Marketing Procrastination

Marketing, A spontaneous poem (for procrastinations sake)

One man's dream is another man's scheme
Where does it all end?
Centralization brings profits to the core, but what of our centralized fallacy?
Can we be actively pursuant of a new paradigm
or must it slap us in the face like they always have.
One might think an escape would be desired, but the spring
only coils more intensely, as if waiting for consensus to release
The tension of collective our budding egos.

Have I got a poem to sell you!  Vertically integrated thoughts
from the basal syllables to lofty concepts, wrought by words
and vessels of meaning, stopping short of meming
leaning on a a necessity of information transfer, but
needing a little bit of vaguary to leave something
to your imagination
Let me waft my broken business sense like a washed up dancer
spinning around the pole like an executive begging for VC.
Now that's a nice ass!

And so.  Here I am with a poetic solution to my wealth
A vast alchemic product capable of boosting your net worth
through cleverly arranged devices to devise a divisive
decisive insightful missive, mitigating useless employee dismissals.
This will bring a greater clarity as we automate the functions.
Discuss this over luncheons that cost a years salary for the lesser qualified.
Lesser quality, but more quantity.  Let the words flow.

For free form finds fecundity in fields, fallow and waiting for indoctrination.
Let me address the nation with a solution for the down slope.
Do it yourself. Decentralize your mind, and the rest will follow.
So, let me know when you are ready to purchase this disruptive solution.
Here's my number:  1-800-get-more.
There's never been an easier solution,
than nonsense.

October 2010

Yes We Can!

I imagine the subject title yelled in voice similar to Gandalf warding off the Balrog in the mines of Moria... Yes we can, despite what the forces of darkness would try to implement. The veil is lifting.... But we will not fail. Yes We Can. This poem is a burst of positivity, a voice shouting out among millions of groans... Yes We Can!

Yes We Can!

Bless this man, steadfast and saddened in African veil
Yes we can fail, though as of yet we stand, full-sailed.
And needless of the fanfare of obsequious pucks or pans here.
Interesting…if that’s the Klan there, they just got squashed like patapan.
We stand clear. And now stand cleared, our names vindicated.
We drowned flames of hatred as they licked at our toes.
Came out thick with our votes. Because of this I flickered with hope.
So that this quick and verbose thick worded prose
With words which fit snug and hug gripping you close,
sticks to the bones, although this title shtick is a quote:
Yes we can.
Follow the lesson plan.
Attest to fan flames inspired by hope, to warm hearts,
not to heat irons and set the brand, let's beautify life the best we can
experiences tattooed on skin that’s etched and tanned,
Watch as I outstretch my hand, yes we can, reach out and touch someone:
like ET and Elliot, Carl Sagan on the SETI stuff,
Edmond Hillary on the yeti hunt, or Apple and the iPhone stunt with A double T.
See, that’s a lot like me. I, too, am ready to meddle with my ability
Whether it’s with these words honed, or even verbs moaned in operatic tones:
I’m big like baritones, bellicose, with varicose veins ready to explode.
Loud like bass bins booming with full payload,
Colorful like paint splashed in passion as orgasmic chode
On body’s canvas to caress the skin with new beginnings. Oh!
Yes we can.
“We the people” starts a text extracted from a blessed pen.
So this text aims my intellect to mend our battered land.
After 8 years of a President proud to be the jester’s man? Here we stand.
Made to believe that the world was about to kick the can.
Scared about invasions from our neighbor Mexicans?
From across the Rio Grande real bandits, Machetes in hand?
Guess again. The Taliban?
They were resting, dressed in tan, at the Bush nest in January its not them.
Pakistan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, not gonna stand
for more war and torn body parts that stress the fam.
Bringing home to roost proof that nukes are built specifically to test the ban.
Bring home the troops! Protest this family rule! What’s next Iran?
Yelling at the top of my lungs, until I’m hoarse like equestrian.
Overcome the chills from fear poured like ice down our cardigans
The Vatican does not determine the destined plan. That’s a sham.
The blessed Quran is just one of many books they quest to ban.
But their quest is bland, distressed and canned.
Forget them, man. There is one sure thing now:
Yes we can!
January 2009

Bees Make Hexagonal Hiveworks

Daily Freestyle Thought (part 1):

Listening to the multi-worded,
overly verbose MCs of Anti Pop
slop their thoughts thru unchanging style wars
of informational propganda,
suddenly inturrupted by a phone call..


Break.

And here is today's poem. Inspired by the many words of Antipop Consortium:

Bees Make Hexagonal Hiveworks




War in the mid east is tragic and needless,
yet pales in comparison to rising waves on the beaches.
Hurricane's and levee breaches, mass death and disease,
viral fleas, bar codes, species loss and dead seas

And our bees are dying faster than the troops in Iraq,
When the winters freeze kills species they aren't coming back;
and what'll fruit trees do without their pollinators?
Whoever said you have to embody man to be a terminator.

Fine: learn it later, earn your paper, take the wafer [to make you safer]
I'll make a wager that your fates in favor of survival, lest you waver
You know the truth, as do I and it is undeniable
Not just some philosophical abstract where words are pliable

But as fact. We can deal with tact later,
Create our own universe from un-tampered with data.
I plan to convey a way of communicating more information
in shorter time frames slaying the repeat of misunderstand-ation.

Just playing. War and peace requires talks in Sirius Tones:
like dolphins moans across light years that set the tone
for the whole earth zone, not manipulation of the power
and participating in building monuments to make the people cower.

I speak to those who brought showers to drench the earth populace,
disaster and ultimately war to wrench up the face
of our planet. Goddamnit we live peace! and God Bless, you live war
Give to yourselves greater than the earth has in her stores

I speak in meta-in-formation spores, but am much more than pissed
Just give me a second to wind up to the gist
of the sick bureaucratic black magick practicing clique
Practicing rituals written down in extensively in cult lit.

How Tulac burns every spring and rites worship devils…
how hallucinogens are used to pass initiates through the levels…
That’s why their illegal...what if we knew what they knew?
What if information ballooned and we found out the truth?

I vote to drown out the spoofs, Broadcast from the roof
Pod-cast and Kazoo, myspace.com, blogspot and yahoo
Internetted multitude, interstellar space travel has resumed
Lamarckian evolution at last and not a moment too soon!

Blast to the moon, dude that was a past attitude.
The whole class is in the mood for mass gratitude.
Communication at last that permits vast perspective
Introspective omniscient thought pattern direction.

Try and catch my inflection and lessons inscribed.
Self-preaching to teach myself how to settle the sides
and find peace to cease warring parts of my soul
from fighting for control and trying to take hold.

Trying to make gold of ground sold in the craze of rye mold
Haze of days old and past but seeds of evil well sowed.
Now showed to be outmoded but the momentum is massive
Blasting over like bowling balls to pins pacifists acting passive

Pass the spliff and forget the past failures and blows
Possibly prescribing the final solution for those in robes
Foes in the clothes of the leaders your holding close, Stop
Control your woes and realize now is the only moment we've got.


It’s a twinkle in the eye and a nod of the head
A quick turn of the face to show acknowledgement
The Fam is the Fam, and the Illuminati are bright
When the infrastructure crumbles and they turn out the lights

Light up the city in ember and burn down Babylon
Replant the rainforest get these cattle gone
Burn down the bank system to earn my interest
Replant the real hanging gardens to feed the kindred

Stretch your mind to relieve the cobwebs of the state
Stretch your body to receive the touch of the great
Stretch your soul to imagine an infinite web
Stretch your aspects to embody your intricate head.

The next move require little stretch of imagination
As the nation degrades in less than 10 generations.
Please. Our Satan is more than just our past sins
Perhaps it begins with illuminatus occupying our pyramids.

They stole your gold dude, who’s funding the research
To research for dead bees and seas dying on earth?
We need our capital back, before we go the way of old Mars
The stars are filled with planets with nothing remaining but scars.

There is no guarantee we flee this mess and escape
But our fate is a great choice we collectively make
And for now, it’s a few bastards ruling the roost
With an internet giving infinite networks a boost

So all we have to do, is participate in passing truth
Through our interested synaptical friendships and groups
Gridded connections as strong as your dreams
Streams of information are the universal strings.

September 2007

Simple

Simple…

CHORUS (2x)
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:

I am not a simple man but I lead a simple life with the goals that I keep in my sight
I am driven to unite the community despite any perceived chasm of the left and the right
We can be better than that and better yet we can see better in fact when let in the light
All life has the right of existence that’s implicit in the fact that we opened our eyes

And as we open our minds, finding truth as close as the slope of our spines
This hope that is mine grows up like a vine all way to the sky clime
Ascending the beanstalk to stalk the giant that holds us down in our minds
We find that in fact we had the power to change the world the whole time

CHORUS (2x):
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:

We need statesmen who will face them who have sold souls to the dark to destroy
Our earth-ship needs the berth equipped with living systems support all the goy
Government for the people by the people of the people we the people Being equal
Declare the freedom from the evil that roots in the concept that earth is a toy

We can hope that the wise are given the credit finally as we choose to align
Ourselves with a true Good and God modestly, honesty honoring this place in our lives.
Honoring the clay that shapes us, honoring the snake that gave us
Honor in the face of faceless Never fear the unknown, the unknown made us.

CHORUS (2x)
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:


February 17, 2010

Good Morning/Bad Morning

Good Morning/Bad Morning

I am destroying my body with my questioning mind.
I sit awake at 6:40am on this supposed Monday morning.
The coffee shop awaits its patrons
My stomach awaits sleep.
My brain is shriveled from being awaked to long
And my knees are jack-hammered
after 21 straight hours of on the feet labor
Hip-hop is put on hold for this old dog,
Now just 22 years old.
Early morning sky illuminates this sad square
And taps its foot rhythmically
Until the sheeple shove their way
Through a turn-styled gate (which ever is closest) and feed.
Only the sad time
trapped by the lack of forethought,
forgotten in empty lots
Laughs at the great hula-hoop of karma
Crashing down Elm street
Without making a sound.

For You

For you

Word for word, poem for poem,
I strive match my mind with the greatest of them:
Those who are remembered not for their legacies of invention;
Those who are remembered not for their great inheritances of wealth;
Those who are remembered not for the inheritance of power,
nor as the offspring of great statesman;
Those who are remembered not for their barbaric atrocities of tyranny,
But for those with wisdom, compassion and yearning for truth and good
Those remembered and those unmentioned millions who dream and challenge the world to bend and sway in political reform
and are never known.
Those of you--I know you are out there, for I have met many—
who conspire compassion and philosophic philanthropy;
who literate literal truths;
who prophesize prosperity thru proper peaceful progression:
I recognize you.
To those who cry at night alone for the injustice of the ignorant,
who’s confusion can convince the millions and multitudes to follow blindly;
to those who wish to effuse education with excitement
and lavish learned wisdom upon the billions of equals spread out in this earth;
To those who, sad eyed and solemn discuss the import of expansive understanding of this race as one;
To those who see more than the almighty dollar, or yen, or lira, or deutschmark, or peso or euro or amero;
Those who see more than a signature to signify accomplishments;
To those who continually strive to reach further
And read and learn and expand themselves beyond these mortal bodies.
You say that hope exists, and together we will overcome.
To love, learn, laugh, and never regret your short time spent.
I too, wish for you as I wish for myself
To all the Socrates, Buddhas, Platos, Ghandis, Boddhisatvas and saints,
to all the Mother Teresa's, and Ammas, I beg of you to continue,
for your kindred spirits are here for you.

August 1999

Before Facebook

Before Facebook.

Oh to be back on the corner of W. Hilliard or riding through the streets,
Chasing each other like fugitives, a Wild Goose Chase:
Who’s side are you on anyway? I’m going to hide at the school…
My spot is at the top ‘cuz it my yard and my tree.
Branches worn from use and overuse by nimble fingers
Calloused by daily climbs and wear: a symbiotic nature with tree,
And with life.
Cars without license plates, binoculars and spies like us;
Muddy banks of the creek and soaked pant legs
(Did you know what was the only time I ever got grounded?)
and wild onions
that make magic potion if you smash them in the rocks right…
Grown-up thoughts have no place in the Karate Room: Hii-ya!
Your drew blood on me once, we were angry.
Skinned my nose: you were so proud…
I might have been bigger but I never looked down on you, not once.
----------------------
Does the monitor’s white glare cut into the rooms’ Buddha nature?
Mu.
Overpowering, false vibrations of man-made electronics.
My eyes are puffy and my fingers ache from an all-nighter
And my thoughts are of a childhood friend.
----------------------
That rope must be a hundred feet long!
How did you dad build that tree-house way up there?
Can Eric come out and play?
Nintendo, Zelda and Mario, Zack, Eric and Peter.
“You like Michelle, don’t you?!? GROSS!
Zack and Michelle sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”
She never got to know about the computer upstairs.
Or the super ball on a string for a practical reason,
that baffled my sensibilities.
Dot-matrix screens and flat plane shoot’em up games.
You always won anyway.
----------------------
Sometimes I wonder what you are up to these days.
I almost stopped by the house last time I was in Eugene.
But you probably don’t live there anymore
Besides
The gravel road where we used to harvest ice crystals has been paved over
and someone cut the first twenty feet of branches off the old climbing tree.
And now it’s a new millennium and Pokémon wins with round.
But I’ll see you again, sometime.
Spring 1999

The Hypocrit

The Hypocrite

Observe the hypocrites’ lips move and smooth outer energies for self-deception.
Lessons unlearned burn the lesser man so subtly as to split hairs,
blessed is he who be prepare, but beware.

Love is fragile when tested for self-righteous quests
and when push comes to shove collapsed chests
are not so readily inflated when flattened by hatred

Recognize your lies and lost eyes,
still dry from your frustration of its own creation
Remaining latent by tainted logic and dreams of immortality,
but now is when the battle be.

Mountains and valleys seem insurmountable,
but even single steps can alleviate the greatest burden for certain.
Come rip down your curtain.
Tear it all down.

Trust this: that justice has paid for her mistakes and waits
jilted by selfish need and greed for readily given energies

Please watch your steps in present tense as your intent projects
your past from then to hasn't happened yet.
The lens ingests each lightning flash in photons rage
discovered free and aimed by higher intellect

Collectively meant to be energy from vantage points of looking in,
so look out this warning is for you from the friend in me.

Moving Backward

Moving Backwards

I’m tired of moving backward
Explaining energy but moving backwards
Catching up these humans (backwards)
Forward motion but moving backwards

See, everything I’ve explained remains true unto this day
Only now the years have past and shortened the time frame.
But it’s the same: prophecy has come to pass and it’s a shame
that what we see depends upon the button that we press.

Might I ask: What makes the mind move more money, love or stress?
This is not a test or dress rehearsal more like recursive
patterns playing out a massive mess that just won’t end
but I guess it is the current trend
to talk about the end times as seen on CNN;

So, my friend: What do you intend?
What will you attend to as you pretend to understand,
but man, you’re moving backwards….

I’m tired of moving backward
Explaining energy but moving backwards
Catching up these humans (backwards)
Forward motion but moving backwards

Horizon receding sunsets in the east,
as beasts roam as men and feed on the deceased,
life decreased as bombs drop, watching the blood seep
as lightning lights skies full of rain and sleet,
the worlds people drop to knees and begin to bleat like sheep,
steep decline in mankind cause we couldn’t keep
Our Careta in the face of the heat.
Instead stuck on repeat like a skipping CD…
don’t get me whining, at times in my worst mind state
this is all I do see,
Blind faith keeps spirit moving through me smoothly,
until this life is mastered
left over right never again moving backwards….

I’m tired of moving backward
Explaining energy but moving backwards
Catching up these humans (backwards)
Forward motion but moving backwards

I’m looking forward to day I can say I was wrong
I’m looking forward to sharing the knowledge that helped create this song
I’m looking forward with forehead and my third eye and my tongue
I’m looking forward until I see backward and the long way that we’ve come
Predominantly moving forward in my steps since I was young
Moving forward in my life and my evolution
Outstretched palms to grasp and pull my soul kin along
No longer moving backwards or forwards as such,
so much as we move as one.

I’m tired of moving backward
Explaining energy but moving backwards
Catching up these humans (backwards)
Forward motion but moving backwards

Toroid

Toroid

I once forced myself to write:
I wrote: “I am under pressure.”
And went on in provocative detail
With a description of content so vivid as to use the very words deeply embedded in the consciousness of my listeners to evoke the desired imagery
But now I am out of breath
In my mind I mean, I am out of breath.
I don’t usually communicate in such illustrious adjectives
And well, my nerves are shot and just not what they used to be when I used to be lucidly and elusively elucidating Lucifer illuminati hallucination with imagination and a loose tongue. But those are dark topics and now I speak Light,
Because I kind of forgot to grab and hold tight to my 15 seconds in the sun
When I was slightly younger than I am now but anyhow rhythm-wise I have definitely evolved
Or do I mean grew?
Doesn’t evolved have to do with genetic drift due to pressure and selection over a long period of time…. I get so confused…
What if I was a Zen master winking?
As I misuse a verbose muse, mostly chosen from the scant few known
to generate the thoughts which we communicate thru?
And by we, I mean I: I and I
Me, Myself and I.
This is the triplicate or triage
Triumphantly something glides through the mind
to spread grin over my grinding teeth:
It’s Three. Seems to be the key
Two tells truths about the One wandering
But three, three be the most magical three
Triangle, triceratops, try anything to expand
That bland vision on Ying-yang
Me, I might have been wrong
My sing-song honky-tonk ping-pong subjective viewpoint
I never gets bored
Myself edits while Me records
But, just to be sure, Me even tests your grammatical memory
Travel back in the stories score, where pronouns became names
So that the same word used before would undergo a change and make cents.
Mischief managed as I manhandle the data,
metered in the strata, read from the scatter-point graph
and like skin grafted to you grey matter thru visual chatter…
And I ain’t said shit yet….

ReThink your Shaman

Rethink your shaman

We: Exasperated at every turn of the wheel
at every word left unseen (unclean)
at every conveyance of emotion thru literary standardization;
at conventional obsession.
We: slip by unnoticed, unobtrusive until invited,
(or) brought into life.
Imbued with exquisite inquisitive energies:
We: spewed that which was seen as the only obvious answers
and returned hurriedly into obscurity.
Don't blink,
Rethink your shaman.
See: the dead is all life from some distant vantage point:
the then-present. The then-present-death-spirit stills chaos.
What is yet to come has been and yet,
as of yet, the universe still bleeds drop after drop.
Social behavior is modeled and approximate
spoken in finalities and therefore
confusing conclusions are drawn
as sketches and forgotten like the vital language.
Invite a new vocabulary.

Rethink your shaman:
Emboss the language on the inside of the forehead
Trace the letters on the flower of circles
with no distinct measure but regularities
on the temple wall erected around your soul
by God
and move to what is newly created

Let it be stated:
"Understanding" “Overstanding" “Afterstand"
all prerequisites for a stance of preemptive anti-chronicalism.
We stand straddling over matter and gravity,
Etched forever twinkling in lonely
Space-time twisting, twisting like paramunxicle light-wave-particles or
DNA holographic bio-circuit blueprints, slightly chinked

rethink your shaman

We: Laughing in the midst of incurable sadness
in the midst of real-time dreams
in the midst of lenticular manifestation
and the subsequent rain
in the mist of morning sipping dew
in the mystery of face value

Man, to thine own self be stern!

Rethink your shaman.
Stoke the inner JEDI with ecstatic dancing
but forget not the divine and
refine
refine
refine!
Re-find your ego with each and every light/dark cycle
materialized in fractal dimensions of time,
until the edge of eternity exposes you ideal flaws and follies.
Come quantize with we for we form we formally thought
linear motion was clever but alas how we hurried our dissonance,
Our incessant buzzing
to get here only to see it disappear
into the next immediacy,
DON'T BLINK

rethink your shaman.

Sayv1 (Australia 2003)

Lady Moth

Lady Moth

(Chorus)
Is your soul simply insect-like in its simplicity
Seeking the light curiously, just to end its life?
Trying to find the answers to existence in duplicity
Implicitly concerned with the end of the infinite?

Today was as if I never even existed;
Smoking spliffs and sitting down in my hometown I now only visit.
Drifting through space, time, rhyme and memories sifted
Through the lens of my consciousness, I and I reminiscent.

An insect flitters in my peripheral vision
Just for that instant; and I transfixed and smitten
Consider Lady Moth as my first witness,
of my mind state creating rhymes, now committed

to the written page ad infinitum to be explicit.
And this is just with what a lyricist ought to be gifted.
Fate entwined Satan and Sacred long before my heart was ticking.
Cigarettes have got my wheezing and spitting

Lung butter and city grit to get rid the shit prohibiting respiration.
Let spirit repeatedly give to me inspiration.
Until the moment my body receives a notice of expiration.
Destination unknown, so let’s speak about it:

(Chorus)

Break my words down to Latin roots so when
you read it my friend, your intrigue never ends,
At the seeds of what I intend.
I even think with my pen and peak when I send
some meanings by word that you apprehend.
These things be the means by which to mend
The offended spiritual plane in which we slumbered as in bed
Midsummer night’s memes-now only a dream
Won’t turn off the visions of loneliness and a lost place
Or last place in the human race to the finish.
Lets not pretend that we aren’t complicit
In all crimes committed against Earth, we slipped admit it,
But equipped and gifted and when properly convinced that
worth is within us, we can certainly lifts ourselves
out of our earthen jugs, urns, and dug ditches,
to rise to the occasion chasing the light as our mission
only to die and lie down in our six foot partition
finally finding the bright source of God as a difference.
but then, what if God is just a condition
in which we go towards the light as moths for an instinctual instant,
See ignorance as the one malady and see, the one condition
Is that we go towards the light as Gods in our infinite is-ness.
Then pass back to the this same plane of existence
Just to ride the pistons again, grin and grasp the logistics.

(chorus)


Sayv1 (Summer 2004)

Against the Concrete

Against the Concrete

Her full moon gaze upon my face
Grew gardens in my mind
Such fertile thoughts like knitted lace
Did leave my lungs behind
As I caught my breath in nets of silk
Wrapped up in golden yarn
I gave to her my memories built
Of fond mornings on her farm
I gave to her my memories built
With toothpicks and homemade glue
So detailed to settle sand from silt
And strain the Oh! from CO2.
But it was then she laughed at me
And my mind was set afire
For “we’re just friends” she sassed flatly:
A desert draught could not be drier
Than my mouth. My mind: stuck to itself.
Understanding left the room.
I was swept away, like a day at Twelve,
Just dust thrust from the broom.
My heart it drops, free fall forever
I grasped for air or something
Seeing, worried, that I had never
Imagined from her a nothing.
As I walked away from the receding train
Darkness fell upon my head
And crushed the thoughts I had entertained
Of my love lying across the bed.

Fall 1999

Why I Write

Why I Write

Just sitting her pensive, putting myself on the defensive.
Extensive thoughts peruse the mind:
The kind that make you choose sides
only there are more than two in whom do you confide?
I've tried and tried to look inside myself to put reality on the shelf
It’s just so hard to tell what of myself I should sell…
life just seems to move pell-mell never reaching heaven
always threatened by hell. Then a thought comes
and you break from your protective shell
look for someone to tell but nobody listens and sooner or later you fall.
It’s all the same, caught up in the game a lame duck, out of luck.
You lurk around in the muck of society and drop into depression,
each session a lesson in trying to get someone's attention,
but you must make money retire get pension
Materialistic commercialism drives people to make rash decisions,
trash the derision and throw out vision of peace and knowledge;
spend money on collage.
A set division in life from the romantics of all ages.
The pages will keep turning books will keep burning
As long as ideas are stifled and people stop learning.
Working for earning a living, no giving only taking, making enough
to keep the money tree shaking.
Only in writing can I do my fighting.
I am biting my lip igniting the tip of the match in my mind.
And I'll keep trying chewing my brain down to the rind
until I find a better existence
and show the importance
of matching my countenance to confidence
thru a constant cacophony
of words vowels and consonants.

3/21/99

A Toast (to Walt Whitman)

A Toast (to Walt Whitman)
By Zachary Williams, November 1999

It has often been a wish passing thru this temporary head
that the writer of great poems, the singer of thoughts and observations
The describer of a rich country, since 150 years now passed was still present
Often have I wish for his return:
for words of wisdom in this withering age,
when tired bones creak loader than joyful calls.
Often have I read the words prostrate before me,
appealing to me, calling me!
And asked aloud why it is that this brilliance must be a thing of the past
But ho! Is it not this reflection upon words that was originally desired?
This idea forms, that we are but what we are and where.
That there is no place or time any more suited to the here and now.
That poets of old had their time and told what they were able
Only to give way to the poets of new,
subsequent generations of observers and lovers
All that I see I take in; and all that I hear I take in;
all that I touch, taste, smell, I take in;
all that I imagine I spew forth.
Translated senses fall like leaves in new England as autumns inevitable touch paints that landscape and passes; each thought meta-morphed and colored a new perspective.
All the places I've ever visited, the people I touch, I love all of it.
Where ever I go, it is truly the best place I have ever been.
For even areas revisited cannot be the same
under scrutiny of new eyes and thoughts.
All grows in wonder as knowledge accrues in this temporal information well.
All reflects upon itself, shining back with the brilliance of a thousand suns.
Indeed with the brilliance of the additive sun of each day I have awakened and looked up at the sky!
It is Me! I shout and clap and jump. I am here and I see it all.
I observe laughing all that surrounds me,
all that sense that penetrates my perception.
I call all of it to bend to my wishes and thoughts
and never question the common-thought absurdity of looking outside myself.
There is so much to do, so much to see, so many to meet,
That following the crowd cannot possibly please, cannot subdue this feeling of wanderlust
Yes! Do what they say and die happy; push the limits and you will live forever!
Poems transferred, songs transcending the greatest barrier: time
And never will it be diminished, never fade and recede to being and nothingness.
Even were it to be that my words remain only here transcribed.
Even then would these wondrous thoughts have escaped
the silent confines of the burning mind.
But it is not to be so, that they remain here,
for my eagerness to share and expel these thoughts exceeds all else.
Ah! to encourage others with words;
to call to all people with inquisitive concern!
I translate the world around into the joy I feel
and touch in the expanse, the vast and infinite expanse that is all...
I shout from above and call up from below,
approach from behind and walk up, smiling.
Let these words be heard and reflected upon that others will act alike and continue the tradition of lovers.
If look around, where ever I find myself, there is never a lack of minds
Never a lack of great lovers,
never a void in the greatness of potential appreciation.
To you studying, how do you find your book...in your words?
To you dreaming, why do you imagine you imagine such things?
To you conversing, would you not impart upon me
some unique wisdom to renew my perspective?
To you laughing, share with me you joys and too your sorrows,
that I may sooth and rejoice with you in life.
To you simply observing, do you see something that I do not?
Share these ideas, for each is as important as the next.
These multitudes of potential information fountains overwhelm my senses.
Write, talk, sing, dance, laugh, opine, discuss, imagine,
think aloud, dream alone, ask, repeat, converse!
Look around at the beauty of all and imagine the innumerable poems dancing through your mind!
Oh! Potentiality!
The promise of understanding!
To learn!
To Live!
A Toast!

The Undeniable Joe

Undeniable Joe

I leave the late night lounge laughing softly to myself.
Images of Stu and the undeniable Joe,
Who taught me to roll a great joint
To laugh at myself
To relax
Peruse my mind and stir my lips to rhyme.
But time is distance is long,
And this weary campus doesn’t often produce irregular Joes.
The mist that covers the ground and the trees and drips down from the wires sticks to the face,
Long strides but a slow pace,
still little evaporation,
And my minds racing now,
To find my place in---
--but no, that is all beyond me.
The streets are bare of life
Save for a lone-hearted boy, wearing shorts and little else in the brittle air,
returning from some drunken fest,
who grunts hello and passes like gas.

The slope of the walk is gilded by new buds
Poking up in the yellow glow of the nighttime sodium lamps
And new life is screaming for release
After a season of pent up aggression
Smiles all around, only the sound of my footsteps falling on concrete.
Memories of near skirmishes with overly masculine police force
Inspires smiles on the ridiculousness existent in modern law enforcement.
(whose roots writhe in the written word)
And its inability to thumb the cracks
On their dams and walls against the undeniable Joe.
The crack on the pavement
Yields still to new roots and new shoots
That slowly nudge aside
The man-size fishnets of concrete and tree-grates to capture the earth.
Buildings will crumble, and the roads wear away
but the liquid pace of trees flows slow enough to ignore the sad life of mortal men.

Strong bolts of shadow beam down from darkened pine trees,
(a midnight resident calls with now reply)
Lights are scarce in the hotel for hotshots in front of me.
They aren’t aware of the walls or the boundaries beyond their peripheral vision.
They are bothered by the undeniable Joe.
And the fishnets
Can be tread upon
Ever so lightly
With proper balance.
The shrill wind that once was threatens again.
Defensively, my body tenses
Skin screams as hair tries to free itself from every pulling pore
And arms nestle closer to their owners chest.

I pass through the dividing line of Somerville, Massachusetts
And Tufts University.
The dividing and celebrated line. The great wall of defense
The impenetrable wall, keeping out community,
and isolating entrepreneurs.
Disguised as a cycle fence,
and a children’s playground.
The bubble seals itself behind me
and continues to thrive.

(dedicated to a random Joe...wherever you are keep smiling!)

I am stirred

I am stirred

I wasn't sure
whether or not I actually I saw you,
but regardless of the reality before my eyes
I saw you,
and the thought brought comfort
to an aching heart

And then contact was made!
And even I felt ashamed, knowing this long that my energy
Can be readjusted with a single pulse and
Dear God
Your lips want to be worshipped...

So that when you fix your gaze
on my mouth and move in I can't help but think
I might need to explain how I taste

And then the embrace and within
the first few seconds of recognition
I already don't want to let go forever.
Don't go.

So instead, I break to maintain the lie of friendship
(but I want to make love to your body and your soul)
And I ask what you are doing,
when really what I am saying is
"how can I make sure that you always look at me like that...?"

So when you move to reunite
my right hand dies to caress the smoothes
and grooves of the contours of you…
I am stirred

I am stirred
By your presence, your energy
your laughter, your tears, your being
your body, your dress, you lips your eyes
your light and your life
I am stirred.

Get Sirius

What is matter?
Mathematical constant caught
in particle phase assuming pure density
So what's the matter?
In fourth dimensional thought
it all happened already so why talk about the immensity?

No matter what, you sense in me sensibility, instilling the ability
to defibrillate a stopped heart whether or not I choose willingly.
Spirit trapped in matter, fulfilling the promise to shatter illusion
with honest, subconscious thought brought to paper through quill, pencil, and pen.
Material penicillin when you listen,
killing the metaphoric, microbial villainy with proper neural nutrition.

Understand that pure conditional thought is not that objective.
By God's directive, we've separate perspectives,
reconnected as the collective consciousness, spilling free
from overflowing cups and hearts:
the stuff that starts small but erupts. Catharsis
attained as we each struts our parts
across the open stage, occasionally enraged,
weapons ablaze with revolutionary might…
might we fade into the night?

Gather your souls at place Armageddon.
It’s like the fight we saved to the end again
to relish in righteousness and Isis lust plus hey, adrenaline
until ice and dust encompass us as it eventually must.
But why does mistrust of touch manifest as thrust
to crush the crust of the earth into the blood and puss
of the metamorphic mass of tuft blasted skyward as the tension busts...

Get on the bus!

We're all in it together now no matter how it ends.
Foes and friends stand toes to chin, howitzer in hand
and bend low to catch whispered words wandering in the wind
wistfully, but with the purpose of evolution that’s ours;
revolving the stars to create gravitational fields, radiating in spheres,
dissipating only after travelling the length of universe in infinite light-years.

Since you and I were birthed right here: pulled forth from dirt
formed from the matter now unearthed, once dispersed
in the hearts of stars in the ever present now…and then what’s next?
As the cortex gets more complex joined in internets.
Jewels of Indra's net reflect like In La’kesh, defect from flesh…
and fly skyward to join with the blessed and finally rest.

Reminding my breath to stay automatic, play with the static,
creating my magic, breaking bad habits, chasing white rabbits
down winding holes on curious adventures, Chaos ain't tragic,
Facing the various mirrored facets from odd angles,
see that the reflections of feared devils are still angels
realizing the hopeless perfection of weird wireless mess tangled
with our grey matter...

What is matter?
Mathematical constant caught
in particle phase assuming pure density
So what's the matter?
In fourth dimensional thought it
all happened already so why talk about the immensity?


-------

Fighting Words (1st edition)

Insinuating that an innocent man is a terrorist?
Terrorizing the populace with populist agendas?
Atrocious behavior and words meant to upset,
the balance of power to bring power to the ignorant.
This is what you get when you spit hate speech as rhetoric!
Better get a better picture of the world Mrs. Palin…
Your policies are a failing and Police State ain’t my idea of freedom…
what kind of message are you bringing?

(CHORUS
Fighting words: giving power to the ignorant
Pushing up the dominant reign of the government
Fighting words: You mouth ain’t protected
By the constitution instigating violence as a covenant

Fighting words: I’m looking deeper at your temperament
Crushing up your lexicon and seeing it as excrement
Fighting words: You mouth ain’t protected
By the constitution instigating violence as a covenant)

Bill O’Reilly, highly stylized Nazi propaganda
Techniques of interruption and rapture
That’s just a picture of one night’s episodes
Who’s to answer when blood’s spilled in name of hate
Sean Hannity, humanity’s void, a pandering droid
With no soul. Can it be true you hold the key to calamity
Its all Vanity, taking the lords name in vain
Blame everyone else for your murderous intent

(CHORUS)
Rush Limbaugh, limping on to the stage
Cigar smoking mad villain with whole crew of slaves
Enraptured to lies and arrogant allegation
Alleging the truth can be trumped by emotions
Where’s the reason? Greek philosophical techniques
Don’t legitimize treason, don’t patronize me.
Fuck yeah I’m a patriot, love to the land and people
Living in it. Don’t you tell me I’m merely inncocent.

(CHORUS)

Then there’s Bush, Cheney, Rove and Paulson,
When push came to shove Hitler never retired.
Retreaded, perhaps, the wheels of Third Reich,
Pandering to people content with living in fear
Fourth Reich inspired its clear the goal
of the soulless is to bring here nuclear war
Pentecostal visions to summon the beast or Jesus,
Flee to a Free Alaska and bomb us from the North…

(CHORUS)

-Sayv1 (myspace.com/godmodest)

October 2008

Dishonorable Diss Charge

Dishonorable Diss Charge

Let's restore honor to honesty and hone our beliefs
that our honey is sweet and our hundred monkey theory
and meme making devices mean lies and deceit
can seem real for time until they dematerialize into white steam and heat.
It seems as I speak that I'm inspired again, not chastised by chagrins
of charlatans charading whose honor is weak, honest to Pete!
My feet is sore and bleeding from all the nonsense we've seen,

What a metaphor that stores the data that a message is complete
Anaphorally speaking, and as Obama would speak, and honor could be
shored up in due course and tied with cord to honesty. Honestly. Honor these
Words and sentences, hence the blended beat recommends a second read.
For a more studiously ridiculed pour over or some sort of comprehension at least.
This wasn't sent from the beast but inspired by the Pleiades.
This is the plea I feel and thus this is the plea I read. Listen if you please.
This is just a tease for what you get when we finally meet.

I share story with first nations teachings, bonfire lit meetings
tears on the cheeks and hearts move together in beating
Like Reiki or spanking our connection makes your energy move
I'll berate the fake uncle Yankee in the same shrewd breath as my prayer
in tune with the suns penumbra magnetic arithmathematicca where
I glow brighter when phonetics used phreneticly scare
The canned-laughter speech-written bullshitting RNC chair.

The McCain camp can't compare couldn't stand wouldn't dare
to duly duel, as dookie talking "duty walking" bullies are inflated with air
First we said it ain't fair, and now we've got a message to bare,
internetted and fully vetted for truth with no comparable flare
to pretty headed lipstick smeared pigs as your proof.
John McCain, this is YOUR glass roof.
You lied and now it’s forever embedded in time.
You shamed yourself for party lines and lies reveal character flaws
so deeply buried inside that they'll never dislodge...
John McCain This is your Dishonorable Diss Charge.
Pun intended and construed
This is Sayv1 and as for this message: I approve.

September 20th, 2008

(This poem won 1st place in Portland's first poetry slam in 6 years)

Duality

Duality

My life-line lies just to the left
Of being convinced in the system of the deft
Thieves and jesters with agendas of stress,
Vendettas against us, intelligence suggest
We don’t trust anybody at the eye of pyramid.
Should I appear to hide in fear from it? This is some serious shit.
Serious black magic versus first peoples
Underlying understanding of Earth’s deep, old knowledge,
and the worth of spirit.
As of yet we’re only modestly commanding the will and feelings
To alter or change the wheel of life dealings.
So I kneel before this alter of change,
This mantel of pain, the yoke of chains
Broken and strained, choking my brain
Hoping just to remain breathing one more minute
Asking for the finish, open to planes
Vast, furrowed and veined
Falter and feint, dreamtime and escape
Meanwhile in parallel state
My farewell debate rages with tempers irate
Semper fi to the life provided by my corporal real estate.
Order of the Black Snake spies on my astral,
Conniving to baffle me with illusions of flame
Using the bait that appeals to the most base
Most tasteless parts of my creation:
Self loathing, boasting and hatred.
Arrogantly joking with fate,
Even though I know that hope is the token substrate.
Substantially supporting will and love in embrace.
Suddenly
Half my soul about face, and without the other half gives chase
To what’s left of the light, and holds God in his proper place in the mind;
While the right fights the time and holds wrong in his vision.
Mission complete, balance sheet math’s to show proper division.
Positives annihilate negatives reversing a universal castration.
Healing the wounds previously inflicted at will
Through a vast misunderstandation
Grating the nerves since the beginning of creation
And waiting…

Can you hear this tale as I can hear it?

December 2008-January 2009

Nebulous Metaphoric

Nebulous Metaphoric

From the smallest pebble to bubble nebula
seen by telescopics like the Hubble its incredible
the way we bobble with our mental making molecules
the center of the transcendental incidentally we say we keep it simple.

Now the crowd of angry people gather to stampede and rumble
Trampling the temples as the center trembles falls and crumples
Under the lantern of a moon mantel illuminating the clouds cuddle
Humbling the masses as this battle breaks out from their huddle.

So you’re calling me a rebel when I could have been a fellow
fool like you following these fables to the devil
Instead I set the levels, bettering the treble,
On the double skip the trouble of both the pot and kettle

Topple any feeble competitor sever the jugular
with evil shards of shattered bottles watch ‘em wobble give a tug at your
sleeve tap on the shoulder, relieved like extra batters, believe you'll never battle
leave your dreams in bloody puddles of muddled metaphor…

Little balance in the middle path, heart to dignify the chatter.
Juggle roles of regal beings to settle the embattled
bit of my bitter, battered 32-bit broken brake-peddle for a mind.
Tattered and talented in tattle-tale shuttle-cockamamie crimes.

Giving all I got I gotta get it while the getting’s good
Living for the moment but the moment must be understood
Its fluctuating waiting for a spitting neuro-rhythmic wizard kid
To lift us from the ditches stitching meaning in a blizzard fit.

Who let the lizards live they loosened up a mongoose tongue.
And now I kick the fissures closed efficiently ending tubes that run
Twixt dimensions for the beings to enslave and then encapsulate
Your life. Your strife erased with words shaved from the immaculate.

I embody a lot but not a God, an odd proposal.
Self employed and what a job, Spot on with what I’ve chosen
Deepen inner feelings for feeding my sullen soul so swollen
So-so sewing holding my seams together for this stolen moment.

Angels Come and Guide This Pen

Please Angels Come and Guide this Pen


Please Angels comes and guide this pen, and help me write these sentences
At this instance it’s a struggle when I hear the news that’s happening
My mind is strained and can’t conceive that the heathen voices are believed
Thus relieve my torment lead my focused intent toward a forward scene

Please Angels move my fingers free, for sight and sound absurdities
Have flanked my voice in unity and try to drown me in uncertainties
But certainly, your majesty my mind can be controlled by thee
So unite mine eye with hand and pen and when I’m open be released

So flow your grace and majesty into this song of passion
And think not of the dark clouds wrought by godheads clashing
I know that true the spirit calls and with that lift I my finger
To give, to live, to love, to have naught but that which I did bring here

Not to linger, but to travel many light years gifted and free
Shedding anger and frustration of my making, lifting me
Above my body pulling language from formula unknown
Intermingling intuition with words direct from Angels tongues.



Fall 2008

Still Grinning

Still Grinning

It’s the mythic mystic
decrypting hieroglyphics
Egyptian piscus like vesica, fix this
Eye-like lens inward to focus on reminiscent
coincidences and say word.

Grinning with a sarcastic smirk works fantastic
as plastic lurks inevitable,
We’ll weather it though.
Imagination hurts!

Oh, these drastic herds
of human cattle and battles of war.
What kind of tattered realities
rattle the rabble to roar, scabbard and sword
strapped like seat belt.
Heat felt in all vicinities from Seattle to shores
of foreign soil.

The fall is beginning
in every heart and mind to boil
over the brim and when
the simmering spoil spills,
hits flame, and fuels the fires of the mortal coil,
I’ll still be grinning.

Introduction

Introduction

Finally I sit down with my pen, ready to begin
from here to who knows when and when
these words are heard by friend they will comprehend
the situation at hand you already understand
that we've got to get ourselves moving forward
so this forward to this writing is more than four words
as the sweat glistens on my forehead…

[…having written this be forewarned.
I've been scorned from the day I was born
for asking for the reality from which I was torn,
requesting information to inform my current form,
gazing at the floating sea foam, realizing now that the New Morn
is already more than a century gone or more;
but the masses have passed through it in a constant state of war;
observed so well in 1984 by the prophet George Orwell
with a story to tell; so we mourn we all knew this hell
was coming but the dumbing of the mind
has obscured thought until I wrought from the Divine
these rhymes to untwine the serpent from your spine,
to make the snake continue to climb while at the same time
digging deep through the feet to roots to supply
the need energy for the next phase of Gaia's life line;
life like lines of poetry sow the seeds needed for enthusiasm like mine
eschew the chasm between like minds that’s why this pen writes rhymes.
There is noting quite like breaks in the writer's block
allowing flow to talk woes that might otherwise not be heard locked
away from logical thought; so I'm logging these blotches
on consciousness' watch face as everyone watches
Now it is do or do not!
So why curse as everyone's watches are synchronized?
Blink your eyes and stop the hypnotized when you hear the hand clap.
The mental sand trap disappears, think back more that 10,000 years
We've got this message in genetics which without egos is thoughtless.
In fact, it’s taught this exact knowledge with no practice
and spat this material plane into existence.
Pay attention to the thoughts reminiscent
of human kinds original mission: divine co-existence…]

…but never mind the tangent, I'm back to the issue of poetry management
As it must be for you as well as a tool to follow through
with promises made to my many selves.
I have attempted communication with the elves
and asked for further help in which to delve
into subconscious knowledge and partially received a "hello"
so my fellow traveler have a learned experience
as I present my past work up to the present as a present to you.

Twelve Links

…the familiar game of Bridge
between Old Age, Sickness Death and Bliss-going by his other name-
rages for days;
but the blame is passed and the bid rolls on.
Looking to the sleeping baby in the corner of Reality’s room,
Sighing pussywillow breaths from cotton lips
Bliss points his finger past the contempt filled jars
Catching sunlight on his window
And stares maliciously, angrily,
And the verbal arrow punctures time.
“Three days ago I was yet to be born!” Christ cries defensively.
“Besides, you made the doctor conceive of me,
reaching with your outstretched fingers, grasping past rubber walls.
Lets get first things first, it hurts that you curse me
And whats worse is, even I can see you’re still thirsty!”
Caught off-guard
And feeling the goosebumps and billion pons stickle the skin
Bliss reels, and looks past the curtains,
Bliss feels fear rising to the surface, and then past it
The expanding knowledge from the
Plastic contact of this physical existence contorts and is a hallucination of bombastic proportions.
Three-deimensional bubbles bobble by, budding new brains and pains
And necks tense with fears all along the six-sense spheres
Floating in the dead sea.
In the next room,
Consciousness stares at her own body
Her form in the mirror
Who stares back. But neither can understand what they are seeing until,
Making loe, the cry each others names to the stars
And poke the polished vacuum with frail forks and Nova knives
Merging actions with questions and losing touch
With stuff they sluff much to escape the crutch of the such and such
Named bliss.
“Come back to the Table,; cuz we can’t just play with the three of us!”
cries death as old age and sickness nod in agreement.
Stop getting so excited by your nightly denial.
And over-inflated question marks make the shape of a billions Suns and Planets,
dancing circles unknowing, haplessly going on…
Forever flowing past…
The familiar game of Bridge….

Naked

Naked

I am naked here without you.

Does that turn you on?

But this is not a love song.

This is a fear song, a weird song,

A 'while you are over there' song

An 'I’ll see you soon, I hope' song

A 'cross to bear and rope' song

And an 'I am naked here' song

Because somewhere between then and now,

I habituated you. Comfortably situated in my brainstem.

I barbiturated you; way past the point of addiction.

Track marks running through my

Aching arms, swelling and subsiding

Depending on my mood.

But I don't care what condition

This has left me in, let me just relax

In reminiscence.

Maybe this is a love song.

Stronger than fiction, coincidences existing

Just to point out the obvious:

I am obviously smitten.

And I miss my kitten. Tit-for-tat skipping back

And forth missing each other by minutes:

listen, I’m kissing your image in mind and in my mission

Yes this is a love song.

Contradiction to earlier diction dismissing this poem

as the bitching of lonely leprechaun’s intension

Without his pot of gold,

as I had originally thought was brought to be tol

--but, ah, how the plot twists!

As your image manifests gold in my moldy cortex

And instead I am blessed and emboldened by

This cold air of the evening, though it makes my chest shiver,

It sends rivulets of considerable energetic twitter

Throughout my skin as it shimmers from within:

Just thinking about you.

Tonight I was drinking without you, a six-pack purchased to share with you,

But... I can’t drink for two…

Obviously. For I am just one without you, and six is more than 3

but I couldn’t Sayv1 or even take five to break stride,

Next to you there's nothing quite like a cold one for comfort…

Then the room spun, and I was soon done.

I love you, hun.

And this poem has consumed the mundane

Effects of some lame attempts to escape the drone

Of silence with you gone,

Because when I stop talking, its a mute tone...

...and isolation has not been in our lexicon,

What a 'strange turn of events' kind of song.

As soon as you come back, then I’ll be gone.

And on and on. Day and night, moons and suns,

to think I 'never knew you' once,

and now in your absence I might come undone.

I’m naked here without you.

Does that turn you on?

---Sayv1

12:31am June 12th, 2009

First Post: An Explanation

Greetings philospohers, humans, journalers, poets, MCs, hip-hop fans, hip-hop ignoramuses, animals, aliens, foreign intelligence services, CIA, psychics, and any of you others who find this series of peotical posts pertinent to your persons. I am posting a blog a day, illuminating the many poems that unto now have sat useless in my folders of poetry awaiting a moment of publication. Now is that time, and I am happy to present, in no particular order, a blog for my poems of old, poems of now and poems of the future. Please enjoy and write me at godmodestone@gmail.com for more information, booking, and performance info.

--Sayv1