the past

A SUBJECT OF THE AVANT GUARD

i read this at the second Beatific Beatnic. good times

i am obsessive.
i fall, i fall, and i ever fall
and i love the fucking pit.

i know my graces
they're bashful
except for the intimate
and intimate deliverance, i'm talking abstract
but i'm talking abstract reality.

that my shattered mind keeps me earthbound
but that the voices of my psycho-activity
remind me i'm cosmic.

that i don't want to be part of the past, MAN
I WANT TO BE A SUBJECT OF THE AVANT GUARD

that sometimes
i pretend i'm a sailor
and that when my fantasies get too fantastical
i pretend i'm a sailor's wife.

that i believe in TANTRA
in the same way that i believe in love
that LOVE
is love is love is love is good.

that sometimes i'm shy and
sometimes i'm so shy i can't even read peoples eye colour.

that i'm poor in pocket, heavily medicated in conformity
and would only marry a hipcat rich in mind

show me your soul, SINNER,
and sin most beautifully
like the children of Kerouac's "BOURGEOIS BOHEMIAN MATERIALISM"

he didn't dig his own creation
he! god as the archetype
and HE because god comes in genders:
JACK,
retire under the mushroom.
do things that please you.
buy a drink;
drink.
be rad, be bad, GIVE ME YOUR BODY
see visions and believe everything that is most undeniably
unbelievable.

and jack,
if you succeed
i will have to follow
and,
jaaaaack!
if i succeed
it'd become a revolution
cos by then the whole world would have caught on
that love
is love is
love
is love is
good.

phases, all phases, people enjoy the ride of each personal era you WILL get over it you will fall to the new

I know it's aged me
already
already breaking--NOW,
from HERE, where
can my mind take me?

I know I'm myself.
though sometimes I feel unkind.

I know it's just an in-between era;
the Golden Age is coming up--
where ever I'm living, it's Utopia
when ever I'm living, I know it's Utopia.

4 grams

Another one out of the journal i carried with me this summer in BC. I probably shouldn't say, but this one's about a heavy shroom trip i undertook at this beautiful beach-coast line, overlooking the gulf islands, Canadian and American. it was an absolutely gorgeous place when i saw it i told Manda that was where the shrooms were going down. and they WENT DOWN it was one of the most inwardly moving trips i've ever had. we sat up on these rocks and dropped at noon, by sun-down the tide had risen 8-9 feet and i kept on having to climb up the rocks to not be immersed in the OCEAN. it did catch me a couple times, though. i got soaked because i was too deep in thought and getting awfully sunburnt. at the peak of the trip a tiny, baby crab scuttled up to me on the rock, came close to idle and scuttled away--i wept.

psychedelic passion i've got
to get you in my pocket
got to get you weeping at the peak
bringing in the tide; the tide
came so close that day
because the ocean wanted to be with me.


the tide
got me
and got
in my mouth.


it's a sinful expression--
too holy,
too above me though i know
i'm absolutely capable of it,
of conceiving it and of
being wanted so cosmically
the UNIVERSE comes to meet me.


what life have i lived to have my soul
make me
the
ME
i know now?


in my gut, i feel temptation.
in the gut of my broken mind
i
encourage
temptation.


i appease invading desires because
i miss my soul.
i miss my wonderful memory:
it's simplistic, it's an
immaculate energy and it truly feels
all encompassing


a bit of nothingness, a bit of enlightenment.


a bit of taoist tantra.


my skin changed it's colour in the hot sun
i stayed there tied to Open Earth
and thought myself pretty
without seeing myself or remembering
what the mirror has ever said
i thought myself pretty--
my skin took to a natural golden-pink
and i felt so fastened to this land simply
because i was thinking like the ancient people.
and SIMPLY
beginning to look like them


i could see nothing man-made
from that day since i wonder always
how magestic life on this continent would be
without the intrusion of modern "civilization"
but just the land
just the natural mother like she should be.
i understand why those people worshiped the elements
of nature and spiritual nature.

i was static in body
but certainly not in mind: i was
everywhere in mind and Everywhere deeper.
i was unforgetting and patient
i was reaching dimensions:
i shut my eyes in this gorgeous place
to shelter myself
to be Nothing and enlightened
to keep myself closer to that place
to GIVE IN to earth
to the real ride of Anything

Victoria you're bright but impersonal

The dinosaurs in front of the Empress

And Darth Vader playing electric violin

Taking a moments break

To move his head

With our direction

I am wandering the streets of this new city

it’s peaceful and bright:

with ourselves in bold body and out-of-mind MINDS:

we make somewhat of a show of ourselves.

We smoke a stick called Cosmic.

When my appearance takes on

A new portfolio

As the world appears to me

Different and

It’s a mutual exchange

I WILL take the dirt road

I don’t need luxury

I WILL drink to the foolish adventure

(I guess) I really don’t need that foolish friend

I’m taking the notice: this world is breathless

this world gives only breath and keeps none to herself

like mother and I anticipate the divine of motherhood.

I create my own circumstance

Every time my confidence talks to strangers

There is a star that warms me from the

Inside out, and you can easily

Catch my glow.

I WANT the alternative life

I know it’s a drifting sacrifice

I know I’ll own nothing tangible;

The stories will be told, not held.

im starting to: last thoughts

i stare at my undone bed with its missed-matched sheets of India, leopard, and bright; it's a beautiful put-together life. it's my comfort at this place and it tells it all next to the neutral wall. I'm leaving it behind only 'cos i can't take it with me.

for the worship of the roaming people

I started digging through notebooks, found this one written in a one-stream of consciousness on the second half of an "idea" page. it's dated end of august

in other news I NOW OWN EVERY BEATLES ALBUM. oh baby. I finally have the white album; it caused me a moan. I don't even remember moaning much with boys, jesus, they aint no white album.

look at the godhead it's wearing thrift clothing
it's ballin' the goodlife & style be religion--
i've got to find me something to Worship.
i've got to find me Faith--i don't see it on the streets,
i don't feel it at home.

look at the unknowns, they're a gorgeous secret
they're dictating from the underground
i've got to meet them all
i've got to find me Faith

look at me thinking of my death
i'm warm and it's cold
i'm grossed out at all the luxury i have to deal with
i want it; it don't suit me.
i've got to find me Faith.

I AM a student of Earth, she is a fix

IMMEDIATE GLOW: the fixture in my head meat
wrecks the artful plain
hopping from thoughtpad to thoughtpad
like i'm a creature of this pond
eating dry cereal with no plate simply scattered in front of me
like i'm a creature

the story's building
the story's building

hey! early morning,
i fiddle with the planets then have a snack
ordinary pleasure--i mean,
this dimension
the thoughtsult universe gots nothing to with it
LIKE my bloodclot species:
a cosmic infantry attack strategy
in the war of the Creators--one of them decided
Earth could act as a distraction,
spiritually,
being the equivalent of a psychedelic trip

Baby, i'm a sinner.

in my ideal i'm even a megalomaniac
though i certainly don't live by ideal.

THE STRAP ON

picture came from my jane-phase, poem from last night

I envision a man with a strap-on piece

About his thighs

But it’s not in imitation of sex

It’s a building.

And he’s sticking-it to this country

Not because she likes it

Because he’s a rapist,

Sadist,

And metal craving oil—

Son of man! The bitch

Is getting stuck.

I dig the bitch, she’s green.

And I, this night:

Sit on green blanket

Middle of my personal outer-space—

Bedroom floor, perfectly,

Among and in-between

My luggage packed and boxes

Of things

For my next, new veracity.

I picnic here with notepad.

I AM green blanket

Laying as the floor for cosmic park

For these quiet moments I get it

But I only understand

In silence.

I try to break thru

By word-thing.

I am green and unsure

If it’ll ever

Really work.

I don't know why I'm wet, I just wanna write--

the tune does persist me
question after nauseating question
I; here
drip to the slip of my mind

yesterday i believed in extraterrestrials
now it's mellow knowledge--
like them drooling at my window PAIN
and me absolutely drooling back:
dimentia meltdown
(i feel it behind my eyes
it numbs,
though bitterly,
and reaches my throat,
now taste)

everything is made up of matter--now,
what's the matter with you? the
matter of fact is,
fact has no matter. LANGUAGE,
you spell.
you needer of writer:
like the things you can only understand
when put to paper
and
what defines things?

i'd like to hear my voice
but my ears are busy
so my minds collaborate
and the nonsense noise you hear
is also
senseless

there is an eye
above us all
because
our minds are at the top
and it's the most selfish organ
even moreso than sex. i am watched
by my own consciousness
this head
absorbs
everything, it's aware-- i think
that's why my human
likes touch as best. it's a
body sensation--HAH,
sight,
what would you do
down there?

if individuals have qualities i say
there is a dimension of Quality
where Love can fall for Lust
who are related to Temptation
and Wealth can get
fucked
up the ass.

(how would you survive off the stuff?)

it's another high, you know,
that place of thought
which brings you a level brighter
in aura and existence
like a spiritual raise and you feel good
being a thing of earth; thing,
like already mentioned before and THING
as in:
definition.

my ass.

there are cliffs in astro-space, too
they are slave-like, like
the cotton pickers LIKE i once overheard
a group of hipster-young afro-americans talking about
being the descendants of slaves and this group
did quiet at times though not when i came around
because that night i was waitress at
middle-society-fancy-show and certainly
in their bidding and far out in my politeness.

anyway,
my favorite song
of the album just begun: goodbye!