since it's my blog

i was thinking...

since it's my blog, i may as well post some of my work.

press / address...do what you will.



Faster


Butterflies and inspiration;
incense and perspiration;
intrigue and mystery,
anxiety and ecstasy.

Wonderland is the place to be;
the place to be and to be seen;
a mecca of lost souls,
Soul-Slingers and Dub-Tribes;
glow sticks, pacifiers, Vicks, and beans;
dub plates and templates and vinyl dreams;
to raga and trance and emcees they dance;
they break & trip & roll & flip
through fate or chance or circumstance,
they thrive with pills & baggy pants;
they're pretty but plastic,
disposable and tragic
like party-pups on short leashes
who chasing trails;
teenyboppers drool like Gilbert Grape,
aging fast and dying young
on the battlefield of breakers.
Sweet lyrics whispered softly,
“gentle night, into the sun,
let's go faster, faster now”;
faster and farther,
today won't end
if we never close our minds again.



Deep Every Time, a Treatise on Transcending the
Present-Perfect, An Ideal State

I.
Definition

The Present-Perfect is an Ideal State,
pure, sublime, not man-made nor made for man;
effluvial in Nature, we can't see,
itself trapped, lost in a mystery.

Via chance, depressants, or stimulants,
at times, man elevates to lofty airs;
he catches a glimpse sent by the divine,
of a foreign world, flawless by design.

The Ideal State exists outside of time;
in this condition, man is man no more;
for the majestic, ethereal plane
knows not of time nor of guilt or of shame.

A world of chaos with limited rules;
the Ideal State is free of all matter;
having no properties to recognize,
it's every thing yet hidden to our eyes.

The Present-Perfect, Cosmos' perfect world;
Human Nature, Man's perfect enemy;
ceaselessly suffering [in itself] a mystery,
man's world is filled with pain and misery.

Man's Imagination is essential
when he transcends his natural world;
the Universe and the Man become one,
now part and parcel of a greater sum.

Supernatural, divine by design,
it is a state that we can't understand;
it exists not; so, if man's to be wise,
he must see himself behind his own eyes.

I've a secret about the Universe;
feeling it's greedy to keep it hidden,
this 'ol Bard's decided to share with you
a prophecy that's absolutely true.

With reality left open to close,
Man is left to himself to make a choice;
the prophecy promises timeless joys,
learn'd simply, listening to this voice.

II.
Transcension

In the darkness, when I close all my eyes,
I can see, shining, a thousand bright stars;
my feet are gently resting on a cloud
and my head remains buried underground.

I remember to breathe, then, to smile;
the Ideal State is deep every time;
I see the turning, fallen leaves of grass
reflecting off the sidewalk's broken glass.

Tonight, it's slippery; ice on the streets;
I think graffiti; thunder's in my heart;
I board an invisible cosmic train
and dance a 'lil slow-jive with my brain.

On the edge, I get deep every time;
in these moments, I can taste my heartbeat;
nothing matters when everything's one
in the bestowed moments of transcension.

The science behind this is based on faith;
to the truths at hand, pay close attention;
the secret, nay, the key to transcension
is universal law through the heavens.

Inside floating clouds, sky-bound cumulus,
between symbiotic subatomics;
we feel, caress our seeking hearts,
breaths of eternal deep; transcension starts.

The real world disappears fading away;
a bridge connects the contrasting Natures;
we step slowly from sidewalk to sunbeam
and wander between a cloud and a dream.

To escape the mortal chains that bind us,
Man must Windex his doors of perception;
to visualize this great enigma,
we let shine our radiant charisma.

His secret now shared, the Bard will resign
to his ancient, immortal tapestry;
you possess the power and energy,
the source and the heart, Creativity.

III.
Conclusion

We are kept hidden by Human Nature
from secrets that constantly surround us;
from the darkest depths of lamentation,
our souls seek their emancipation.

Through silent meditation, we find peace;
our minds drift off to a far away place,
eternally gnawing on a free high
and dancing on thy fearful symmetry.

We are granted moments of perfection,
elusive visions of another sphere;
when perception becomes reality,
we are lost in benign finality.

We can put pretty tablets on our tongues,
as we taste the sun and then drink the moon;
chemical stimulation is one way,
to step outside time and escape today.

By grasping the world in a grain of sand,
or by leaving footprints on the ceiling,
or by humbling ourselves and kneeling,
we experience that joyous feeling.

Call me a prophet if I speak the truth;
call me a child if I'm innocent;
paint me Romantic with your gentle brush
as I shake and quiver with every touch.

We can walk on water with balanced grace,
and sojourn the shores of serenity;
Creativity is the guiding light,
all ablaze in the obsidian night.

With lessons learn'd, and the secrets shared,
the Present-Perfect is yours to transcend;
in the Ideal State, it's deep every time,
free yourself of the shackles of your mind.

Capture the spontaneous overflow;
recall emotions from tranquility;
Imagination is the divine key
to transcending our reality.


okay, that's enough for now.
let me know what you think.
or just let it sink in.