:

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, December 3, 2011

Buddhist Camp

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
But I behold confusion the seed of ignorance too
So I guess there is no 'me' to attach myself to 'you'
Oh where or where has the wisdom one
I'll try to walk away without getting stuck.
By my my mind spins out
My delivery rough
Red-faced monkeys swing
From the branches of my brain
I really can't imagine how on earth i can remain
But I guess it's all just an illusion anyways
Or something...

No comments:

Post a Comment