Real Poetry Take II

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
    translation by Coleman Barks

real poetry

Pull my daisy
tip my cup
all my doors are open
Cut my thoughts
for coconuts
all my eggs are broken
Jack my Arden
gate my shades
woe my road is spoken
Silk my garden
rose my days
now my prayers awaken

Bone my shadow
dove my dream
start my halo bleeding
Milk my mind &
make me cream
drink me when you’re ready
Hop my heart on
harp my height
seraphs hold me steady
Hip my angel
hype my light
lay it on the needy

Heal the raindrop
sow the eye
bust my dust again
Woe the worm
work the wise
dig my spade the same
Stop the hoax
what’s the hex
where’s the wake
how’s the hicks
take my golden beam

Rob my locker
lick my rocks
leap my cock in school
Rack my lacks
lark my looks
jump right up my hole
Whore my door
beat my boor
eat my snake of fool
Craze my hair
bare my poor
asshole shorn of wool

say my oops
ope my shell
Bite my naked nut
Roll my bones
ring my bell
call my worm to sup
Pope my parts
pop my pot
raise my daisy up
Poke my papa
pit my plum
let my gap be shut

allen ginsberg

jack kerouac

neal cassady

kisses from the sea

I got a smooch from a sting ray today right on the inside soft portion of my foot..


fuck
amazing pain

good to take my mind off of other open wounds i guess... :)

i am moving to san francisco soon and I am pretty excited

no more being near camila...

no more being near comfort and familiarity

my brother and I had a talk today and i feel less weighted by my own being, also with the prospects of change

life should be good....
single life..
freedom and opportunity

no more sitting here thinking about camila. she made her choice. she can venture alone and find herself
find a nice gentlemen who won't be such a brendon...
fuck relationships.

life is about the little moments...
like hitting gongs.
enjoying even little events.

forget sharing.
forget caring
i'm in this for me
you do yourself.



shred on absent viewer.

eight- fifty three

waking up is the worst thing ever...going to sleep is a wash...
I feel like i am withdrawing from drugs...
there are no campaigns in society`
warning people of this pain.
it is quite dangerous how deeply humans become entangled
or maybe how we think we do.

I don't I ever want to be in love again....
have you ever thought about that?
are you happy with your self?
and who sleeps next to you?

these doubts that captain my ship
only directions seems to point to mundane,
salt injects the memories with immortality
and places them in the pantheon of my achievements.
kind of like, if i don't try
then I won't ever forget.

but...
things are starting to move,
maybe not fluid like
but...
I am still breathing,
and over thinking.

for today though, I will promise myself
smooth seas make not a skilled sailor
internal or otherwise.











i am trying not to drink coffee as much but it is hard....and delicious....and comforting.

the surf has been crap for a week as far as i have seen....so no surfing....

lots of drums..

human warmth

i still feel dead.

like there is nothing inside of me

even good moments have the longevity of sulfur

my smile feels grounded

my self image is a puddle of murk

my memories are gone and all i remember is recent history

ambient floating with only a desire to be teathered

to routine, to familiarity

to no money worries,

no more thoughts of how easily you could change your mind

they say you know a language when you dream in it

what about when it narrates your sad heart

and give you cause to shudder in bitter memories



sorry i'm ranting again

i told you i would stop

today is a lauryn hill day

we have had some many chances to learn from smart people

properly mal-adjusted

improperly fit for duty

time we found what we're looking for
and listening for the truth

i am done with school...no more camila

well that was fun.... on to the next madventure or radventure....venture on...

this is me crying in Chile

i had injured myself thoroughly at various skate parks

and wanted to lay forever

hippers and shinners and ripped ankles

vacation dues..

Golden Hours

Life Gifts... Oh me Oh my

I just went to chile and this song by brian eno sends me into the my joyous sadness...i really  miss camila


the passage of time
is flicking dimly upon the screen
i cant see the lines
i used to think i could read between
perhaps my brains have turned to sand

oh me oh my
i think its been an eternity
you'd be surprised
at my degree of uncertainty
how can moment go so slow
several times
i've seen the evening slide away
watching the signs
taking over from the fading day
perhaps my brains are old and scrambled

several times
 ive seen the evening slide away
watching the signs
taking over from the fading day
changing water into wine
 several times
ive seen the evening slide away
watching the signs
taking over from the fading day
putting grapes back on the vine

School gramin'

I am in school all day

and instagrams got me wonderin' how do you make studies look cool?
nah.

i want this semester to be over..the school i go to is coated in memories of my last relationship
her name is camila. you might know her by now.
if you don't...cool...
i have to see her today, and it makes me fucking terrified.

have you been surfing? .......I haven't

Have you been skating?........ I kind of have.

I am in a transitional period..and it is bizarre...never ending...and I stay high too much...

er oh..

advice for the day: make tough decisions before life forces you to.

how dead is blogger? tumblr slays all...silly me.

Narrative change

I bet you're sick of all this shit

So I am going to attempt to try to change my narrative

more to speaking to you

rather than at you...yeah you, invisible reader

Less sad, more rad

More happy

less crappy

better words

and good ideas.

being practiced, and perpetuated

stay tuned, the sad shit is done. 

im changing my piss bucket

Public Works

I want to know how to forgive
I want to know the feeling of letting go
does it slip out of your hands like sand?
or fly over your head like birds?

Does a weight become lessened
does the mind come to a halt
I want to know this feeling
it's imbalance causes my compass
to constantly point south.

I want to be supportive
like I tell you I am
I want to know un-attached
does it feel like
a pair of shackles being cut
or a dog sprinting away from it's leash?

I want to be strong without flexing
I want to be patient in chaos
I want to remain quiet in crowds
I want to support you without falling into the sea.