Loud yet distant,
it penetrates the silence,
and the heavy dark.
and the Moon's reflected shafts
out glow the yellow contenders,
electricity has pitted against her.

The short
sharp
gutteral shout,
exploding out
into a confined space by the sill.

A second and then gone again...

The darkness alone seems constant
in this wakeful world of night,
though in a few hours it will be gone.

The sun will rise again
and spoil the silence with the day.

The heavy sky,
burdened with it's dark
pigment from distant space,
with its usual glitter
obscured by the great white ball,
that monthly likes to pay her visit.

Sometimes she is big,
brazen,
though only at mid-month,
or there abouts,
is she comfortable to bear her all,
to the sleazy streets.

She is better than them all-
they pay her nothing,
yet owe her everything.

Often in the month,
she performs a strange striptease,
showing herself part by part,
ready for her grand unfurling.

Yet after the act is finished,
as though unaware of protocol,
she slowly begins to cover herself up.

A temptation,
a flirt,
a cock-tease to her rapt audience,
who will stay for the next performance
to begin again
as it surely will.

Until then they shall have to make do
with the soft core porn of the stars,
attractive yet not satisfying their desire for the bigger picture.

The dirty,
filthy,
manipulated garish of the city streetlamps,
near and easy
to guide their restless way,
and illuminate those sleazy streets
as they run through
natures world.

There it is again,
that low gutteral bark,
in the midst of the cars chugging motors
and the banging of cab doors,
a natural noise rings out,
a repetition of that plaintative bark.
A single razor cry:
'Hey!'

i lay here, on the stone cold floor.. gazing at the sky.. through a dismantled torn roof... the stars reflecting their light on my face.. turning it to a luminescent.. glow of white... the stars.. are so beautiful.. they seem so close to me right now.. as if i could just reach up..to the pale night sky.. and the sparkling crystal would float down and land on the rough texture of my palms... if it really did.. i dont think i could keep my gaze off of the beautiful jewel... it would lay there.. looking.. innocent.. gorgeous.... i wouldn't dare clasp my hand upon it.. for i fear i would shatter the tiny..gem... fear that it would fade away...

Loud yet distant,
it penetrates the silence,
and the heavy dark.
the moon's shafts
of reflected light,
out glow the yellow contenders,
electricity has pitted against her.

The short
sharp,
gutteral shout,
exploding out
into a confined space by the sill.

A second and then gone again...

The darkness alone seems constant
in this wakeful world of night,
though in a few hours it will be gone.

The sun will rise again
and spoil the silence with the day.

The heavy sky,
burdened with its dark
pigment from distant space,
with its usual glitter
obscured by the great white ball,
that monthly likes to pay her visit.

Sometimes she is big,
brazen.
Though at mid-month
she is always comfortable
to bear her all
to the sleazy streets.

She is better than them all-
they pay her nothing,
yet owe her everything.

Often in the month,
she performs a strange striptease,
showing herself part by part,
ready for her grand unfurling.

Yet after the peep show is done,
as though unaware of protocol,
she slowly begins to cover herself up.
A temptation,
a flirt,
a cock-tease to her rapt audience
who will stay for the performance
to begin again
as it surely will.

Until then they shall have to make do
with the soft core porn of the stars,
attractive,
yet not satisfying their desires.

The dirty,
filthy,
manipulated garish of the city streetlamps,
near and easy
to guide their restless way,
and aluminate those sleazy streets
as they run through
natures world.

There it is again,
that low gutteral bark,
in the midst of the cars chugging motors
and the banging of cab doors,
a natural noise rings out,
a repetition of that plaintative bark.
A single natural cry:
'Hey!'

Remember, Reaction

Recorded

Replicate

Result

Boiling blood of the shadow in the corner,
one could feel his purpose through his eyes,
scorching with determination,
covered by fears,
that these slings and arrows may penetrate his armor,
his soul...
and leave him as though the hour of his birth was fruitless,
his will...a wasted action,
his death...an awaited reaction to this world.
So he suffers the slings,
and takes the arrows like a man,
because through fear rises courage,
and through courage his purpose is born,
unsure of his future,
hence his prays are often,
so that he himself may believe,
that the divine spirits,
will grant him destiny,
yet,
in the back of his mind,
crawls the fear of reality,
that he is just another pawn,
and the gods have set his purpose ablaze,
making him please them in ways that only humans may entertain...
so he goes back to his belief...
that he will be different,
the future growing closer,
and the clock ticks softer now....
and his fear begins to raise....
praying that in this short life span,
even for a second,
he will one day reach his goal,
and become a tear of the sun....
so that he may sit with the gods,
and show all humans,
that by his act,
destiny will reign...

there are so many thoughts
swimming swimming
around and around
in my head
and yet i cannot find
the proper words
to iterate to you
what is being felt
in the deepest chasms
of my soul.
You have rendered me this way.

all nations are like the various types of flowers in patches
pluck a few and interchange to another patch.
they all mix and you get a bed of wild flowers
none can remember where they came from, only where they are now.
same ground, different land.
nation.
fly to and fro to these imaginary places.
only a different picture painted.

imaginary diseases
give you a pill till you think
the disease has been wiped out
but you have only realized it doesn't exist
then they'll have a new pill
for this new disease
that they've decided to convince you that you have
oh
my
God
I think i've caught it.

think of the evolution
only one word to uncountable different tounges
first grunts to symphonies and jazz.
nothing to algebraic equations.

vibrations from hand to spine
BAM!
a blow to my soul
unfixable
forever half asleep
forever flowing

nothing is real.

My phallic intuition is perverted
To a ruthless precision
The heat is fermenting the sugar in my blood-wine
Tightening my vessels with alcoholic indecency
I lie here naked
Plucking grasses impulsively
Subconscious of the harrowing bees
That matters not .
Daisies,ducks,half submerged damsels
In chaste lakes,
Come, undress,spread all over
I am tired of sleeping with vanity.

Drifting in and out of
entrancing day-dreams

My body, consumed by
the depressed lethargic beast

The world will have to wait

I'm standing sea side as the wind sweeps rain into my sleepy eyes. As the wind that blows on it calls me out. The wind carries the rain and removes all my doubt.

I'm not surprised.

I'm looking into this moment with wide eyes open- thinking about half of this doesn't make sense.

Do I feel fortunate?

My mind arrested by the sight of you- by the thought of eyes that change color in the sunrise. Eyes I could fall into 1000 times.

The wind- it blows at me and takes every droplet like some new way and carries dreams- thoughts and reminders.

Everyone deserves happiness.
Every one deserves kindness.

I'm I the luckiest?

To live and find that someone by your side. To banish all the lies.

I am not surprised.

I remember how easy this is supposed to be.
I remember how simple this is supposed to be.

The wind is there and it blows the rain on to me. Hair wet and knuckles white. Every drop falls and seems to change me. The calm of newly fallen rain washes me.

Is this what happiness feels like?

Wear that pained expression
like a blue ribbon reward
as the wound is lightly salted
and peppered for the carnivores
who seek nothing but to devour
the life they wish they had.

the blank white space
on the analog clock
where the black hands will roam
and I can walk all alone
to sit on my cold, concrete throne
and watch on...
...the day's drone

as a crow catches his worm,
from this simple meal I learn
the atrocity of all existance
burning another necessity
to sustain, simplicity,
to just remain
to keep a soul's
cage
alive
the drab day's first crime

the rain falls, the day's so cold
and all my focus all grows
a greenish mold
and everything
I at one time
was known
to hold...
well lets just say sweat,
it's let
my grip falter

death is all the headlines
it smells,
it feels of the end-times
from any certain vantage point,
any singular view,
I wonder if all time
has felt like this too

and sad, sorry tales
have been written in blood
in the dirt, on their blades
mixed in with the mud,
written on pages
by greyed, sullen sages
in the midst of
all their weary goateed
contemplations

well
tonight I'm a pagan
and for all hell I cry
sending stray tears
toward
the drab May sky
for the moon simply
would not
even illuminate
without you,
all intents flawed

for the moon simply
would not
even illuminate
without you,
my Amen-Rah

tears fall
and this it lulls
for I just can't
believe...

behind purpled glasses
he strummed, sung, said
it better
a small paled frame
held up a lighter flame
inhaled, and wrote
the sky this letter
of death, his death
those final breaths
to be reborn
and fully tethered
a rebirth
with all the pieces
tied back together;

believeing in myself
and all my
trite poetic seas

well the light it
shined and then cut
asymmetrical beauty
straight across me

that simple random
pattern only natures
harsh vastness
and sunlight
can create
viewing this, I cry too
when my love
simply
ain't ornate

I'm part of this
too;
just another date
another chess piece
moved along
by someone out of place
I realize
I'm part of this
too;
the primordial stew
splattered on a great
marble plate

& still I'll sigh
when my love,
it just...
simply ain't ornate
but I won't cry
no I won't cry
I can't stay
locked behind
those gates
oh, a
drab day
in May...

sure it doesn't look the same
it doesn't taste like every meal
but Great David,
not all of us
wear damned Solomon's seal
so I pity you
old David,
and to you I squeal:
take your fucking sheilded star
and eat it as your goddamned meal

just like the blackest tar,
thats how your virtues
your opinions feel
viscid and distilled
loft,
chained down, ill fed
you keep sorry flesh
tied to the ground
and I just hide
behind the curtains
when I see
one of your
kind,
so certain,
around

summation tonight
greif is taking flight
dancing to the sky
with all the refuse from the fire
a tranceful dance,
the childs smile
oh, tonight...
he glistens in those mires

Amen-Rah!
Triquetra, they stole
with folded hands I ask
you to
drink from
this nectared flask
Triquetra, they stole
shine blinding light
into that great,
their blackest of holes

Amen-Rah
shine on,
your radiance
& raw

our ladels and our straws,
shine on

our labels and our gods,
breathing emotion when it sods,
shine on

for on eachother
we just gnaw
the indians, a cabaret
to abolish law
the maraca's dance,
they dance, they fall
so please
shine on

for among many -
a pagan's dance,
In the woods,
we filtering in
your trance

in the aftermath
of this
darkened class
is simply left a tipped
& spilled glass
you can count on this
in your wholly mass;

a tear stained letter
sent your way, to the skies
in hope of better days
a tear stained letter
sent to you,
Amen-Rah
& shine on

Escalating, my ears are breaking
down into sobs
against the shrieking rhythm of expectation,
anticipation.

Then you led the way for experience,
and my factions faltered,
shut down,
withered and abandoned me
for twelve-tone pleasure,
forgiven, completely.

Still in shock I sit on the edge of
parataxis, tell me how
am I?
Losing, my stomach empties
itself, craving more.

(meaning of this poem.. is not rimes or lyrical lies...but the power of wonder and philosophical (sp?) feelings..things about ur own feelings which you cant find the words for, because of to many questions blocking the knowledge of its true meaning. This speaks right from my heart so I hope you enjoy it)

My feeligs
written in latin
which i cannot myself read
cannot understand.
Yet my feelings appeal
and in somway
know what the words say.
How the words are written
in my bare skin.
Feeling of them buring
deep into my flesh
leaving red markings.
This is my omen
my life, dreams, horror and wishes.
when will I understand?
the true meanings
of my own words?
When will i learn the truth?
today?
tomorrow?
or on the day I lie
breathing my last breath?
Perhaps Ill never know..
but I know this,
these words.. were original
ment for you to read
and to me to tell.
Who am I?
your lover?
your friend?
or simply a matyr of an onesided love.

The sun declines, the world sleeps
Fragments of time are dispersed
Outward, shining, immeasurable.
Against the black canvas of space
The cosmos erupts, matter expands
Spreads, streaks, spirals
throughout an eternal nothing.
Here forms a paradox
within nothing there is something
and that something is hollow and filled with nothing
off into infinity.
Can we record information with our eyes?
Do we experience possiblities as experiments
Within the enigma we are locked
Individual consciousness
ensures we feel seperate.
The sun declines, the world sleeps
Fragments of time begin their assembly.

One touch
was all it took
and you became
my new addiction.
Drop the pills
stop injections...
no more self-inflicted
masochism
but for the pain
you bring to me.

Sit back and relax
My mind won't stop squirming
watch life tighten its noose around my neck
I am losing it, taking in deep breaths

Holding on too tightly
I lose my comprehention slighly
Mute out all the voices mumbling in my head
They bring me down, wishing I were dead

Unprotected I unlock my vaults
Regrets and memories alike break through my walls
Hold nothing back
Take it all in
My heart stops beating, Im free at last

Wind blowing, it tingles my senses
Flashbacks occur, freeing me of times grip
Take it all in
My heart stops beating
Hold nothing back, I keep repeating

Slowly falling, I lose control
stumbling always
where should I go?

I cry out in agony
rejoicing at last
they are leaving me now, no more memories of my past

Never now shall I be the same
Like an open book, anyone can read my pages
What's it worth holding it all in
Hold nothing back, release it as soon as you can

Bloody my own white feet
on the shards of glass
fallen from my body
and my faith.
I'd cross it again to get to you--
and superglue my broken heart
once again.

Here lies this beautiful seed
As if it were a charmed bead
Solid like stone
This little molded ever-growing cone
Planted in the deep embedded soil
Ready to boil…and pop
In the beat down sun
Remaining in the cold ground
It creeps and seeps in the watering flood
Forcing the seed to grow
In the mud
Sprouting a root to feel it’s way through
Instantly knowing what to do
And that is to break through
Greedily absorbing the juices
And feeling itself starting to loosen
And letting the water just ooze in
Contained still in the suffocated dirt
Wanting to give up
Feeling positively hurt
Asphyxiated by the closed off shine
Arises another root from the other side
Racing through the muck
Sensationally stuck?
Deem harder and higher little spore
Be ready to explore
Want more…
Soar and soar those galore dreams
By all means
You will someday be green
With branched off leaves
And the other trees
Will sway with you in the radiant light

there he walks,
autum in taughts,
alone an tired,
the sky could,
be red as good,
everything has become gray,
he i is heading nowhere,
a feather caught by the wind,
the fridge is empty,
what now,
play theater or miss death,
even though he doesnt want to,
cry then as when you were a child,
the girl with the blue crystal eyes led him to this wormhole,
she gave him a promise to let him cry in her arms,
an find comfort,
where is she not whit him,
i can only pretend to be strong,
an hope the next dream to be real...

THE ONLY WAY TO SURVIVE IS TO BE FORGOTTEN
DOWN TRODDEN, THE ECLIPSE OF THIS EARTH
THE "BAD KARMA" OF EVERY MAN'S DREAMS AND WISHES
NEVER FORFILLED, NEVER UNDERSTOOD
DISTURBED
BUT FREE TO EXPLORE THIS LAND OF MISERY
MY FUCKING SANITY IS EBBING
LIKE THE TIDES, I AM DROWNING
IN THE WATER, I AM BLEEDING
POURING MY SOUL AWAY
IN TEARS OF EVOLUTION
SOME DAY I WILL CHANGE THAT
IN THE CROWDED LANES
I WILL FIND MY WAY
I WILL FIND MY WAY
BUT I'M FALLING TODAY

The biting cold, the rungs.
Climbing the ladder of life.
And death.
Where does the living end?
And the dying begin?
Do we climb the same ladder?

The bars as so cold...
The burn.
The unbearable pain of stopping...
The greater pain of going on...
The choice is mine.
(Or is it?)

MY frost-bitten hands...
I reach for the next rung.
I expect the cold,
But the rising pain still comes...
Nausia swells...

Burning at the icey touch.
My white flesh.. torn... searing...
Only to reach the top.

Worn, scarred hands,
Tears into the earth...

Only to realise with horror,
The ground tearing loose.
I AM GOING TO FALL!

Faster and faster...
Piercing the inky blackness...

The circle of light grows smaller...
I can't hear anything except the air rushing past me...

Crying out with fear, agony!
Only to be cut short by a sudden stop.

Burdens broken... releasing into the evergrowing darkness...

Cant stop writing

Thinking

Drinking

Sinking

Namely
he decided to depart
from the granite garden
to go through
the double-passed doors
with the aim
to undress
to get rid of clothing
so much worn
he could not touch

Naked
she drips
one hot drop
at her back
a cold one
in front
Opposite, both complete
not half
She is about to faint
her head lightsome
But No!
its a boring procedure

Stretched alleys
on hand
mark the shallow time
with flaws
Breathless, not effortless
it passes
Elegant fade-out
is a privilege
In the diffused
black
light
a knee, a palm
unplaced

My shaking fingers tremble.
My knees won’t let me stand.
She is crashing into the sea and leaving behind,
A flame for me to keep…
For the setting sun shall rise no more.
Yet there is no longer a fear of that which lies ahead.
For the symphony plays on,
And this song shall never end.
This feeling shall never end.
The sun has emptied all its light today,
In the darkness I shall dance the sun to sleep.
Body aflame, forever we shall dance.
The end is the beginning of a flame unseen.

I form words from the sound of your voice
Choice is mine which vibration I choose to hear
Near my heart I hear the softness of your tone
Bone chilling because I know not to get close
Chose to say my distance not to get hurt.

I manipulate words from the movement of your lips
Slip slowly into a stupor, they say what I want them to say
Day in and day out envisioning what I want them to read
Seed planted and waiting to grow fertilized by your words
Byrd's compositions cannot compare to your symphony.

I control this fantasy and I am the ventriloquist
Assist the puppet and form words I long to hear
Dear let me manipulate your thoughts and desires for a bit
Sit and dream is what I am entitled to
Do I hear what you say, doesn't matter, does it?

Burnt out faces, scattered across the sidewalk
See yourself in their tired expression
Like a mirror held up to your life
Within the grasp of exhaustion.

Life left rotting on the couch in the living room
Television substitutes the experiences you've missed.
More interesting things await on the borderline
But a bridge is needed to cross despair.

Hope that bridge appears soon
Hope our eyes pry open wide
All this time we stay inside
Wishing we could reach the moon.
Wishing there was more to life
Wishing there was some direction
All the time you stay inside
Hoping it will all be over soon

Travis Collier
August 8 2007

I think you didn't process thought through though you think? Darkened prose , what are you becomming. Cold insanity where I find amusement, talent and knowledge. They passed on the ruins yet retain secrets. Tales of history hidden. Mothers swollows whole. Young playing there. Dance in the sweet sway glow. Unknowing swelling storms rising in the east. Falling south like the crested lies of the Blond summer. The labyrinth of lies- swollen toxic ports Aching in the persuit of comfortable succession. Feast of reason- feed, eat, conversate. Flow of the soul. Social courage. Intriging misconduct. Revel in mad, green pleasures of easy periods past.

Black and white--
A photo with
timeless appeal.
You were wearing
my red hat
and I gripped
your daisy.
So short--
not long ago...
corners fading
to black
as the ashes
flake away.
Cinders are what
remain
of the burning passion.

Strange is the time between slumber. The space that you are oh' so aware. Feeling the weight that you are under. Heavy gravity has always been there. Strange is the time between slumber. Strange is this place that we wonder.