The End Of All Formations

At the end of all formations
We will wake up in reverse
An embryo of Absolution
Birthing within our mind
Broken mirrors will lead the Path
To the individuals which we once called Other
But were seen only as aspects of ourselves
Wearing different wigs

At the end of all formations
We shall stand on those shards of glass
Razor sharp and transmitting phantoms
Feeling not pain nor pleasure
Because neither one truly exists
It was merely our perception
That led us to believe
There was a difference

At the end of all formations
We will find the strength
To realize that we are already
What we have ever and will ever wish to be
Not by living in the future or the past
But by existing in the here and now
By allowing ourselves simply to be
What we have always been but never realized

At the end of all formations
We shall come to terms
With the idea of our true purpose
And not the placement that comes from fragmented tongues
Mangled and stretched by the thoughts of others
Will you be happy with what you have done
When you finally discover
That the meaning of life is to live

At the end of all formations
We will hold one another in our arms
And experience the truth of love
Not by loving another as yourself
But by the energy of that love
Holding its own existence
Whether we are alive to feel it or not
Because the other is beautiful in itself

At the end of all formations
We shall come to understand
That the I was never really I
But instead merely the conditioned scenery
That was draped in front of our eyes like a veil
The lie that was thought to be reality
And at the beginning of the end
You will find your true self

At the end of all formations
We will sense the consequences of actions
Not for the moment or the day
But for eternity
And we will be able to manipulate the Fate
That was waiting for us all the while
Knowledge liberates us
For that is the Path to Free Will

At the end of all formations
We shall breathe deeper than space
Inhaling all that surrounds us
And exhaling everything inside of us
This is when we will finally come to realize
That we were never confined in these shells
And the world was never outside of us
It was we who were outside of it

At the end of these formations
These false boundaries which seem to separate matter will topple
When you decide to search out the Truth
To let it all go without falling apart
You will find It as I have
And It is like nothing you have ever imagined
but everything that you ever desired
before you knew what you were really searching for

Going Home

Twenty pounds of elephant
You canít paint it clean with your hands
Dressed up for war again
with stone arms and a brittle heart
Tears hide in the rain
turning sideways for a better view
Slender love
Narcissistic Buddha
Living in pain
because all contact is an assault on the senses
We havenít much time for this
just a thousand years or so
Can you transcend yourself
Can you smell the hour
on your weather torn clothing
Organic vibrations
birth the incisions on your eyelids
Like protection for water
Like kittens for cats
Going home

Love Of The Other

Oneís reflection off another is not the love of that person
But instead the illusion of self love
To be able to love the other is to first love oneís self
One who loves himself will never search
Out another to love in order to feel loved
This is because one who is content with their own actions
Will not search another out in order to make the other
Confirm the oneís self worth
Contentment with oneís self must be achieved before
The one is able to love another for the other
This is the love of the other for being themself
And not love of the other as a confirmation
Of the value of I
When one feels better about oneís self through the other
This is not love of the other or the self
But instead, as I have said,
An illusion of oneís self worth

It would be better to say, in relationship to the love for the other,
That the company of the other is enjoyed because the other is not I
And has nothing to do with the self worth of I
It is merely different
Not in such a way as to complement the other
Because that would indicate the absence of one as a whole
But instead as a connection to the otherís existence as being separate from I
The existence of another world outside of oneís own
The world of the other


One must always be cautious
not to become obsessed with the stepping stones
and lose sight of the Path


If it is meant to be
like the calmness of a rock
after racing to the bottom of a slope
There will come a point
where all false senses cease to be
where all of existence crystallizes
and everything is nothing more
than translucent glass looking inward
Where we realize
that one is the only real number
It is the number of the goal
Of all goals
It is the only number
All else is an illusion
for the purpose of limited understanding
confined to corporeal existence
confined to the cage that you imagined to be you
It is so much easier to be something
than to be everything or nothing
for they are both one and the same
Where we realize that human evolution
has very little to do with humans
They are just a rung in the latter
A stepping stone that needs not attention

A Chopper And An Anchorage Off The Map

The ribs of trees
seeing the snow through the desert
Purple sunset
with knife like precision
knife lines like thunder
cutting into the wind
Humanity will never evolve
because the weakness of strong adhesive hands
that holds it together
refuses to destroy itself
in order to transcend itself
We can only find ourselves
without ourselves
and through the void
Which we will be
when all the dead cats have been discovered
when we have found what we have always been
and can be no other way
When we have eaten our fears
and still left room for dessert
We must vanquish all that we are
to find what is left
A phoenix through gorilla warfare

Dissection & Resurrection

Somewhere between dissection and resurrection
I disguised myself as a man
standing on two legs and spouting a common language
Can you play the part of a son that well?
This time around itís different than my head
itís the time that Tara told me of anyone else
living seventeen of the twenty eight days
that flushed my eyes clear
and enabled me with the ability to hear
Thereís just to much blood these days
and the subway doors closed
We have wasted so much life in our coffins
unable to sleep but lying down for sleepís sake
This silent disease ravages my body
and throws me into the cold damp cellar
And all of the vices that I perform
are not for their own ends
but for the purpose of hiding
my abnormalities in this society
I belong in a different place and a different time
separated from this sick culture
This all just makes me half an egg
And if we meet again
I will see you as all the others
lost and separated from knowledge
Everybody wants to do one another in
I just want to find another like me
and burn into the sky
It doesnít matter to me
if all the world does not understand
as long as the other part of me does

Blood and Glory

Can you stand imaginary
just beyond the final sky
Can you hold a revolver at the candy store
just hoping for the ghosts to come
as you watch the world stroll by
with your tongue in hard-boiled sound
or have the oceans been forgotten
all these years away from home
A dream of legs that held like trees
The dream of a childís anxious hands
Is it like water against the rain?
Are you coming home tonight?
Can you kiss your lips in flight
and eat the shades that love is strong
or has the time been stripped from you
Changing hands that desired you
in all your blood and glory

I Never Thought It Would Come To This

Crucifixion on an atom
and the remaining membrane of a homicidal clock
shook my hands till the point of cobalt blue
Not even in town for a lifetime
and I already needed another lover
The acid was just wearing off
or maybe it was just starting
Itís so hard to tell sometimes
The sweltering heat
made my face burn into the birth of mountains
and the floor disguised the floor
playing games with the walls
but I knew it was still there
hiding just beneath a crooked stigmata
seen through a hangnail
The groans of the living dead rang so loud
that I had to infiltrate their hive
in order to obtain diagrams of their basis for reality
This was no easy order for the cook
who worked the night into a cake
for the empress of Nowhere
In a lecture at the university
he told me that he once heard her say
ďIím going to kill my sonĒ
she whispered
I bet Christ was never more joyous
feeling Maryís left right hand
tending to the garden
that was sleeping on the asphalt
But there was no time for that
I had to much ground to cover and to shoes to spare
I shall formulate a division
and attack with huge Samoans
and vicious war club that guide their owners
but it might be OK
Suck in your face
and hope for the best
when there is no road left to climb

Wake Up Call

Two parts water
One part blood
Waiting in the deep end of my cranium
the appendages of martyrs beg their sleep for forgiveness
Casual prophet causality
reclining in drowning thorns
Spreading truth is merely a sin
Can you imagine what it means
to exist as existence
and still live in this dormant haven
The thrown of the sensation ego
Itís just the regression of atoms
strapped around your soul
Are you advertising the pain?
Peal your face off the mirror
for it was never really there to begin with
The illusion of a dead world
held in tender claws
Caressed by the back of a hand
that comes back upon itself

Standing Still

A wet marmoset
drowns while standing
Itís nothing but a bullet through the eye
like a ghost left out in the rain
Construct a beat to crack the nuts
and nuke the sun when you wish to sleep
It is just that easy
so much easier than closing the blinds
but where can you hide all the sins
that you have conceived despite your spite
for no one will notice if your head comes unglued
or if your breasts start to talk on the phone
or if your bread machine goes awry
So when it all comes back around
just hit your hand and ask
ďHow do I open this thing?Ē

Third Shift Ghost

God murders through pharmaceuticals
I have seen it on the video replay
Sometimes footprints roar the truth
Sometimes the thoughts ascend the skin
although most are to blind to see
you can feel is seeping through
if you stand close enough
if you hide behind the toothpaste counter
and peer with silent eyes
like a ninja or a secret agent
with the ability for stealth
built into your head

Construction Of The Forward

Stab the mirror with your image
but what comes home is not the same
scratch off the features
hold your explosions
but do not dwell on the back of your hand
We shift the air upon this land
strolling across the water with heads on fire
Elemental integration
whether we like it or not
Tear up the transfer point
stare down the wall
Intimidation mechanics
And you keep screaming about flying turtles
but it doesn't count if they are flung from your finger tips
Give birth to the present
with amnesia of the past
So just throw yourself into the snake pit
and see what parts come out alive

When We Were There

Striped down to oblivion
in a trashy go go bar
she asked the spirits for an egg roll
all the while expecting her eyes to open
Did you really think that God wasn't indifferent
We are the creators of our own destinies
cracked in the nuts of a screwdriver snake
Realities backed down again
turned tail and run
under the guise of a burning sun
Hope is in the takeout bag
Chinese catastrophe
Am I reaching you
ground control report
is any one there
or is it all just another form of cyber mescaline
like a corpse through the fan
You've gotta watch out for inanimate objects
they feel ignored sometimes
It's just one more obsession to sink my teeth into
this girl whose already gone
I was born to a face of hearts full of hands
eating the babies of my actions
with glue like fingers breatheing caution
but none the less
gobbling up the leopard's spots
for pride is the violence of ego
Fill the tub with the bodies you've collected
sticky gum and silent tight ropes
Is this exactly what you need
to keep your sanity afloat
Pull your finger off the trigger
in a backwards connection
bloated conditions in the snow
and a preaching spider stance on metal
We are all just drowned rats
and God is over the moon

New Life

the snicker of the program
terminal photographer
time is an Eskimo
born upon the polar feeding grounds
and meanwhile in another part of town
she shoved her hands down her throat
attempting to dislodge her asthetic identity
the reality that was stappled to her chest
didn't anyone ever tell you not to poke the stick with a bear
for wooden gods have jagged teeth also
gods in bondage
we clutch on to all we believe
in the vain assurance of transgenerational murder
the consumption and assimilation of our parents
was it just a cold
the transition to sneeze
or a victom of reitinal rehabilitation
generate a couch in your mind
and I'll paint you a ride home


Speak to me
in made up words
more of yourself
then yourself tends to be
grind these hands to dust
and construct a hundred loving tongues
taking strength from the expiration dates
of all the flies that we have swallowed
golden reactions portrayed by time
kiss the gardens which we lay
birthing in the heat of a forgotten day
remembered only through the ideas
which impregnate you
in an affectionate grace
that holds the protectors to the air
and sets the beds on fire
with the notes and letters of a species
washed upon the shore
in the tangled embrace of driftwood
and when the kitchen knives grow hands of their own
just grab them by the teeth and toss them to the ocean

Off the Pier

Is he thinking I am me
or is this sweat pouring down the dreams
of a hand stuck in the vending machine
Can you hear me fighting for us
hear the ghosts of you eating ping pong balls
deep in the swimming of my head
I am all that I have ever been
in the realization of the true original
gold in the sun
dances in the deadliest of oceans
live your life outside the cave
in the stars that burn us clean
in the satellite which meant to weep
to exorcize these sticky demons
that chain themselves to shadows
and walls of equal plagiarism
this elegant minimalist
wild in convention
stirs in a seed
of I thinking I am me


A business suit in the ocean
gray tide blue infection
little angels about my head
can your convictions hold you afloat
can you fight the ocean with the energy you claim
the fear of death is dead and gone
the fear of life has closely followed
from town to town
we ride our souls
like beasts of burden
with matter being played out in space
wrapped in the raw face of God
and the sky rained down
in an attempt to swallow time
but you stood there
wet and cold
with your head held high above the waves
pondering the logic in my reasoning
breathing the strength of a hundred years
and searching for another way to be
don't think it beauty
be it


the clock has three hands
so why shouldn't I
hold the nose with a gun bleed
and pray that your not noticed
by the bank teller who thinks she's a frog
and whose to say that she's not
the colonization of green cells
that all the while believed they were energy
trick themselves into accepting colours
through an ego implication
swallow the world with a flickering tongue
so why is it that you spit out yourself
detached from your real self
is this all that you are
objection your honor
my client couldn't have pulled the trigger
on the grounds that he has no hands

Electric Blue

a fall from the blue
angel in the electric chair
dining on a four course murder
mitochondria clanging the silver ware
but first we must discuss
how it is that your hair dreams
is this a tragedy of circumstance
hidden on the dash board
and glued into position
like the dancing virgin
who's heaven no longer holds
gangs of green mug the innocent bystanders
who in turn search for another pair of hands
to extend their reach to that of shadows
all these ghosts are gathering clothing
attempting to blend in with the wakers
existing on a conscious level
on the thirteenth floor

Understanding The Kingdoms

All our lifes
we have been children in the eye of God
perfectly dreaming on the mountainside
Sleeping beneath our skin
The sunlight and avalanches
that fall down upon us
can only prop us up
and help us to comprehend the infinite
I stepped out the front door today
for the first time in many hours
and felt hope radiating from the trees
The car in the gravel
can only take me half of the way I want to go
the other half must be conquered through hands and feet
Wandering at the bottom of the sea
tends to inflate my lungs to the size of animal balloons
Air twisting in the air
in a room full of needles
My heart feel so bloated with emotions
that I need a release
I need to love my enemies as much as my friends
because every light has to have its shadows
or else we can not appreciate one form from another
I love my enemies because they make me who I am
they define what it is that I strive to be
and what I am fighting against
My enemies are the sea
futility, corruption, hopelessness, hate,
indifference, weakness and lack of love
I love my father
I love the girl who dreamt herself a cat
because they are all of these things
because I am not them because of them
and so I thank
all of the people whom I wish to never be

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