July 30, 2017

Maladies of an insecure wordsmith. The crap I write.

These words that I write that I constantly seem to want to talk about and speak and which I eventually wind up yelling and shouting out loud are perhaps an attempt to draw attention…. No! For sure these are vain attempts to draw attention. But attention to what? something strange? something familiar? something painful or funny? something vaguely specific? something right or wrong, ...truth or lies? Its not all black and white you know. Its great greys and all the colors that vibgyor through this cosmic show. Nothings perfect... and thats the most perfect thing about everything. Everything else is just whispering by the graveyard.

May 06, 2017

Awake in a dream

Beyond this dream 
lies awake a mind.
And behind this theme
what does it find?

These nights and days
are but fluctuating waves.
And our lives are a myth
spun out of time and space.

Below our feet
and above our heads
are we floating in a void
between life and death?

Beyond our screams
at times it seems
Our lives are a tale
of imaginary dreams.

January 13, 2017

Cling to Be

Cling to the past
to go mad for eternity.
Run fast 
to sit on the top
of a lonely peak 
of insanity.
Don’t trouble 
your mind
just go blind…
if all you wish 
is to sink deep
in your
false sense 
of certainty....
But if you dream
to be truly free
be confident in this truth
that nothing is

what it seems to be. 

December 11, 2016

Is it not Obvious?

๐ŸŽผWhat is obvious
Is obvious.
The devious
cannot hide
the truth 
that resides, 
behind their lies.
Some say, 
the only way
is to keep doing
the same old things.
But others sing 
that some things
Can't be real,
For only one way
Won't suffice.
That's the nature
of the game
So don't let
The winds blow
Out your flame.
If you play
your cards right,
You will pass
through this night.
Just don't shout
out your name...
Don't shout
out your name.๐ŸŽผ

December 07, 2016

Go digital

One day
It will all
Go digital...
First money,
Then things,
And then people.
It will all be 
Extremely subtle.
Is reality a bubble,
Hidden under a heap
Of shiny cosmic rubble?