geo geller

July 30, 2021


Filed under: — GeoGeller @ 3:51 am

Moan poem echoed throughout the world.

chaotic situation on a merry go round the sound and sights abound looking in the mirror i found the found that was all bound and i think what a chaotic link as i put pen to ink and consider the situation and my intuition and listen for i too have been bitten and stricken and now i am sicken j’accuse – accused of destroying j’accuse able gance filmed the battle of verdon as the solders went off to find the end of the end and no one won one on one they marching in line hup two three four hup two three four they sing and sang as the death bell rang as they went off to their destruction with some strange instruction to die for you and i as he shot them with his camera of memories to be shot on the field by bullets without mercies they marched and marched to the sounds of groans and some misbegotten glory oh so many wars so many died without telling their story as they laid their in the mud and dreamed of nusrery rhymes and bed times now i lay me down to sleep my soul to keep and laid down like sheep to sleep the sleep that returns the soul to the deep so many dreams did die and many a lie did fly oh why oh why i ask my i when will we learn not to listen to those who think they are so sly you can’t ask why?

a black hole in history efforts to exterminate history offended his/her story tends to trivialize denigrates the future conflict of infliction deflection of dereliction reduced to reduction destroy the destruction brutality is brutal Nothing like it time to quit i submit violation of a tragedy unattended humanity up ended Victims and victimizers turned into ashes ashes to ashes witnessing a nightmare nothing can compare warfare going nowhere beware morally right morally right left right left a man sits on himself bereft and left of left and wonders if the right is right or just another plight of mankind who has a history of being unkind and hiding his sight and his insight and disguising himself at night to fight the unjust fight to the sound of men marching left right left right off to fight for the morally right left right left right erasing identities no comparison in scale or scope a prisoner of the mind of hope nothing could do to save themselves ourselves looking past to suture the future sound of silenced voices murmur invisible man walks into the mirror trying to pierce his own armor cleaning the mirror of his mind echoes of macbeth behind out out damn spot looking for the me that i forgot searching my soul battle is over uncover the cover looking inside i must confide i did hide i ride and i ride like the highway man if any body can and i find myself on the calm side and my eyes wide wider than wide as i walk by battle fields fought and lost at any cost walking past the past like burnt out remnants of the cast and at last i woke up today and at this moment all i can say the past is past

A monument to times gone by obsolete incomplete a man walks into his tomb lies down waiting for times gone by to pass on and by
and i think maybe the monument is a figment of my imagination a fusion of limitations and illusion of confusion a lineman searching for a poetic line
and i think to myself –
just fine
sitting in the weeds with nothing to do thinking that someday i too will be a monument to times gone by –

before and after me
in utter silence
contrary to appearances
earth blowing up through a whole
mind wandering inside itself
long way to come to go
to find myself in a desert under
i wait and wonder
searching my soul down under
finding my in-site
i in-cite
and re-cite
a line dangling from my mind
as another lightening strikes
the likes of you/me/us )-

listening to sirens of my mind
listening to sirens of my mind
pygmalion image i find
a woman of stone in the mirror of acts
changing facts
disturbed presence
running into closed doors
open my mind
find find
sirens bursting
raw thirsting
for a new beginning
freeing the soul
from running around in circles
unburdened from the cowards grip
touching poetry -
heroes’ welcome
i look in the mirror
and welcome myself home
after a journey to the center of time
a little rhyme
and to another dangling line
i think of maybe it should have been divine
oh see saw and he haw
waiting for the band and the parade to play
i survived to escape another day
and should receive a heroes’ welcome today –

historic breakthrough
man/woman finds self
hidden, hiding divided in two or three or who knew
an historic breakthrough
as if through and through
and life is found for just a few
wandering about
in and out
so what else is new “-

to break the cycle
to break free to break the endless cycle
the cycle of silence
stop the violence
stop the killing,
nobody dies willing
stop killing
before and after
the soul needs laughter
not disaster
stop the cycle
the cycle of damaged soul
of slain innocence
of lost illusions
of loathing and pain
and the fear and the stain of disdain
that comes from being vain
and the vanity
leads to insanity
stop the tears that tear the heart from ear to ear
and you and me who are we *-

growing increasingly hollow
letter from friend
dear and here we are at the end of the end
where not death do us part
but our one heart to heart
has torn us apart and her
and i wonder if stringing words on a tight rope
in my mind eye no longer longing
singing about belonging
if and when i look at my past and think of my last
my last gasp and grasp trying to hold onto life, the last gasp
as i moan and grown and grasp the un-graspable

and maybe, maybe
i too have been there in the past and i wonder in and out and about my mind thinking of all kind of thought and distraughts i have brought upon myself while sitting on the shelf and watching the world go by as humpty dumpty had a great fall and all in all as i put the pieces back and say to my self that’s all walking the streets of memories walking the streets of memories past the once were and of what will be the past with out me someday and all those fellow travelers on the road to nowhere i pass myself at sea and i’m still looking for me memories around each corner in a see saw with time swinging form a poets line i think of past moments walking around in circles in my mind i hear the voice of a young childs laughter and think of you in me and the hereafter and i find myself after all after, after – pain abounds around and around the sirens sound as if in a nightmare that is unfair and full of scares everywhere you go and so it is that nobody can say no and that is why why is why i ask myself who is so sly that they think they can escape the landscape when pain abounds all around and around - you called i was out the world was about and well what can you say no message no yea no nay and the horse did say hey hey and well next time ya have something to say say say oy vey try again another way or another day no hope in death freezing misery emotional damage what has happened what has happened to them to us squalor in a spectacular landscape. it’s is a shame its a shame I suspect in retrospect run by bandits thieves and pundits refugees of the mind trying to find and get out of the bind before its too late before all the hate robbed by masked men who have robbed themselves of themselves in a song of a desperation so long that sings of inspiration and yet un-sung holding on to life to the ladder, the last rung of man and his son on the run on the run before we are undone thinking twice. dantes advice no hope in death @- imagine what its good bye to good bye and to ourselves and themselves and to the dreams and little elves and slip into silence and out of time and the end of this, our little internal rhyme - nothing but the whole truth more or less the truth and nothing but the whole truth so help us and save us from ourselves as time marches on and we march on and on and out of ourselves into the beginning of the beginning… freeing me from mediocre thoughts and childish memories of lost innocence and dreams of dreams that only existed in a dream of my mind and i think to my self where have i been… and i see in you where i have and have not been and louis armstrong whispers in my ear what a wonderful life it could be and i think no more but dream of making sandcastles at the sea shore and myself in myself and playing with illusions of being/living more or less in a strangely practical world a world with out dreams without imagination - timeless timeless how many times the universe flew by and bye and i i was lost in the thought of my eye and the why of why why oh why i wake up only to find i have been asleep in my mind _ there is no winners only is my universe if full of poetry… writing in my mind… realizing that it is what it is not on the winding road of my free form mind that takes me while wandering and wondering through the landscapes of this and that and thensome and so i play with the thought of what is and what is what and what is not playing around with a moment between me and myself and i smile inside out and swallow the sun playing is such fun and the universe laughs at me and i laugh at it and all is well as well as well can be as the clock strikes the hour and the silly hour tries to run off with the minute hand in search of a second to second only to find the sublime has run out of time and yet there is no winners only is and i think of you in me and me in you and i feel and feel i and i think to myself how could we be we and we be not we and i laugh knowing i am me and i am you and you are you and you are me where ever we be and there is no winners only is… ,- dancing with mirages looking in the mirror at my own mirage and image and wondering where i have been and in whose soap opera… time open minds and quiet deepens the souls view of its own holes in a whole so i think to my self… where have i been and who have i been and what have i done to myself… and time move on in strange ways how we don’t appreciate the things we have and that nothing is ever good enough and the dream of dreams becomes an empty dream and maybe the we that was us was a mirage that was you that was me wanting to be somebody and you to be the somebody to me and moving in and out dancing with mirages i seem to see having fallen out of the dream reflecting of fear and of loss of loss and loss of fear and i see that you who used to be me and the me who use to be you is now become the they that was us and the us that before time began was they and now we live in distant worlds playing with words and minding the empty store waiting for customers of the heart to return to find us sitting on the shelf of endless dreams and thoughts which have no thought and laughter that echoes in the mind oh mind oh mind where have you gone on a trip around the world only to find the beginning of my tail as i wonder to and fro and frolic in lost thoughts of dreams that believe in the fair tale a tale that fills the spaces between spaces in the heart and warms the soul only to wake up to the sound of my foot steps through the landscapes of my mind as i wonder if and when and where and who i/you/we are and i walk towards the light of lost thoughts trying to catch myself before i fall into shadows that have been walked on as if as if. and i say to my self before entering oblivion that it is time to catch my dream and free you/me/us from the bondage of singing the same song over and over to give flight to the spirit of the child in vi rt of silence in the wonder of the wilderness built on wonder a world of little giants abandoning the past shutting out the future deserting the souls silence simple things plain sailing what lies ahead join the adventure - died courageously sacrifice is shining and rhyming is dying and lying is trying to be an example of bravery and devotion in the face of all the commotion and lost emotion a man walks into his shadow and the dog goes bow wow and a passerby does cry and says ciao and i wonder how and everything is up side down and inside out and all about and well what a way to die and why be cause the eye of i says we must die and be an example of bravery and devotion and die courageously for somebody’s ghostly worldly fancy sometimes i think maybe i am blind looking in the mirrror of the future i see what appears to be me and a person walks by look in their eye and i and i try and fly but without a sky it is difficult to lie and yet many do sigh and i refuse to be transformed into a legend that is deadend a legend in my own mind searching for others who are kind but then again sometimes i think maybe i am blind - reflection of last survivor of a dead epoch hard to admit those who died for a great struggle died in vain an absolute disaster and absolute absurditiy absolutly intrigue no truth in it whatsoever letters scorched in the souls memories walking through the shadow of death final warning – t-shirt man waitress with tatooo facing inside out with hands grabing her soul sitting in a coffee shop watching you and myself writing madly thinking sadly looking for words to string together to make some sense badly trying to remember who i was then and when a shadow flashes by i remember why stranger than fiction is friction missing myself i search for signs on sign and then again maybe i am the last survivor of a dead epoch - man walks into the mirror and bumps into himself deeply burdened man walks by carrying his shadow a wood pecker knocks on the door trying to find himself the child listens as the adult walks and talking around in circles man waks into the mirror thinking he has found the future all the leaders of the world point figers at each other life is deeply burdened to people who are you and not you man and woman are in a dance of to an endless tape i think i hear my mother calling have you found yourself yet can’t hear myself think can you man walks into the mirror and bumps into himself shot us as if they were hunting rabbits.(response to kosovo) report from the hunting ground around and around and profound confound, dumbfound and spellbound man walks around with a heart wound shoot shoot toot toot of the horn at the start of the hunt sombody yells begin the affront its a man-hunt the sound of the sound of a strange cry and a sigh uproot root root uproot toot toot off in the distant memory is heard the sweet sound of yesterdays lute and flute and another victim of mind and souls pollution no solution to desolution and the toot of the toot of the childs horn is now so full of anger and scorn wondering why it was born shooting rabbits and people with different habits perpetrator and victim become partners in a strange hymn somebodies whim benumb and inside beating the same drum sharing a common bond little do they know both have been conned both have been damaged, savaged, ravaged and in need of being salvaged stifled screams can you hear the stifled screams around the world is heard the unheard the end of dreams of humanities insanities can you hear listen in the shell of my/your ear +- supposed to reconstitute and i wonder what and what wonders too and i think maybe and wait for a replay as i ask again why and look low and high and wonder what it means to reconstitute and find myself struggling in my birth day suit and i ask if today is the day or when we a re supposed to reconstitute - letters in a poem shake my mother said she read this poem where every letter did shake and me, i struggle with letters as a baker trying to bake and hunt my mind for words where every letter is a symphony in a cake and i shake and shake my mind trying to find words and letters that fit so kind and shake your/my mind my mother she tells me to listen to me and i will see she says son ya betta not run life is short, not me I retort and run along singing my silly song looking for words that sting and to string along she tells me the poem she read is not one of mine i think to myself oh thats real fine or as my father would say when he came home after a hard day some fine how do you do and i would think hm him too and i wonder what my mother thinks of mine as i stand on the edge of a line.. _ liberty (thinking of war and kosovo) on passing the statue of liberty thinking of liberty and why and the many wars and people that did die and did they die for somebodies lie i sigh and think and i wonder why why o’ why the human spirit has forgotten the mirror in the eye and why we fight, why we die and yet liberty is in our eye and are we so blind and often not very kind and i ask myself again and again and don’t know why why o’ why we do what we do as i sigh and wondering why liberty does not die from all the lies that we lie and how often do we have to say goodbye goodbye makes me/you want to cry - closure in wounds that have been open ever since man walks into himself and who’s to say whats the way as i lay awake in my own way and think if closure is sure or just another way of deluding myself another day and i wonder in a world down under ever since that day that you/i/we say in every way but but… the book is shut and there is nothing to insure even though since that fateful day obtaining a bit of closure in wounds that have been open ever since the day - outrages upon personal dignity its a pity that dignity isn’t dignified and life is not fortified and you and i suffer from eye to eye and wonder why and i ask you and you why o why you lie to the eye that is you that is me and i also lie in my eye and its an outrage upon personal dignity ain’t it a pity citizen of mankind kind to man the sign says when you are born do not scorn be kind as kind can be i think of he and she and me and i wonder what kind of world it could in the land of strangers who could would and should be to be oh me can not predict when when is when and when will when be and don’t you see when is you when is me and then again no not again a nursery rhyme with a big fat hen can’t remember when but then there must be more to life than when and then maybe life is just waiting for another nursery rhyme and the big fat hen row row your boat gently down the stream life is but a dream now you can scream - rejoicing in the freedom the freedom to be to see of who but me you see i am you i am me and well do tell that life is sometimes hell and other times its well and anyway we need to find our voice and rejoice because you are you and i am me and if we could only see how happy we could be - transparent language voyage into me trans-aparent-ly i said see look out look about wait i’m late i’m late for a very important date wait wait at the gate there are many transparent aparently look at you look at me and see the we are transparent ain’t that aparent - breathe deep  breathe deep wake up do not sleep breathe deep weep no more for before was before and war was war and time to find peace of mind and our common you-manity before we all are swallowed up in insanity breathe deep wake up, do not sleep not so simple mistaken taken and retaken and liken to a patchwork quilt tilt and save our selves from wasting time and questions lifting around and around in and out up and down above and beyond and i see into you into me and think maybe it’s time just to be desert desert not too sweet not too sour something like a flower to devour on a merry-go-round on a merry-go-round who me what do i see what do i know i believe you i believe me all around i am bound around and around on a merry-go-round talking to myself talking to myself i agree i agree there must be something to me let me see fear of fear fear of fear waiting waiting and waiting i want to know and not know at the same time not knowing… why why why and why is why and what is what and i wonder in and out around and around not knowing not knowing worse than knowing and the mind dances with questions as i wander to and fro back and forth up and down the halls of my mind waiting, wanting to know before i go don’t you know ? in search of myself in search of myself in the mirror i look to you you look to me and what do i/we see i look away you look the other way self conscious unconscious in search of myself in your unconscious and discover there is no you no me and that you are you and i am me and that we are we and the truth be told i have a headache -end 24 hr who i’ve been to me who i’ve been to me hard to be without you without me but then again who am i and who am me looking in the mirror i begin to see… who i’ve been to me together we are together and alone from time to time again and again as if in a dance i jump through hoops in my mind trying to find myself in you in me and i think to myself… if i could only see together we are together and alone just a few lines more just a few lines more words strung together on a clothes line of the mind a metaphor for what was before before and even before there was time and beyond the beyond and before my dreams hit the floor just a few lines more within and without within and without wandering and wondering within and without a dance of the mind in search of a little something someday i might find the real me – the secret person inside a little secret scout no doubt fighting with words fighting with words i wake up in the morning trying to open my eyes to see if i still be thoughtless and thoughtful and free you/me and i think to myself as words creep and crawl and i hear something as my ears stand tall and the quiet moment that was before before as more words upon words begin to fall and fill my mind with the long the short and the tall like a grafitti wall and the quiet that was my all is no more and that’s all taken for granted taken for granted who am i who are you that we should forget who to forget to appreciate the big and the small and the tall to see it all who am i who are you that we should be so small and think we know it all who am i who are you stand tall on tip toes eat it all from my little word garden patch from my little word garden patch trying to find a little vision to hatch trying to find a little this and that letters on letters strung together words on words on a tether dreams on dreams in a letter mix and match trying to catch a little vision to hatch from my little word garden patchÒ y˜ about question not why here deliberate made point deepest pain not responsible had to be something else something no one else could ever know about and found out and thats about about - not so simple mistaken taken and retaken and liken to a patchwork quilt tilt and save our selves from wasting time and questions about question not why here deliberate made point deepest pain not responsible had to be something else something no one else could ever know about and found out and thats about about - denying clemency did not hold great hopes for the final appeal the deal is the deal it is real incredible and inedible difficult to accept act of desecration denying consecration brought out hate at the pearly gate and wait the bait wait wait have other ideas does nothing last once we are gone the future is what matters - trying to find nothing we could have done about it things just happen not often but thats what they do speak more freely everything within power to insure and sure not to drop strange to fight and report real war remains in side wounds of war stress depress worried about complacency decency and inter dependency forgetting the hazzards fighting off the routine is the routine remoteness of life we don’t see whats going on removed from the self without any losses stand off delivering destruction out of the way way out to day world keeps revolving near quite clear do you hear - trust instincts thats all you have art of knowing how far to go to far find the star at the same time connection carrying a poem around for days finding the plays what you don’t understand heart of what we are talking about oblivion various worlds sweet time embrace it undescribable poetry puts a face on it not able to get away with it all the same family which means we are living and dying together gone like that… - day dreamer loved it without knowing never done anything happy took place never regreted could have been good come to something passion for passion passion for giving nerve ending the what if as if no in between could have wound up homeless for what ever and what happened where was the moment that bought it to this moment thats amore a metaphore love or die fragility scorched earth giving birth to myself and what is wealth start yesterday before today is here to a metaphore mutilated the soul and the whole and what is what war which is war knock on the door knock on the door its all all and disconnected into the dis contented and the time to awake and shake the mind from being blown up and said good by and shape up could have done a lot more had been everything wanted and all of a sudden snatched away and day by day growing up in a tribute to debute to live in a dream to get to that point back to the point of the point living a half a life where has the life gone before is gone gone and more or less less is more before is before unable to stop surprise myself freedom space - gotta be more than that no idea it works surprised surprise working out demons reflections of reflections to get right running away from the thing you want most fear of fear and getting what your most afraid of looking over the edge afraid to jump wanted it all gotta be more than that gone away to think about out of the out around and about stepping in side out what has gone and come about and of life what do we know a rainbow in a sea said the blind man i see i asks the blind man a question that which has caused many indigestion is there a deeper purpose for you for me and the see laughs at the sea for not seeing there is a time to be time to fly time to live time to die i don’t know why and about the rest and the nest and whats best i don’t know why and what is this test is it just a jest at best gone away to think about the about - not myself then who am i if not than what and if what than not and what is wh †§  laces and spaces of my mind as i write to you to me songs that have no words and words that have no song and what do i see but a butterfly landing inside of me and where are we mirror mirror on the wall talk to me - surgery of our souls you who once were me and me who once were you and the we who once were we i try and see but time to flee time for you for me to be and let it be free into you into me my eye i spy looking though and through at the me who is you i try to see the wonder of me and wonder how it would be to be oh i wish is could see into you into me !- images we had hoped never to see again. again and again the cycle of the beginning to the end of images that scorch the soul only to remind us… we are not whole and again and again we repeat the same cycles to the echos and cajoles of a hate that does not abate as we walk through the not so pearly gate to wait to wait as the images scroll and take their toll on the innocence of the damaged soul - my enemy i sit in a tree feeling like a slave to you to me my enemy and wonder about you and me and i think about the setting sun and what was fun and the wrong that was to done and now we are un-done and i sit in this tree wondering about we and try to be free and see that my enemy was me (- why oh why can’t i fly said the little boy to the sky looking up at the mirror in the sky i see birds and butterfly and wonder why oh why and i dream of being high and i with my little third eye i ask with a sigh if i can’t fly will i die why oh why can’t i fly said the little boy to the sky - consumed by anger … running around and around in the swamp of the mind turnig over and over insearch of the end of time and another line drops from under mine and words sturng together in a see saw of a letter and time marches on and out of sight and we listen inside to a diming light and the beginning of the sun is again un-done when anger is begun !- no amount of will power will over come stuck in stuck within a silent scream a dream but in the end of the end no amount of will power will over come - bringing the outside in and the inside out bringing the outside in and the inside out a poem to see to help you find your to be outside in from the depths of the within when will it begin and the inside out i try and shout but nobody is there not even the march hare and the wizard of oz does stare and stare i care i care do you dare _ no end in sight no end in sight once upon a time when time was upon us and sight was out of sight and beyond the beginning when the beginning was the end and beyond the end and the unbelievable was believable and the believable was unbelievable and the sightless could see beyond you and me and there was no end in sight _ beyond what one can bare beyond what one can bare straight to the heart that which can not be possible is possible and beyond compare and what one can bare do you dare begin at the end _ slipping out of life slipping out of life sometime, somewhere, somehow whether young or old or old or young like when life was just begun or the setting sun and in the middle of the middle are you and you too in search of you and the mysterious who and all of a sudden something out of somewhere but mostly out of nowhere says wake up… be aware the land of nowhere and here and there and every where the world is about to stop no more time no more time outs no more cop outs as the clock that keeps time to our internal rhyme slips slowly out of time and life is what it is and is not and no longer is no longer and the ending is ending and the far away that use to be at bay and i think to myself we are begun like the cycles of the sun we begin the dance of life until all is un-done and like the setting sun sometime its time to say like to lose everything, just imagine can’t fathom but just imagine what its like to lose everything, to have your life turned upside down inside out and all you can do is shout out out damn spot spot that no nothing can compare people like you/me/we walk by in a procession of a living nightmare and stare and stare in a deadly snare can’t imagine what their and there and i wonder who thinks this is funny before when life was full of milk and honey as people in trench coats cutthroats and dare think that they are just and fair no fair it’s not fair said the woman/man-ity its a pity to see what has become of we “- shift in the balance a balancing act of this and that and i think about all of that and balancing a ball before i/you /we fall now you think i might have gall to say this to you all but to hell with hell have a ball - what will remain what will remain of remain after the setting sun when everything is almost dune and life seems on the run and i walk to and fro in a dream of some times woe and i wonder what will remain of what is sane and i think of you and me and who we be oh me oh my have you looked up in the sky _- The cost of rebuilding inside and out up and down and all a round what do i know !- No one knows better No one knows better birds of a feather flock together to gether and i in way and sometimes in my own way say let the feathers flock i am going to my own little rock and play by myself in a land of my own wealth — Reconstruction has become urgent the man in the street says to himself walking past the mirror of his mind and wait a second who is that looking at me what do you see its me its me do you see i was never here here i am i say to my self in my mind – sitting on a shelf in a sea of see here is here and there is there i ask the mad hatter and the hare where oh where are we 2- turn backs on the past and look to the future how. the man inside me say as a wave of thoughts crash in front of my way and i wonder if today is today or is it a play day where i will again keep the future at bay and live as usual in thoughts like a carousel sits besides the well of my hell and i wonder if turning back the past will last and if the future needs another mind suture and life moves on and on and whose to say what is the way oy vey (- saying good bye to myself sitting on a shelf i watch myself as if as if i see fading ever so slightly a glimmer of me on a voyage soon to depart i think of my start and how life sometimes is bitter sweet and tart and that the real me that is me is sitting quietly up some palm tree - free yes yes yes it’s good to be free you see “- after goodbye goodbye goodbye with a little sigh ask why oh why is life a little white lie and i see saw between you and me and ask why oh why when will memories die and when will i fly on a high that is high and i ask why oh why why i ,- yearning towards wildness wildness in the wilderness of my mind see sawing in a land of the boring a wild child i find my self beyond yearning as i listen to thoughts that fly beyond why and why i ask myself as i spy some gleam my eye as i yearn and i try to learn and unlearn to be the me that i would like to see disbelief that this could be i wonder in and out in a state of mind that is spaced out and i see with eyes like that of spies i look inside out and all about and in the end i see you i see me in disbelief that this could be !- mirror into my soul looking into the crstal ball into the all of all and writing this from the soul of my soul i try to see if i am me and as i walk around and sit upside down i seem to be found in strange p ÅÌ  at as i run around the ground and the earth gives birth and i see me and what will be will be and new idea is free aye eye and i if not myself then who am i moral corruption freedom of speech to some is in need of bleach and to others its just another immoral moral full of sterile words in search of a character lost at sea in a world between you and me the eruption of corruption has caused much disruption as moral as moral can be fight for the right to be free but mark me they want to be free to be but not you and me we are the moral corrupt who are upstarts and erupt and disrupt the corrupt can’t be bought the soul of my soul the heart of my heart the center that is and is not and i got what i got and well you can try it buy it fry it steal it peel it and everything else in between i don’t want to be mean it can’t be bought and that’s the way it ought you tell me side to side i ride i ride to the ends of my mind in a bind from side to side i look far and wide and what do i see you tell me nothing else will matter its a matter of matter and thats the matter because matter is and is not and well in the end what do we got !- angry at me wasting my life in an empty strife twisting and turning burning and burning in the mind , on a stick and give myself another kick for being so angry at another or other and for being so blind and not to see i have been unkind to me in a battle with myself – able and cain inside, again and again i look for another refrain but all that remain is time to cast off the past and at last off the last and to see it is me who is am angry at me - don’t you see i am me i am me i say for all to see look at me i’m up a tree don’t you see - we must bury the past before and aft the past is past and we must we must with the just of the just bury the past before it buries us – seeking forgiveness for the slaughter and destruction left in the wake and those who do take the soul of innocence cut out from the heart just enough just a part and all in all the short and the tall forgive and forge a bridge over the gorge of the mind and leave the future to the future and the past to the past and seeking forgiveness is sometimes needless and endless stress that endures beyond duress and sometimes you just need a little finess – wake of destruction imprint of distrust and violence silence! silence the silence perpetuated by the memories that collide and don’t abide that can be traced through time a fine line the Spanish Inquisition and the Holocaust. end that legacy at any cost to humanity end the insanity start on a new track get back get back alas and a lack citing apocalyptic and cryptic mirrors of Crusaders and invaders want to say that that was not really what message was about out out red line cutting through the heart and my art in the wake of destruction !- vengeance in a manner contrary to popular belief we are in need of long felt relief and a new chief what does that mean it does seem that vengeance distroys the one who feels it and it is it and one needs to sit and knit so as not to get lost in a fit of vengeance in a manner needs no banner ‘- precautions you should consider prior precautions you should consider prior to being born and what you aspire you should consider the ire and the fire precautions, precautions notions and lotions and potions will do no good unless understood you should consider the bidder the blabberer the idolar and adler and the tongue of the adder prior to being born be prepared for scorn and to be forlorn and adorn but most of all don’t toot you horn !- lightning strikes lightning strikes my mind a flash of light that blind lightening my mind waking up to the thunder us and to realize that what we want from others is what we have to give to our selves before the before becomes the past and we grow beyond growing beyond the sweet everlasting . a-men he says to himself as he lets the sweet dove of youth and dreams free to fly into imagination and to you my dancing with mirages partner it is time to part and part the ways of time… and free the imagination from being a prisoner of hope _ .. when i was 12 when i was 12 do you remember running around in circles jumping up and down inside out, outside in looking for something and nothing and finding myself in everything club soda with splash of casis club soda with splash of casis i write on the west end cafe napkin waiting for myself waiting for you sipping life through a straw as i slip my mind beyond time two guys on either side have slipped through time and the music blares some guy screaming some unintelligible truths while i write through you through me and come up for air with another sip of club soda and casis strangers strangers thoughts of myself in a stream of obsolete obscenities stumbling on you on me on and on but wait a moment a stranger speaks to himself stranger than fiction i find myself lost in your thoughts can you hear me/you hear i am writing to myself hear i am writing to myself in a world of my own making making time in a twilight zone of the mind squeezing words through a black hole in my mind to speak to who to you who listens without ears to who who sees beyond my mind beyond my thoughts beyond time as the lights go out and the music stops and the din of people talking goes on and on as i listen carefully squeezing words out of my mind lip reading lip reading ever wonder what is what and i lip read your mind before there is… is there… say something i say to myself in the mirror ever wonder what is what is as i lip read beyond title of compilation is maybe # simple poems to dream by sub title poem for kids to read to adults and adults to read to kids possible opening poem – a poem looking within words turning and jumping around around and around upside down inside out and outside in i find myself looking within only to find you with a big grin freeing me thank you for freeing me 1, 2, ,3 ring-a-levio i see you i see me ring-a-levio is free to see to be thank you for freeing me stick yourself to this stick yourself to this matter of fact fact of matter it’s what matters that matters guilty of being guilty guilty of being guilty too much too much too much please be so kind find somebody else who is not so kind thinking about thinking thinking about thinking you think so i think no before and after and after before i don’t know what to think went to see the world and never returned went to see the world and never returned around and around i’m on a merry-go-round with pop goes the weasel i jump up and down in a see saw of the mind trying to find the mirror of my human kind can’t remember what i lost can’t remember what i lost lost words lost poems into a see of forgotten moments can’t remember what i lost impossible situation impossible situation life moves on glad to be allan watts spoke of finding security in insecurity setting us free i remember not entering paradise i remember fighting with me impossible situation now to be free i was your island i was your island you where my I and i was your you now you are me and i am you no longer are we disguise disguise going around and around i bump into the you that is me and wonder who is who and what is what and why me what ya gonna do when i’m gone what ya gonna do when i’m gone i cry for you you cry for me i’m leaving you your leaving me what ya gonna do when i’m gone end of green paper what a wonderful life it could be what a wonderful life it could be sing song man with a smile beyond imagination beyond time beyond space beyond the noise of this space this place as i gently sway to and fro in the quiet tree of my mi Žð  nd while someone singing over the loud speaker beats his chest and his drum to the sound of some un-intelligible words which must mean something to somebody but i hear louis armstrong singing in my ear inviting me in to be here cafe talk cafe talk click clack take this take that over the sound of people talking about this and that a silent dance where everything is said and unsaid over and over again and again one hears half words and thoughts fly bye and i sit here wondering who are these people and why cappuccino, screams some guy and out of the void of avoidance i say to myself not i take a closer look take a closer look see if you are you and if i am me and together we are we take a closer look and see if maybe its time we see we dancing with words or wonder about wonder dancing with words or wonder about wonder a woman walks buy holding her heart in her eye carrying some instrument i can’t see why behind her is some guy dancing with his bass (base) and a smile rises up on my face as the past fades fast and i wonder if the future is before us or aft as a vision of a vision appears shooting stars with african spears i wonder about wonder from head to toe and everything down under visions of the hole in the whole visions of the hole in the whole and i wonder if we all live in some black hole looking at shadows in socrates cave shadows beating chests to the rhythm without time and life moves on and on out of rhyme into the deep but i only once in a while do i take a peep afraid to discover what i might un-cover out of the deep of my sleep quarter to eight quarter to eight sitting in a coffee shop sipping hot chocolate waiting for myself to come through the door… but i am not here to meet anybody so what am i writing this for i guess i am waiting for me what more can i ask for in search of some sanity in search of some sanity face upon face searching this place the parade passes bye and i wonder who is who and why the you that is me the you that is me in search of the source of the dream that washes up on the shores of my mind and i thinkof the past that is now present and time that once was and my ancestors ancestors and the dream of their dreams and wonder who is who and what is what and what will be what will be and then and i think of the you that is me and quietly just try to be cup of hot chocolate cup of hot chocolate i read the future of you-manity in the tea leaves and to my surprise i see a reflection of me of you i take another drink and the universe disappears and nobody fears and then i wake up to find i am still holding my empty cup put yourself into this put yourself into this a poem is a poem if you can see you in me and i can see the me in you and together we can dance to the unheard, unseen and unborn sound a sound that is so profound outside in i start to dance within poem an instrument of the soul poem an instrument of the soul i reach beyond the beyond into your being and in my search i find myself in you and in you i see the beginning of the beginning i found how silly and profound it must sound to find you in me and me in you the voice inside the poem the voice inside the poem the voice that you hear is here inside you inside me i hear and am here everywhere and no where you can’t escape i enter through your eyes, ears, nose, throat, mouth, heart, skin, soul as you enter me and together we try and see… now do you see me ? a collision with dreams a collision with dreams the train pulls along the soul the conductor collects the toll the cost i think i’m lost no words can convey what one has to say no words can convey what one has to say fading mirages and innocence i laugh and i sigh, sometimes i cry as i look at myself in the eye what do i care what do i care as i say with an air a soft breeze is blowing words through my hair if i may dare say what do i care if the world wants to stare so it ain’t fair i have no hair what do i care i am still me and that makes me want to be me drifting along with my thoughts home of funeral sign 6th and 8th on 14 stree in mad-hattan the home of funerals and i stop and think of the last resting place and home home on the range as i pass by on my way to dreams that fly as my feet stop don’t ask me why maybe its that i just had something sweet or that i am in heat as i think about fun and the unreal and fun-ereal are unreal and how i don’t go to funerals because they don’t celebrate life but death and more stife and are strange and surreal as i think about how nobody passes go and the monoply that we all know and it doesn’t matter who you know when your or my time comes well who knows… lost shadows (rosevelt ave station) lost shadows of sunshine beyond time of rhymes that are stuck in time as i watch the shadows of people walking by people who have spent their day if i may say their life times in persuit of what i ask myself what is it that makes us us as i watch the shadows going in and out some bent over others old and young walking about races and places of people from near and far as i watch a drunk weaving to and fro and think he must of just come from a bar and i think empty thought and things between lines of a dreams wondering about why the guy across the platform is laughing and screams as a homeless man yells back some uninteligible themes and i wonder what will become of the them that is me as i try to see through all the mirages and appearances as the train dissappears between me and time as the lost shadows stare in the night and i take refuge inside my warmth as everything fades out of sight lone wolf lone wolf what does it realy mean i for one seem to swing from beam to light beam oftenit seems going up against the stream spending most of my adult years it seems throwing spears between my ears as i a loner and alone at least inside my own mind i findits sometimes more kind moving language/images images lurking like like notes of the unscalable scale swirling in my mind on a seesaw of riples to the sound of the language that you and i hear from steeples and on and on voice speaking volumes of images and images speak in the language of camouflage and moving at the speed of light and sometimes we find a little insight to in-cite spectator observing the observer in a mirror i am seer and served beyond me and you observing the observer beyond what is what and what is true is me and you spectator of the the spectacle a comedy del arte wearing a mask i see what i see the observer is you in me intellectual fencer even though i sit on a fence looking at the world kinda dense i find an undefinfinable defense which makes some kinda sense and yet intense intellectual sitting on a fence clues you can’t miss or you’re lost there are some clues you can’t miss whatever or whomever you kiss it’s like this if you like me live in an abyss and are clueless of this then all i can say is maybe someday you’ll stumble on bliss or if you do not pay attention you’ll stumble on something else you would rather not kiss the millieu of uncertainty in the middle of the middle and inbetween the between but before the end ends and somewhere it depends… there is the middle of the millieu where i and you its true its true uncertainty is us too so what else is knew… just hanging on hanging on to an illusion something like a turn on that hangs on and on and like this verse in vica verse and inverse and reverse no matter who what where and when is on we need to just hang on and wait for the little bon bonsd victim of disappointment victim of parts of the sum sometimes just plain dumb sometimes life is just a bum run buut to be disappointed by disappointment is treated by annointment that needs no appointment and the the only ointment is adroitment diminishing hope hope of hope hopelessly tied up with a dope light dimming sinners sinning spinners spinning tall and short tales around and aroound the world of innocence fading i try evading as deminshed minds and mediocrity blinds sad to say hope for you-manity is on the the verge of insanity underground – this is not a movie (#1train line) (response to turkish earthquake) while ridding the #1 subway line i am thinking of all those who have been burried a live and now lie on a turkish ice skating rink in a line this is not a rhyme for those who have lost time but an intropsection on under ground for those who watch and watched themselves die because they where trapped and unfound what confounds and is beyond me and my imagination is what i would think and do you see what can you do when you’re trpped and can’t flee as the E train comes at 42nd st and times square trapped indide out mind and body in a death defying stare at that which you can’t compare or atleast beyond my little worlds unfair affair the train stops at 5th and 53 as the announcer says next stop lexington avenue and i think about those who are and are not and will never be and what goes before they stop to see and what does one do when you see yourself fading from view and you are one of the many and few who are trapped friend and foe in a strange common zoo and i think about the dammaged souls over and under the stone as the light fades and faces and beings faces death all alone as i too am trpped between the lines hopelessly trying to chissel to refine and define the undefinable last moments queens plaza the conductor says no R train as i hold my disdain again for the ny city underground subway as a subway vendor walks buy selling live longer batteries and i see a passing billobard that says last gasp of summer and i think about the nature of nature and of summer fading and the people still a live and who we are and what we are and how we are still slaves to the lie ghost of myself confront ambiguity a terrible secret stands accused of worse. The tangled tale embodies the madness of

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