Saturday, December 13, 2014

message in a bottle

It's not outer space that's important.  
And it's not just inner space that is 
important.  It's both our neurobiologistical 
microscapes and the deep core of our 
own planet, and it's not panspermia 
alone that brought life necessarily to earth 

nor is it our molten iron womb 
itself either as much as the distinct 
possibility that the combination of 
asteroid (sperm) and planet (ovum) 
may have resulted in the origin of life 
and hence ourselves as a bonafide 
sentient species, it's possible 

And how could we forget the deep 
oceanic trenches and the inherent 
mystery they conceal?  

We are allegedly only familiar with 5% of the ocean depths.   
That is the real future of science fiction because the exterior 
trip is doomed lost to a telescoped oblivion if that were even 
imaginable much less possible but yes leave it up to mankind 
to fervently achieve impossible absurdities something so 
beautiful and harrowing as to make damnation mundane, 
go for it rocket boys and may the spirit beyond the deepest 
waters move you toward the ultimate adventure of discovery 
and may your destinies meet with unspeakable success.  

What a mess.  Enough science fiction about space ships already 
I call a boycott.  The real space ship is earth and I want to read 
and write about that so reel your spaced out dream back in quick 
everyone knows the cryptoterrestrials are here already and we're 
their latest offspring.  Listen to the leaves inside your mind and 
realize the wind passing through the seashell of your skull is not 
imaginary because you've mistaken it for something else it is 
actually real because you imagined it, try to get it right and did 
you know there's no such thing as out there at all?  It's all in the 
mind every spankin' piece of it including them glittery dead 
sequins twinkling every color of the alphabet whose interwound 
songs harmonize into a celestial choir belting out the one hymn 
we've heard all our lives and it's not whispering myths or describing 
any dreams that's just the sound of it all breathing.  

So wake up and grow mouths so you can stop screaming 
see what I mean by reading not only in between the lines 
but repeat the lines themselves because it is not just the 
words on the page that carry significance it is the distinct 
combination between them and the empty spaces crowding 
out the remainder of existence a polarized balance which 
pings a microtone spark across the dark of space to light 
up this place for us to see the secrets buried deep enough 
to make it worth the challenge of our lives to find so please 
stop searching for extraterrestrials if you don't mind besides 
they are the ones more advanced and are already ahead of the 
curve searching for us and they will find us on the television 
screens of their collective minds and read our lips from the 
silent static film of our history projected in an explosion of 
gravitational microlensing, so meanwhile what else are we 
going to do here besides feeling as if we're lost on our own 
home, terrified of being invaded because that is all we've 
inherently known, from having been born from scratch 
of the lightning bolt sparkstruck nickel-iron wombcore 
of our parent planet, and into the bright and dizzying
mind numbing pleasures and painful clarity of the day. 

Monday, August 25, 2014


Can you picture this, and how difficult it is
to try and convince them of the way that it is?

Of course you can, 
I was put here by plan
not just to refute the word of God, but that of man. 

As an independent thinker I try to prove the Word
to non-believers on their own terms, that it isn't absurd.

In order to achieve this 
it's really kind of mysterious,
He made it necessary for me to not be so delirious.

To remain in possession of my very own mind
I'm not a parrot in the pulpit I think you will find.

Only in this manner may it truly be convincing and
It's a small price to pay to be thought of as a Judas.

For I am the trick joker,  I'll be out smoking them
From their own caves, I ain't joking, I'll draw them up.

I am His son, just like every other last one, 
Only I believe it because I'm not making this up.

First learned it on the way to the water's edge,

Swore I heard the river laughing at me in my cage.

I'm the post-hypnotic magi, the self-corrective mirror.
A quintessential tragedy, in laughter disappearing.

To the white eye missing, I am the black button,
Push me once again and we'll see who's hurting.

There will be your proof, when I am gone and all
But for one single thing: it's nothing but a fall.

I got the Gnostic agnostic rap a-going and a-flowin'
In the upper stratosphere like a luxury Boeing. 

Good knowin' ya if we breathe in the same minted coin
breathing out our exhalations to mix into the wind. 

Lucky for us this whale's got fins, it swallowed us whole
and we'll be spat out again, we're all Jonah in the end.

We're all Jesus, we're all Judas, the great Hermaphrodite
sees right through us, all the less mighty once divided.

Upon an uncoiling time in a revolutionary whiplash 
spun out of control to ride the crest of a wave crash.

You can't resist my pathogenic attack: it's doxological
It deals with ontology; both micro- and macrobiotic.

Don't look at me like I'm idiotic, you started with your shit
of either this or that, binary logic, a pretty narrow slit

To be seeing through, if you don't mind my saying so
and if you do, never pardon, it's all good, I would too.