Last night at the Yale: New Riders.

I encountered a story
and too many stories this night
so characterful and alien, so human
and so fucking
dirt
human.
feeling the noise and
really feeling
this noise.
Spirits from the streets;
Spiritual beams from the street,
from the Grateful Dead,
and psych, sweet psych:
it was all so heavy.

All happening and happening NOW,
these old men,
looking at me knowing that
I'm seeing total cosmic colour.
I know that I remind them
of themselves.
I know I know I know
I don't really know--
trivial blissful
and blissfuck my soul.

I encounter these plots, people
in the most outrageous expressions, people
as their most beautiful selves.
So many pasts shining
and I'm the young one
feeling already
quite old
but in absolute observation
of Them Who Have Lived
and of them who are clearly surviving.

The place swings and I
swing with it
right on the dancefloor,
only a breath away from the stage.
On this Blues planet
we are the atmosphere.
Here
these people
and everywhere
this world
telling a story,
telling a story.

There, my soul meets yours
and there, we are now friends.
Mother, your belly is warm
your belly
is round and most beautiful.
Mother,
are you prepared to age yourself so young?
MOTHER, this planet,
I have exactly your personality
exactly your endeavor.

Tonight the adventure had us;
psychedelic poison with our sup,
and Jordan at swing with me.
The waves and craves of the multi-dimension
greeting and feeding us,
and these people!
Exactly Them Who Fit Into It.

Solid sounds, man.
Universal solid sounds for the timeless anytime
and everywhere:
stories
stories
stories

This Morning by the Green Light

The entire block's a movie set.
I read the notice last week, I knew there'd be another one
There are people with cameras everywhere
Documenting the making of, blah blah blah
I walk
subtly
between
the trailers parked to one side
and the crew
jacking off
by the fake coffee shop.
I am not overwhelmed.
Some have glared at me as if I should care,
Some have said goodmorning very pleasantly.
It seems
to be all good
in this fake neighborhood.

Junkies

Aaah, world. Wonderful cunt.
This planet is one with the blues.
Really, I've become quite content,
blues and all.

Peyote Tea Bag

"Sipping Cigarettes"

That'd be a good song title, Jordan,
or a poem
"Oh yea? ..Yea?"
As I blow o's at him
and he does, too,
he says,
for the first time in his life.

My mind's at the static high
It's a desert place to be
Hot by the astro-sun
and swallowed by content

Kindof eurphoric
kind of deadbeat--
in the most lovely way.
hello, waves
of dementia Earth,
you must be a radiant star.
Hello forgiving, innocent waves
you must be the epitome

It's like,
each time I trip now it's nostalgic.
it's like I'm over it,
but for the fun of it
I can become a child again.
when really it's the thing
that's aged me


My head darts like the vulgar cat
this has been an evening...

i've seen it before but i havent seen it in a long time

i can feel your facial expression:
it's got
devious
glitterbug eyes, they're cryptic
things, with your lips
pressed firmly together
your face taking on a hard
ancient look,
moreso
than your typical self;
an intensified womanly
glare-thing.
it's silly devious.
it's damn serious
with foolishness.
i say this for soul:
this is
a creature
of its own.

**to the spoil

i behold myself
as my real, soulful self and
i'm looking back
at what caused me
to be me.
i'm reading myself sitting as her shadow
sitting within the looking glass
and at the window
to relive memories:
this is why i act the way i am?
this is what stirred me?
these are the languages i have spoken?

i think about my ability to feel
i think simply
about the ability to feel:
it is a challenge
at times
(even as the fishes)
they conquer like our leaders:
for the hell of it!
now,
cookie,
hows your fortune?
which words
have you picked out of the ocean
to put down fancy
on that little
piece
of paper

something vague
something ignoring
(even though i put it in a poem)
something
like something's GOT
to
give.

I'M SCREAMING WITH A MIND ON MY TONGUE
i'm tripping
and screaming for the trip
i'm practicle.
insane logic like born you the genius
born you a brilliant sun,
born you.
shine on.
the world is in need of art.
i apologize for being unable
to participate

i'm giving up the cosmic ride for sleep
infortunately
i just can't stand
with
it
like digging my winter-hole
before it gets too cold:
I WILL DIG DEEP
I WILL CRASH AND WAKE UP WARM
i'm going to make myself have it all
because i want it all

i'm going to invade
i'm going to war
peacefully
to be foolish
selfless and selfish
and in extreme craving of want
desperately
for love

the war is never that universal
but shoot yourself across the world
for words
cos i'd read it.

just Now

my fantasies
my fantasies
I'm such the
common
sight instrument
i'm the mellow wave
the mellow unseen
cos i dont make
statements

or was that
a statement?

somehow the radical feeling gets to you
somewhere in outer space
a brilliantine
parallel
spiritual self is loving you
sheltering you from the cosmic
therefore
it may not matter
how sheltered you are
here
on earth

i believe my soul to be
tragic

i believe in my soul
that the circle is
the solider
that the mold
is shaped
from the inside-out
and even at the distance
the interior craft
is felt

Oo, spirit,
take me by the statement.

my fantasies
my fantasies
in elaborate hoax
it's okay.

i think next i'll visit denver

when talking to strangers
it is best
to keep in mind
that you are
equally strange

simply dislocated

i know
what i want
its exactly what
i'm running from
exactly what
i have to orbit
what i have to repair

why am i playing
chase with the goddamn
Golden Age
why
am i
shitkicking myself
around
mother planet earth
why am i a victim of rent
and of godless mother fuckers

i'm trying
so desperately
to imagine
myself as parent
the motherload
the taxed father; i am
neither of them. i am
new and expirementing
because i'm a scientist
with my feelings
i am
new and experiencing
because in my black water
i want the sugar to be natural
BE JUST LIKE ME, NATURE:
a little more childish,
a little less explaining
because
i'm only in the know
with what
i actually know;
have lived.

literally, like a fish

come-up looking back at me:
now that i walk thru my last hour
in reverse
i get on
on how short that all really was
within its lifetimes of interpretations
i know how far out my mind really is--
jazzelectric.
that's how i feel but i'm listening
to rock'n'roll
and breathing in the air*
i wouldn't mind the out-of-body
so i make it heavier
i've been walking around female but've
brought down to meet man at his natural point:
neutral.
i'm dancing with my shivers
they're giving me the moves
giving me the constant
jitterbug blues

observer, i'm dislocated

i'm not at home my body's stuck
i'm spacing out to this vibe and
kinda feeling beautiful
cos im so aware
of my
every sense
kinda feel like i'm
getting home

i'm not old but i'm getting waves of childhood
i'll never forget
i'm not young but i feel wise
maybe i just feel connected
i definitely feel connected.

i dont need a personality i need a voice
i don't need this body i know where pleasure's at
i know what it's like
to be stoned
exhausted
starving.

i'm a drifter by soul, too.
i by human know that when human
there is something blissful knowing puppeteering
my invented third eye
and receiving a big, trippy story like
reasonbook on existence like
spiritual art movement this is how
i think

yes, my head is exploding. and i guess,
a soul only comes in three colours:
i've been told that when i get sad
mine goes from blue to grey.

my mind re-eats itself at every circle
i feel
literally
like a fish
the way it all works
gets me feeling cosmic
gets me seeing colours.


*track two dark side

by day 3 i was seeing people

there is a young man at the station
he has long hair
blond
also, it's on his face;
heavy.
over a triangle, though,
he puts on round glasses
for a moment:
you know who i
imagine
this to be.

he gets off the bus long before i do.
my thoughts of him expire:
i need a shower.