Greg, 8 june 2013
For the formulaic unknown:
Quasi-rebel faction usurped, uncertain
At every turn
Forensic in nature
Introduction romance from years past
Unstopping, Unthinking
Revision/stagnation is an illusion
The red tape rewound for hate
Made stagnant as fear
For another, me past or future
Self-image, image of and by another
To be true is to be love
Ostentate, for intrinsic definition is grey
Chains of water pouring in the next room
Alongside the tragic mistake
Of fear manifest as love
Availability to openness
Vibrations of equanimity
Breath of Shadows
Co-opt Om; Cut down
Pure being is Love is god
For the arrows of flowers penetrate gold;
Unabashed;
Made silent by the termination of the holding concept
The flow manifests in the non-written word
The spoken dance;Lightning Gold
Greg, 9 may 2013
With infinity to do and nothing to say
Fade silent into breath taking wonder
A crossing for a king to sink
And a pain for the wretch to scream, and scream
Bring wondrous shackles to the brink of blackness
And scream for the lit cigarette
To burn you deep in the pits of wonder
To harmonize with your contentment, collapsing the wave
Feel free to say something, anything at all
Just let me know I'm important enough to ignore
To actively ignore, while shining bright on your phase
Let me know you notice the shun
Facade upon layer upon facade upon...
Digging softly with a layer of untouched pain
Kiss the solemn ground and lay feet bear
For the mourning comes and the sadness never leaves
The mourning goes and turns to photosynthesis
And leukemia for someone's grandmother
The hand that once held him from her wheel chair
Now is falling off for fear of reprieve.
Greg, 11 february 2013
Bleeding heart in twisted veins
Collapsed upon the window pain
Visuality turning into sound
The high pitched scream of purple drapes
Blown into bits by the love we make
And the love that we are made of expounds
Outward from the inner realms
Of objective sonic hells
Dancing in the ringing bells
We wait
To be formed out of nothing
To create a little something
That will be forever more
But all that you ever make
And all that you every take
To be you is not yours
You just are
The effervescent sun
The one between the juke box
And the tattered bar room wall
Infinite held within the scalded pot
That sits upon a lonely stool
Looking for the cops;
To create definitions of what it should be
But really it’s relational
So forage down the rabbit hole
And come up for a breath
When you are on the other side
And none of you is left
Characteristics dissolved into love
Not tucked away upon the self
That is constriction
Objective vindication
Love is the sound of transcendence
Love is the sight of transcendence
Love is transcendence
Love
Greg, 3 november 2012
Crossed under everything that will never know
Who is the undertow for whom nothing is sewn
Dreams are only for the dreamer as fruit is for the tree
And a sharing is the loneliness glorified
As is all
Who are you my love
And why do you ever look at me
Nothing is seen anymore
And its black
Like stars
Stars that are made of neon brew
And shoes landing hard on the ground
Built by who?
And now confusion sets in on circus triumph and rambling unpoetic that twists and manifests as thought crimes against the will of the crippled as trees screaming for life and birds running scared against the bleeding orange sky highway calling and lingered unbridled joy on the backs of motorcycles screaming into the silent libraries of yesterday’s dreams written by me for you and disrespect is your claim to fame whoever is made to believe in love is seduced by the weight of your light heart and nothing can come back any sooner than a system made unpredicated by joy nonsensical and depressed like the shadows of past and no one looks and time continues on for the infinity of nothingness to drip by and by through golden shadows and unpressed succumbrence to the willows of tears that weep through drums and chords and chimes and screams into the starry night releasing the ashes of you into the wind from which you came baby scream scream SCREAM!!! And not a fuckin soul will hear you I swear no one to care and you’ll slit your wrists just to make a head turn and they will only say you should have learned I told you so go die as you are not as I would be go to hell and burn
A swift slip from the darkest abyss comes racing
Through shadows of indomitable bliss and spirit that is
Resting inside the webs of time and willows of rhyme
Dancing miraculous as the yellow turned orange
And lost
Lost
Lost
For there is nowhere to be there is love and a life to throw to the wind
On heroin induced craziness for blood against the wind whispering
Look at this and laugh like the joker’s friend
You are the waste of momentum and I am the same
Projecting like the waking flood of Noah’s arch
Nothing can be done and the past fades into sorrow
For if the needle drips my blood it drips yours too
And joy plastered on a frown by way of money
When all there is to find is love
All there is to find is love
Love
Love
Love
But no one looks at the sharp turn and you see
The weeping song of the trees and the people
And the strangers stop and stare to see me on the ground
And I laugh because it sets me free
From the need to be free
An actor in their play
For the only place that purple can turn slightly less pink and the fading memories resurge again
And I’m back in the place of the dark alley
The wild connections to the midnight sun
The floating happiness running by and the children dancing on the rooftops
Of thoughts that they are running by and by and by and by
Through their fucking drugs run mother fucker and you’ll find nothing
There’s no one to be and nowhere to go
Water in the midst of desert plants crying out loud to the sky for a passing moment of noted hysteria I love you I love you I love you
Cracked
By light formulated against the star struck nothingness of tomorrow
Who can see the subject of nothingness intellectualized
And made into Indian raga
And sadistic egotism erupting into the pale settlement of color ratcheted against the sun struck meadow
Where are you looking for the sun
And you find nothing more
But look look look look look look until you see nothing more either
For your eyes are burned through and through by reflections from cell phone screens
And just when you think you’re done the torture continues
And validation comes back again and again
With a simple solution that is dealt the demonic literalism of prose and sex
And no one looks any closer for we are dying
So slow
And you will read this and think nothing more than your thoughts
For the raindrop poet and the sea struck siren
Wail only for the woes of their heart and no one can see them anymore
For the rest are dead to them
And they are the thoughts of uninhibited fear
Life is their flocked pursuit that is analyzed into oblivion
Read this and find nothing
The paradigm is false
This sentence is false
You are me and we are not
Peace love and bliss to you
The oxymoron of language
Greg, 13 september 2012
Unabriged like cannon fodder stemming systemic from the pits of anguish. Grammar lost like the anton unkonow for the realms of space collapse in deformity with heads shaking and quaking in orgasmic revolt against blue sky systems. Breaking like the mystic river in orgasm. Orgasm Orgasm Orgasm Orgasm. Of sound that gropes me in the purple streams of psychedelia. Drugs are the breaking point of consciousness between incoherence the new system is being created and uninterated in despondent pleasure. White light Withitle white light you are the star for the orgasm. Miss where are you from I ask just to know. The places of incandescense where the doctors come to masturbate their good deeds. O appreciated like the withering family. Withering. Withering withering. Psycholocial ecstasy in the unhappiness that warmly raps the reader seeking and answer. Creation is formless in language and the lights pour in after the formation of darkeness in structure. Un refined brilliance in the post lecturinal knwolege of memory they will see they will see they will see they will see repeated typing in rhythm to the qualking loins of the universe coming to fuck me I can only love you as part of the all you are the light I chacse foreversadness sadess sadness sadness sadness comes whipping through as I think of you you you you you you I love you and you runawayyyyyyy who is calling me this collection of beam. Who kills the cat sleeping like the way of the light who are you who are you I’m playing a kyeyboard and only words come out dripping grey from the looping London air. I play nothing there is play
Greg, 2 august 2012
The place haunts the very core of core-less dreams
Sucks blood dry from virgin marrow
Wander, years old and aghast at the death to which I'm sold
(Or bought to hold)
To the winding ranges of demon light
The meadows screaming by dream-filled fright
Unknown and heard on the lingered spade
I am afraid
I am afraid
Of what comes forth on the lights that shine
Crystal glass and a heartless rhyme
For you to read and the world to see
And what is seen?
All that's left to be
Of love and life and eternity
Bliss malformed into me
The sea made waves that forgot the fish
Are made of all the sand that is
A standard set 'gainst the fortress wall
Shrouds of shrapnel, hollow eagle breath
For eons of aged so gently spared
The English poet is made to die!
And lie in pain beneath the ground
Of muddy waters and schematic breaks
You're the light of these darkened eyes
My friend you are
Drunkenly orchestrated, as a moment of ego masturbation in disguise
Fuck the world!
And the vile being of I...
Greg, 29 february 2012
The assault on the self-image has begun
There shall be no halt
An eternal escapade fully equipped with machine guns and
Mexicans
A battle for the rights of minds:
No stoppage until a full page is empty
Until sanity has been captivated by facts,
And has captured its paths to freedom
And even the backdrop has a tinge of neon
After all isn’t this life?
Pure flow abstracted or unabstracted into linguistic
understanding and then formed by this very abstraction of the abstract by a
form of the purely abstract abstraction
Then carefully consigned to a specific place;
Now here in lies the difference, possibly the only true
dichotomy
The rearrangement and representation of this pure being
One can make this, life, an expression of one’s self, of
one’s divinity
No fuck that!
True expression, even with the hiding walls and the factual
lies
Or one can deceive out of insecurity and hate
And fear and bring dishonesty into fruition and build
massive subcultures and suburbs
And leave the urban ruins to die slowly, crumbling under
corporate pressure from peers and priests, from friends and family, from drug dealers
and cops
Empty
This reminds me of an India
Far far away where the camels dance fluid
And the ghost of Allen Ginsberg lays quiet in his most
beautiful form
(Oh the saintly attachment!)
Where he writes forever!
Forever playing with the written word
Manifesting and being manifested by the wonder of poetic
expression
Greg, 5 february 2012
As the pitter-patter drop of the still black night
Scrapes stealthy across my third-eye
I die, cry, watch the sunrise, inside
What once was under guise, of
A heavenly palace of smiles
Jewels pure
Defiled
He comments on the use of eccentric speak
The beak of the duck that can’t keep
Its life for a child so cheap
As to toss crumbs at his stagnant feet
With the coins in trenches so deep
As to bring dark to light
And wolves to sheep
We are the soldiers of a pantheon black
Slowly losing luster and so turning back
On to the ways of gray and ancient decay
When thunder-struck wise men lay, not knowing that what they
say
Will kill the child in his father’s hands
Rape the mother in her husband’s hands
And leave the father, the husband…worse
Greg, 26 december 2011
You know, man
The writing keeps on going
From the Ginsberg collective
To the transient collective through which this is flowing
And manifesting, or womanifesting for those of you so inclined, as a droplet of neon dew upon some eyes
As a wave of cresting foam
Dashing over the orange sky
The purple sunset
Where the chariots dance
And the dolphins laugh mad
The end is pure insanity
A checkpoint, a mere place from which consciousness may swim
Snorkel amongst the reefs of tragedy
Meloncholy and stagnant
As is the world as is the world
Uncesonred hypocrite come forth from the rusty lair
Upon which you hang
Like a bat clinging to the dew formations from the icy cave
And LOGIC
The breath of which consumes hour upon hour upon hour of rustic research
Delving deeper and deeper into the monster gut
In which we lay
A primary attempt to never end
Creativitiy comes dragging on behind me as I launch forward into the starry night of dreams
Of freight train saints sitting silent
Of virgin whores
And free junkies
Of businessmen to poor to go to work
And the daughters earning no living
But embracing LOVE
Being Life itself
These dreams, oh these fucking dreams eat me away until they consume all and are still hungry
And spread
Spread into this rustic world
Of death
Of gray spatter leaning hopelessly in reflection
To never stop
To never reflect
The shattered mirror
The sober high
The nights of marijuana love
Where minds fuck and
Transcend
Completion upon the Norwegian horizon
Mountains of avalanche
Hills of snow for the seals of yesterday to play
At long last there is Love
And all there is is the intervention
Its idle worship, the Love of the stagnant
Illusory divine
For the eternal dynamic is the crying sparrow
The red night
The Rainbow Road
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