Scribble Fold

Post-it note in wallet,

dirty brow..dry mouth..

unfolding scribbled lines

drawn from the morning,

am to pm to the break of yawn..

to the shake of awe ending and never finished,

mote speckles I saw and formed sentence,

mute they heckled, off level, in essence

transposed the image. clean version

formatted in creased dingy movement

the modified bent pattern participle

refined henosis, hocking a principle

from..under desk gum peel

to..cool steel window sill

energy vs it’s opposite will

the instilled product is kissable

the feel of exchange is all equal

The Purpose

Beyond reason and the limits of language

where thoughts of ego resonate into baggage.

the orthodox state that is carried

the primeval proxy of knowledge

buried

deep

deeper..

Into the senses

obscured by the dances

advertisements

and the chase for prosperity

wherein the chase is imagery

with no clarity

no greater focus

than the difference between

existence and conformance

in your reality

whether awake

or lying dormant.

#purpose

Walking Heads

Sarte vs Camus,

a canvas blotched proof,

fluid in deviation,

a faux pa for the fruit

of elevation,

seeds of evolution,

is it duty or is it

consumption?,

lets take it back to the roots,

a live redux-tion,

breaking out of the loops,

and wave fixations,

that glue views,

to the late night stations,

sensations sparked unchained,

torres straits paints,

rise of the apes,

chemicals and cages,

lets take it to the pearly gates,

my parallel proletariat,

lets occupy space,

spark the divide,

illuminate the paths pace,

amongst Kirkman's dead

that gaze remains

unphased

the zombie speech with no shape,

no function to the movements,

in the midst of confusion

a population siege

society deceived.

expressionless contrasts

masking the face's physique

a looking glass theory,

what is it they seek?

Neons

She whispered @ the crescent..

lip gloss thin and scented -
with the lust of a tension
untouched,

brushing the sweat drops,

hushed whim..

you could hear the tic tocs
you could hear the wind lick
the snow

like some type of artic
frantic echo

ansy and nervous:

she took a swig
she took a drag

she finally
let go

digging in her bag's
smashed wrinkles
like a ceral box
rumpled to its top
panels

out came her stop
she jumped in the lights
eyes locked in the brights

neons.

that entice.

Night to Light

The night sky velvet,

crystalizes a thought.

caught from a stars sonnet,

that streaked the canvas -

as if the divine bombed it..

eye meeting light out the darkness,

the revealing feeling of a sightless artist,

who's brushing collages out his wrists arches..

Night Night

The night sky whispers in my ear

clear..

while the vespers path floats remotely

still...

a feeling so sincere..

the noise so soft

it fufills my glance..

leaving me star crossed..

in a sullen stance..

words were lost

whilst the breeze advanced..

..cold..

with an unfroze-

feeling of a sublime chance..

as the moon laughed and danced..

all i could do was enjoy while i watched it pass..

Never could draw

Always wanted to draw with the pen,

paint or lead..

the thoughts on the pad wouldnt match -

what was in the head..

stuck..

like a sliver

splintered..

in my nail bed..

radio box

bumping rail..6ft under

on my sunday reg..

up all night..

seeing with the eyes red..

gleam..glazed..

while the instrumentals played

over again..over again..

the beat sang into my ear..

with a discreet whisper..

the first lines i dropped

was nothing i was too into..

copying formats to fit

my thoughts thru a view-

with a #2 pencil..

page upon page..

jotting down thoughts

for days..

thinking its more than just a phaze...

the reason for sanity,the reason for craze..

craving the challenge..

creating a cage

out of uniting phrases that wind tight

like weaving mazes-

with no end in sight

..ageless..

..timeless..

from a noisy place

drenched in silence..

Gripping the thoughts now

with every sentence..i'm so assertive..

a pure purpose..

drawing worlds with words

just so focused..

publishing poems

now:.. with binary..electronic.. circuits..

leaving the inks..in the moleskins

practicing-

a voice that has kinks

on the brink

ready to surface..

but knowing-

never to force it..

just like when i started..

a blank page and

a thought uncharted..

on a whisp..on a whim..

looking to sing..