Oh that sly mother fucker.
Drowning me in this river.
My red flows down stream.
Head covered with cold water.
My body never saw this day.
The day the devil lost his daughter.
The day I saw the world as water.

We swam and we sang.
Chanted some might say.
Drinking blood, and eating skin.
Tattooed our wrists with sixes.
We bathed in fucking sin.

Our faces red and violent.
We fought through ourselves perceived.
It was so beautiful.
We wanted more.
We neglected the words of wisdom’s seeds,
and began to boast and soar.
Standing next to flesh itself.
The blood begins to boil.
Sitting within this small package.
It’s easy to see outside.
Flipping through the pages of past, present, future.
To feel, to run, to hide.
We danced and sang.
We ate too much of this little thing.

Oh that sly mother fucker.
We eat, we dance, we sing.

it fades in
it fades out
there are so many fucking people
to many to count
I can see the particles floating
it’s nice to visualize philosophy
metaphysical after effects
ha…

it’s comforting to wander
wondering if and how
pausing only briefly
forming a place
a child like place
like a house in a tree
floating at sea

then we return
the clowns are coming
with their wide smiles
and their big blue teeth
Tim Burton would be proud
they carry their “nice” costumes
and are paid for their services
we are all paid for our services
we are all clowns
personified circus animals
pretending to “be”
pretending to “see”

sometimes I don’t exist
it’s pretty fuckin’ cool

swimming stationary
and loving it,
little feet
little shoes
big influence,
it’s nice to be.

f’sho
and sho nuff
we all breathe together
it’s what we have to do,
no choice
always a choice.

justified mountain range
elevated consciousness
and sticking to it.

playful accordion attitude
tiny fingers on the keys.

we grow up way too fast.

slipping away from what makes us
dripping into “reality”,
I found an old frame
with a lovely picture.

inquisitive grunts
pressing play on past recordings
we see ourselves daily
invisible on occasion
but always here
always nowhere
always.

who would do that
really?
who would be that kind of asshole?

touched by the sun

singing and crashing
free radicals
an age of the ageless
remarkable momentum
moments of incessant memory
moving down stream

there is a silhouette

I can see it moving slowly
pulsing and folding
violent but necessary

we push
and are pushed back

seeking oursleves
within ourselves