From the Sun to the Earth via the Moon

I’m so happy with my feet on the ground
the people in the mirror laugh at you and me
the blackest moment my head spins around
the people in the mirror will one day be free
sitting contently on a fence meant to confound.

Do you remember those blackest thoughts that were mine
oh they‘re all mine and now a little bit wise and older
when too much time was almost yours and not mine
oh these days are mine and yours to only remember
when too much heaven time was almost not mine.

Do you recall when you walk the talk to yourself
we can’t help notice there is no light in your grime
we give you armor and our eyes ask for only glory
do you recall in your winter there is a winter-time
in the streets of your autumn with your fall self

I’m wishing to be nothing at all because that is what i decide
the people in the mirror people know not how to leaven
you’re handing me heaven because it should be ours to hide
I’m giving what’s truly mine and you only want heaven
there is screaming at the mirror from the people inside.

The Aetherspheric history of this race upon our home called Earth
all us little life forms growing up in ten dimensional time-space
multiplying with little children and in the process we unearth
the way our world is made by singing in our own voice and pace
dying again and returning through a transmogrified rebirth.

Out-of-town again and searching for reaping money spinners
here is another mother who goes by the good book of plod
the sleeping policemen reaping all the gifts from the sinners
wino mothers giving birth to a mentholated invisible god
time goes by so slowly when giving birth to beginners.

Time goes by so slow when you’re stuck to me
rain birds dive through the hole in a broken guitar
it’s true we’re in the gutter and yes it’s set us free
my energy says I love everybody that’s truly bazaar
you and me and them too can be as you want to be.

Hiding in the spotlight upon a famous stage
rain birds sing a song that’s so sad and blue
he tries to fly but instead dies filled with rage
stranded like an insect stuck in a bowl of glue
rain birds fly to the edge of their gilded cage.

They are rich and cool and always has the latest look
they are on the T.V. in your head and in every room
they are a jerk and you can find them in the phone book
they are front page today with their name on every tomb
they can never leave the zoo whilst stealing what they took.

I’m gone and welcoming tomorrow with a book glistening in splendor
I’m not a tree or high rise deity but so sad for saving you from the devil
I fall asleep as the militia men will murmur and try to dream of surrender
I’m free with liberty and done welcoming tomorrow by becoming invisible
I’m close to feeling them before they die in love and are called by the contender.

Here on Earth everything happens times two here on Earth again
they the masqueraders who believe they will always have it made
the prophet who is thought to be a fool with no new tale to tell
the skinhead begins to picket without the armed policeman
we’re waiting to end the thirst that’s so very hard to quench
we’re waiting and waiting for occasional showers that never drench
the astronaut in space-time becomes a student of being human
the one who wears your mirror face always has a new tell to tale
wondering if there is really any such thing as having it totally made
your sights upon the grail to have it taken from your hands with pain.

You cannot go against nature because that’s part of nature too
lives can get a little complicated because of a simple thing
our world is your world where people like to say your name
when you are stuck on me the Earth is slightly heaven bent
time goes by so slowly when singing and not necessarily sane
all of the Earth searchers are asking who to charge and blame
a son-of-a-gun who will cause the birth of another malcontent
rain birds swoop through the chimney and out to the rain
complicated is simple as flower power and the need to sing
don’t feel so free as you kiss the world goodbye and say adieu.

Who are all the gurus telling us that heaven is theirs to be lent
the men in mirrors see through those who observe the masquerade
it’s a long way up when you are down looking for a new talent
do you wonder if heaven is the true only exception that is made
please forget my name because there is no tale to tell to be sent.

Do you want to go to where you can hear an angel sing
it’s the same thing again and again with no new tell to tale
don’t you want to live in the kingdom without a king
when you’re stuck on me there’s time to tell the tale
thoughts pin me to your wall and make my head ring.

You drive me crazy with a lazy love that is hazy to judge
looking at me looking at you searching for the purest blue
the girl who works over the critic with a love crazy grudge
how can I love a youth like you while still waiting for you
you had to send me away on my back with a heart nudge.

We’re waiting for the flood to take a glimpse behind the veil
seems all that we get here are distant pale blue showers
waiting for the flood and a pure form of a sympathetic evil
our life’s blood is flowing with a look at all the flowers
the blood red water sure tastes good when we go primeval.

If the telephone is empty then you should realize what’s timely
you’re oh so phazy so please just let me go do what it is i do
these words are a pure form of collective Aetherspheric sympathy
i didn’t even know that you now have what turns you blue
when we were young we wanted to just give it all away freely.

We all have to work so hard slogging and in the end for a pittance
hungry like the starving cat who turns his nose to the scent of liquor
drinking down the same old lonely roads for a moment of remittance
the bad judge will become the good prisoner and rape the crazy vicar
if you break the system down then heaven will reject your admittance.

We are all full of the Energy and don’t need to believe in ghosts anymore
everybody wants to go to heaven and now we know what that means
we will shine together all over you and right through the black door
a lost boy dreams of kings but instead ends up watching t.v. screens
a youth so self -possessed that it needs no more self respect to abhor.

Everybody wants to go to the heaven that isn’t going to smother
the rebel becomes the teacher and the vandal a saint after her fall
so scared of driving that they are drinking to catch one another
the preacher that has aids with a revolution revelation for us all
drinking to forget things and remember nothing of the other.

We are the rich beggars and royal kings of nothing fine
our role is pre-set to be played in a boot and shoe town
planes of flames rise and now we realize the slowing time
the empty telephone will turn and burn you right down
that’s what you get when you give away what’s mine.

Governing Operational Dynamics propels the bright blue Earth
when i think about what’s been done to her i begin to cry too
we were all once photonic liquid red energy from our nearest Sun
inhibitions and exhibitions want to display what is really you
everybody wants to go to heaven or at least visit the Moon.

Transmogrification of “Earth : Sun : Moon” by Love and Rockets

http://www.davidjonline.com

http://loveandrockets.com

Spare Change for Peace

Potatoes and tuna fish for dinner

almost free ramen noodles with an egg

worried about what to eat at month’s end

every moment warped with an empty angst

there should be free food everywhere we are

change for peace and the beggars and hungary

random acts of freedom are what’s needed

the starving have jobs and children as well

pay for peace because war is the easy

put freedom on the menu as anything.

Forgotten Lost Girlfriend

Being with you was like being alone except alone was the fun way

love is the game you play and when i say I love you it’s like passing go

you were always happy each and every time there was a big pay-day

spending greenbacks unearned was your chosen path to go with the flow.

You always wore your best white dress when there was cash on the table

isolation of the sour soul and degradation as part of your entry-exit hole

figuring everything out all alone and what to do next alone as well

not being there when it counts but always feigning becoming whole.

Your style of the silent treatment could be considered a dark art

demanding the impossible and distraught at the well lighted end

blissful at the failures of others and cry real tears for a happy heart

trinkets instead of genuine affection about the forgotten girlfriend.

Sassy Shackled Ankels

This world of social engineering is painfully engaging
the cup seems dried with dregs of vacant bitterness
voices sewn shut and stained cheeks with tearing
let the crowd stick to oval holes of emptiness
a blind mole-like mentality blindly hurting.

Sweeter than you think of a unique visionary
blazing forests don’t follow the damp leader
cane flailings dance with a lacklustre morality
feelings come deeper and swim with a sinker
embrace the differently downtrodden eternally.

The moments you touch with reaching velvet silken hands
hidden places aching that only you can make ache that way
the omega love/lust connection is fraught with hour sands
bruising kisses of the evening hardness then soft by day
feeding addictions of desire with mutually planned plans.

Meeting the needs in between that of want and strife
there’s a razor thin line between sweetened and sweet
hair pulling passion with a lie we both share in rife
committed and adulterous while still in mourning to meet
being entwined in a perfect union with a lover of life.

Shackled ankles are always ready to be slightly unbound
baking cookies in negligee and silk scarves flowing
be sweet and rough and change my face to being unfrowned
transparency in a flawed interlude of internal glowing
tongue twisted lips tied to your singing sultry sound.

A modicum of “difference” makes you more understanding
a prescience believed singing and shouting it out loud
a really lived beatitude life of raw nude existing
a cloud of your conscience seeing the facebook crowd
a quirky chaser brazenly defiant in the act of living.

The broken and battered are a kindred disjointed folk
just like being there the yokes of a never-ending pain
years of tears peppered with split seconds of pseudo hope
flowing syllabic evolutions are going to once again regain
who knows but for now just write while you continue to choke.

Knowing that perhaps the best work is laying latent
kicking rocks is gone forever replaced with shallow breath
take a sick pleasure in knowing that few get my intent
see me like they used to before my poetic birth and death
lurking in the locked box with stripped poems of discontent.

Square pegs shining in a semi-final round of proclivity
prelude to alliterative experience of intimate assonance
dancing with words one at a time or maybe up to twenty
plenty of rhetoric spewed with silent cognitive dissonance
words take on a life of their own with each one worth a penny.

A visage is smeared in the angst of tumultuous torrent
heckled profusely for being hated and once again shamed
no one cares and they can’t see the trees or the forest
adoration of writing their way out of ever being gamed
the things you’re beaten for are usually your favourite.

Transmogrification of three poems by Amy Gabrial
http://sassifiable.com/

Pharmacide; Philosophy : Art : Physics
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43344

Picasso’s Dead Friend

Self Portrait,
1901, Oil on Canvas
Musée Picasso, Paris

In nineteen oh one The Picasso began a life shaded in a dark pale blue
although it is well known the tragedy around this pivotal period bemused
like everything else out there, there are sides to a story at least two
his friend suicided in a Parisian café over a love in which he was refused
this had a great impact on his art and you might even say haunted him too.

La Vie
1903: Oil on Panel
Cleveland Museum of Art

He was a mega narcissist and that didn’t come with his talented hands
also kind of a schmuck by regarding most people with a cold indifference
his poor treatment of great women was more legendary than his art plans
what was it about his past that made him a jerk and sometimes so relentless
his mirror image was that a fighting bull and in the ring as the matador stands.

The Death of Casagemas
1901: Oil on Panel
Musée Picasso, Paris

The ghost of his friend would return in paint again and again and again
he used painfully joyous colours freely at the death of his once good friend
the evocation came and the guilt put to rest with the burial of his shame
pale blue and dark green paint conveying the feelings of the lost and sinned
lonely and restless with guilt he sought comfort in the arms of someone Germain.

Frugal Repast,
1904 Etching

 

Always moving between places to stay he was there when she needed him fast
painting the desolation, unhappiness and despair are all he could display
the misery of being physically weak and poorly eating with a frugal repast
the allegory of La Vie had the face of his dead friend in a monochomed way
his dead friend’s girlfriend was there and for him she would do for some ass.

The Burial of Casagemas (Evocation), 1901 Oil on Canvas
Musée d’Art Modern, Paris

He moved into his dead friend’s flat after the burial to begin living rent free
maybe he didn’t pull the trigger but it’s entirely possible he was gaslighting
the overpowering guilt he must have felt with this terrible truth kept secretly
shagging his dead friend’s girl around the time of his death and his own emerging
he recalls this with the three dancers of love, sex and death in a Dionysian frenzy.

Myopic Wish Fulfilled

Your wish has been granted to live in your perfect world
here is the caveat you unknowingly agreed to forever abide
nobody can see what you do or listen to anything you say
you’re socially invisible and have nothing to show or hide.

You live among others but only hear about festivities the day after
you occasionally show though nobody greets and always dance alone
you’re not allowed to move and nobody wants you to participate
the shows don’t seems so enjoyable when you’re single in the home.

Surrounded by hundreds of thousands of your favorite people
your facebook friends are your only solace from strife
posting thoughts and feelings where most of the people aren’t mean
this is your existence in a myopically wish fulfilled life.