I'll spray out words like paint onto the wall. I'll fill up the space with thoughts, words lots of words flowing to the floor making meaning out of the nothingness that I feel when I live on the floor waking from a deep dream where god is my counselor, my psychologist telling me my problem is not my family. He wants to be seen as unobstrusive and just a friend ('I'm a whittler') like he has just formed me into a tiki statue from wood that illuminates the truth that
resides in my heart. If I could just grasp the infinite inside me the long lived and long loving core of who I am. It is reaching out with hands -touching my core wanting to come out and be itself the true creation walking on concrete dodging bullets and seeing the clouds. The sky rolling over head and the earth spinning around exposing all things to the star and the stars far away, like god feels at times. His light shed on me from millions of years ago and the luster has faded into a dim memory of his face in a dream that tumbled around like myself in search of a lover and a beloved my true heart loving
only one cherishing God's wisdom and fumbling disorderly chaos. That two people should meet and become one, but for me it is more amazing that I have a purpose, something to be in this dreary mess of a world with air unbreathable, water undrinkable, food inedible -thoughts unthinkable. Where do I belong? In the grave right before I die I'll focus on the beat of my heart, slowing down and the rhythm and force will move my soul to focus on this emptiness that lives, my soul harnesses the faith of eternal life I'll know the heart will stop but the existence of my mind will not stop and I'll feel all new things and the flesh will not hassle me as I move on to the unthinkable and unknowable life after the encasing of the soul is removed what sights will be seen will it be on earth is space a new place? No eye has seen or ear has heard of the world made to honor the soul. But life is not a pure thing or an absolute -there are variances to good and bad and the senses are weak it can't see. So I 'see' differently I would know more clearly. My cries of the soul that can't be distracted by the flashing brilliance of the world the beauty only skin deep will not faze me anymore I will be picky for the real beauty that is
in a person in touch with their soul and consciousness grappling to stay here and wanting to move on full of health and life and understanding of the imprints of the thoughts and the inconsistency of man and his acts when justice is not served the ability to be totally unamazed that black is judged as white and one is
locked away unfairly. So when it happens to me I won't be ashamed for myself I'll be ashamed for those who act on external knowing and cares -not connected to their soul- their god -haphazardly moving from one sale to the other not thinking about why they have to drive cars and sit in traffic working in order to drive to work unsatisfied with the purpose of making widgets -collecting information, harboring information, organizing information, injecting information into their veins getting totally high off of the rush of words and
meshing the names into a force that blasts apart all inner voices and guidance for we fear the long silence and the missed opportunity to buy cheap while caring not at all that we crack the whips at the backs of people with out any connection to us for could we look them in the eye at all and say thank you for green cashmere sweaters or tight ass blue jeans that make me look so hot that girls will want to make out with me because I only fear
not getting laid and when I'm old Viagra will ensure my virility but lower my love of a person for whom I have sex with. But that little kid with broken hands and no free Lasik surgery for the myopia eyes originating from the American diet for which we pass around the world like the plate of cheese at our
socials that take up the space in our empty lives of mass consumption and broken hearts do not mend over warm cups of coffee they only mend when they say I'm sorry for leaving my petroleum in the yard, the chemicals in the air, for your body and my painted food, and to prove my contrition I'll dismantle the car and find another way to get around and I'll grow my own food and while I'm at it I'll find purpose and have useful energy and make funny friends and I'll be a real person loving the hand that feeds me and giving more than money to the people that need help. Racing to the top will be seen as
running away from the earth and the love it gives to each and every soul unconditionally. Love from the earth is unconditional not choosing to love just the beautiful, not having pity on the weak, just the same giving wisdom to people who hid the legacy from one another and place the love that isn't in a book on a
tree averting our attention to the sin and rope of the unloved and corrupt and you realize that the dominos fell a long time ago and when it is on a roll you will fall too but the fall is more than just your purpose and the inner life will cry out and drive you mad and in death there will be silence for the dark souls and they will come back and the selfless and you too goody-two-shoe once wronged a man and broke a child and so you are back to do good. We have all killed ourselves and so we honor those lives we meet by giving our own deep heart and not being closed minded and wretched.
