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

Masochistically.  

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  

Bukowski

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
















  

33/100

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