The Floating Stone

This is the beginning
if you were to start at the end
Thoughts inhaled by the lungs
hatch new ideas within your head
Impregnate yourself with this evolutionary respiratory system
and exhale what has been forced upon you
Can you eat with the hands that were given to you
or do you hunger for something more
Do you really want
to walk as a fragment among dangling stalks
to sink like a thirsty stone
Well then, welcome to the Bank of the Inflated Christ
Itís just a little genital fondling of Christian capitalism
The mask is worn to help you breathe
The goggles to help you learn
A sock puppet orgy
designed to shadow geography
The landís molested ideas hung like trophies
The hides of some big game triumph
skinned but never really ingested
because a collective lie only becomes a burden
if it is realized internally
Liberation of the self from the mass
deteriorates the fabric of social reality
which is always an alimony in wait
and also the truth of self and mass alone
Just another idea for your mind to synthesize
homogenize and beat into submission

Sidewalk Earthquake

Patient Zero
So hard to think that we were ever strangers
with your body sprawled out next to mine
nude and seductively knowing the sky
In the land of the rising sun
I found the original pathogen
The reason for the satori plague
hidden in the rind of a watermelon
that lived its remaining life beneath my fingernails
Moments become atoms
that hold a shape all their own
resting in chairs that have passed out from the heat
These signs seem to lead me home
Around the world and back upon myself
Midnight no longer tastes the same
And directions hold their own flavors
That are always tainted by past lives
I am waiting for the train
Baggage in hand
Neurological luggage wrapped in bone
With a soul lit on fire
I wish I was outside of me
Just once to get some rest
But one can never go back
After the surgery has begun
Itís bedtime for the dam
Tired and wiry after all these years
Amongst the dead of the land
Who sleep with their eyes wide open
And their hands wide closed

Pretending To Be

The division of logic cut by turtles
threw a shotgun into the frenzied crowds
who were chewing upon each other from the brutal heat
that savagely raped every pore of their bodies
this was the same spring heat that forces chairs to shed their chalky flesh
in an attempt to save themselves the pain of being alive
but I'm not complaining
I knew this was a kamikaze trip from the beginning
the remnants of a feverish brain timelessly on it's back
searching for a direction
perhaps I'll become a saint
and stand on the dusty street corner
appraising half an arm
or take a ride on the carrousel
glued to the back of a one-eyed man
who was humming something by the Neil Young
or at least I think that's who it was
as I listened my face grew old
not in the conventional sense of aging
but as in a warm numbness
an electric shiver that swims between the third and fourth layers of your skin
the kind that approaches you when you hear a certain song
the one song that holds you deeper then yourself
and in that moment you feel like you understand something called love
we can stumble...and stand...for that matter
but only together can we have the strength to fly
to stare into the sun and be able to obliterate our solitary blindness
it's like catching a sickness by the tail
and eating him into submission
some violent chemical reaction that makes you grin
and hold a hand that is not your own
wishing all the time that it was
suddenly my thoughts burst and I'm back at the starting line
it's the compiled racket of the crowd
stacked in a pile and clawing up my leg
I've got to hide from these bastards
I've got to...ah forget it
just throw on some angel skin
and go out for a night on the town

Children In A Tree

Generations came down
through the touch of a finger
and nailed me to the wet lights
that poured into the mouth of a tree
some matches and a satellite
threw me into the civil service
to shoot grey the cakes
that sat gossiping upon the windowsill
and the story evolved
I heard the battlements crash down across the sea
individual death is calling much to moles
and you kept fighting with a butterfly
and you kept racing with the dead couch
live your life
half past three
a bottle of broken hours
collected to make the day
you figure it out
regicide and the avatar
or just another hungry ghost
which is it that shakes the confessions
out of a cynical two year old

A Fork On The Path

On my way to Bethlehem
I paused
half alone, half not quite there
at a soiled diner
splattered across the side of the road
opposite to my own
and rested my head for a long winter's night
cut short by the fact that it was still summer
I ordered some food and drink
for the mice that had burrowed in my feet
so scared they had become
by the rapid motion of water's movement
that I could barely hold my head above the ocean
sometimes I trust rodents more than monkeys
actually I trust cheese more than monkeys
even though it only breeds indifference

The waitress was of a bitter nature
complaining about the state of the government
and the lack of virtuous men in America
as the bubble gum around her finger began to yawn
to the occupants of the table behind me
"There are no great men, simply justifiable actions"
I whispered over my shoulder
but this was not my mouth
it was the mice squeaking
pleasurable voices spilling truth
but a truth that is rarely pleasurable
she threw her eyes in my direction
not a lucky seven at all
but a look so harsh that it set my hair ablaze
and I had no choice but to cling the ceiling
like a scarred pussy cat in those old cartoons

A fly caught cold in the bottom of my cup
as I waited for her to return
with the animosity of a snail queen
trailing never far behind
and when she did
she scolded me for my impatience
with flaring arms that seemed to wish to expel themselves
but it was her face that exploded
erupting so violently
that I was knocked three steps back
and chewed on my foot with the grin of a thief
"Surface whore" she said
but she was wrong
for I could no longer taste my coffee

The Hungry Lawn Ornament

the sun just seemed to walk away
exiting through a hole in the atmosphere
as a soft park bench digested the nun
who sat with her hands glued together
praying for the day to revert itself
I stared upward at the town clock
that bent down to shield my face
from the fire that was all the while licking my feet
you said you felt the sky
with hope stained eyes
as the wind shook itself dry
and with my breath resting upon an apple
I felt almost greyer then usual
producing a slight noise
to show that I was listening
I don't want to be caught
and I lie because it helps me to breathe
because it seems so impossible to be vegetable of mineral
to be anything but an impossible animal
with the savage dreams that wrestle within my head
and you asked me why the saint had blood on his hands
"spring cleaning" I said
as my shadow cracked a smile at you
and the walls stood firmly in place

A Sleepless Night

hypodermic breakfast
and eight flights of stairs
try to shout the words stream out
as an excess of ice clogs the programs
ingest the numbers
that incubate in a solitary room
what do you have to show for your triumphs
the wrongness of genetics
seen through the thoughts of geniuses

A Fever

An electric rape confused the colonies
that stumbled through my veins
as the dead sidewalk chokes
on the miles that have turned it grey
The mirror bleeds the life
of the bullet holes in the dice
and I sit here in a run
dissecting reality into atoms
The heat conquering my bones
and if you beat me to death
with a branch of corn flakes
I would still be a child in rage
for the love of the dead
Let's skip a day
and remember it a hundred years from now
wondering where the time could have gone
out the window with the notes
that told me something about the density of fate
A super nova bubbles under my flesh
streaming down in coils that root my feet in the world
I can almost point out the demons
before they paint themselves upon the wall
Can you see
just over yonder
the colour of lies?
A flip of the coin holds the key
to doors which one can not witness
Fill the sink with the sea and don't spill a drop
and we cling to the sheets not realizing a shroud
A sober implosion rippling through my cortex
drown and drown and drown
It's just a god
what are you afraid of?
Wire your head closed
the sounds are deaf and tongues are knifes
gone into hyper drive
When I'm surrounded it's all right
but when I'm alone the toys kick back their throats
and sprout the heads of shapes unknown
playing on expressions which I can not explain
and don't wish to let go of
buried in my chest
Hanging levers whose roots are dead
drift in space in a nest made of glass
where a phoenix holds it's human chores
Do you understand
the size of energy yet?
I suppose it is just all to much for anyone to bear
The fever in my cranium has subsided
melt and disperse

A Stillborn All-Star

making a concave decision in the dark
proved to be harder than I thought
the quivering signs and drag queens
trampled the screams of the streaking cars
that passed with the speed of the damned
or perhaps they were just large snails that had the right of way
from China town to the dance club was no easy task
for those of us with chemical brains
to many distractions for the wondering eye to bare
the passing of the day had taken to much from us already
and the night was hindering our ability to fly
but cats knew how to fuck and fight on the right side of reality
and right now the holy light said to walk
so we did through the concrete wasteland of depravity and moral recombination
should we ware the Christian skins which throw themselves at us
or play with the magnetic fruit laid out as an appetizer
to much life played out on the shelf
but there is always time to grab a new head
crawl on a branch from one side to the other
to avoid the biomechanical rhinoceroses that signal their intentions to turn
this island splintered by the edge of the world
and all these vampires that feed on trends
no longer hold any fascination for me
nosferatu fell into the hard drive
and the bats all groove to new wave
spilling across the edges of the page
is it simply the reflection of intentions that shift moist skin
or did you flash me an image to thrust myself on to you
to suffocate your playful resistance and drug your tenderness
all these words we never say
seem to be extended by the rainbow of lights
that whirl the room with my already dizzy heart
sometimes alcohol does not mix with the visual sharks that serve it to us
electronic bacteria infects the senses
with the shift of time that always follows
through the end of a needle
the end of a storm at the bottom of the pool
the twist of colours screaming through the seams of your eye lids
tell the lights to quiet down in this either dream
for the weather in hell is raining second hand zombies
and those around us all seem painfully bland
but i have you to strangle my attention
as a frightful sword
stretched out against the dance floor
suicide and confidence accessorize the hubcap
which is always used as a stand-in for your halo
and i stood gasping for air in this murky aquarium
filled with creatures to foul to consume
and the last thing i need
is to be the next messiah for these stillborns

Baking A Cake

Wandering around NY looking for answers
a camera man searching for a story
got lucky with the strangest assortment of mercenaries
a man without windows and to many shirts
an old Owl who was collecting scrap metal
salvaging the remnants of other lives
and a 23 year old with a bullet wound in his chest
in the formation of ancient Japanese scripture
for more information check the side of your head
the ingredients are a bit tricky to come by
but the finished product is exhilarating
The homeless man said something about getting some "pussy"
and tried to get me to pick up women with him
but this character was not my best bet for that idea
being that he had shorts on over his pants
and four visibly different shirts on
sometimes plaid just doesn't go with plaid
The Owl amused me the most though
swallowing pieces that are much to large to consume
plastic mice and a woman in a white dress stained by a grey sidewalk
he was attempting to make a living metal being
and discussing overcoming the human condition with me
and something about having women chase us
These two had now become my friends
but the camera man was starting to piss me off
clicking away his eye lids the whole time
just wanting pictures to take home
but anyone can stalk inanimate objects
It's the walking impressions that gave the most attention
to the systematic divisions of pixels
taking up shelter in one's eye
So we parted ways
trying to live our lives at the edge of the world
and convincing one another of reality on the other side

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