Probable Magic on Days full of Potential

"2.7.2012."
On Distance, and how we will
skip A patternS stone, to Watch
The ripples of the Buoyant & relative.
On moments, and how they Pass,
by with a, distortionS Glow,
-of, everything we will Never-Know,,
Because SUM, things Exist Regard-less
of our attempts at Measurement,
The Fabric of Space & Time, and
How it fluctuates with our Energies,
Colliding with the Energies,
we Believe to be ENcricling,
a Torus of Expounding FLow,
Love and Fear, of Humans and Earth,
the cosmos, give birth, to,
Lightness & to darkness,
Blackholes eat up information &
display it on their, surface, projecting
it into "empty" space, One
thousand, Light Years Away, a hologram
of Casted light & shadows, to
create a Reality as Binding as the
one, we Inhale&exhale, like we do,
codify,
our findings...
____

February 7, 2012
Rhythm, smacking fragments, refracting,
sweet sweet nothings, for days,
after & so i will wish you three times,
after, chalices switch containments,
*- & somehow, all-ways, ending up,
back at the beginning of the same,
place you find yourself in, time after
Dingos Time, tell us to go, or we wont
we like to Riddle our Lucks like we do,
Our, Pals, some, Ripple AND SO, ME, ROll,
Onward, leaving disaster to reap
within, another, regardless, matter
for the blind and disillusioned,
fancy foreigners allways at bay,
for wholey breaths, we hold long
stares to connect, the fever of a Crow's Kneck,
Slit and gutted for the Crowds
respect, Loose definity that brings
me nowhere near, home or near
the checker patterned mishap of polaroids,
reflecting lights and shadows,
like a day dream caught on a Wire, inbetween
the seams of a projected "2Dimensional Screen,
filled with all the bull
shit & information,
you've discovered over the years
of intertwining,
Lust and carnivorous, decipher-us,
manifestations, of doubt and fear could
be the only thing that landed us,
here from, time & time again,
memory, disappears.
___

Today is February 19, 2012
Time has passed and lessons have been,
Leant, to the spaces in*between these
Intuitive- day dreams, which bring me
about as Much peace, as a Hole
IN my ribbon, and ATleast it is not,
my Heart, so after all it is Gratitude, and not,
destiny or fortitude which fulfills,
the misery of a probable solitude, you will
never have, a fruit, without a, Tree,
This TIme, i will have to Let Go
of Being Alone and the manager in my Mind,
will just have to ChalkTHEtube and leave
me to be Present to what i am offered & Not,
what a You Created, but -for What we Experience,
and -inTurn Release Through,
layers of Dimensional Layers of Expression,
you are NOT alone, this TIME, not
only are the polarities BEside YOU, but INside
and the construct your living is a Metaphor,
whether your dreaming,
begins or ends with or with out
your bones aligning
and if EYE could promise you One thing,
it would be a Light at the End of
your tunnel of
Spinning Energy,
turns to lightNess
when you allow your soul to Blossom
into the Magic of what Might IS,
and how your most likely exactly where,
you ought'A be, Truss PLUS Truss
equals a. whole. big. Universe.

...sometimes, i wake up,
and i don't think ALL.
(others).
___

2/20/2012
Coughing to Release,
Neurosis to Complete,
the bullshit of you
meshed with the bullshit of Me,
Somethings are worth repeating,
while others are better,
left, for the dogs to Retrieve,
like the Bones we synchronize
into motion, because our Homes,
are still far away from
the Notion that we are aLL,
playing some sort of Game,
here. Whether we Like It or Not,
The Rules are there, like
the Windows on Our Walls and the
rocks at the bottom of the River,
Know one thing too well, and that is the Swell,
of the Tides, Carried, by the passion of Minds,
stories turned in Lives,
the mis&hap, of a Metaphor
that saves us from the finish
Line, and instead we wind Up,
back at the beginning,
a breaths away from the end.
______
2.20.2012
i shall not get used to It.
I shall not forget, everythings
fluctuating Way of Ultimatums Decays
But Regardless, sometimes, i Wake up,
to Blue Sky, Which usually
Creates a Returned Glimmer In my Eye,
and yet someHow the Power of Mind
can rip Holes and Leap Through
Windows of Time,
One thing we are Not Limited to is Ways,
and how they're endless,
Destiny and a secret we know ALL,
to,well, to tell, about the hopping,
from maps to Shells, being Large and
shrinking unto the Resolution that the
World/Show
Must Go, On.
- and SomeHow we Allways arrive,
back to what we Know.

somethin' else

yes inDEED

Tapping Through RHythms, to Bring home, Precision

February First, 20-12.
Yet it feels like Spring & it feels like, Home.
Moments of Still Air, Meshed with a Deja-Vu-
Realm, The kind of Afternoon tea, that you left
in the Kiln, too long for the Shattered
remnants to remain whole-Y, since this was your
Destiny & that was your Fallacy, & how we'd surelY,
be starven, without the BEE Colony,
who deeds a dozen duals, reminds me of
the HIStory of Fools,
the ones they told us about in
Grade-School,
when our parents shut our eyes & told us
HOW- to- Do,
& besides the lucky sprouts that grew Out, with
no Doubt; the most grounded roots
of Self Sufficient Troops.
Loneliness was only a Battle for the
Homes And Kids,
& not that you're alone, with,
This,
we can surcease, the, paralysis,
quite the minD, allowing your SOUL to
exist...
No Master &
No Subordinate,
Equal parallels withOUT distortion,
Only intuitive breaths of Miraculous
Proportion,
the only type of dream,
never recorded.
_

Today is February Second,
here we are again,
The shift has gone and Twisted Us
as it Does, Pretend
your now is ALL; and the rest indeed, SHall,
pass, back & check forth, skipping spaces
without a Wall, surrounding them -ON,
-In, -Around,
the slip-Slop of a Proposition-
Mind-Hop, & wherever we go,
we allways forget that the///...
The idea of surceasing Intrigues Me,
The daily habits that Decay Me, and yet the Mind
Regards & discards like a Hippo Howling
Ricochets, that seem to be Following,
or IS IT leading?
Eyes a line & paths intertwine,
distance and space
of what a Love could CreatE,
and regardless, of the voices in my Head,
eye am residing in this Here, Gratitude
of what connects my Atoms -to WholeNess.
_

February Three, 2012.
Time for Our Cells to Mishap & align,
for the Rhythms and Rhymes,
we come back home,
only to remember Why we ever Left.
The conversations that Remains in Your Head,
Will only surcease when you Leave Your Head,
& you can write and write,
Until you feel the thought is Dead,
In which, Case the Sun Will Shine
& you shall Awaken to the Land,
in-between, what makes Sense.
Because this world began,
a very long time ago
and the patterns Reap All The Same,
after-aLL, it is a Cyclical Type of Game.
The single Connection between a Symbol & a
Chance can Reveal how Identity Links to,
Happenstance, & with one small Blunder of Wonder,
The portal of Thought sucks all that IS,
into its tunnel of All That Is & suddenly,
the Tic Toc of the Clock, opens and the archaic level
of meaning, is now, Proportioned,
though all Deeds and Notions,
Through the Nature of Phenomenon,
we reckon and suppose,
& it is these two Acts,
which intimately connect
our cells to ALL -we don't know.
_

uterus water

Lyrical Wonders of Colossal Dream-games

1.27.2012
Sink a little further,
remind me if you get There,
Sink a little deeper,
remind me how i got Here,
Float up OR Dive In, regardless
of the, imposed-proposition
& formulations of direction;
Our cellular truth
of the Macro and Mi'nute,
Hold out to prove,
the destiny of thy HolyOne,
reflected in: you & everyone, you Know,
beckon to show
-what gives & goes,
reprieves & bestows,
the lives & minds of pharaohs,
"Man's Pristine Origins"
& how we've dearly Lost Touch,
with beloved Intention,
seems it is only under,
Absolute Condition,
will these
Origins become Restorative,
As our Eyes Align with the Times,
alongside the edge of an,
Abyss, a being can Only Sync
Into Mind, pondering their
Purpose, as a Human-Race,
regardLESS, of the daily-Days,
the essence of humility,
collides with Infinity,
launched by the faith of the
Angel's Ray.
_

1/29/12

If this paper or flossy Strips Decide to-
Work, than eye will let you go IN the due Time,
we call, "see-ya-nevers"- though our Mind Skips
into patterns we call, "home" -unless it is
Gone -Inwhich case, A jump is not Only Right,
but it is Ought'A
and if WE, than, WE-
skip- A- Beat- &
wash your feet
with the Nettles we harvested
that one day in the Wild,
when we ran like
the Naked bodies we Lend
to the Woods, to sync
Life with Life, like we knew we Could,
only a dream a way & soon we shall Say,
Nothing At All,
allowing our Space to, dissolve/...

& i suppose it does WORK -like a snap head-
Knee-jerk, faerie-catchin & min-Twerps,
nothing short of Solitude & nothing Over our
Mission, to Explore our World,
they never told us about,
the gods and ancients
that sculpted
& Depicted what they thought,
and how they dreamt just like we Dream,
the differences IS far, but IN-between,
Mad like a day Dream,
running a'mok through your Day seams;
windows of vision
coalescing to lesson
the Minute
in destined & fortitude.
Some may call it,
Moral Fiber (that twist & shout like the
rhythms we have *here)
WHILE, other prefer to name it,
True Grit,
and regardless of our motions,
this rhyme remains, in Motion,
for our water is always, Flowing,
I'm not Stuck,
but, Merely Glowing,
like that story the Archs told
about Mary & her notion,
surely, oh, shirley, you remember to
Let- Go - And -
that one Thought ran
so deeply a'mok, we actually,
DID lose our-selves
&-so, began, the Twisted Story!
(of heaven & hell).
_

Today: January 30, 2012
and it's sorta silly,
How the patterns Reap, RegardLess,
of who we may (think) we may BE,
Today or Tomorrow,
the thought is Full,
but the Idea is emptY,
M'dearest Shirley,
eye write you adjacent my cells,
so these lines may be dreamy,
and though the times of Smoky exhales,
may make us dreary,
these rhythms and rhymes sEEm,
to -complete- me*
nothing being everything///
Poles Switch
And minds, Flip,
the Flop, they Thought, could-Save,
Their Knots, revolved so Tightly around
their, soul
Well/well/WELL how will we become our OWN bestFriends
on the days when our egoS slip in & out of these
Layers of Dimensional Being, as IF we Were
"the fruit that ate itself" & our fears
& hopes & doubts & knows all add up
to our very own Sum of Things,
Equally Nothing & Everybody is A,
Sum (of) Bodies,
Unless (o'course) there was NO-body
to play their Game,
so dear Shirley, Swing me around,
WHY- DONT-CHA,
sweep me up and twist & shout,
your game is MY game,
so long as we're Rhyming,
Our Destiny
with What we seem-to-be Forgetting,
a long Lost Fantasy,
never could exist
with out the BEEs!
_

1/31/2012
Here is to not Forgetting, why we
Are, and How we will,
Get There!
Some, days, we wake Up and its Like
nothing -not even the AIR could bring
us down -not todaY when our Blood
sheds accordingly,
into the dirt,
escorting, thee...
into the Labyrinth in-Side
This ALL.
Like a day-Dream, Dissolved into
Thin Air, when a butterfly dances & we forget
that we ever had (to) -Care
Of laughter & how it will most definitely Cure Us.
Bones may Falter,
in the realM of the Lost,
but In-between Indecision,
there lies a Trust,
the mad and the Miraculous
are cuddling like two babes
apart in a whole,
and how the worlds really is,
just a BIG-littuhl-Girl,
so they jam and so they sing, dreamiN
a Vision they are soon -to See,
oh m'darlin how our wonders Are,
aLive and Well, and this Flesh is Part
of this- Miracle,
waters and mountains, prairies and fountains,
dragons secrets and faeries follows,
a wondrous story of the time in the Hollows;
we can write it all down
&-rinse it all off,
the water is Blessed,
and that is Enough.
_