Friday, December 30, 2016


At times it seems beyond description
--But I know it isn’t
The dimensional nature of our world
ideas of dimension.
visions of Esper

Esper; just an analogy for something else
Words; just vocalizable representations

fantasies of rendered flesh—


a million little mycelia
Proliferating every facet of heart
And mind
And spirit

My love is the wilderness that never ceases.

the dream-owl dusk
Where clocks wind back
And come apart into their constituents
Gears and springs eroding into dust
Mountains rising and falling like earthen waves
Human forms contort to the ballet of life and death

I am the hallucination,
Machine and rock
Crumbling sierras gnashing into the sky
the variegated falcon feathers falling on diamond plate
animals ripping apart other animals
I am the raptor
Electric and decisive
tearing at the psychological constructs
holding our world in chains

frozen in three dimensions
a part of me fantasizes the return
frustrated with this human form
with these bones I am made visceral.

It materializes up out of nothing
A swirling shape of the void
The low-pressure spiral
Pulling everything into it
shocking the æther
connecting the imaginary with reality
the curse is this:
I remember love absently
Retroactively, as if overly familiar
Worn rugged Through time  
From all the beings I have been in the past
And all the beings I am to become
I dream of an æsthetic
Involving my own offspring
I dream of a day where I find peace
I dream of a world like none I have ever known.

And it is the truth:
I am the hallucination 
Of warrior kings—
Homicidal darkweb sophistication
their existence is but a whisper in the coliseum of my great thoughts
Where I am the chaos of empires
the hate of the earth, incarnate
everything I know
has led me to this titular moment.
I had not realized how powerful I had become
Relentless & vicious,  
The liquid distillate of my own beliefs
in every sense of the word.
How humbled and overwhelmed I feel in these moments
To stand at the helm
Surrounded by those loyal to my throne
We become the anthem of beautiful rage
A west-coast Californian empire
That makes me nothing less than
Utterly complete

As if: the abstraction
Of a fourth dimension
makes us whole.  

Thursday, December 22, 2016

on Nostalgia

As I watch the sunset over the pier

The rippling waves connected in the liquid bass

And I think of the past

The past lives I have been

The past dreams I have held

The past.


Evaporated into nothingness.

The machines in the distance

Stand like exotic animals

Backlit to an orange sky

It is beautiful because it is rife with pollution.

It is beautiful because it is ephemeral.

It is beautiful because it has to be:

Because it masks something so sinister and wicked.

I feel the drugs start to kick in.

I feel the walls of my mind eroding

To the sound

And I must go take my place among the trees

At the center of this jungle

Bees hanging from my branches

I condense honey

And feel whole.

No matter how ancient I become

I will always love




I will always be made complete in my humanity

In the echoes of what I have become

In the rage

And the hate.

And the power

of my own dimension,

Snatched from thin air


Its that déjà vu

And reality begin to intermingle

Where I know it will make me sound weird

Asking if I’ve been here before.

with the designed æffect in mind

it becomes the redundant choppy waves,

licking away an orange and retiring sun

echoes of darkness reverberating through human forms

as we awaken in the night

I am whole.

In the electric jungles of man.

I am whole

in the echoes of memory

I am whole .


Monday, December 19, 2016


On ethereal shores, Visions of Esper come to mind
Us stalking like herons
Through listless waves mirroring a clouded sky
In memory I was elsewhere
Grace and sorrow fluctuating within me
what a new emotion,
Feeling as though the words were foolish before they came out
As Interruptions of Om absolved in sacred geometry
My feet traversing the pools,
little echoes of my steps spreading outward
spreading as circles across silver water
my thoughts spreading out
upon the surface of some other plane
ephemerality conducing each moment
into brilliant symphony
remembering things sentimentally
when I was not like this:
and the thought of those that would not be here with us
in the same context
Absolved of this reality
Forgotten to the nature of time
I felt my flow draw suddenly to my wrists—
These ethereal invisible whips,
utterly familiar
where the wings of my being spread like fractals
liquid and crystal
clairvoyant and new
eloquent to the vibration of existence
within many dimensions I am made whole
time unfolds as it must
like a dream of the future
exacting its own being
as if waves of myself rippling invisibly through the pools of our mutual reality
out into all of the spaces I do not yet know
this is how I have come to spend my time—
dreaming of things that have not yet come to be

Saturday, December 17, 2016

of storms

I shoot a Xanax with a monster

And walk outside to pee

Behind the garage

As an excuse to go outside

The balconies never have people on them

It feels a bit like gardening

But without plants I can’t draw power

No matter how many times I urinate in the same spot

Its nothing like gardening.

The plants don’t make me anxious like the people do

Everywhere, all the time

there is a siren,

or a car alarm

or a helicopter

and I stand there

trying to reign it all in.

Don’t. be. Fucking. crazy.  

And the words

Anthem and Acheron and pantheon

And a haiku-esque poem comes on suddenly.

I say it out loud to nobody

And feel free of a kind of tyranny

If only for an instant.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Tensions of Time

I feel a shift in the æther

Something is stirring

I feel… so frail

There is something

Within me

Consuming me

I can’t focus

I can’t ...language

As if putting an era to words

It feels… like a legacy

I am destined to live into

like destiny spurring me forward

beckoning me into what I am to become

I am afraid.

There are no others like me

I am afraid that there are no others like me

And time stretches before me

It feels… Like hammering the gas on a turbo-charged rx-8

While high on ecstasy and ketamine

flicking the paddle-shifters

as she hold a key to your nose

Through LA traffic.

it feels… like synapses firing

through the language-centers of my brain

where the words

Ascension, Deception, contention

Come to mind

Can you imagine

fires that consume mountains

jagged stone teeth

screaming out in immolation


the desert makes you strong

in the worst way

and the words

infectious, and venomous, and deception

come to mind.

it feels… like the rising tide

where the rules dissolve in an alien way

a blossoming psychosis

a completion of form

birthing power

breeding influence

touching propensity,

it feels... like being the oldest tree in the forest

while the fires of man destroy

everything you've ever known

while hearing members of your forest scream out in agony

powerless to help them

and yet I feel…

elegance and excellence and honor

to be prescient in this moment with you  

Friday, November 11, 2016


Waiting for the paint to dry

I read poems by some old, recently dead guy

The sirens wail in the distance And I’m still salty about the election results

It’s going to be hot as dicks today

It’s always hot as dicks

As I grow frustrated with the monotony of this city

There’s always another musician, chirping like a hungry bird

Pay attention!

Pay attention to me!

I eat bugs!

I’m fucking hungry!

My story is really sad!

And they never realize: I am a hungry owl.

Who is trying to sleep off this day, so I can make a kill tonight.

What I see when I look at these hungry birds is beyond description.

It is not meant to be put into words.

In owl terms—

I want to maim their fragile frames,

then swallow them whole.

Where I will return to my nest and vomit up their partially dissolved corpses

To feed my ego

In misconceptions of the future.

from the other side of the harbor

somewhere beneath the growl of helicopters

I feel a vicious wave

rising in me like a tide

paralleling clustered the traffic patterns

 on an idle Friday afternoon


Friday, November 4, 2016


Traversing the endless night

Happening upon an orchid bathed in silver light

what beings I have stumbled upon

in this and other realities

delve my electric soul

awaken the fires of the forest

as we are the ballet of contorting forms

illuminated in darkness

like drums erupting from the supercell

within the manifold of theaters

my sovereignty echoes

into the dimensions of these beings

where I am classic and carnal

rife in privileged savagery

economized like stone

submerged in rushing crystal-clear, liquid

the future comes to me

in the taste of the green

rivers of black smoke breaking the sky

in coiled electric dimensions

in the thunder of being

I feel it like an ache

Our world growing weak

In the sickness of our obsessions

In a manic rebirth

These blossoms of perspective

Awakening madness

Proliferating tension

I feel it in the water and the wake

A convergence of the time

That has refracted our beings

Humilifying with psychosis

I am to be made compleat

In the textures of implication

In the fervency of desire

desperate and mired in hegemony

Monday, October 31, 2016

conflicted tension

Interim, I am moving pieces in my agenda

composing the sound,

drinking in the æther

there Is a kind of nuance with the delicacy to fragile moments

am I, am I fetishizing them?

Converting meaning in the tryst of the moment

Am I simply fetishizing everything?

The early morning light

Gently tinting the sky

How infinite and eternal

With delicate persistence

I yearn for your form

Pull me from this torpor

Remove these layers of implication

How I wish for the simplicity of the past

weighed against the complexity of the future  

affixed with the tension of the moment

frozen to the sensation of desire

I am caught up in the conflict

Where the marks that make reality

Litter my human form.

Against the backdrop of the beings we are to become

How deeply I need you in this instant

Where the time has dilated

Rendered like marrow

From the ethereal corners of memory

The propensity of these seconds

Where the fabric of the future is made manifest

I am conflicted

Within the prowess of my person

Levying against the purpose of my being

Consumed in an endlessness of integration

How badly I seek to shape the future

With you in mind

As a tense of actualization

That deserves to be relinquished

Monday, October 24, 2016


I often wonder:
If confined is the right word.
If chaotic is the right feeling.
I taste the relentlessness of isolation.
I make the best of it with social media.
I cannot share the green.
I cannot compromise the vault of my infinite thoughts
The fields of space.
The theaters of time.
I hurt,
and I ache,
and I burn.
I immolate pieces of myself
And I have to--
In the tireless
I am spurred into compliance
& the rain falls in a myopic myst
Invisibly. In the shadows of reaching out to others
They see the obscure visage of a black claw reaching toward them and reel in fear.
I am the obscurity
of many moments
beyond the comprehension of self

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Full circle

Sterling silver

gesture of conquest

from a being I have become familiar with

that has come to know this universe

so much more deeply than I—

they will scatter you at the end of this

weaving your little glittery bits into the architecture

becoming the fabric of our plain

how honored I am to have known you—

how blessed I am to have felt your human form

in you I feel the liquid weapon more than ever

as a tinge of the savage

flowing like the incoming tide

waves sparkling in the moonlight

glimmering facets like treasure in the eternity of lifetimes you have against me

and still, my words feel small, and short , and human—

I see why they will scatter you

Where the depth of my lament is selfishness

Making my own crystalline consciousness ache unbearably

Knowing that my memories of you will outlast your soul

Grant me the volta—

Return to me—

Help me bend the universe

With my many more lifetimes

 Grant me this beautiful energy

Hold it in the tension between infinity and annihilation

As wafting bubbles flittering through a void

we are made whole in the ballet of our human forms

If only for moments so fleeting as this


You; my love

 the woman who stands backlit in setting sun

slender and regal

wreathed in the elegance of your daring

whose silhouette stretches against windswept desert

in a drawn shadow that falls back

into the recesses of memory

how I now suddenly yearn for the past

how suddenly I yearn for the fire

incinerate everything that has transpired.

flames licking the erosion from our forms.

Restore us in brilliant light

this chasm between us—

more transcendent than desire

beyond tenacity and temerity

I would have battled demons

Razed empire.

Languished in chaos for a taste of your ambrosia

We have become hardened

Like female heroes, you inject into yourself

Where you have reigned among the divine

Your visage; like a deity

Your beauty; uncompared

I would have you—

 just as you are

Slower since the accident, addicted as ever

Yet still my species

magnificent and visceral,

 able to awaken at the core

I feel the compulsion  

To heal the damage of man

heal your mind and your memories; yourself and your being

on distant shores

I dream of you whole,    

contemplative of the complete

I would have you—

Your strand woven into mine

proliferating into the future
conquering all of the dimensions that we are destined to reign.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016


Once I have gone

the ghosts of your discontent will devour the landscape entirely.

As an imitation of the genuine, the world will unfold as a stage that you have set for yourself, and yourself alone.

As eating in isolation has the effect of being eaten

this over-acted tragedy with no chorus and no audience.

Playing the victim, like a performance where all parties are playing the victim

Pantomime Rendering the mask of your own lies,

confronting the masks of yourself.

You will break, because you are soft.

crumble in the moment,

realistically never reaching the moment at all

lacking in the capacity to do so.  

Knowing this grants me no solace,

Sharing in some derogatory atonement.

to be released of this charade

where sirens wail in the distance

the low rumble of the streets

putting the proletariat to sleep in mechanical whispers

Glass beads

It is foreign to me

That’s why I like it

The glass-bead-game

Being played out in its most articulated level

These young men

Brought here for different reasons

Competing for different thin

Weaving it from the membranous thoughts

It is the mystery

And I pursue, stupidly

There is so much I don’t know

There is so much to understand

As I am wrought and rendered

These stupid activities

That have come to consume my life
in their complexity
I am made

Monday, September 19, 2016


devouring my resources like vultures

emaciated and emaciation

they land upon me like a vacant scarecrow

as a carcass being rendered by crustaceans

pulled apart with diligent little claws

I am suffocating under this veil of incompetence

And the tears are all but a play at catharsis

Pantomime silhouettes at reality

As a delectable tryst

I hunger, for the effervescent soul

Awaken something within me

As thunderous hooves rumbling against sun-scorched earth

The regency of all of my ideas

Bearing down like a raptor on fleeing prey

I am overwhelmed in the asphyxiation

How long it has been without love

My visage casting a tremendous shadow

Against the manufacture

A wild heart proliferates endlessly

Unrefined, unconquerable

yet crippled with yearning

my life is this endless, relentless adventure

with nobody to share it with
like a vortex
that holds a billion stars in place
invisible in its own magnitude

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Night Cranes

There are those crepuscular moments

Where all seems right

In the setting sun

When the cranes come out to feed

Flying low over the bay

Their dark forms cutting

through the sunset

like silent black kites

they are yachts of dusky skies

behind a stiff cocktail

and hilarious company

we are made ephemeral in the laughter

shimmering in the distant darkness

they drop into the harbor

plucking fish out of the

reflective membrane of an upside-down world

they harp into obscurity

their casual patience paying off fortuitously

with the distant strumming of a guitar

I am plucking the waves of their minds

we rock through the wake

where brevity is a lantern in the darkness

effectively illuminating their humanity

in simple wisdom

framed in simple emotions

genuine and loving

unable to see the emergent night creatures

perhaps unable to see the darkness at all

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Degenerate King of the Desert

They move like fidgety mannequins
Under the pale sunrise
That came upon Suddenly
dancing smoke clouds in the distance
shaded into the sky,
the never-ending desert
creepily quiet
with the ability to juxtapose
the macro and micro
in the same instant.  
Of feathers and fabric
I feel you through my being
you call me here before the
depths and the darkness
the light and the beauty
and all of the spaces between
to what do I owe this occasion?
I did it entirely of myself—
Because you made me this way.
Haughty and powerful
An unhallowed stamina captured
Envisioned through obscurity
We move though the vapor
This danse macabre
Wrought in fervor and mayhem.

like the volume being turned up
the sky fades in gradients
holding a magnificent pink  
that Exposes our human forms
In our worn frames
Degenerate and regal
With all of the privilege that comes with it
king of the underworld
Framed in the writhing sisters of fate
To the sound of mortal whispers
Their visages looking delicious—
until you see their ancient faces
eyes as vast as the wreckage of man
infinite in ephemerality
ancient in persistence
combatant and competitor
The game and the player
Complete, within this kingdom
the last raptor of the desert
Lekking without equal
Bathed in filth & prowess
God of a realm reduced to memory  

Thursday, August 18, 2016

August 18, 2016

Guys, I cant do this.
I cant sit here and comb through this—
Looking at whatever emotional angle
As I return to the house I live at
Where discontent floats like a ghost
through a cat-scented museum
where every day is spun into the one before… and after.
I can’t care—
For the injustice, the anger, the emotion
I’m so sorry.
I can’t feel right now. In some kind of cyclical sandstorm within the depths of myself. My apathy to your perspective condition, makes me feel barren
As if; burning
in the firestorm of my everyday
hardened over my fragility
I can’t love—
I’m overwhelmed in the rage.
Consumed and distracted
In this cacophony
I want to cry out:
Relieve me of my thoughts
Lift me from this wreckage
Heal my wounds
make me whole
but my voice is swept away in the sound
diluted into absurdity
lost to conversation.
Beauty is not something to be obsessed over—
It is something that is experienced
Chiseled into us as we pass through it
And I realize so painfully
this has become integrated within me
the inconsequentiality
of any two-dimensional world.

Monday, August 15, 2016


An emerald Posse

Floating @about knee-high

Like Lovecraftian færies

Mechanized in their movements

Droning through their final moments

In the desperate search for proliferation

They are dying—

They have come here to meet their end

And I have come here; to put ideas to rest

As they list & fall from exhaustion

In this excruciating heat

 Their polished bodies become undone   

Their tiny machine parts scattered across the surface of the earth

As dreams of the future  

will never be known

entropy like a wind through the æther

blowing us all into the remnants of what we once held dear

 In the distance I feel the supercell

The dropping pressure

The forming vortex

That begins to pull everything into it

I hear the sounds of your thought

Like voices pleading out from underwater

Raptured in the storm of myself

In a Relentlessness that is drowning everything around me

Somewhere within, thunder erupts

rewritten into each pressing moment

like savagery blooming in the night

in a way I am jealous; that their journeys will end here

on this fine Augustine day

I am taken by the empathy that I will persist,

as pieces of my mental landscape

gyre to the ground, buzzing in confusion

fighting to the last second

in a hardwired fear of being



Tuesday, July 26, 2016


Awoken at a cliff’s edge

The endless geometries of the desert

The pink sunrise melting into an azure sky

under towers of electricity

Through raining ash

The sun-scorched repetition

Pallor Yucca stood as disfigured living-death

Reaching up into the sky

Gathering ashes like bouquets of sorrow

We carry the vibe of this land

As a victorious banner

Of a conquest well executed  

My friends; I feel privileged to have you near

It sequesters the primal fear

Watching the earth be devoured in fire

In these spread membranes

I feel the spectrum

A thin film of life and death

Caught in this mortar

Perpetually entwined

A thunderhead anvil hovers overhead,

casting its power over me

Sovereign and elegant The layers shed

Exposing her naked form

Deftly embracing her throne

Regent and perfect, meat is twisted  

sweat rains in thick drops

On scarred and wind swept skin

we are Hellenistic forms

contorting against one another

sensuous and glistening flesh, struggling against itself.

Unfolding like spring—

Intoxicating everything in assimilation

Drawn by how close I feel,

consumed with a sensation that I know by other names

how long we have waltzed;

corrupted in affections

reigning over the empires of one another

woven of some greater why

that shapes this and other theaters

we are the tryst—

we are the hunger of the ocean, the thirst of the desert

the beckoning mountains and the luxurious metropolitan machine

we are everything;

we are eternal

& I am consumed in how eternal I wish to be with you

entranced in the affair that is this