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)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
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
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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 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.
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.
Monday, February 1, 2010
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?
-------
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?
-------
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