Breathe Easier For Free

A visit back to Taughannock

Another photograph to decipher

(Click for larger)

11/04/2010. Form and inspiration are always there, it's just whether you wish to see them. A perfect finding as to follow the last post.

Tripping Into Yourself

Sliver-King Jackal

Melding patterns, perception, rhythm, texture and balance. 10/22/2010.

Some Place To Be

There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.

Will they escape the death of vengeance being chased away, called madmen for not subscribing to time, caught without a zippered suit or electric chord that runs from ego to thought..
Chased, chased away around the rims of some planets and underneath symbolic billboards.
Surely the queen would choke on a rye, they sweated, seeing the sweating jealous hatred of feeble faces. But there, was it running that would really lead there!? Surely running would only deepen within the muck and the filth.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
But vanished, where did the mobs go, chasing with categories, trying to box away non-participants. Sucking everything up along the way fragmenting it to fabricated shards of discounts and brand-representatives.
One foot of balance on a twisted spiral leading to a cosmically tuned breath of non-worry while the other foot stutters and risks the slip of being shot down to a collection of vanity magazines and robotic customs. But I can see it, I can feel it. Don't suffer before you're convinced it's right to fall into a collective, suffering because it's in the printed layout..
I can breath it, because I didn't pay for it.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.

Sarge Tulse

Sgt Tulse devoured ants as I recorded footage and took photos of the event. I'm guessing this is 'blog worthy' even though it doesn't have tits, scandal or politics written all over it (unless you're into bugs or are an ant humanitarian, or maybe that shade of green isn't the most fashionable.)

These are from 04.2010. I have trifold the number of bug portraits than
any involving people.

Happy is the rat

Insomnia Calendar

Insomnia lures sleep-time notes over my head
My head feels bloated, my nostrils stuffed with goo.
Come get to know me through the details in my breathing
Like cinders mixed with sand or some rusty cloud
that goes so slowly you really wonder if it's moving at all.
Or maybe it's stuck in the sky.
Who might I scare away
See me pacing words with a pure intent
only speaking a language nobody has ever heard of before.
Who might I scare away
Maybe some will be interested by the abnormalty of trying to seek sane
Of attempting to balance the woes of a world that is a tremendously
stubbed toe while pills are shoved down it's throat and hammers
are beating it's nerve
and i'm the scenic trauma for wanting to let it rest on ice for a while.

No because I never spoke your language before.
I only speak through sleeplessness
and get so flustered trying to surround a world to love
that only contempt and hate can result when efforts are gouged out.
I could read to you forever, being that cloud who sits content
But somebody will have to remind you of thirst, or worry
or schedule and off you'll run back to the growing pains.
And who might I scare away because of those interuptions
of the addiction to pain and fear,
where drugs are also mentalities, and addictions are states of mind

I beg for nothing, letting moment pass,
Don't change your calendar this time
I manifest passerbyer to keep me company
Drinking in thought and screenplays written by the wind.
Stare at me through your keyhole in the door
like the portal to a wooden world
Where walls are only dotted lines
but they seem so damn real now don't they?
Just like that cloud, telling you it's all silent
with A hint of rust, sun and moon eye to eye.
Don't change your calendar this time.

Rust

Seductive Lip Lickers Mix Liquors

Seductive lip-lickers. Dark haired vixens mix liquors, with things they shouldn’t have stirred.

To space the space less or to catch the quickest, a strangers satisfaction is assured.

Though no strangers name will have been left forgotten when two ticking minds will have met

The pretense of post-come and aftershock of release will make any idle feel spent.

In an empty saloon, or unearthed, on the moon, surely all eyes must at some point meet.

Whether naked or clothed, or half-assed half dressed in a robe, stepping on each other’s feet.

When infinity stops and time’s last stop has dropped and the stop clock is cracked to shards.

The breaths that are blown will fill the sky to the lid and the gambler will see all the cards.

From the hoof of the man with the cane on his head who steps in a costly hat top

He’ll never lick the lips of a drunken vixen, he never was a stranger, more likely, a cop.

And the streams of tickets left hung around gamblers, and drink mixers and shadow men

He lives ,only in dreams, but when the sky is all full, all he can ever do is pretend.

08/18/2010. ~7:10AM but revised on 09/09/2010.

Dry flexible humor/seriousness/whichever you prefer with an intent to rhyme ridiculously with fast pace.

Writing With Light 02

The thunder is so loud that it feels like it is going to shake the fillings out of my teeth.

Circle Of Acorns

Before the breeze scuffled leaves apart

Mind Sale 03:Baby Botox Flier

Calm Down, Have Fun

A few quick words: Self reminders and free-of-charge advice:
Time does not exist. The only moment is now. Happiness does not have to be an erection from some buttered up piece of sex symbol. It is NOT the end of the world. Calm down, have fun.
We are creators of the dream. You're a magnet, a magnet of either stupidity or bliss. A magnet of the most fruitful capabilities. Your participation is what connects you to your doings and results. Calm down, Have fun.

Tsefinam

Flashlight against night sky. 08/24/2010

Writing With Light

Not 08-10-2010

I wear a watch around my wrist with no meters or numbers shown.
I hadn't watered the calenders but somehow the days have grown.

Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously, Again

A minimal cluster of short writings:
I have some words I would like to construct/ to share. Perhaps in the future I will take them and re-arrange them or even destroy them but like all things we create, I don't believe you can fade the process of learning. Hell, maybe I'm wrong. Often it's insightful to admit your ability to be wrong. With vanity and ego so accustomed to persona every emperor should take a break to play the fool. Every queen ought to walk barefoot and even if the world seems opposite, which it so easily often does, each moment of freely living is only experienced when you do not keep your eye on time.
Starting off: The serious
"Don't take yourself too seriously"
"I couldn't if I tried, I couldn't if I tried"
"Don't take yourself to Sirius, Lee"
"But I'm already on the ride."

We live in what we think of as a world and within it there are belief systems which distract and divide us. We bury so deep within these beliefs and self-assurances that scarcities and fears develop, the fears of survival and the dependency on those scarcities we create. The love and fun or experience and curiosities get shaken on out from the moment a child becomes an adult and they are ushered into picking one of the many feeble belief systems to say goodbye to adventure and fun.

And for those who wish to continue onward with new ideas or to build a new reality they are told they are wrong, because the expansion of curiosity will ruin scarcity and crumble locked mindsets. They will be told to deal with it or be put in mental institutions or be homeless and unsuccessful, backstabbed or marginalized. Troubles and dependency further enrich the dominance of the fragile but conquering world of struggle we have built up and accepted and the chance to break free has become threatening because after so long of suffering and having tied wings we are not used to choice, or power, or adventure and fun.

The cyclical trap of pre-expectation has disabled new opportunity and manufactured selfishness and materialism. Younger and younger is the age in which a child is pushed off the plank of imagination into a sea where they are told to no longer imagine and then they can learn the meaning of sacrifice and underachievement or logo and internal trauma. And then the world in whole becomes an institution.

Somehow we still dream, we strive on escapism, and in our dream we recreate our wishes and childhood. We conjure up a second world that if only we had the courage and integrity of self and spirit then we could live ourselves out as more than lucid dreaming or wishful daydreaming in which we cling. Soon we will wake, from the reversal, the confusion and we will understand the magic of our logic, and learn to use it for better ways. Time will not be spent. Nor time or spending will matter. No waiting or sacrifice, or even any need to scarcely examine the world we believe. Actually, no.. Not soon, make it now.

Middle: The bitter sardonic:

It's some day, not sun's day, I'm not keeping track
and I don't need to hear about your success stories.
I'm broke, but I'm fine, I'm bitter, Like wine
and I don't need to hear about your success stories.

How are you doing? Oh, You're great??
Well that's just what I needed to hear.
Humble crimson stains on your easy chair.
Your eyelids move but your eyes just glare.
When I look inside it's like nobody's there
Never to ask or invent any worries
I don't need to hear about your success stories.

Closing: Three:Sleep deprived slogans
1) "Is today a good day to be alive?"
"Nah, You'll probably have to wait until tomorrow."

2)She's sorry, the number can't be completed as dialed... But I don't think she's really sorry.

3)Items are often artificially flavored to taste naturally.