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My photo
:, Indonesia
I do not speak my truth to antagonize you.... I share this swollen river running -- This waterfall of faith-- because it flows from me like lennon's endless rain.... --my paper cup: this poem-- to which an endless string of words spill out and on to... I stain the sentences with abundant articulations that boil inside of me... I thirst, I starve, I crave. and all that quenches... all that can satiate me is to open the faucet and allow the words to run... They skip and dance across themselves... They formulate on their way out like fireworks deciding which way they will face when they open and sizzle in the night air... And when they do... it's a sight to behold. It shocks me like the boom, and takes me aback to see what has emerged. And Keroac knew. He knew all along... that I was one. As my words explode like spiders across the sky... I watch in staggering wonder at my truth revealed and know that I am home here. I have taken my vow... signed in blood... solemnly sworn myself in... been hazed and pinky promised... and I know... without the shadow of a doubt... that I am a mad one. ...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

a formula for insanity

its all coming undone in its perfectly imperfect chaos...
shaking loose the satin strings of attachment that bind us to one another.

the free falling, wild, flailing peace rips perfect seams through my spine...
and the agonizing burn warms my nearing hypothermic heart.

i dont ask that you stop or start, come or go, press or ease away...
just that you be exactly who you are...
and sit in the seat of your soul so i can sit in the seat of mine.

i will watch the leaves turn red...
and the sun go black with the smoke of a blazing forest fire.

i will watch the autumn come and pass me by again as i flutter down to an icy snow-covered hill.

my swollen eyes will gaze again at the glacier glowing blue in the moonlight...
among those that speak the language of love

and the days will get longer.

the yellow daffodiles will spring to life overnight to greet us with their crisp, spirit shaking essence...
as if to slap my rosy cheek and bring me back to the present moment.

i am not in a garden where swans dwindle and canopies of flowers hang over head.

that life is a life that was.

...but einstein said that "time only exists so that everything doesn't happen all at once."

so i cant help but wonder if i am still here...
or if i was going to be there...
or if i will be where i was...

and you wrote that then, but i say it now...

so my mind can't help but to spin circles like a kaleidoscope splattering confusing colorful shapes against the wall..
shapes that draw me in with their perfectly imperfect chaos.

and i realize that i have no choice but to sit in the bosom of this lotus flower...
and gaze towards the light in the sky...
and surrender
to not knowing.

surrender to the jumbled memories and dreams that morph you all together in this current backwards line i draw in the sand...

my breath will guide the falcon that floats above my left eye...
the falcon that will sweep my lifeless body through the air and drop me on a cliff i recognize from somewhere...
and i wont know whether to jump or fall until i arrive.

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