Rantings Of A "Hopeful" Nihilistic Asshole

The scale weighs heavy things of petty, unequal importance while the universe expands to a collapsing spread of unimaginable space
The heart beats trivial rhythms, skips and eventually stops as a pulsar keeps metronome precession beyond measurement
Its lifetime essentially  infinity

Observed, sought after and measured in amounts weighed on scales of illusion
Happiness, a liar, whispers stories of possibility and regrets
Sadness a friend of happiness offers the pages upon which the stories are told
Society, consciousness and the idea of self reads this book of lies
The individual holds this book above her head and shouts, "This is the Truth!"

I see no book, no stories
I see no individual, no boundaries
I see no self, no sadness
I see no more, no less
I see art

I hear no lies, no truths
I hear no screams, no laughs
I hear nothing and silence
I hear music

The difference is everything and nothing at all
The individual is the uncooperative, the lonely one
The connection is the love that ties all together
The great communion of the one
Is, will be and forever

The high noon plasma ball shines through a window somewhere and maybe warms some skin
Brown and smooth, wrapped upon a fertile figure, curved and shaped to infinity
Structural, skeletal movements, mechanically sensuous and alive turns to warm the other side
Breath upon the ear raises hair upon a fleshy landscape of fantasy and heartbreak
Pressed and bare upon the inner thighs now whisper love
Later the fear laden sweat beads off the ribs squeezed cold
All while a sleeping boy dreams of possibility

The wind blows dark and empty through a crack in the door somewhere and maybe lifts some spirit
High and invisible, unwrapped freedom of no form...infinity itself
Colorless and still, yet just alive as that being of warmth and movement
Breathless with no regrets
A dream which requires no sleep

Lost Highway

Tombstones mark the interstate of a lifeless thought
A foreshadowed exit missed and forgotten
Followed by dark , unseen, unlit but there
The illuminated path ahead is a moment and nothing more
There's a passenger , an unfocused being giving directions with disregard
You listen and are at fault
Ignore and you are free, blind to the night and headed toward the horizon
Lost on the highway, alone and  following the now

Ships of Life

Pink blossoms in light, exhaling and showing a color of white
To lungless neighbors bare to the sight
Not naked but armored and ready to fight
A spring of quick
A winters end
The branches are ready, beginning to bend
Leaves unfold a chlorophyll scene and sail in the wind like canvas of green
Stems and masts of rooted ships begin to move in stationary slips
The trip is short, the voyage long
The season is here, and now it's gone

Automatic No More

I look forward to the day when money is no more
For the mail to deliver and the papers keep score
Meaningless doors to open or not
The groceries are empty and I welcome the thought
What things are left all whole and working?
The ones who welcome the beings of choosing?
I hope to trample the humans of doing, and all the banks will fall to the floor
I see forward to automatic no more