Compilation/Distillation III

Sticking together, but not as a crew

Bitter from tea leaves, grown from the dust

Sifting through the oxygen and the weather

We do the things that ought to be done

Return and return and return

Dissociative fire lights the waves

The perfection of the paperclip

Seeing the vitality at play

Admiring the shapes of her forms

Flittering sparrows cover the exits

Solid and real were the imaginary players

What is sundered is broken, never to repair

Roughed up for desiring connection

Some common dreams occur and recur

Unstable boundaries, changing all the time

The darkness in my heart, ever unquiet

Clipping the area where fun can occur

Not of that but of which, not of which but of who

How do you say: “But I never got a chance”?

Some people just cannot be dealt with honestly

Paranoia was ready with fire bombs

No safe harbor for my desires

Compilation/Distillation II

The grudges are destabilizing

So when you go together to the tree

Broken into little pieces like you break your bread

Do not bring me into it

Scraping up the jealousies

Into the overheated cortex

Living the myth of his own detachment

Ever unto the ever turning evening

Unseen and unheard

Riled weather clouds pass overhead

The terribleness of the day

Rockets fire, and I fall

Very competent in spite of it

The method is of silence

Take one more chance today

Some ways cannot convert

IV heroin and ketamine at once

Rings on her fingers

In the dreaming of the times

A running of the angels

Inflated egos build these bridges

Punctured

Some grifters demand justice

Uncertain times call for uncertain measures

Betwixt and between

A little goes a long way

Ripped to shreds and broken

Recreational use indicated

Wishing to see them reduced

Tipping the struggles over into another realm

Seeming to merit no destruction

Silvering destruction with a patina of false courtesy

Rings and rings of intrigue

Some dreams are allocated a hearing

Unchecked ramifications
Some collected species of betrayal

Not all the ins and outs of people

Phantoms haunt me less than in years past

The city is cruel to outsiders and the mentally ill

Apocalyptica.

Some dreams go unpunished

But not mine

Not in the articulation of all things

Time is an illusion created by the movement of things

Strip down the errors and collect your planes

Not to be outdone, he dissimulated

Imaginary people have real acquaintances and vice versa

Synthetic people have natural imaginary adversaries and conversely

A long time to collect, a long time to plant

Seeds of revolution cover all the disturbed soils

Some nightmares were true and complete

Completing the medical space journey to the dream time at the end of the universe

You create your own reality

But wind up stuck to the wall

In a disgusting prison bathroom

The beauty of the dreams uncounted

The first ever many dimensional novel

Cannot be translated into waking life

Not to be taken uncertain in times of transcendence

I have taken too many symbols into the fold

Being, he wrought mathematics

Being, he opened his heart

Being, he propelled the conversation

Ceasing, he became more

Ceasing, he unwound too many times

Ceasing, he went silly

Becoming, he wrecked the cruiser

Becoming, he made good with his loss

Becoming, he became more

Beginning again, he cooked up

Filling the waters with unstable ideas

Unchained verses dissociate and disidentify

The lore unfolded as revels turned to riots

On a trip to the border, she exits consensus

The cosmic perspective strikes many with starry eyes

Bicycles day comes every day from here on out

One can only hope

The feathered Jabberwock inverts and multiplies,

Negates and amplifies, humbles and empowers

All along different lines\The wild thoughts permeate the air

The seas rebubble

The radicals re balance and seize the moment

Declaiming the many bespectacled thoughts

Coming fast, like passing meteorites

The revolt ever to collect its due was collecting, at last

A wave of distemper, a closure of teeth

A simper, a semper, a glass of absinthe

Dreaming of demons, he enters the room

One thing is certain, one is unknown

Visuals on the females, a time to decode

Not to be taken, not to be strewn

Come to clamp down on the weather

Dithering, unconfirmed and confused

A muddle, a puddle, a festival of BOOM

Uncertain patterns and uncertain times

Asocial dreamer, a lock on the phone

Not to be outdone, he riddled

The ticket, the wicket, the stickiest plume

The rudeness uncounted, the dreams for your share

Sticking together, but not as a crew

Bitter from tea leaves, grown from the dust

Deeper and deeper, ever in store

The words of birds are forever planted

The boy was simple, but never sane

Come dance, come dance! The beast is come!

Compilation

Dreaming up Demonoid to collect your pieces

A million hours of heat

Walking into the Arctic desert

Talking into all the silences

Slipping into the sex of the mindset

Subconscious processes

Different inflections and stresses

Stereotypes

The driftwood of our lives

Washed up on some foreign shore

The panties

Sticking you with the label of their unquiet

You simply will not do.

Recoiling from the aftershocks

Distillation

You decompile the code

Always feeling too much

Turn down the volume

Our differences

Are many and without count

On the wire and on the wave

Weasels in the wires

Be uncareful and unkind

Collecting up dreams to your sorrow

Spiritual anarchy becomes a reality

In the edges of the alleyways

Breaking through the barriers to life

Uncertain, unstable, and untrue

Snakes and lies abound here

Under the water and under the wave

Antiassertions and antisense fields

We wanted what we wanted

We could not make these on our own

We walk into darkness, we walk on sand

Drifting into the curse energy

Reading of poetry strip the slashes
Code talks and talk codes, blinking in the mist
Loving your lies you say uninterested
Leaving the moment you walk into gloom
The lines of distinctiveness or the lines of reclamation, one feels that this is not the only way to distinguish
We fly through seas drifting on my tide
Idling in the spell check reference
Sitting on the seventies’ recliner, now in the drip of the post nasal inconvenience
Sleep falls lightly as the dropping snow
Dreaming of the spaceships and rubik’s’ of poetry
The festivals the baggage floating you beyond control. The needling of the friends to call
You drift in you drifting; you see and you don’t
Defining the terms of the debate-
We swing suddenly back into interpretation