coming soon to bushes near you

Jesus visited the old lady's bushes early one morning, under the light mist, everything seemed to be glowing. The plants, to say the least, were thrilled.

an existential moment of observation

all the titles are mine, except for one, it's the eye catching one that makes you want to read on.
I want to be a catchphrase person, so cliched. I want to see the net before I jump the gate.
parade your self in front of the judges, are you as pretty as you think?
you see your reflection is faked, just like everthing else you create.
unholy and unwholesome images crowd your fragile mind,
littered with mines and mimes and other things
that frighten you. you are child-like,
and for that I must forgive you
for what you have said
unfogiveable
as it is.

waiting for friday

After all is said and done..................You'll still be sleeping.

my first foto friday, oddly enough, it's tuesday

trusting in the surface of things
searching for some semblance of happiness
is it real?
real enough for you to touch
if you can even feel

smiling, for the camera comes
comes to take your soul
wearing your best clothes
not that we are judged
based on what we wear

not that we would allow ourselves
to succumb to numbing fear
of images of mountains
superimposed on the whites of your eyes
you have seen so much
you have seen enough

not that I've posted it yet, I still think it sucks

Legends and Eternity

often evenings damp and cold,
when strange shadows do appear,
one might chance to look and see
into the poets world

and falling into dark despair
the depths of solace and repair
swallowed whole by the wondrous whale
of time ever swimming

deeper into universal blue
waves, white crested
breaking into you
and broken by disjointed rhyme
helpless, like a crying child
washed upon the golden shores of eden

over twisted forests, horseshoe turns
carried by the wind into the sun
death by long exposure to lonliness
bodies burn, souls set free
to fly on their own wings
towards legends and eternity

This makes absolutely no sense

drifting through old pictures of me
you've found yourself a life
regardless of where I will be
and where do you see yourself
without me to hold your hand
and see you through
waiting in line asking why
trying to buy some time
you heard they were selling real cheap
trusting in your fath to get you by
while they're trying to get to you
you haven't paid the bill in quite awhile
and the man is here to take your TV
take your livelihood, you fight
it's all you have left of me
watching sydicated tv shows
in your ten foot cell
you killed a man or you'd be dead
that's how you got there
you dumped the body in the river
but it washed up after that
they found your prints all over him
and I wasn't going to lie for you again
so now I visit you on weekends
and bring you homemade bread
and I tell you 'bout your children
that you never knew you had
and you that say you wanna see them
but I don't think they should
see their daddy for the first time
in a place like that
but you won't be out for a long time yet
we're still making plans
I understand why you did what you did
I know you had to
I know you want to change
and I believed you could
so I gave you one last chance to prove
that I was right about you

The Goal is Insight, The Result Is Humanity, But In Actuality It’s All Just Wishful Thinking, a rant and an ode to a dead man

what should I do, what should I do, what should I do, where do I start, how do I begin, where the spirits spring forth, from the earth, from heaven and from hell, and trust that I will find this place, in my dreams. in my dreams, I see strange faces and distorted masks, and I see beautiful places that I cannot visit when I am awake. am I awake, am I, the world seems so insubstantial. the sun seems to have left yet I know it is not night yet. something inbetween, something not daylight and yet, not night. sentences are fractured, each carries it's own life, it's own weight and meaning that I have yet to learn. I want to learn but I need a teacher, nature shall teach me. what should I do, disjointed rhymes that, as a whole, make no sense, volumes of wisdom are contained in broken paragraphs not flowing tomes. beautiful words are not needed to convey truth, beautiful deeds are not needed to define worth, beautiful days are not needed to bring happiness. luck and stages and arguments. I make no sense to anyone but me, how strange, that the one I am writing this to was dead before I was even concieved, would that I had lived to see him. I wish I could have lived as unapologetically as he did.
I speak as if I am already dead.
I am, because I know where I will end, in knowing my end I have already ended. I need to find him, find where he hid, I need to see what he had seen, I need to find out where to begin. If I could just touch him, his mind, his soul, I could stop this path I'm on, I could live the way I want to. I could be free.
I understand you, that is what the problem is, I cannot hate what you have done becuase I understand why you did it. Alas, to be me.
He is my god, that is a dangerous thing, have I crossed from simply wanting to understand into obsession, into worship. no, I do not worship him, I do not worship anything, I respect him. he intrigues me, someone that strange, yet that familiar, I don't understand. how am I different from all the other people who claim to know your mind, how am I unique. experience, ideas, ideals, interests, wisdom and lack of experience. I could be young, just crazy, but I am not crazy so I must not be young. I am the sanest person I have ever met. that's saying alot and nothing at all.perhaps, it is possible that I am him. but no, that cannot be true, nothing good is ever true of me. or is it, do I deny it because it is what my heart desires to be, because I do not want to hope for what I desparately need. it would explain a few things. but no, how silly of me.
I believed the things I believe long before I ever heard you sing, read your poetry. I knew nothing then, and everything. I just go with my insticts, with what seems reasonable. reason is a virtue and a fault, as are all of my characteristics. Is that what you did, abandon reason. I wish I could live my life as unapologetically as you did. but, I know better, you forfeited a piece of your humanity for the pleasures of the flesh. I do not say deny yourself those pleasures. I know that is not all you gained, visions of the past and future and present, visions of your death. they haunt me as well, though not as tangible. just the barest hint of prescient knowledge, I cannot say I see anything that I can understand, for the most part I don't see anything at all. except some days, when the world seems so far away, yet near, and I feel the memories of some great understanding upon me, yet I fear to look further because of what I might see. because I don't want to lose this feeling, I don't want to forget again. I want to live my life in that higher mind, I want to always see the world through those eyes, dispassionate, compassionate, loving scorn. I want to see the world always as I did when I was a child.
Once I find the form I can change the future, if one could understand the universe they would be able to change it.

an observation of hostility

loud spoken words
filled with anger and frustration
now my orange soda
does not taste as sweet

I cut myself
deep enough to leave a scar
I run my fingers over smooth flesh
the scar is gone

the mist is shifting
it hides their lies
they think they are in the right
but I know better

wisdom shines like a light
pretty light, ugly fight
boot robbers running after me
around a corner into the night

spaces without light
traces faintly sighted
in the long hours before death
and deep beneath the waves

reflections, twisted and frightening
float upon the mists
to spook unwary travelers
and twist their voices into cries

distant voices cry
as money changes hands
and dreams fly

an existential moment of choice.

what does it matter if nothingness is knocking at your door, what have you worked for? debt? depravity? how did you manage to get this far without choking on your own filth, on the lies and the bullshit you've been fed all your life.
two months can really change a person, not that I've changed at all....
so many things left unfinished, this is no exception.

old friends and old enemies. the best kind. life, philisophical-like.

Life is a complicated and amazing thing. The definition of life changes with each perspective. It’s interest, people treat laughter as an object unto itself. I gather that this is because life is so large and unknown, complicated and erratic. The joys and sorrows are considered part of life. But is that true? Humans develop their own feelings about events that happen. Does that make it part of life? Are the events that occur part of life. Or is it something resulting because of life. Life has so many different definitions. It could mean something that is personally yours. It can mean something at large that is separate from the human mind; it could mean a state in mind, where one is fully ‘alive’. That variation of life is interesting concept as an actually state of mind, which, itself, could be taken in many definitions. To be alive, it could mean to breathe…or it could be referring to how fully you live your life. Life, as the definition referring to what a human cycles through, is personal, is yours. You live your life. How can that be if it’s also part of something larger? Many would describe life as a road. (A road for each individual? Or one for everyone?) But I would describe it as an ongoing weave. So many strands twisted together to make a larger piece. Life could change its design within the next weave, being forever undecided until it is reached by what we call lifetime. Life is taken for granted by so many people. Those who waste theirs and those who waste others don’t fully understand what being alive really means. But that is a paradox; we could never fully understand what we decided to call life. (How did such a name occur?) I think one would that a sum up life, as many would agree, is unknown. It is human nature to be afraid of what is unknown but seek to explore it. Yet, life, that we cherish so much, defies that. How do you explore what has not happened yet. True we could explore the past but that really doesn’t give enough headway to understand life. Some of us are afraid of life but some of us take life like nothing to be frightened of. Should we not be afraid of life? Life is our existence. How could one waste our existence? Yet there are people who do, people who understand the least about life. I guess that’s one thing that is caused by life being the unknown; widely varied opinions of its value and purpose. In life (there’s that word again; it’s amazing how much we evolve around it…wait it is why we evolve) we venture to discover the unknowns, yet the largest unknown is one we cannot see, one we cannot touch, and one we cannot explore. How can one explore the ever-changing track of life? It’s quite ironic. To think, all this speculation, all this thought about life exists only because of life. It is a circle. It’s funny how the joys and sorrows can be so attached to life; how living your life can mean to feel happiness and sadness. To me, living your life can mean that you live each moment without expecting tomorrow and its sorrows. Doesn’t life coincide with time? Isn’t time an aspect of life? You can’t have time without life, nor can you have life without time. The two do seem to interlock at the deepest of levels. If time were a spiral, then life itself would also be one. That is what time is after all. Despite the connection, life is not the aspect of time; at least it would seem so to me. Life is. What is time if there was no life? Again Life is what it’s all about. Nothing would exist with life; unless one means the definition of life referring to an animate object. Life itself is subject to interpretation despite the fact that it inexplicit. People could argue about the meaning of life, but, one way or another, life will go on.

Is it psychological? If it is, send me to the doctors because I’m having a mental breakdown.

~ the jaded jewel

pictures

I have become the angry waterbuffalo
that sits on my wall, all two-dimensional like
scowling at my lovers like an over protective uncle
frightening them away, jealous in an incestous manner
still and portrait like, listening to the moonlight
furious are the movements of the ghosts in my mind
moving furniture and flickering lights
playing the piano like a madman
dancing in slow circles, eyes closed
for a moment all is gone from that stony face, and calm

I just had to.

Two muffins were sitting in an oven, and the first looks over to the second, and say, "man it's really hot in here". The second looks over at the first with a surprised look, and answers, "WHOA, a talking muffin!"

listening to the moonlight (thursday night)

After all is said and done..................There will be nothing left to do or say.



What is the difference between a bad golfer and a bad sky-diver??

One goes whack, "Dammit!" and the other one goes "Dammit!", whack.

me

I hate pictures.

my entire family

well most of them, on my dad's side. (I'm not in there)

Colton and Chuck,

my nephew and my brother in law.

A man named Dude. 

12 down, 20 to go

1962 to 1997, god how many years is that? I don't even want to think that hard. and the man is still alive and doing concerts after making music for that many years.

legends and eternity

often evenings damp and cold,
when strange shadows do appear,
one might chance to look and see
into the poets world

and falling into dark despair
the depths of solace and repair
swallowed whole by the wondrous whale
of time ever swimming

deeper into universal blue
waves, white crested
breaking into you
and broken by disjointed rhyme
helpless like a crying child
washed upon the golden shores of eden

over twisted forests, horseshoe turns
carried by the wind into the sun
death by long exposure to lonliness
bodies burn, souls set free
to fly on their own wings
towards legends and eternity

philosophy, literature and conformity

Neitchze found, all is now right with the world. I bought The basic writings of Neitchze and Portable Neitchze and to kill a Neitchzebird, well, not the last one. Just my poor, pitiful attempt at humor, don't mind me. I also bought No one here gets out alive, the Jim Morrison biography. I've got alot of interesting reading ahead of me. I borrowed watership down from my friend and I want to read that as well. wow, this got boring really fast, sorry.

I remember when my brother wanted to be a philosopher, I thought that would be difficult for someone who repeats only what others have already said and thought. He is one of them now. I suppose he always has been.

aha! 

western philosophy is a myth.

I'm in borders right now looking for the elusive 'western philosophy' section, I'm beggining to think it doesn't exist, I'm just trying to find some Neitchze man!!

It's Alright, Ma (I'm only bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Do what they do just to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False golds, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

the soul patrol

throwing our blessings upon the road
we entrust our souls
to someone we don't even know
and tell ourselves it's for the best

we almost believed it too

wandering down haunted streets
in search of the theif
the swindler who took off with our secrets
carelessly sold
but none the less
we must find him
bring him in
and interrogate him
we're on a mission
to save some souls

and perhaps we'll make a profit while we do

I'm sure those hapless, soulless fools
would pay a pretty penny
to be reunited with what they,
like us, let slip away

odd

healthy hilltops
worth the wait
worth the wealth
and whatever else
you sacrificed to be here

follow me
you will see
I've got so much to show you
giant frogs that glow
in the dark
and snake skins
that stretch for miles

and that's all I have for now

hmmmmmmm........

it's that sound you make that comes from deep inside your belly, like a sigh but more depth. I've been making that sound alot lately, I think if I were moving any slower I'd be going backwards. That is, if I'm not already.

I can't seem to go to sleep any earlier that two, regardless of what time I wake up in the morning. I need to be medicated. Again. Well, no, that's not true. I hated the meds. When I don't know what to write I press the shift key and then the little window pops up asking if I want to turn stickykeys on but I don't because every time you press the shift key when it's on the computer beeps which is really annoying. Then my eye twitches, it doesn't happen often, but it's so frustrating when it does. well, I guess I'll try to go to sleep now.
Wish me luck.

The Gates Of Eden

Of war and peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull it glides
Upon 4-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun, though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden

The lampost stands with folded arms, its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail though it shadows metal badge
All in all can only fall with a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the gates of Eden

This savage soldier sticks his head in sand and then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf but still remains
Upon the beach where hounddogs bay at ships with tattooed sails
Heading for the gates of Eden

With a time-rusted compass blade, Aladdin and his Lamp
Sits with utopian hermit monks, side-saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise you will not hear a laugh
All except inside the gates of Eden

Relationships of ownership they whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly and wait for succeeding kings
And I try to harmonize with songs the lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the gates of Eden

The motorcycle black madonna two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver studded phantom cause the grey-flanneled dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey who pick up on his breadcrumbs sins
And there are no sins inside the gates of Eden

The kingdoms of experience in the precious winds they rot
While paupers change possessions each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince discuss what's real and what is not
It doesnt matter inside the gates of Eden

The foreign sun it squints upon a bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers from their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly totally free to do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the gates of Eden

At dawn my lover comes to me and tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words but these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the gates of Eden

ahaaaa

well, it's over, my collection of The Doors' albums is complete, at least for now. I've moved on to Bob Dylan, of course, he's got like 20 albums so this may take a while.

it's thursday and...

After all is said and done..................We'll prank call the neighbors. Again.

a fallen warrior 

Christmas Trees

this is what happens to christmas trees
when we tire of their company
when they don't smell piny fresh
we throw them out like all the rest
and all along our humble street
all the thrown out trees will meet
in the road they will organize
hear their haunting battle cries
revenge upon them
pine, branch and stem
revenge, revenge upon them
on they march to your front door
knock it down with mighty roar
calling to family and to friend
to come, come and fight with them
the forests risen in their wake
by the wisest tree who thus spake
this is what happens to human beings
when we tire of their mistreating

not worthy to be no. 9

When the world is burning
we sit and watch the flames
so close that the fire warms our faces
we have no water
we've dried up the lakes
and nothing will stop the it
from consuming us
and sealing our fate
fate did not ask us
what we wanted to take
did not give us the chance to think
we rushed out the door
with nothing but our skins
and we were thankful
that we had so much
the forests are screaming
we can do nothing to still their cries
so we do not even try
the unfairness of it all
brings tears to our eyes
as we stand in the placewhere the angels had died
and we turn our back
son the terrible sight
and move on to other lands
the memory of the fire
our childrenand their sad eyes
and we don't understand
how we came to be this way

I Want You

The guilty undertaker sighs,
The lonesome organ grinder cries,
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you.
The cracked bells and washed-out horns
Blow into my face with scorn,
But it's not that way,
I wasn't born to lose you.
I want you, I want you,
I want you so bad,
Honey, I want you.

The drunken politician leaps
Upon the street where mothers weep
And the saviors who are fast asleep,
They wait for you.
And I wait for them to interrupt
Me drinkin' from my broken cup
And ask me to
Open up the gate for you.
I want you, I want you,
I want you so bad,
Honey, I want you.

Now all my fathers, they've gone down
True love they've been without it.
But all their daughters put me down
'Cause I don't think about it.

Well, I return to the Queen of Spades
And talk with my chambermaid.
She knows that I'm not afraid
To look at her.
She is good to me
And there's nothing she doesn't see.
She knows where I'd like to be
But it doesn't matter.
I want you, I want you,
I want you so bad,
Honey, I want you.

Now your dancing child with his Chinese suit,
He spoke to me, I took his flute.
No, I wasn't very cute to him,
Was I?
But I did it, though, because he lied
Because he took you for a ride
And because time was on his side
And because I . . .
I want you, I want you,
I want you so bad,
Honey, I want you.

Bob Dylan