Mydriasis

Random Blurbs:

1)The loud man screamed to the deaf girl, that bumped into the blind one while reading lips. Who in-turn, stumbled into the crippled child, which brought him to his feet. From that momentum he made an amazing stride, and knocked over the strong man. The sight of this made the depressed child smile. Across the street, a stable minded professor realized everything had fallen apart. Somehow this inspired my art.

2)The stars hang like crystal on a chandelier, while the moon is with the clouds, like the shade on your desk lamp. You search for inspiration, and your nail's grow longer. Your aspirations for creation illuminate your greedy desire to segregate what you are a part of. You are a gift from infinity, you can't stray from this. Live as one - belong.

Poems:


...Must Come Down -

I'm done doing this shit right now,
I fought my hardest but my heart got ripped out.
I feel like I'm hung on your front porch,
but if you opened your door-
you'd just WALK ON BY,
YOU WOULD WALK ON BY.

Every step I take-, every step you took,
and you'd still walk on by.
I thought we were going for a walk together,
but here It is,
every moment is just lasting forever,
as I pulled every tassel and every lever,
I've tried it all,
here you are the flawless machine,
standing right before me.

and you stared into my soul,
and you've seen my doubts,
now what do you see?
I'd imagine, just "lights out"

"LIGHTS OUT" I said,
when I showed you to your bed.
And all those words,
all those fucking words we never even said...
They're still there,
floating in the abyss somewhere.

Well you cannn...
Try painting your black on the night sky,
try damning what's over,
until your caked with void,
and your skin peels,
cuz everything you touch is so fucking dry.
Try holding a seed in a fire.
Just a flash and a pop,
And you'll grasp for that holy water,
the only pure thing in your line of sight,
you watch it slide through your palms,
under your knuckles,
it's pooling away from you,
while you scream your sacred psalms,

Have you not heard?
God has came.
And he has left.
He's left us all.

But what does it matter to me...
I'm still hung up on your door.



Harvest for the Dead -

we just run in circles,
around and round,
each other's eyes,
'til their black and blue,
battered and bruised,

You still, till this spent earth, around and round,
every unfertile path,'til it's soiled and used.

When I screamed my name,
just for you,
through the peak of hysteria,
I knew I was to be harvested.

I hid amongst smoldering plastic,
just for you,
and carry the scars to prove it,
must my every pedal be molested?

Tangled then mutated,
bred for beauty.

Murdered then stagnated,
to revere impunity.

In this tree of life,
is the height of the branch,
a measure of actualization?

I've translated the shrills,
the April winds stretch
from her aged bark.
they spoke to me of balance,
and respect for what has and is.

Still they believe,
Every leaf was designed,
Solely to be graced by the sun's aureole.
Yet every connection,
will fray and rust away.
To be born again the same,
in another day?
down and DOWN goes the haven.

Was this tree to be worshiped?
does this clay earth deserve praise?
What of the waters effortless raise?

must every somber weep,be desolate and weak?
even in spring,can't you hear autumn speak?
:1pe ace:

Random Thought:
1) Isn't it funny that laughter sounds like crying, cheering sounds like screams of pain, from a distance.

Mydriasis

I watched this evening the strangest of things.
Oh today, I saw a man.
A man at the mercy of his own mind.
A man who saw nothing,
and found pleasure with the thought of dieing.

But then. Only, then.
Then he smoked a joint,
and stood up and asked to the world,
"What is structure?"
and found out who he was.

The puzzle pieces only become seperate,
once you start to distribute them.
For a puzzle is but a whole picture.
Then turned into a maze.
A maze for another man.

But on this matter.
we realize,
the birth of a new is always whole,
then becomes segregated.
Only to become whole again,
These two durations,
are the most crucial for him.

"This must be love.
Because we are most perfect at birth.
Then through life we segregate ourselves,
and through life we distribute ourselves,
until we find that which can make us whole again."

To every puzzle,
to every question,
there is a spectrum,
a range,
for any answer.
But a puzzle,
can only be a picture.

And a picture,
when seen,
is always seen.