mo'ili'ili twenty ten

a cool night-bloody orgy
blue light
carnal, red-fountains of love-fluid
cries of excess-passion-screaming agony
burden
release-remised-remission-a tease
no longer than your finger
tugging my hair
pulling me in through the airless room
around you
the night-drunken-blurred
fighting-dramatics and biting lovers
others
strangers-you two
me and him
all lusting for the same thing-person-girl
slut
ghost. I think I feel the most desperately hopeless
in the moistness of my eyes
in the warmth of her words
this damp hole in the ground
terror-doom-eternal emptiness in the caress of deaths greeting
our last chanceless meeting
fleeting glance at my impossible-dream-gleaming sword of the truth-what a joke
life’s a lie
revealed, impressionist illusions-ahhh course haired-grass-rotten path
earthy laughter of my massive brother
my lingering growth
lungs filled with stunned gillnet-hooks
cooked like Tess's salmon
probably the best seafood ever
other then in pictures and books
techno-color-plastic covered coral and yellow-black-angelfish
forever bumming a ride
strumming these rusty strings
banging a tired hide with my roughened bare hands
severing the hair-bands of my spiritual-tail
hopefully these words telling all possible
for simple symbols to convey (to you)
clearer skinned skies and my reddened orbs dry
and itchy
why do I absorb depression and attract dysfunctional children?
my nunchaku lesson-a blessing-an eighth-an exchange
of faith-for the faithless reverends
beat master-bike builder-ninja skilled nerd-skater
stoned warrior-armed to the teeth with glass
serotonin ronin-roaming the townhood all, altered
mind like the changing seasons, his summer filled with sun, spring-guns-winter-cold hand holding teenagers desperately grasping for warmth even though its 80 degrees
in Honolulu

Guy Maddin is a genius!

a christmas eve insomniac love poem

Saturday aching numbness
ahh dead beat street bedpan
begging man
cut at the feet of a broken pane
shards of his crystal eyes blue hazed
raining lemonade
oxidizing the group ethic of panic
we lack wit to come upon a fat token in path
but keep toking and walk past with my roach-clip
and zipped up eyes
unzipping dirty denim revealing my venom
filled syringe of flesh
penetrating lids and burning dark circles
into them
sacred Sunday morning at the hour
my offering on the cloth
thanks to digital illusion again
I have been tricked into the tiny death
by the slick whip of ideas and your warm sigh
pull me into dreams with intimate imagery
your face and body, surrealistically beautiful in my minds eye
to think that I could never be with you
makes me want to die now quickly in this empty bed of cum and sweat
is it really so impossible?
do I chase in circles for ribbons of a mirrored self-reflecting sunscreen?
I try to apply the lotion slowly but I’m busy in the blue moonlight howling down the valley to all other brothers in arms
step up
and stop fucking it for the rest of us
I try to stay away
and stop thinking of you
but what use is lying alone to myself?

ancestry, incestry,

I am a perfect Asian man
drinking my tea on a bamboo table
I’m watching the rain wash old ways away
eroding Eros
growing greenhouse gases
diluted oceans spiked with sewage and plastic
I am a simple minded American
with my coffee and blank stare
a native of the continent
with stoic eyes, searching for a god that’s not there
I am an Irish immigrant with my pale skin and
generational poverty
a French baron in a wagon wheelin’ to the northwest I am
an Apache warrior
a confederate soldier and
a Japanese farmer
my blood has converged the world over
the axis of migrating sex and oppression but
wherever cut I’ve bled into the land that birthed me
underneath we’re all red and blue
our eyes are hues of illusion
shifting back to
a simpler fiction, and a less conflicting beverage to be sipped in my
humid Hawaiian home

eyes at the junction

fixed on eyes
waning, waxen vixen
seduction, manipulation, stimulate
growing profit in erections
new phalluses on the block
oh ever turning cock-sucking town
and metro clock
I am a product of your disease
a rat of your gutter
and a child of your mother
my home, down below
every wet roaming day where
no one goes
don’t slip, or tip my foes
don’t stub your toes
I’ll make some toast and show you the sights
tonight
we’ll feast on the beasts of darkness
and worship our pale new gods
fluorescent light
oh neon prophet brother!
oh gaseous fuming junker, japanese car maker
and speeding kids on E
elementary psychedelic practice with a high acidity
just a dropout with a vial dropping
only to hold me, dilation lonely
loveless nation of hedonist
and neo-Buddhist nihilist
we’re heathens holding on to
a way older then this
destruction
I walk to sacrifice myself
on a path of love
at the junction

don't fear death

keep patterns close
don’t forget the geometry of our rhythm
run fast down the trail
let the trees
rush past and dance in the breeze
like music
the singing Douglas
chasing you through a vast field of nothingness
and I’ll never catch up
never touch the top of your highest peak
but the climb never minds
my life is in utter vain
I feel no pain when I’m
home again
in your distant presence
aura, your scent’s sending me wild
because I know your flora’s close
and I don’t fear death

sweeeeeettt

Not very well made, but good stuff for anyone inexperienced in tripsitting

looks good

Terence McKenna and Sasha Shulgin together (1/2)

desert sesh

for whom it doesn't concern, may you know

bus stop sketch recorded via shitty cellphone
-------------------
unwillingly waiting for
the necessity of my return
a place to sleep tonight
and more then just burn
shit eat live dream
what makes it worth the trouble
when every beauty is a fragile mask hiding loathing
and death?
I try to find the joy in its continuance
with each breath, each nuanced beat and poor
bored disheartened
kid on the street
lookout roadside
hardened landscape, you luscious flower!
I'm simply lusting to devour you
but find it so hard to trust illusions so pretty
useless, and vain, don't question why
its so fucking hard loving anything in this city

know the way

wayfinder, oh righteous trailhead
broken path and overgrown switch
reveal your secrets with every forward foot
whispered joyous songs of steps
sing me the ancient’s stories
we're following something forgotten
deep within
such an intelligent, leafy growth of
rock bits
oh stream spitting rhymes
a seasonal proclamation flowing
up the valley in timeless lineage
like blood spilling milk
warriors
dropped topless head
turners
tuning into laughter that falls to a pool
below, oh way
bathe in the momentary stillness and pray
oh wayfinder,
stay a while with me

For R-E. Listen, learn and play your fiddle laying down