Let the Blood Clot

The verdict is jettisoned derelicts conscious of their right to life and individual licks whisper wet like what with one single breath / understood what's underneath the stretchered hood of righteousness / indignation subservient with a harsh lisp / tongueless with a single kiss / you hope the silence is blessed / wrists creak loudly enough for them to become words an utterance you can make out over the buzz but the mind sighs fuzz / coddled ambiance microscopical ambulance / now let the sirens take you / don't raise a single nail / or lift the plank / you've failed to file / down the layers breathe deep and all ways stale / let the blood clot / the stress escapes like screams and steam / a team of waiters deemed my organs clean / while bored and waiting but what they mean is that your veins are empty as the streets beam light white blinding / bending broken in the knees melt into the concrete juxtaposed along the glass store burning building reflected in your half full eye I seem to see mine / and I am afraid / and I am afraid not that there is no difference between us now but that there never was in the first place / I lose a sense of my in/div/idu/ality / my control of chaos and whatever was random / today is what I miss the most / let the blood clot as if there is only ever tomorrow / in the present future the human with no body is king nobody is king / so let the blood clot / nobody is king nobody's asking / let the blood clot let the blood clot / I am not me and today never existed so the wound remains clean...
...let the blood clot.

Why I am Monogamous

So i was talking with 'tasha last night and said some things i dont think ive ever thought about quite in this way before. I feel the need to expand on those thoughts as I believe they are nutritious mind/soul food for all of you as well as myself and 'tasha.

You do not have the right to say that I am yours
and I do not have the right to say that you are mine
But I give you the privilege to say that I am yours
and you give me the privilege to say that you are mine
and since some times we do not feel as if we deserve the happiness
and love we feel for and from our partner so this privilege is truly an honor at all times
because we are only ever in this because we want to be
it is a choice to give an aspect of ourselves
an aspect of the power allowed by our individuality
to the means to an end (or endlessness) of a complete circle
when we are honest and giving of our power to our partner
we find that we harbor and exude more than we ever thought possible.

and i know you would not be mad if i fell into temptation and slept with someone else
but that is not the point
it is not the fear of your disappointment and anger that keep me from doing so
I stay my ass out the temptation pool because I recognize that my feelings for and want of you are deeper and stronger than my carnal lust because I know that inside my mind regardless of what my cock may say sometimes I don't want anyone but you. you have given me the privilege to say that you are mine and I honor that.

Slash

Tesorset your
partner in crime
testing organic sets
Poet-Dash / your sly cat
your face painted warrior
accurate / firm / soft handed
from beauty to violence
and back again in a flash
I won't protect you from fury
but I will let the streets run red
as I fight beside you / for you
I am at your command
and on my knees / just as I know you are
when battle formations require me to stand
well I'll grasp the scalp and you can take the scalpel
we'll be wide eyed and dripping from the chin
wet across the lip slow motion as the spatter
from throats of our enemies we'll let 'em breath
not with ease but set 'em free and let 'em bleed

I'm so artful when I'm the corner king
you the blazing arrow sharpened sting
the keystone queen / soulful songs emanate
from shadows pursing out behind your teeth

in the echo of the last blade needed
clanging against the concrete
from between our clasped hands
the heavy pant of your breath
in the ankle deep crimson afterglow

I find mine follows a single half note
differentiated from your own
creating a beat leaving dissipation ripples
in the wake of pooled footprints
that trace our light after the war steps
we settle into the near silence
timbre / the wavering voice of tomorrow
the mid tones / veins ribbon elation and lace
the bass / the space between my right eye
and that of your left as we depart side by side

you're so pretty when you blether me
you're just so beautiful when you scream

I pour you a hot bath that night
underneath the dead oak tree
sponge the dried blood from your skin
the crusted sweat from the corners of your eyes
comb the heavy knots from your hair with my fingers
I bandage your wounds with my strong hands
and wrap my arms around you like
if I do so tight enough there will be no worry
that the next war will ever take you away

in turn you do all of the same for me
you're so beautiful when you blether me
you are just so pretty when you scream

Yesterday.

The most honesty I feel I could continuously
contribute to any given moment is that of silence.
My words remain the accent
drawing (int/)attention
but by no means encompass
the entirety of my work.

/

There are moments where I fall into
a land of space of eyes between us
where I swear I could look into yours forever.

Satya Symptoms

And I was all of the grass and what could have been
I was the hope born of said sought since crass eluded brethren
a leather man cracking temperament frail like caustic claws
veil shining on the backside of animals we bled for tournament
tails torn from the serpentine throat fangs scratch roads
once slithered along by better men
washed out along the shore
bellies rubbed sore for I could no longer afford the rent
too socked and spent talons subjugated at the knuckle
tampered with and bent / scarification my only language
heavy transcribed to be raw / real in rags we dress deeply meant
unkempt the space between the walls thinning my cheeks
widens my jaws / the pressure on floorboards
hardly enough at this time for the movement of self
shingles sapped our cottonmouths in the dry of night
racked these souls for and of all that is right
sacked a cloth bag of embers across my sight
what I whispered was the light at the end of the path behind me
something disdain / I never looked at never noticed again
since this day forth when I put aside me any worries of the plight
when the virus died inside me
when i thought what was might
was the things I could touch around me
the winds pushing downwards falsely
convinced me of the longevity of gravity
'til the infant creature fell out of my hands
upwardly
happen stance gingerly poised kickstands
metaphors of euthanasia not imagery
well it may not be the virus but something has to die tonight
sate hitam satyam / the virus trust me is digital
satya based in organia and salvation the push and the light
well it may not be the virus but something has to die tonight
but I will only go out once the wind has blown by just right
when I reach out my hand in confidence and say "it is done
and any setting sun of sickness *phst* it can keep the victims
the half empty syringe of my nervousness and my spite"

hardened softly rituals

for 'tasha

The vicious vixenish veneer I was originally
attracted to, to my surprise does not fade
even as the lazy days spiral the crazy shades only intensify
I touch what's touchless and find its grime and sheen to be real
even behind closed doors her inner lime light shines (outwardly)
I can tell this because even in the darkness laying on mattress
I find myself a certain clarity and am almost childishly frantic
for the glint in her half opened almond shaped eyes (wholly)

I pass twin mountain peaks and cumulus clouds
that open onto blazing cool landscapes
my stolen breath circulated
this could be infinity

endtroducing...

From listening to the silence I just knew what to do
I mainly taught myself
I would like to at least continue
to be able to express myself as best as I can
I'm an instrument
and I feel like I have a lot of work to do
still
and I'm a student and I'm also a teacher
originally it started with the hurt in my head
which really I guess was confusion
but the confusion hurt
I didn't understand at the time where these feelings came from
so I started looking for a way out
I began analyzing them under the looking glass holding the pain in my hand and meditating intensely upon it to the point where the acknowledgment almost made everything much worse but I was intent on understanding my relationship to this feeling of abandonment I felt from the world around me after long terms of study and experimentation with the hurt I noticed that if anything I was only getting more lost so I began to question if I couldn't eradicate the pain without eradicating myself why could I not turn the hurt in on itself use it to my own ends so the meditation and dissection of what I considered a virus continued even to this day I don't know where it came from but I remember what it was like to feel infected I remember what it was like to want to die I think primarily what kept me from going over that edge was how intrigued I really was by it it was almost sadistic I suppose a twisted fascination with the lust I felt for the destruction of myself I mean is it not a part of the human condition to strive to live on? weren't people programmed to fight for survival and not intermediate demise? this contradiction was at best overwhelming to say the least.
I have taken blades to my body and introduced too many painkillers to my system and nudged myself down flights of stairs none of this was a cry for help but rather research to see how the confusion would react to being brought within reach of, well, the death it told me I wanted. i hate myself and i want to die. i love myself and i want to live. a constant yo-yoing of consciousness i watched with an almost playful amusement. anyway as the study continued I noticed that in the blackest shadows of my depression images literally would fade in and out of the shadows figures and figments that would rise from the sand and disappear just as quickly for reasons still unknown to me these images were best manifested as words as opposed to drawings or paintings or any primarily visual forms which one would assume they would be considering i was interpreting literal images i would see before my eyes when the blackness was complete where it would hurt the least and the most i found that not only was this a new way of studying and meditating and trying to understand emotions i didn't have a name for but that it also acted as a kind of exorcism i would paint the scenes i saw with words and as i did they would dissipate until i was left alone by them temporarily free from the hauntings i could write and create the depictions as something i could see in front of me and then do with it what i pleased put the demons on the page and close the book and lock them away far away from myself exorcism truly is the word to describe what i was doing to/for myself.
it has been 9 and a half years since i first wanted to die. it has been 9 years since i began painting my demons with words.
From putting my hand into the shadows
I just knew what to do

I mainly taught myself
I would like to at least continue
to be able to express myself as best as I can
I'm an instrument a student and a teacher
I will write a poem and then learn what it is about through my writing I am taught things I did not know I already knew I have come to the point where i exist as a channel through which god/satan/angels/demons/spirits/guides/whatever speak through. while clearly what is to be said is entirely translated through me and the eyes with which i see i do understand that there is greater meaning and that a lot of that meaning i believe is universal as we all exist as tones within the same song. i am truly wept onto my knees and humbled by the gift i have been given. the gift of critical exploration of the self as tangible lessons relative to all. i step unknowingly into the hurricane in the hopes that some day we won't have to. it is a blessing to share my work and see tears bled from eyes and head that bob with understanding. it is a blessing to have been told and to know my work helps people save themselves helps people through hard times helps people understand...
i now know the that same familiar feeling not as confusion causing hurt but as a hunger as a quest for fire to step beyond the realms of human understanding and come to grips with not just mine but with the place where we all belong. every time i hold fast my pen and speak again i am befriending every time i step behind the mic i am transcending and i now do so not as an individual but as a river flowing wide and freely to be taken or left as any soul chooses.
I would like to at least continue
to be able to express myself as best as I can
I'm an instrument
and I feel like I have a lot of work to do, still. my potential is limitless and my hunger is infinite.
if you have ever bought my books or cds, or let me spit at your house party, or seshed with me in alleys and under stairwells, on living room floors, read my blog, seen my set or asked on the poem tattooed around my left forearm know that you have given me one more opportunity to sharpen my teeth, know that you have willingly or unwillingly taken my hand in that moment as i opened my mouth and declared that you alongside me care where we go from here.
it's like were all dreaming the same dream so take me to a place unlike anything I've ever seen
unlike anywhere I've ever been a place inside where we know what we can be where we know what can be reached we just need to confide in that the deliverance of the beauty of life is based in our conscious projection of willful change and of mind and we will explore space

together
both inner
and outer
in peace
forever

Longboarders in the Night

for 'tasha

If I could bleed through the skies like microphone mesh
you would hear the songs I am singing to you
like 60 minute heart beats wound up with no stress
if I could race the very sun
and win and still never wear out my kicks
I know you would already be in the grass of the next morning
smiling gentle eyed like the goddess you don't know you are
in the morning day light the sunshine
slits in through the kitchen window across
the living room floor and glints in your eyes like stars
but I must admit that I've been up since seven and haven't napped
so I don't know how far I'm going to be able to run
but still it is so exciting just the same
so much so that it feels like I'm going to explode
with anticipation at the thought of the chase
so in preparation I jacked a 2/6 of sailor jerrys
slammed it back blazed a blunt lit a smoke
imagined your hand on my throat
teeming as the needle before the plunge
knuckles tighten before the choke
and in the soundlessness of the blaring
of the countdown just before lift off
I see the prime time crook in the corner of your mouth
as your eyes lessen/listen to the 60 hours
of my heart pounding too fast for my own good
but keeping a steady pace with the good of your own
60 minutes of my chest crashing
compress into 60 milliseconds of the slide ways sly grin i reflect
not knowing that all along you were the mirror
and I am beginning to ramble beginning to feel dizzy
and my words must be clouded and unclear
like a drunk with his gamble on account of
I am so fucking high off you
it would be impossible for me to drive so take the wheel and steer
and true neither of us may ever come down completely
but don't worry we'll trade off every 6 hours
or on the inbetweens when we are peaking
which needless to say at this point
is probably going to be most of the time
and ya know if we could we would slam the petal to the floor
and do our best to fly 'cause fuck yea we like to go fast
and sure we like to party but we also live inside a city
so for the sake of responsibility and at least
our parents peace of mind and our own physical safety
fuck the car
get on your kicks grab your deck
a dirty 20 for supplies on the way
your grand dads bag of weed (leave a note trust me he'll understand)
cigars clenched between our teeth let out a scream
take my hand and let's FUCKING GO!
let's bomb this hill like it's the only one that exists
let's bomb this hill blindfolded
like we actually know whats around the bend
let's double on one skate with our hands on eachother's eyes
realize we can do anything / actually
not with blind faith but wide eyed knowing
home done ink bleed from our feet / lets ignite
roadrash naked hips side by side
longboarders torching off weightless / airy / light
longboarders torching off / long long long into the night

Tricky

I just can't seem to get my fill
the image in my mind's eye sighs the same still
well I do what I can and I do what I will
yet my wanting wants more than it's willing to kill for
so i cut chems / rearrange brain stems
advocate all kinds of trends and burn blends
possible sanctioning of a lack of strife I hope for
susceptible motions I attempt to make amends for
cause I don't even know what I'm willing to die for
but I know that I just can't seem to get my fill
the image in my mind's eye sighs the same still
so I remain constrained / plain as a blood stain
half beheaded with a terror named migraine and
prescription bills / brains bored / bare bones
no frills or gimmicks and a slight sore and
I just can't seem to kick the state that I'm in
I want and so continue to twist in the wind
patient perhaps for a moment in time
where I can be fine with just being mine
hug myself so tight that I touch my spine
dig myself out of the fright and derived
let my white light shine but the want
fucking
blinds
I just can't seem to get my fill
the image in my mind's eye sighs the same still
I want and I want and I will never stop wanting
I want and I want and I WILL ALWAYS WANT MORE

Sisu

If I could speak of the east in tonal languages deserving I would use the hyperbole of words such as veritable and haunting full bodied / manifesto and grandmotherly really any sounds conducive of the ancient minds bred of a windful theory in music and the sands mountaining on the eyelids of faith remind me of the most farest offest places of myself sliding even with my back turned singing sitars seldom stagnant circumvent under earth running rivers wet palms closer when you are at my side. in a desert free of mirage its always more quenching where the music is. and if there is the one thing that the visual guidance of Sanskrit has taught me its that god is in the flow of characters streaming together words become emotion becomes manifestation like its been every single day since the rains apocalypse subsided

patiently

and i for one will not take that quest for fire granted i have been handed down the schematics.

rojin, your grandmother is a beautiful woman. the next time you see her you hold the sides of her face in your hands look into her eyes and tell her that "somewhere there is a skinny tattooed Finnish-Canadian boy standing barefoot on the harbor covered in paint cigar clenched between teeth bobbing gently to the beat living on the west coast of Canada on a fucking island and that even though he is that far away and even though you have no idea who he is when you smile with subtle grey eyes of love and knowing and confidence and strength uncertain certainty hope peace wisdom and honor that is near unweatherable he can feel you...and he loves you, truly."

the chimes intact tinker heart songs that rise above the dunes and flags of the tall ships linger in that which we know is wordless still blessedly still we focus half lotused intent on memorizing the verse tracing every string of the universal lattice coy and childish for all ways we attempt we work hard we mimic the thousand arms to the best of our abilities and coincidentally enough from between you, me and your grand daughter regardless of space or time our mimicry comes as a soft steady droning "Om" breaking barriers tearing culture asunder wavering only when fragmented and hashed over the threads of varying frequencies leaking foot prints of separate sizes but when the sun is cold you can still find the steam seeping heavily from the space in the door hinges of the sauna the air inside so thick we breathe water and the moisture knows not the difference between the surface of our eyes and the space 6 inches in front of them...sound travels through granite and a mistrust of my love just as soon as it schoons walkways through the saunas steam so i am singing again not because it goes unheard but because proven repetition ferments faith related in many motions and i don't know where you were born or how often and distant you travel or the means of communication you are most comfortable traversing so ive carved a euro gothic cathedral from howlite with 3 crying veins of labradorite streaking through it the veins face 3 dimensional directions as to catch sunshine independently of one another so that we may always see the reflection of the universe in the things we create and know which star is blazing fiercest just for us. 3 bells of iron wrought in the 3 towers audiofy keys of meditation whispered and cutting as triple tonal sonar fining its way through the oceans and waves tails of the 3 horse men sped relentlessly to seek out our specific souls declarations of my love tattooed across their backs in a triptych of organic memory. pieces of a whole we each will hold.
i imagine an afterlife of congruence through intention. me and you and rojin the 3 caballi we rode in on and horsemen that led us there. it is in the leaving i discover the terraforms my heart creates it is in the leaving my island comes into sight of yours for the very first time and i find that coincidentally our love differs not that greatly. it is no longer a struggle to enunciate the music we play together with clarity for our voices will stream together as one and emit from the core not as a choir but as a single loud soft steady "Ommmmmmmmmmmm"

Unattended children will be given free espresso and a puppy

the empty space between my bones, organs and muscles
is occupied with words (or thoughts we'll say)
that right now I probably shouldn't say out loud
on account of my vessel seems to be a passionate one
intent on grabbing the things that make it happy
very tightly in it's tiny little fist grinning shamelessly
and then running around the yard in circles
screaming and laughing dragging these happy things
behind it like a puppy on a leash unable to keep up
with the pace until my vessel looks back and is
washed clean of it's excitement when it discovers
the lifeless bruised body of that which it cared
for so dearly strung from the noose of a leash
tongue protruding
when this happens my vessels tends to look up
into the sky in absolute amazement and ask
"now how the FUCK did that happen!?!"
soooooooooooo
I work very very hard at taming the feelings
filling the seemingly empty cavities in my body
and do my best to keep what comes out of me
in part and parcel portion with the capabilities
age and understanding of said happiness...
lest I hug too tightly leaving hand prints
in the now dormant skull of the things that I hold dearest.

Symbols

for 'tasha.