Hand Stamped (day 1533)

This works along the outlier,
A hard gamble with two cigarettes
Dangling loosely in his left hand.
This pulls hard on conscience’s trigger;
Chrome circles and hand stamped VOID
Letting his tight heart
Make shadow puppets on a busy street corner.
This walks home lonely,
Clip-clopping a sweet tap-tap-song out
With rats and harmonized spray cans
Keeping alley cats tempered.

Half-Truths (day 1531)

Lately I’ve been having existential crisis’.
They’ve been keeping me up
Tangling my tempered mind
With truisms that cannot be unfolded.
I’ve found life to give answers
I’m not prepared to ask,
I’m not ready to ask,
I’m not asking!
But still I ask and ask away,
Leading me to sleepless nights;
Circles of half-truths
And mind-truths and kinda-truths
And not-truths.
Until I am truth understanding
There is no truth at all.
I take long bike rides in straight lines
To avoid circling back upon myself.
I have been thinking I’m not thinking,
I’m not leading,
I’m not excelling.
All I’m doing is pretending
To be deep within my journey,
But my journey’s not a journey!
My sleepless night is real,
And so are the dreams
That speak truths and not-truths.

Exit Please (day 1530)

Take me – one two three,
No, it ain’t at all free,
Baby this flow’s for a price,
This is how it rides.

Let yourself into the show?
Don’t believe your in the band.
This wont become a night.
Baby, this ain’t for free,
You got to pay the price.

Take a pass and walk the line,
Make your due and do in time,
Don’t let the moment pass on by,
Exit’s off to the left. 

Necromance (day 1523)

How can hallmark decay such strength
That whips about this storm?
A glass amongst dewy grass
Strays memories into this ‘bow.
I have called out to where I’m deeply lost,
I have called to whom I’m sold,
I have called upon a Prince
That left me floating in a sea,
Upon a piece of pixie dust
That was soaked into a cube.
Laying ‘mongst the willows in
A lost state of reverence,
A charmer came and held my snake
And fed me necromance.

Predicting (day 1511)

This is a window.
This bilge is a dance
That lifts souls into grace,
Purifying attack
And forgetting to release
And lying down, prone,
To accept every torrent
Lapping at this vessel
Without expectation,
Without predicting
And judging little nuances
So defining our spirits
As if they were character flaws.
Don’t let this come as a surprise.
Don’t fall down blankly,
Dumbstruck by unmanageable inputs
And acting out in ignorance.
No, this is a window;
Cleanly un-hinged and placed into
A four corner boxed view
Into unexpected.

Licked Bones (day 1503)

You clawed my earth with your sharpened talons,
Piercing skin and lapping this dripping blood.
I wasn’t a victim, no, I was the victor!
Not a gram spoiling as bones were licked like molasses;
Surviving and thriving. Delving.
Gripping tight, and expecting evermore.