iLearn!

some thoughts come at me like

infantry, when it is this my mind reclines

tilting slightly smiling, abrasive countereaction:

there are native memories in my mind

that i sense at a hazy distance
that i may go to meet up close,

and i think the same way

of the loss of culture.

receipt paper

summer was a dose too high
like that extra hit of acid for breakfast-
i'm breaking,
fast!
i've gone and brought back
the place.

so humanity has a spirit, and the energy of it demonstrates generic patterns of personality that are altered by celestial influence

So i say something ridiculous: science
is EVIDENTLY a religion.

a religion-type concept.

it begins with Creation.
it's an unknown thing but
the mystery is curious.
a million people try and interpret,
make sense of it,
speak passionately of it to others,
mostly without conclusive knowledge.

some individuals become very involved
and study it.
they reach personally discovered conclusions
and become mentors. they become Great Thinkers
and even get theories named of them.
they publish books.
sometimes, they have to rewrite the text.

eventually, most people begin to see the 'truth'

though there are always people who know
how to manipulate its power
to create for themselves power
and ultimately
cause immense destruction.

the catholic church hailed with crusades;
america dropped the atomic bomb.

these are the eras of humanity: recently pisces
ascending to aquarius.

T

in the fourth dimension there is no time.
there is, actually, no timeline of history
or mysterious future but only
our human consciousness inventing it.

this is what is there: scattered in my thoughts
as i talk to the virgo about partials that disappear
under the scope like they're slipping
through dimension.

i ask her about the string theory.

she says: time is the 4th dimension.

and,
wow:
how
did you
just speak?

time IS the 4th i considered
the 4th to have no Time.

well

that may make meditative sense:



the 4th is a place,
i knew it.

lake concave

in orgasm i swept my hands
across the wet earth
and felt each atom's detail and
felt each thing of air
and each feeling in between.

i felt feeling
and put my hands on it.

in orgasm i moaned
for i had no choice.
i lifted my head, then,
to let sink again
the pulse of this euphoria, and i:
every load of energy pulsated back into me:

i lay my hands down on the wet earth
and moaned.

~

i was with
at this time
a She companion; an aquarian soul
very close to i.
in our past she has witnessed me
at my worst and i consider it awful sane
for her to now hear my noise
of pleasure.
i keep myself here
starring up to the Natural Spread Woman
and, truly,
i am in comfort of all i am surrounded with.
i am not shameless,
i am simply, now, without shame.

this is the feminine at climax.
it is the full moon at the height of summer
and with eyes of worship i behold Luna
so tempest and close to earth,
so round and so full.
pregnant on space.
she is in her thrown and bending the water:
i look out at the waters and can plainly see!
they are bent!
it is awesome!
the tide has risen and the body is in tension
though
completely
inviting.

i think of how fearless a woman must be
to feel absolute pleasure.

i grow moist
and subject myself to the waters.
i take off all my human cloth and wear
nothing except what She my mother gave to me.
i am spirited in my existence.
i keep one foot in front the other
and MOVE
until my body is soaked.

Luna! you have behaved me irregular and never before
so natural.
i am without possession or intention of anger.
all these worldly things have vanished for there is
no such means of cultivation of them
in my soul.

i am only with
my
soul
and my womanly
umbilical cord
fixing me deeply
to the universe.

all i have now is this simple pen & paper

instant desire to paint the situation
as saturated excitement
for it is
saturated excitement.
this dark skinned person
and fixed jaw
cigarette dangling
bold profile
that i see exact
as bold profile.
has both quality of child
and man.

i want my paints!
though i cannot wake He sleeping
in the room next
for he is in my mindful heart, too.

all i have now is this simple pen & paper.

i look to absorb what i see: daring innocent
in my stare on his
calm focus.

precious excitement.
how is it
that i am here?
these people did not know me
when they invited me into their home.

suffer to find suffering

oh my.
this time it was my tongue
that spoke: thumb to the road!
and we stretch out; i imagine
my dresscode and
my every mannerism
to see me as a worldly Dividual.

my gut is rotting. i have half-drawn
and mostly felt
the comfort of rhapsody, though the feeling
was deranging up to my goddamn
clasped hands.

i realize how impotent i am
with an idea.
that humanly i feel
unkind with this confession:
at the impulse, i must leave.

the girls get undressed and i
recline in my seat.
i put my hands at rest
in comfort
at a cross behind my neck.
i SEARCH OUT.
the view from is spectacular.

a man with the sky in his head
talked to us about a circle
and the locals we met on our mission
talked naturally of seeing
flying ships.

the great northern desert
has taken me again.
in my past i have been left,
i have said goodbye and othertimes
i have just fled.

how may i tame the electricity
between the palms of my hands
and expel it at my own discord?

i can count visable crackpipes with the help of my other hand

they shove objects
most of which i'd assume
were dirt rejected shit
from the ground: source of fire
cellophane of some sort
the stash of butts
trampled underfoot junky
to junky
i swear,
the orifices of their ragged cloth is in
constant stimuli:
pockets are habitus to these people.
by their engulfing presence
they intoxicate the streets
they cut the air as they stake,
replaying their burnt movements
like broken
social
scene.

fulfillment here is
the savage at wander on temple grounds.

they possess Revelation in their clumsy step
moving forth to backward-down,
honestly, the energy left in their minds
can only let them jerk
only the erection of twitch
may travel them--as if
they can feel their giant steps as
corrupting tracks in the wetness of earth
and their damp souls feeding the spirit
through awful experience.

this damp suits the ocean of filth.
independent pharmacy haven.

the police do nothing.

i've been disgusted with a lover i can fully be
infatuated
with the knowledge of presence
of being
HERE
and knowing
THIS EXISTENCE.

this is i on the freakshow 20
on my 38th day of homelessness.
i come in observance of the streets.
i thrive for the realities
they conceive to me.

something to get me kicking again

one in the group is a korean
but he grew up the Mother South of Us
and acts completely in rhythm with these spanish guys.

its a typical night here.
there's a stranger, theres a stirring sky
of rolling r's in the room.
me&fuzzie are playing getting-drunk video games.
(note that i simply accept this form of activity for the extremely
short era it will be in my life)

i call for compassion.
not from the game but
from a group
of kind, modern minds.

this guy has a plane ticket and load.
he's leaving for the airport.
he's walking out the door after all the animated
goodbyes
just as a member shows.

everyone in the room immediately energizes
we gather and joke that he shoould eat a magic cookie
on the plane.

we make our selections.

he returns with a ripped up plane ticket
and a mad blushing smile.

NO. I AM STAYING! says he
in a tone of childish composure,
with fully evolved pride
and a nothing-to-loose conclusion.
my soul brightens that i've witnessed this.

i pack a bowl
and send it his way for dubs.

he leaves the house within minutes
without baggage.
i express my confusion
i am told, "cerveza"
(alcohol)

the bottom of my shoe

a dark skinned boy and i speak
to each other of this planet.
we speak of travels and
he asks me what it is
that i search for
on my journey.

i absorb this question calm-collectively but reply
with leaping excitement: SOUL, i say:
definitely soul!

yes, there are voices coming through the walls.
this is a community, like it
or not.
NOT
befallen to those unkind
with a glitch
in the eye.

often mine are damp. not of
sorrow but of the haze
at lurk behind.

i am becoming this life!

the thing about this world
is letting your soul feel every emotion
interacting with everything
to find experience
and sometimes: thrusting yourself
against the wind.

this is a calm collected.
this is the reflection
of an itch.

i am about to undertake
the great world.

i behold my ideals
thinking things yet to happen
as memories. instilling these thoughts as reality
that i may will them into existence, and,
that my ultimate ideal
is a kind world.

like a lady she may fall you
the hard way.
like a lady she may seem pure
but repress with painful circumstance.

i must find charm,
let her do good to me.
find only sincerity
in my companionship
cutting into my soul,
revealing the adventures and
the passions
it so deeply desires
and manifesting them
all.


sway me, wind.
enhance my damp eyes.

put me on,
put me in my soul: i will discover
everything.

spine of the notebook

the traveling night-
i think of nothing
but laugh
at the thought of it.

listen!
there are no words
in my Mind
but as the ink goes down
they appear.

i look: watercup,
i tried to paint with wine
last night
and achieved a subtle shade
i declared Skin

i ask myself to think
but only watch the sky
loose its daylight lifetime.
i sink with a sleepy feeling
of growth behind my eyes.

what do i choose to do?
i move the canvas and put my legs up.
i recline.
and wonder,
what's going on in there.

the traveling night has soul
i toke a flowered smoke:
i deem it completely worthwhile
for its given me
that line.

what else is there?

i live in a sacred place
though sometimes
real people
take the spiritual away.

i am sure that when they are at peace
they are holy.

Now thoughts enter me.
it is getting progressively difficult
for my hand to move