Indegenous Vice


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The green murky water reflects the bog and rocks.
Wouldn’t you love to come get a shock.
A treatment that no one seems to be able to unlock.
Who has the key to the mystery, is it the whispering voice of flattery?
The man in the moon he always talks to me.
I’m not talking about organized churches
Soaring birds so high they can see the tops of bridges.
Love lost, always comes at a cost.
No man plays the game, without one day pointing the blame
On himself.

Tonight there is a dark dreary melody
Tonight there is something inside of me.
Its grasping at the strings, my poor wings.
Bloodied and boiling, vehemence and vomiting,
One can recall a young man’s cliff diving,
jumping into the unknown with nothing but the wind flowing
past his head.
The thought of landing dead rushes through his thoughts
The water at the bottom is lost
wondering why his body was tossed.
Until the great flow of life comes to catch us
the cliff diver places his hands together
as he slips into a liquid lust
his fingers surrounded by the laws of life
His body tingles from the indigenous vice
Its all to much for those of us,
its all to much for those who hate us.

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe


This painting is done by: Leah Saulnier Check out her work here:
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow–
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

(I read this tonight and felt obligated to share it. This is a beautiful poem from one of the greatest master poets ever. Edgar you are moving! I wish I could thank him for his writing.)

Walk the Line


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I was talking to a man who walked the line,
A man that was trapped by marriage, and debt.
Caged by his weight, and enslaved by processed foods.
The man woke up early in the morning, to feed the mouths of his responsibility.
He hooked himself up to a computer screen, attached the mouse and keyboard to his thumb and ring.
His life drained from his fingers into the vibrant screen.
He was yelled at for being late, he was yelled at for not making his boss’s coffee taste great,  he was yelled at for everything,
But never thanked.
All in a days work he said.

When he arrived home, his family was there to greet him among a stack of bills to pay.
His wife had already started drinking earlier in the day,
His two children, a girl and boy, the boy had a disease and the girl had a broken toy.
They ran to their father’s open arms to tell him of their problems,
But daddy was to tired from his work, drained and full of exhaustion.
They cried to him, while he sat in front of his television for an escape.
He said such is life and such is fate.

He told me that walking the line was an experience that we all must take.
We all must go through life enduring each and every experience life has to offer.
We had a few beers and I brought up my courage,

I told him, without a doubt you will experience, because experience is what life is about.
If life is about experience, then why not jump right in?
Gather it up like you would a pile of leaves, and throw your experience up in the wind.
Let the cold brisk air numb your face, and let the spring rain on your tongue just for the taste.
Open up your arms and praise the sun, as it warms your soul.
Listen to the birds sing, or watch the matador kill the bull.
Smell the lilac bush, the rose, the lilies and daffodils,
Bend down to touch the cold mountain lakes while paddling in a canoe.
Such is life, what will you do?

He only had one thing to say to me, “at least I have my ford truck with tinted windows and heated leather seats.”
I grabbed for the vodka to pour us some stronger drinks.

Driving Women Mad


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I drive women mad,
Its not a desire of mine, though I know it happens.
I met this woman the other night, she was nice,
but I hated her stories about her cat.
She wouldn’t stop talking about her bath salt, her brand new shoes, her red dress sprinkled with daisy’s.
I told her she was ugly.

Her drink was cold and the ice cut my nose.
She walked out on me, leaving me alone with the bar lights reflecting off her empty glass.
I can’t help but think about the  money I spent on her drink that covered me and dampened my clothes.

I drive women mad.

Tortured Youth

I have a friend who is trapped.
He drives a car, has two beautiful girls, and a wife.
I have a friend who loves deeply.
He can see the ocean’s beauty, and how high the wings of a bird can take them.
I have a friend who is tortured.
His morning is rushed by breakfast, shaving, and cleansing,
Ruined by the rush of selling, of making profit.
After his chains are removed, and his feet are slowing,
He comes home to his children’s souls glowing.
I have a friend who is lost,
while the illusions of a society are poisoning
The friend I know is losing.
Each day goes by and the man is decaying,
while his intelligence is slowly draining, in one ear and out the other.
I have a friend who is in a self made prison.
Stuck by the pressures of following, of doing what the next man does,
Never stopping to see the grass grow, the river flow, or the red rose smell.
If your worries are as large as the growing moonlight,
Cut them out and watch for the sun rise,
As the darkest night, is always followed by the brightest sunlight.
Lets play music, lets share our thoughts, lets make art, Lets be free.
Express ourselves till there is no more darkness.
Because I have friends without any light.

Will You Come to the Forest


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Trees 1The forest is green, the trees are filled with moss,
The sky is no where to be seen.
The shade of the trees protects me, though I reflect on loss
I cant be mad, I just want to express my weak side,
Evil lurkes within the high tide,
Though the water pours off the rocks becoming clean
I feel the same, when I reflect on all I’ve seen.
Can’t I rest within the deep leaves, hibernate until all I see I can believe

MossMy calling wont let me sleep,
Until all I’ve created is working towards the inner peace
Why dont you come over for some strong drink or tea
Lets live life filled with grandeur,
The magnificents of it all will wrap around our eyes
blinding us from those that cant see
Letting us continue our dancing
Nature is where the living go to get away from the trolls.
The high archy and building of stone can feel alone
I wont have it, I wont give up my soul
Bring us towards the mountains and the snow
The rain, and sun shine
Let us live in the sublime.

Waterfall in RentonLight of my life, let my star shine
Let me be your only dream
The trees in the forest are green
No need for us to be mean
Let the cancer inside of me end
While my eternal soul breathes on
And when your ready to find me look towards the green

A Few Words about Truth


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I have fallen like a rock towards a never ending well.
Words, expressions, accounts, and mysticism pass through my ears
Shaking my body to the bottom of my toes.
The truth is so close, and at the same time far away.
One might never find what he is looking for, only what he wants.
The grand creator, the eye of man,
I look towards a brighter future.
Though hopeless, I continue my search for my own ideals.
The clairvoyance in our blood rings forever,
Do we have the courage to answer?
the truth is lost until it is found.

The Loneliness of being Awake


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There comes a certain loss when one is awake.
The laymen walk and talk as if its a large game to be played.
They have friends and can communicate with one another.
Its as if happiness was never at stake.
While the concious being is left to his own devices
The neophyte goes on not pondering or wondering.
However if its one thing they have on us, its the ability of laughing or maybe its the enjoyment of not knowning.
Right on the bottle there is a large red warning,
For taking the pill, and going down the rabbit hole, is opening a door that can never be shut.
Once the pain has subsided, you have changed never to be how you once were.
A loneliness that is sure to come to those of us who are brave enough to encounter the universe.
Is there envy for those that are still catechumen?
Though I feel being alone was never for the race of men,
I stand awake with no one to stand with.

(It has been a long time since my last post. I’ve been working on a sci-fi novel. yes thats right a science fiction novel. haha! I am a few chapters in to it, and am tempted to post the few chapters I do have. Would anyone be interested in reading them? helping me edit them? etc. Anyway hope you enjoy the poem and I hope even more that you are having a beautiful day.)


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