what you will

haha them cooks, they thought we were crazy but if they only knew about the experience. left only to be felt by the being itself, detailed in dialogue and the ink which flows from pens. maybe its because we hold a crystal ball, like those witches of the past, witchcraft and sorcery would make them burn us alive. what seems so wrong usually is right, it sits in the dark wainting for you to turn on the light. so there must not be much difference between us and the crazies, the caterpillar cannot understand the butterfly, i really like that quote. he certainly can blow nicely with a hookah, and he might tell you whats up with the mushrooms, if you know what im saying.

roll with it

new days, new ways, a new journal and this crucial cold front
creeping in and stealing the warmth! how dare he even try to
ward off the humid hot summer days. and thank you so much
for blowing some old feelings into my brain, the smells
and atmosphere of about a year ago or so.
while the leaves begin to shed their colors
we bring in reinforcements, and also some color...i'd hope.
if i have anything to do with it. i want some new outfits
and descriptions, but atleast we've made due.

gold is where you find it

he walks on in the doors
quietly not making a sound,
staying alert for there a strangers all around.
there's those who have fallen from a glorious tree,
and we're all swimming and learning here under the sea.

what pleasures we know,
oh the sights that we've seen.
these new days rolling in
so soft and serene.

for we have chosen the sky
with our heads held high.
walking onward,
towards the end of time.

we own the sky

on top of the world
where only the birds can touch,
i live amongst the waves
spinning tales and such.
of all the ones lost,
so few gained.
it's left in the dark
waiting to be obtained.

keep your eyes ahead

it's been an interesting week,
a lot of dark spaces with no electricity.
we run by light, the sun as our source,
but what happens when the sun is gone.
its back to the start while we sit on top
of this mountain we call home.
and each day, every day
a mundane exchange in everyway.
picked apart, rearranged
walking through life, living stange.

the calander hung itself

currently on the lamb,
things are here, things are there.
pretty wild.

we will walk through walls

an energy of epic proportion is brewing in the skies above.
it was the calm before the storm which cleared my conciousness,
in such a swaying manner it lightened the load.
that vacant space inside my home i seeked so long to know,
has been inverted allowing it to grow.
i eat the words and watch them move, dissecting principles
and dialogue, flowing gently with their grooves, recording them in monologues.
so this is all, this is it, reality in harmony we're living in its midst.
and on my mountain under the sea, comfortably alone i sit,
waiting for a passerby, to pay an unsuspected visit.

to make sinking stones fly

the keys are old
and time has told
of waves of change
all which we behold






i'm welcoming the hands of the weak,
i'd like to understand their weight.
all the things that we must seek,
setting the balance straight.
these hospitals have done their part,
while i sit back and watch the sky.
seperating fear from heart,
always wondering why.

something vague

these emotions flowing through my head,
i feel my way past its energy,
and the currents of the dead.
how many thoughts thought, how many minds read
only to realize we've ventured too far ahead.

so over the horizon, and across the fields
towards new beginnings which we ourselves wield.
if you would only listen, if i could only explain
the sea of existence living within my brain,
maybe then it would ease the vagueness of this pain.

and as i stop to think about how you are,
those times we'd spend in that raggedy old car,
it suddenly dawns on me,
we're caught in this inescapable virus
our everyday reality.

we are nowhere and it's now

all these days that i've grown,
finding new horizons and a body i can call my own
at peace with the honest sky
and comfortably alone.
on these endless rainbow streets i'm destined to roam.
i'm calling out to all the creatures of the night,
those thriving and alive in the absence of light.
you've found your way through the doors
and far out of sight.
so i'll meet you at the house,
and i'll meet you in rhyme.
we'll find the brightest star in the sky
and march on towards the end of time.

what i'm really trying to say is i love you.
this metamorphosis unveiling my ancient disguise,
what could you possibly say,
i'm just as suprised.

Fields, Shorelines, and Hunters

it's been a while but i still breathe,
i've been trying to make sense of the dark
and empty spaces. this vacancy in my mind
apart from everything i know.
things are well though, i'm simply trying
to extract the plague, gaining clarity in the unknown and amongst these clowns.
i start my job on friday, which should bring a wave of relief and balance out the scales.

mmm finding technicolor

hmmm

i like the idea of this kind of digital notebook,
figured i'd make oneee,
maybe someone will read it.

reach for the sky

said the man with the gun,

this isn't the end it has only begun.
you'll fall like the leaves once deprived of the sun,
gathering on the ground and becoming one.
so open your mouth and let the words flow,
each seed is unique and needs water to grow.
may the current be your guide,
always letting you know.
move at a steady pace but never too slow.