Friday 7 August 2009

soul friend to the end

you know you rock? yes you do, you who touch my soul like fire lick the sky. you who rock (like) the shock of a star shooting across that very tiedye (sunset sky)? then the aftermath....sigh.... full moon, tear well in eye.... gravity takes her down the cheek -- all week to the ground. hibernated bud lost in the ground it (tear) found, integrated to crystallize in the earth (without a sound).

silent life from tear inspired by you, my baby boo, and watch now! she grows up and breaks free of soil, less gravity, less toil, now the element to handle is midday sun boil, she fights and she alights, turns into that birch girl they search for in the dark (like they search for honey or hope) (like the bad boys searching for what they say 'there aint no hope without dope!', flashlights then spotlight her standout self among oak and pine like a cinder spark (no stealth), white with black chips, (they blinked jaw droplike and slap eachother, like was it one of those LSD trips?) chocolate chip soul dip, what a girl, wanna sip?

same tear (way back when) inspire my fire (take me to ten) might i describe such a feeling? need a choir (to sing her)? a bell to ring her? like the ember of a breath-fueled cigar? the run up the fretboard of some rockstarguitar?

yeah, you know. no more elaborate description will do. too much embellishment and frou-frou. well... just mellow luscious meditation contemplation on you (in a nation free to so do, grateful for this amendment of free thought, too, environment also created me and you)

your general open-hearted mad goodness, your undivided zen chi, fortitude equivalency = oak tree. why these trees keep coming to my sight i see? in my mind the rings of trees have me in awe like no else. i remember those rings around your fingers all types of silvers and colors, how they too tell your life experience. the rings you wear so generously (not gaudy) like a mom & pop clearance (far from corporate experience -cringe-, corporate part of america makes us fringe, huh, hella real your worn at the knee lee-vis, together we meet at the knees! can i help you? 'gen-x grunge, please!' hole and holy mad space inbetween denim>> eyes like sun in love in sin >> keep up your chin through it or i will lift you, you me, through magnifying glass that sun of love to one another--- from our fringe minority i report to the world through this fucking bloggywog minnow guppy sucked up in corporate filter clog, just escape, pull the plug and swim free little guppy, free the wheel from the cog, grab it pull us to the side, find the backseat and baby get into you into me, everywhere you look, shook, quaking my here and now, my body begins to chill and tinge.... pull off that jacket of yours with the fringe... where you gaze upon me upon you upon us....>> singe!!

it burns the truth, our youth, the ache of dead memories we remember, nudges us like aching tooth. you be my soul friend to the end the end the end the end the end the end.

postscript (unrated and edited, previously undisclosed and tightlipped! read the new sensation ending! hype it real like your not pretending! hella marketed bewitched mailing, no just kidding thats not the kinda energy the author is sending. much more busy upending your predescription, precrime benediction, guitar licktion, this my dear beloved reader is crazymadfun fiction, outleted unique far off creation of my mental dereliction, powered by cerebellum suction and antebellum interruption. past present future time forms the slime of real time death defying deaf mime with dazzling courageous looping rhyme. there go the ego, marketing the show. leave time for q&a, drinking champagne, making William Faulkner eat crow, Ernest Hemingway get earnest and out of my way, turn to the side, oscare wilde, and slide, go away, go get lost in your dostoyevsky, get paid, gamble it away, outdated like soy or tolstoy, chosen like beggars choose eggers, West Virginia shocked by how i rock burns the B. Pancake pages, when asked to sign my book the boys they swoon and faint, surprised by the elevation, from barking of all contemporaries, todays future words in their general space and face, reminiscent of miss woolf and her evolution, the room i wrote it all in i give thanks to her solution, of my own and home grown, plant the seed now sown. edgar allen poe seems slow like gin, Rimbaud simple like Rin Tin Tin. this is all of course a playful roast of all my beloved writers, they all could pull my covers and expose my manipulation of their own creations, the little gifts they gave me, the elations! they are descendants of my incendiary sensation. my ego so large it needs a planet to reside, i humbly confide. secede the thrown and hide out. ride out the celebrity that may lie post mortem, when my work is read and absolved, and what was simply puzzling to you today, in the new paradigm feels like when solutions are solved, soluble in audible recreation, played over postmodernsurround your pores bass strings pull into your core, then you adopt the namepicture me loving you for somehow overlooking my madness and loving me.

loving you loving me, lets end on an easy sailboat floating kinda note. warning! big word coming >> symbiotic you see? we rather tire of me, you and me, we lock up my ego (like it loves the bdsm, feels it like Zen, or dreamy r.e.m., we treat it like e.m.d.r. therapy for the trauma it made in us (see scar), send it afar like an ice floe, where it resorts to illuminedglow). of course you do. the pink hat adorns you, the green eye you see the truth through, the red flower helps you empower, the asphalt behind you makes the backdrop for the knowledge and wisdom you drop like science on the masses, who to witness you skip all classes, coming to witness your sunlight in ecstatic spiritual and even catholic religious tinged flashes! the way you are cultivating to the very end of your lashes. and those like me who once fell under your radiating energy, simply bow in homage and repent our evil ways. open the door for the forgiveness you played, you said, in cacophonous vernacular sweet like lemonade, Irish green and Italian ice--- A-grade. pax

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