From This Plane

I want to jump from a plane
and fall for falling free from form
at peace with the journey to Earth
where attraction takes me into the
defined, as gravity: a one direction.
Velocity has answers graphically
approaching the endless line bound by
orbit -- the same force holding true.
To fall, however, far, one must rise
even in a system of inevitability --
balance is the only Truth --
we must rejoin from whence we came.
The pull accepted in a priori comprehension
as that to our orb by bodies first
is but our charge, our will, acceptance
regardless verity within -- so to jump
from this plane is to fall away
toward the home beyond all homes
without need of the chute on our backs.
No wonder we fear and accept such lesser
as Truth.

Pain

Fire drawn over skin
Sinking waves pulling the heart
Drums thrumming inside bone

They speak of moments
both then and now completely
without holding reason to cause

Perception allows reality's presence,
perspective frees us from antipathy.
Pain is momentary, unless desired.

I Can Feel A Pulse Within

I can feel a pulse within,
awakening slumber, providing dreams --
Dare a smith create a gift from without?
Heart to head, heart to hand,
the blood runs black upon the light
bearing mind into the world;
bringing beats upon the still.
Coded messages in a will unknown,
feral hopes, sacred desires, shallow dreams
emanate from one to an other
in perspective learned and shared.
I feel. I fear. No words are there.
And yet the drum sounds on,

Where has it gone?

Once roots reached deep into the world
seeking such nutrients only darkness manifests.
They built paradise and life, a haven for the mind
where words stained a naive leaf
and reality flourished in sun-drenched canopies.
All that was seen was merely created.
All that was reflected what could be.

Yet, as even the Sahara dried over time,
my roots see, bound and shallow
like settled cacti in sun-drenched sands.
A longing for the sea to fall upon land,
for life to flourish as once perceived.
Selene pulls life out by night, where
waves of vision reach into our eyes.

Even barren, life relegated into minimalism,
the cactus flowers and smells sweet.
Though roots wade the warmed earth
and feel light without the touch of water
for life prevailing in the desert -- but strokes away
from lush perseverance and endless artistry.

Words

Words, or whatever you wish,
fall slack upon this page.
They've overturned themselves
pouring the unmistakable, the black,
upon springtime snows
like churlish smatterings seeking
the unknown expressions lost within.

Pointless ballpoint pens,
void keys clacking onward,
hazy disillusionment of
     measurable ambiguities,
compression leaving marks on my chest...
I stand at the bottom of an emptied pool.

Blue never looked so isolated,
delineating regulatory spacings.
Please pardon my white legs--
They tast not he freedom of language
     turning leaves like
     unprecedented heat waves.

I fear a recessive winter's eye
peering between two lungs.
Perhaps summer's burn will brown
unlike the scrawling phallus
whose pleasure is permanence
     in symbols
between the mournings.
Do we know best that which
     darkens?
     Keep us white?

Where vibrations soar in unvisualized
     mediums
signification clings to no answers,
like the burdened charring
upon unfettered clouds.
We'll fall in pursuit, hoping
our tools will free us from
     the emptiness.
Thus here we are...
     But from where,
     and with what?

I've stared into the page,
beneath the walls perpendicular to my eyes,
soaking in the emptiness...
until I decided to start with


               Words.

Weapons Range Qualifications

Basic instructions:
     1) range of intent
     2) special field qualification detection
     3) marking multiple timed targets
     4) conduct field-fire standards testing
     5) alternate targets
     6) mark
     7) phase single target
     8) observables
     9) conduct timed training
     10) record rifle marksmanship
     11) alternate courses
     12) section intent

Drug Abuse

Methods withdraw body and mind.
Scientific drugs rehabilitate strictly necessary
futures.
Entrepreneur Wellbeing, his dependence overcome,
can't be bad for you.
Calculated facilities -- abusers tried misuse;
Reduce life, fix chemicals!
Getting together, that slippery slope,
freely admits symptoms tested
in effect, brainwashing addiction.

Skiing

Time the of most bills your pay.
Still... and day powder every ski.
Possible as little as work:
To how here's happen, lifestyle.
Bum!
Ski the make, actually you do how.
Answered be to question
Important, an there's us
upon is.
Winter that now.

Moving in with your parents

more than
ages
living at home in
at least
.com found
in
their early
saving up.

Shoplifting

Prevention provides programs:
     Petty professional property...
Problem: poster people.
Promoting pay, Peter
paces personal potential's
perceived plans. Physiological
paybacks perhaps profit
PAIN PARADOX PERCENT:
Personal Pulled Pressure.
     peer primary presents.
     prior publish prevent.

If you hate your life, then 2 equals naught.

Conditioning of the impervious existence,
where the undeniable contracts within constant forward motion...
We see, we feel, we are, we choose:
and the choice to pleasure
             experienced and given
is the choice which defines the ruts we tread.

 What when the choice is negative?
Negated negotiation of expectation:
What is foundation is lost in nothing.
It is between the two, a space of reason
from choice and chosen --
           sunshine and void
           teeth and absence
           One and one

 Love and hate shifted paradigms of choice.

           What choice, when one makes all for naught?

Would Messier See Me Falling?

The arrows move

     drawing me down

                         onward toward the inner dark --

                         whiteness berating noise --

                         neither in nor out --

Falling into the inner horizon,

     diving where known cannot be,

to be torn apart as

                         thoughtless instability drifting in space

                         creating new space

                         in spacelessness

I look to the sky:

underneath calls beauty black --

     spreading wings into a nether

     we fly down

                         like arrows in gravity

                         turning language into dust

                         air becoming the throne

Emit

caught in the lines of imaginary rainbows

     absorbed lines cutting in the void.

     My mind falls

the words are gone.

                         Sitting alone with peers

                         grasp endlessness with a desk

                         intent slips into an anti-verse.

Distraction

1) Surfacing discomfort
     coupled warmth and
          [incomprehensible] (agendas)
--a meaning hazed-- drowned in language
skimming consciousness
--
     They mumble
          something[s]
about importance
                         [learning][teaching]
stuck by a chair, in [without]
     (what thought [-----])?
. . .
               Droning on,
                                    I slip away into . . .

2) jealousy another
--what love has wrought--
     waves crash, bring
     (what was already brought)
     [love] [him] [him]
like a choosing
     no choice -----
     Abundance, overly!
          I say I love [          ]*
          I say I want _____
          I say I am.
. . .
               In love, broken amongst many,
                                   searching what's found . . .

3) words flow like red rocks from the mountain top, molten rivers creeping upon the lush splendor of fertile habitats. This, the language in black, moves through the [vestibules] [wings] like tormented zephyrs (waiting to speak [a godly] truth about what dares [not] be known)_. [I] listen ([un]consciously) and feel the pen scrawl across the symbols like a soothsayer pointing at my hea[d][rt].

     She whispers
                    "you [don't] know what [they] [you] want.
                    "you [can't] know what [they] [you] need.
                    "you get what you hold."

4) I [hold] love
          Three, four... five
               too much.
I [hold] want
          Freedom, one... all
               too much.
I [hold] need
          Together, apart... commitment
               too much.

5) "Turn in your essay questions."
I'm lost in the trails of my thoughts,
wrapped in
          love for
                    too much.

U

Unless uniform un-involvement uniquely understands universal ubiquitous uselessness usurping upheld unanswerable undeniables, uttered under ushered ullages, unabated unalienable use upon ulterior ulcerations.

D

Desolate desperation drowning direct derelictions darkly deepens didactic depressions.

P

Perfection plays poignantly past people's perceptual paradigms, potentially piling parenthetically pungent poison (polarized perhaps) pills. Picture perfect...

A

Alack! Allusion aways all ambiguous assumptions ailing armored amour (availing arduous attacks against). Attempt aspiring alignments astoundingly! Aim above, ask alluringly, accept affirmations assisting assertive ambitions! Always.

F

Fearlessly fading: fast falling fallacy functions forever forlorn. Falsity, flack flung face first forward, feeling French fecundity; forefingers flexed for Facebook fame. Focus freedom furiously for factual fervor. Flames fume.

 ... Fuck...

E

Every enigma energizes: effervescence enlightened each entertainment, endeared evermore. Eyes escape endeavored elisions, enforced eccentricities. Enlivened entities engage evil: estimate everything.

An Ex Ex'ed Out

I cry
     A death perhaps succumbs to joy
but never has it been
     without teaming
unlight stolen from here,
     a now unto
what seems so distant -- near
     a heart whose beat
challenges
     rythm
          of a broken excerpt
worded justly to bring the unwelcome.

He walks there, seen not heard nor known
     of course
what care gave him
     he took in soothe, seething
in some semblance of arrogant smirkings.
I cry for a loss untinteded
     there:
a construct of balance
     between the here
                    [and now]
and what was back then: veiled untruth.

I walk a line he won't touch. I spoke... write.
When deafening drums kill his doldrum -- love.