.

2010-01-13T14:06:00.002-05:00

met a man today,
trying to buy back
everything he had lost
to the flames.
started listing off the things
that he was replacing
the lawnmower,
the toolset,
the chain saw,
the extension ladder,
the shed.
amongst the list
he included his wife.
he said that he was going
to bury her,
but didn't get a choice,
she was already cremated.
he's got her sitting at the house.
waiting for the perfect time to
talk to the grave keeper,
find her a nice plot.
been 5 weeks.
she's not going anywhere fast.

2010-01-13T14:06:00.000-05:00

the man who called himself the maker of shapes; we knew as the artist; forever torturing himself to create the newest shapes of perfect dimensions; finely tuning his math and wearing his tools and pens thin; alas one day he came up with an amorphous shape; a perfect continuation of a curve that met itself in the end; an infinite cycle that would remain unbroken; a circle, he decided, would be the one shape he had yet to perfect; he locked himself away in his study, to not be seen for years; his only trips were to the drafting shoppe for more supplies and his own kitchen for meals, made in the wee hours of the morn; not many understood his reasoning behind drafting that which was impossible without tools. he slaved away at it, piles and piles of drafts filled the room; his eyesight started going, and his hands were riddled with arthritis; and one day he did not wake; after the burial, which three attended, the townsfolk came to his house to figure out what the hermit had created; thus in his drafting room, laid hundreds of thousands of gorgeous shapes and curvatures; distractions from the circle which he created in his freetime; all for the sake of the circle; his vision so narrowed; he never truly saw what he had accomplished; all for the sake of perfection.

2010-01-13T13:34:00.001-05:00

it's funny how things are
when you're down and out.
i often find myself
forgetting the things i believe
to be most important
when they are needed most.
balance is a tricky game the entire world plays,
since the dawn of time its been a balancing act,
atlas with the world upon him,
a single slip and all of existence would never be.
the position of the earth and
the correct warmth to support life
and to sustain it as well.
but without the game of balance
nothing would ever occur.
the belief of homeostasis is a lie.
it takes two competing elements to create
stability
and it takes instability to know what stability is
stability
one of the thousands of words
man has invested in to create a meaning
behind the incomprehensible.

2009-10-07T01:55:00.000-04:00

i write what is on my mind but my mind travels faster than any pen could go i have written every line in my head only to find the delay from mind to hand creates room to second guess and change the intentions therefore changing the meaning of what is truly being said i guess making any attempt to write what i really feel would be futile.

i think too much.

2009-10-07T01:37:00.000-04:00

an older black man
totally gray
wearing sunglasses
talks about dinosaurs,
and BBC.
how BBC is the only network
keeping the integrity
of computer technology

why do i care?
why should i give a shit?

but i do.
he's lonely.

i feel it.
see it.

i've drifted, but he's still talking about them.
the argentinasaurus in comparison to the brontosaurus
and other diphlapods,
made them look like children's toys.
and they only discovered it a year ago.
i nod and smile.

it's all he needs.

2009-10-07T01:19:00.001-04:00

the grinding of rails
the panic of impact
all at once as the train
approaches at high pace.
around the turn it came
no switch track,
no chance.

the impact

crushing of metal
the feeling of weightlessness
through being thrown forward.
mangling of steel and aluminum
materials not meant to bend.
explosions from locations never known.
everything comes to rest.

the silence after

more deafening than the wreck itself
the cloud of dust and smoke cloaks the world in gray.
pain is the only feeling experienced.
emotions absent
visibility is nothing
it's all a dream

tell me it's a dream.

silence.

2009-10-07T01:07:00.000-04:00

i set a course for the sun
to put things to rest,

to close it all

before i got there
i burned alive.

2009-10-05T00:57:00.001-04:00

the number of days:
4 until my library books are due.
16 until my next big project.
270 until i'm out of school.
2042 until i'm married
another 900 i'm a father
9,031 until i realize what i am really doing.
10,031 until i try to correct that.
15,372 until i start losing strength
16,705 eyesight starts going
19,789 until i'm bed ridden
21,003 when i see the last light i will ever see.
21,007 i cease to exist.

2009-10-03T23:17:00.002-04:00

a picture says
a thousand words.
this one writes an epic,
of 8 months of deadly chemistry.
a russian roulette
of substances
all waiting to be mixed.

boom.

2009-10-03T23:13:00.002-04:00

God-less world,
or a heartless God?
so much chaos
so perfectly orderly
off to war,
and into the graves
the battle of life
begins at first breath
no matter what
you're losing the war
no forces can change
the outcome.

you can ward off the enemy
with it's endless supplies
run if you may,
but you'll never beat it.
put up a fight, for all it's worth.
some never see battle,
others lost in the fog,
some forced to surrender,
some taken without notice.
march into it,
with knowledge of the outcome,
living for the day.

2009-10-03T23:07:00.001-04:00

crooked pictures
of landscapes
from nowhere
only in the mind of the painter;
hang in an office
of no meaning,
in an indiscriminant building,
in the warehouse district.

2009-10-03T23:04:00.001-04:00

once you take a picture
it's gone.
forever.
that very moment,
time,
and place,
will never be again.
under no
circumstance could
it ever exist again.
time moves on.
with
or without you.

2009-10-03T23:02:00.004-04:00

shadows
dependent
on light.
only through
the absence of it

2009-10-03T23:00:00.001-04:00

A million of 'em
i don't think
i've ever seen
a million of anything
little paperclips
heating up
a million of 'em.

2009-10-03T22:49:00.002-04:00

met a man today,
trying to buy back
everything he had lost
to the flames.
started listing off the things
that he was replacing;
the lawnmower,
the toolset,
the chain saw,
the extension ladder,
the shed.
amongst the list
he included his wife.
he said that he was going
to bury her,
but didn't get a choice,
she was already cremated.
he's got her sitting at the house.
waiting for the perfect time to
talk to the grave keeper,
find her a nice plot.
been 5 weeks.
she's not going anywhere fast.

2009-09-29T00:13:00.001-04:00

memoirs
of a past lifetime
of someone's once home
parties, fellowship
life, love.
all shared
in a room
that now possesses the stench
of mold, mildew,
and hanging cobwebs.

2009-09-28T20:25:00.003-04:00

The colors fade
they always do with age
but with the fading,
comes a certain beauty,
that which is only seen by the eyes
who understand the times.
who have seen the tides
come and go
the gravity pull and push
of planets drifting aimlessly through a dark universe

a universe without space or time,
or purpose.
as orbits align and others divide
i am caught up in the destiny of the beings of my planet.
senseless and small in the larger picture.
my own orbit is ignored
the projected path unseen

i scramble for plans,
but this ships already sinking.
sinking into the depths
sinking into itself
a brilliant light is flickering from the surface through the glass
the violet light
seen by the ones.
who care too much
who love too much

the violet fills the room
unbelievable warmth
violet upon violet
the contrast disappearing
all shadows are lost
shapes lose their dimension
the world becomes a solid wall.
the violet gradually fades to darkness.
without a sound.