Schizm
I.
Plunging through the nebulae,
under the veil of a black dust cloud
for infinities that wrist-devices measure,
stares a lonely asteroid:
Me.
The Darkest Hour.
Has it always been this way?
*Sigh*
Resignation is impossible advice.
And so in safe home, safe temple
I rob myself for a Great Escape from safe suffering.
I bend myself, skew myself, and give my soul to Chaos,
heart-burn for hours beside my acid-smear
I enter parentheses of jammed resonance-feedback
sandpapery, concrete-walled-vagina births,
rippling through beautiful sunny shores,
gulls caught in their miracle-hate relationship.
Heavens extending, people dying,
I redefine Nostalgia Trip.
Oh do I.
So waking up,
every morning the same for a year.
Happiness lost. Unimaginable. Recalling only shadows
hysterically.
Knowing in my scar-tissued heart-of-hearts
that my religion is The Drone.
Dimly recall...recalling...
petty optimism, idealism, understanding, enlightenment.
Oh please sing me their unforgettable ditties of my hypocrisy.
Foul Stupidity, a lack of self-consciousness (the great wrong
that must be righted.)
Dimly recalling An Ecological Conscience, belonging,
kindness, compassion...
a nonexistence of fears, of hatred,
enjoying school, being intelligent, being
happy;
enjoying the moments that had now become
so bloody, so
inescapably bloody, such
such silent, legal murders...
And long before,
I was born into Middle-earth,
was guided by the laws of Order and Chaos
learned me by Zelazny’s Amber chronicles;
I was a hero of Morrowind, was a Jedi
swinging my lightning saber left, right, to, fro
never with self-consciousness, only with
imagination prepubescent bliss.
And the world of electric creation
against even the stinging of Armageddon’s certainty
as I haired my way into maturity, grew.
With philosophy and words and heroes and the Matrix
and the stormy nights of electric creation mania, it grew,
and like a god I separated light from dark and dry from wet,
and the future glistened the gold of monitor sugar.
More splendid still. Ideas shimmered, I was their pool and the light was warm.
Victory was the catch-call, was real, was mine.
I loved, too. Water pouring, bath, puddle, warm with sun shining through the prisms
of warm-water mist, noon showers gleaming, base feeling,
reduced always to my bare nature; love, adventure, awesome.
Growing like a sprout, nature’s first green, pounding so softly,
I love this all, happy. Pain only when I release it, it drenches me, waterfall,
and the slide down with it is the slide of words and the slide of hope,
an inverted but real ascent into my Heaven.
But then,
the Great Weariness;
a soul sinking
a body struck, mind scabs,
coming-to-terms
w/ daily hell. Cruelty burns, the
Dharma Bums, no expectations, no
success, no failure, just this pornographic awareness
of each unholy word, unholy desert-bleached smile,
unholy hell of chafed existence...
knowing I have forgotten...something
(‘that’ being lucid dreaming and my bed
and children and simplicity and my Nana
and Memo and all other elders
breathing with me whispy meditations on humanity.
All holiness, all goodness); gone, sucked into the Great Wariness
of evil fun. Now to strive
Go never again repent...
II.
And then how quickly that first semester of the next year cut me to get away,
how awkwardly and angrily and lonely, wandering
through my silence to friends, wondering at my yearnings...
at the wrong multiplying brain-wires
that I called my story,
stinking novel of castrated hope,
infectious loss, Fallen Angel, or at my Fallen Angel self I called insanity,
and later depression, and later Arrogant Fate.
Afraid of a world that could’ve been sucked bloodless by a vampire, saved
by a campfire.
O, how quickly I found the character of my own failing morality and empathy; Evil.
Crucified by emotions on a walk down the classroom and home and mind
in the terror of a lonely room, concocted of my own
juggernaut Godzilla mind.
And how quickly that second semester passed and
my unintelligible karma-powered late-night google searches for wisdom,
for answers, for a universe of love
continued...
trotting boldly soon with first-time marijuana-esque blacknesses of
genius/paranoia, losing my chug-chug-chugging mind
to find a proof against dystopia that was worth a Holy Buck.
And damn; the mind-worms! Lubricant of society and
his crazy phallus,
striving to achieve through mimicry and dance;
dancing dancing dancing and praying
the gods to deliver the magnificent spring
of green Fern Hill youth, Huck-Finn and Tom Sawyer–
heros! Maneuvering the mythic Mississippi only to find themselves
wherever they went, and burning with the youthful passion
of star-sparked, electric bass-blushed life–I prayed.
Meet Bumbling Progress.
Strobe-lights of feeling ease, harsh climate fades to occasional storms to
perfect climate, with gushing rain
of fun, beauty, life, feeling, Zen, the things
that only ring hollow, or
sear.
and the wisdom-pursuit of an Unbalanced continued...
for these questions still churn,
these fears, this highly-effective individual
degraded to falling old man, fast.
Too long have I lost myself to the black-hole of time,
like an abortion of a screaming mind.
And from the gates of order shining dark,
learning that life is the forward push through
a tunnel, through paintings, through dictionaries, through perception
through angst anger hunger and a life of fast
indigestion queasy hang-over tumbles,
through the bewailed tomb-stone realization that existential-angst is Truth,
through cathedrals ringing, Sprint’s low-quality connection
to a man from India I name Spirituality,
through drowning.
Is the way back out or the way back in
the way to defeat this nemesis and steamy crucifixion?
I’ve given months to the hot path back out, I’ve roadkilled myself, so
in safe home, safe temple, safe portal, safe quarantine
I rob myself for Great Escape from safe suffering.
I bend myself, skew myself, and give my soul to Chaos,
heart-burn for hours beside my acid-smear
I enter parentheses of jammed resonance-feedback sandpaper-walled-
concrete-vagina births,
rippling through beautiful sunny shores,
gulls caught in their miracle-hate relationship!
Heavens extending, people dying,
I’ve redefined Nostalgia Trip;
Welcome to the moment.
III.
Blackness, with flashes of red.
Speeding to DoubleEspressos and energy drinks like a bullet
searching some flesh to hit. Stories failing, living failing,
diving into death sixty years away
with an eager face to flop.
Blackness pounds, red sizzles, labyrinths catch the heroes of religiosity.
Ugliness denotes you, bad-breath demotes you,
yellow foggy hatred uproots itself.
Unrest
boiling towards ecstasy of orgasmic discipline.
Panting, staring, twitching, screaming.
Shrieking flags recollecting meth-head Green Day
the burned bitch in Newsweek, face melted into obscenity,
and soaring now
wavy shapes in swirly vision, achy vibro-body,
and I suddenly understand that a xylophone has been the weather...
The news has said, “Iraq crumbles,”
said “the national debt soars,”
said “Republicans and Democrats
suicide themselves when their lies are revealed,
w/out cushions to catch their careers and
Post-Traumatic Stress-Disordered consciences, their brains
throb pain.”
Coarse chortle of the mundane,
I want Truth, not trivia. So
I slider my way to the next Universe, the past, the hippies
looking for Gurus among the searching, dancing, dying
LSD’ing. Quests breathing walls into existence, with
Heroine Howls amongst the bereaved...
I believe that history has been rewritten, and the Sinners won,
the Mr. Tradition Christian Staunch Republican chem teacher God-o-phile,
smiling with prior knowledge, of good, of evil, but he
he has a guilty conscience, he’s arrogant, he is a one-man
persecution of minorities, he, he has
he has my hatred.
I believe that he was too guilty to calmly soar
from peyote heaven to ganja dreams to the high truths of
the counter-culture, into the stabbing eyeball gaunt anorexic melted drug-culture,
I believe
he invented it all to make himself a Father Holy Shaman,
I believe
he is crooked, drunken on the wine of mind-worm mathematics,
logic, boredom, and the casino-slots of America.
Order and Chaos, the two polar opposites of
*our* Universe of everything. Lovers nakedly embracing
psychedelic streams and mountains and waterfalls and fissures and
moons and suns and madness, the framed portal
to overcooked Nirvana.
Grecian Pillars silently absorbed millennia of philosophy
contrived appreciation, throbbing appreciation, erosion at the hand
of weather, wind, and the perpetual churning of mathed-up mind-worms.
There is Order & Chaos, Mind-worm & Pain, Heaven of Fear & Hell
of Zombie-Slathered Existence...
both dying, both living, both in limbo.
My cockatiel glares, chirps, lost
to chaos and order and the suffering of being Beakman,
being cutely enslaved by me,
a God in every respect except my starburst incompetence and fleshy impotence...
no; these are god-skills.
I’ve dubbed it Music and Yellow-On-Wood Lights Day.
To fruit flies, without Awareness...to coke cans w/out Awareness, to
bugs w/out Awareness, our suffering mothers.
To fellow blood...
into death and out of death, the Reincarnation Bends,
and through the universe of gods, I soar.
A ten-minute roller-coaster, a chapter to add to Ishmael,
about the Leavers and the Takers and the Mind-worms,
dreaded mind-worms, dreaded, dreaded darkness,
The Wind shrieks like a mother at the hand of her dead child;
RATIONALITY TRAP.
IV.
Lesions of colors, boom
Baked cotton squiggly eyes, lessons unlearned,
now the new reality; an infinitely-white room, infinite windowlessness,
infinite blisters, surrounded by incense-kisses
now the new reality; ancient Aztecs contemplating the holiest Sting,
cutting hearts out of the living and bending their nightmare
into blood-stains on Capitol Steps that inspire still.
But mathematics is the road to human existence. Out of random,
uncontrollable fear of pain and suffering, we’ve ascended
to this.
A heart to a heart, a dream to a dream, Chaos to Chaos.
now the new reality; broken bottles and osama’s wicked followers and
this country, shining capitalist ember of toxic-drug materialism–
unrighteous Feudalism.
now the new reality; twists and turns in & out
of grape eyeballs and teddy-bear screams, of a splattered human being
naked before deterioration and the unstoppable tidal symphony of decay.
now the new reality;
hot, lathery something, mountains calling above the clouds,
green valleys thrumming with culture,
Heaven. Gates of gold, the celestial boundaries of Christmas-lights
and astrological orbs stealing me
into moments, twinkle, zam, kaplush
r-relax. Inhalation, exhalation of babbly lungs.
now the new reality;
animals. Mind-worms. Souls cris-crossing
the holiest boundaries, out of a squirrel peaceful
terror-filled hour-to-hour. Hawks circle,
acorns beckon...
my brothers & sisters are gassed and tortured and burned,
no one defends, no, no, no, not i not i not i, no no no,
not i, not i! Not I! Not I! Not I! Not I
And I hear the Diamond Om, Dark Side of the Moon,
now the new reality; patterns, chandeliers, mathematical grandeur,
breaths, inhalations, vomit, (the politics of wisdom )
(the politics of the damned ) (the politics of hatred!)
all the Universe is One...
now the new reality; the one who calls out to us around our flashings,
between our eyne, forever from the heart, the Real
I recall losing my grasp of all
when contemplating the existence of –1–lonely thang,
b/c how would it be identified?
Cut to prisoners, deprived and blind
exclaiming their pain, losing focus at the face of Black.
Dying at the face of Black
the sky needs two to tango, these lonesome-long days.
Lonely man in lonely world, fade to black
lonely man breaking into phantasmagoria of fear, of bitterness...
The sky needs to tango, these lonesome long days,
now the new reality; groovin’ and movin’ to the rumbling beat
of mind-worms, they rape your pain, they dance like
seizure, they’re pixilated.
now the new reality; tearing Earth and slicing rock,
the mind-bends, they hurt, and
Infinity is found
is lonely to explosion,
infinite regression of shudder, and
RATIONALITY TRAP.
V.
and when, in this darkness, i stared
soul-searching meditations, pride-stripped necessity,
with pyramids of branding brain-wires
I practiced repenting, once, my sin.
and cried for three hours
‘till freshness uplifted me, and I
now try again under skewed, pixelized, holy vision, the
kind that can’t last.
The Evil-ings, high mighty fearsome,
the ghost of the devil breaking itself
through five painful hits...then was was it now?
Ah yes
I recalled bony shit, and I want to sleep and chill;
I’ve had enough castles.
But then, in a night epitomized by a puff
there came the great Skew, falling asleep 3 times a second
for hours, pizza uncooked, music Magic,
heaven and hell arising, confusion grinding, screams of isolation,
bi-polar pain, insanity.
Insanity insanity insanity insanity insanity;
Screw-loose, off-the-rocker, gone,
“over the rainbow”, gone Dead! denied! defeated!
breathe breathe breathe...
A dream of horror rises, Nazis march, bridges burn,
paranoia beckons...lost to the Beat
of Johnny Clegg, of Pink Floyd, of the wisdom-pursuers
of my teenage American-Culture mind,
a nightmare of existence woos me, cuts me, slices me
ignoramus intellectual controllessness, ideas forming,
Democracies burning, hippies losing, friendship denied, w
world-distorted, drugs reabsorbed, society burning
melding, welding, burning burning, burning
Society Burning The future failing, the People the Devil,
the Death the Good,
Shrieking my motherfucking lungs out.
prophetic visions of the unspeakable.
Mind-worms and melodramas collide
rejection, search, destroy, shriek, search...roll.
into the rock-and-roll fucks, into rock-‘n’-roll fuck-ups
into Christian bands all failing to make a sound.
into patterns, pattern, patterns,
jazzy, snazzy, 60's, 70's, Backroom Bookstores,
blue lights and black-lights and posters
of this acid-humanity.
Well, the Buddha spake
that happiness is calmness,
I hate attachment.
Yet I flow like a twitching corpse;
electrocuted, a wire still, a soul transformed
into grotesque joke. I flow, I meditate, the gulls around me weep.
In the surf of early morning, into the calm and Buddha water.
Mists rise, acid grooves, smiles burn, and I focus,
and I fail.
now the new reality; the Living Dead light the path to Heaven;
I shriek.
now the new reality; comets strike, bridges burn, volcanoes rape the sky, forerunner
to New York City, 9/11, horror, death, Afghanistan, Iraq, budget crises, numbers;
the world is grinding me so fast.
now the new reality; harpsichord lullabies tumble into schizms, telephones ring ring
the awful evil-laugh of INFINITE REGRESSION!
th-
th-, the d-devil’s eyes burn,
spazms uh-unlock the vomit dam of hilarity,
now the new new new new new reality; I am empty.
I am empty.
I don’t care, I only sizzle
Let it come, it comes.
I am empty, I am sick of praying without knowing the telephone number.
I’m sick of my poetry. I’d die if the world would die with me it won’t.
now the new reality; the Weatherman says it’s a nice day I laugh, it is I laugh
The devil hums, it’s funny I laugh it is.
The pain hurts bad, it’s funny I laugh it is.
now the new reality; the Buddha laughs it’s funny so do I
so do my meditations so does focus, I laugh,
Coyote laughs, and it’s all a joke I love it.
It takes love to laugh.
I laugh I’m insane I laugh.
I’m baked into sleep.
I awake in a high-order world, I don’t believe in Amber, Chaos is fun
and I ride shotgun in a world that I scar with terror, big-pupil-
I-see-Evil eyes.
I get so fucking sick of this sometimes.
My poem is a pretty lie, I’ll fix it later, when it stops lulling me into the Devil’s bed.
No matter how often I sleep, I awake
to the same old reality, running head-first into walls
trying to break them down.
now the new bloodless reality;
worlds peel away, paradigms shift, Gods collapse
Government A is B is C is the way things are.
Conspiracies blossom like nuclear mushrooms convert
mothers to huddle, past-tense forever.
Peek past,
now the new reality;
greatness doesn’t exist
there is only the burn
the softness
there is only tightness.
now the reality;
like a landslide, roots are torn up
and I slide from skewed vision to
now the new reality; calm.
I focus focus focus, joy is calm
is calm is calm is calm is humor
is compassion is love, demon-sliced peace.
VI.
I frolicked with the Hobbits,
I cut Darth Maul, I united Prince Caspian, I
built monuments atop the quicksand victories
of having tasted infinity, I meditated my shrieks away, I
radiated Goodness, calm, I
loved this cascade, premature senile dementia,
aware now of good and God and evil,
aware that I am neither ofthe two, aware of intellectual freedom,
aware that I love you freedom, the Division Bell, aware
of my Middle-earth childhood, smoking smoke-bubbles
and in-betwixt Tookish adventures of my own pastel humanity,
living in a soft warm nice hole in the Shire,
I love you peace, I
found Middle-earth and the middle-way, I sank low Earth, I
dream of slowly-rising moons,
soft beers at night, screaming into the abysses of my neighbor’s minds
black lust is gone, I am the Superhero
who loves the bad for it makes him strive for the Good, I am
readjusted, reawakened, re-in-love with life,
I laugh.
And as the acid burns down foreign minds, I will
dance through their burning humanity, kiss soft spots,
chuckle and live a new life.
Pothead ambition, writer ambition,
from heaven to hell to the farthest reaches of another universe, and
what’s it matter when
mind-worms are converted to Coyote Gandalf guides, all safe,
when rich with a full graphite-syringe worth of safety,
and a million notebooks to fill
with the adventures of a ruggedly sci-fi cyberpunk dork loser
societal-whim, prosperity-seeking, unwise, unhousebroken, unopen-minded,
scar-scar-scar
child,
(celebrating the language of obsoleteness).
Life raining so slowly forever.
A simple pen moves me into the safety of hyper-stories
chattering through high-order, peaceful love reality, or
into simple laughing love melodies.
In a land of rolling hills and chimneyed homes
and a dawn of coco and paper boys and school busses
and warm coffee and mist and sleepy recollections
of Revered Christmas Trees and sinking moon.
It is here that
calm abiding rises with the early orange sun.
*claps*
