Some of Us

Standing in my boots, snowless at the Christmas door
before the sunrise, just after my day:
Starless from the city, the moon's shadow is brighter than the sky.
If it were more than a sliver as I pass the gate, then I'd say
that it would be blind the night.
I Rushed around the roads, yet settled into my home as I whistled.

Two things, I think as I pass the threshold:
A trust, and her mind's health.
The first wrecked by there being no strength.
She's exhausted; nearly run down.
Yet I'll put myself aside today
to reconcile what's now gone, and lay down by her side.
Because some of us just need some comfort
and some of us just need to be home.

Not Saying

With the sun come up, I go.

I’ve hit the highways to find what I need at home.
A long time coming, I’ve gone.
Nothing to guide me but the paint (just a recommendation)
and her curves (which are such comfort!).

I didn’t even notice the first hundred cities,
burnt by with fuel and blown away by the desert.
You’ll be lucky to find me where you stay, regardless of my findings.
I’m not saying that you don’t have luck – I’m just saying.

I’m sure that I’ll miss you, some but not all.
If only as I miss a meal:
Full for a while, but to be hungry again.

Your Numbers

Your numbers,
I see you holding them too closely.
They’ll never,
line up again like they did today.

What do you hold so dear,
as to transcend fact into reality;
as you are thinking correctly;
as you hold so dear?

(Second Column)
   
The Gods of man are just that.
All of them from one strand of truth.
Paired spirals out from one truth.
Yet they forget that they’re all of one man.

That frequency, that resonance, that vibration
are all an interface with this medium.
Your thoughts are living things of unimaginable power,
Even in a world so cold; impersonal.

Our alarms have failed!

Our alarms have failed!

They praised the selfish, wicked motivators,

they very ones who they swore to betray to the people!

Those alarms who were commissioned to challenge the power,

promising transparency,

promising assured caused,

promised a challenged power that feared doing its people wrong.

Then they sang songs of justly death!

They sang the lies of the wicked,

the hell-bent death bringers.

Greed, gold and their riches.

Who knows more? Those who toil for steel or those who toil for gold?

The dead bull -- embalmed in blood gold,

deep-fried in the lives of the followers.

It's alright though, let's, just forget about it.

Let's forget about the terrible things that never happened.

That one over there? Take his whistle!

It betrays that cause, now mine.

Cut his neck like he's a traitor and pool his blood at the feet of the war beasts who stomp on.

Cut his neck like he betrayed his cause, the cause that we all loved from early on.

To Have Died With No Peace

I’ll wait yet another day for such a love to survive.
One that will remember that we are all of the same body, which thrives together within love and patience, yet will bleed, suffer and die alone.

It’s afar in the desert, but some want it here.
I hope’t it stays away, and that we’ll be wiser for it.

Blood in the desert,
A changed key to the answers to the answer that was never right.
Those who held the trust of Nations and respect of the World squelched the dissent and portrayed its love and accomplishments.
We all believed, or so they’d want us to remember.
Those who forced the momentum to the wheel were never punished; rewards of gold and praise filled their homes, their bloodlines and their egos.
It should have been the blood that they spilt, and nothing else.
It should have been their blood that split, and no one else.

I’m sorry for what we allowed.
So young and naïve; I loved the wars.
Now I can see the lands, although from up above.
That fight is not who I am; I can’t wear those boots that now bear the fear, the dead and unhealed.

On the wings of a machine, down I gaze upon these men who spirit and lives – wasted on lies.
I pray for those gone, to rest in peace.
And for those left, just to rest; never the same and never to be young again.

Can’t you imagine the torment of the dead? It’s beyond me.
To have believed, in a lie.
To have fought, and take lives.
To have died with no peace.

…
Remembering a decade of blood that we’re trying to bury in the sands brings me to hope for a Hell for those who love the lie that stole lives, belief and peace.

I Stayed

Why would they peel it back so many years after?
Especially with the truth so well covered, covered in a decay of sands so loose.

All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.

They chose to walk away.
It was their choice to go, when I alone, I stayed!
The Masters made it so clear: fix it, or walk away.
I alone stayed, for I remembered its beauty against the desert plains.

It is a sad panic to share with those so forgotten, not forgotten.
I alone stayed and rebuilt these towers of man.
Since the parted days, I toiled from the worse.
Since rebuilt, they return now, only to spoil the wonders of the best.

These people, so ungrateful to the splendors that I’ve raised from debris now return.
They’ve enjoyed their fucking vacation; their Holy days.

All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.

Fix It

...mind’s broken down, confusing everyone around.
Nature’s got a way.
Nature’s got a way.

Seems pretty obvious to know when everything’s been done before.
I’d love to say that I’m reluctant, but look how much time it’s been already!

Seems funny about the wait, is that once you grown out of it, it’s just about impossible to go back to the healthy youth.
Yeah, not much you can do about reality.
Nature’s got a way.

Right now, you’re so much better worded.
Your memories serve you well.
Just a flash passed what could have been your eternity; I can’t remember the sight, just the face.
But you, you remember what would otherwise quickly fade.
And nature’s got a way.

Forsake the day to clear my head at night, just for these dark wintry days, so that I’ll know the way to fix it, or walk away.

Heart Back Home

All I need is your heart back home.
I need nothing from anywhere else.
Hell I know that you need need to be free,
but all I need is your heart back home.

Back safe with me where it should be.
As far as I know, everything else is a lie.

It's getting darker earlier in the day and the sun takes its time burning my sky.
And during all of that time is when I miss your heart in our home, my home.  
  Heart Home by EricSLeyva 

Clarity (of a perfect conversation)

Clarity by Paul.

I'd like to thank you for this perfect conversation. 

Thanks for the clarity near the end of some dismal situations.

It's exactly what I need.

Clarity.

If we pass these trials of pain, love and growth, 
then what will my writings be about?

Will I sing of hope, faith and love? 

What will ideas will my pen contain?

All that I can do is (hope to) know when I get there.

I know little of what I think I need, but life doesn't care about that.

What I wouldn't give, to be conversing in her depths -- so much love to give!

(Just) got to find happy times, as many as you can, as often as you can, no matter how fleeting they may be.

Living with faith in love is the best that we may ever hope to be.

Sandalwood

Kinda wanna get laid

Should put on some of that sandalwood cologne

And take some peach martini fixins to her house.

Damn high school stratification

Comfortable where I was

So empty instead of whole

A caged tiger pacing

Trying to awaken your soul.

Once we called it over

Reality it seemed had faded

I thought you were my future

Our lack of love understated.

Looking ahead I realize

My best is yet to come

I see how difficult you are

How your pain has just begun.

Top and Bottom'd

It's down right dark; touching evil.

"...it's not that dark. There's no such thing as evil in this world. Good words, deep words."

Shaken with hunger I pull from the annex of friends:

"There's no evil in this world."; only nature and people.

Not that dark; the light seen is never as it seems.

And all of my words are good words, deep words.

Avoid the tragedy of the Brother again to the Mother.

Take the wisdom that we learned from his tragedy.

His tragedy that nobody would see, because they knew not what they saw in his slowing heart and freezing breath.

They knew not that his dying dream would be a tragedy.

They only reached as a blind man would in the moonlit sands.

But now we know.

Now we know.

Now we know.

Nowe we know that all the bottles and pills to slow the dream to non-thought are canonized from his times and we must be wise to read their tales to save...

People and nature are the only truth; you may say that it's not as it seems.

People are nature and the only truth; you tell me to take the drive and see the World through glass eyes and a cut foot.

Fuck that. In the Universe of Nothing, I can't risk the infinite luck that's *can't read that word* to me what little truth I can discern from the glass eyes.

Top to bottom'd a page in nine minutes.

Blind Children

Can you remember the times when waves rolled by and crashed unnoticed, 

free to float amongst the decades of words, deaf to the screams?

It is was a time of blind children, so helpless on the beach.

Sand blew into their eyes, filled the sockets electric.

Glass formed and they could soon see, but into a mirrored past.

Six detachments of a civic people rolling between the lanes,

free to roll thru dry grass and shine lines of sheer idiocy.

It's the smell that she remembers.

It's the smell that she passed on to me, that remembered her of a red dissociative time.

Free to love that's been passed on to me.

What the sand eyes seem makes their raw lids blink,

something thrown away that they see.

It reminds them to always be happy:

as she sees her ways: her past, her now.

as she sees her ways of no consequence that she passed on to me.

Call it a fool's way.

He's from the Ocean and new to the lands.

It's so dry; a throat raw.

It's so dry; to have eyes and sand.

It's so dry; parched lips and skin.

It's so dry that hopes lies only in the Ocean. 

It takes you under. Take me with you.

Faces of Children

Turn the faces of children so that their eyes don't have to see

the sick uncontrolled free their infidelity 

(brought by) the blackness in their minds.

Turn the heads of the children.

Push their ears from the sound.

Lead their hands away in fear of what they'll hold.

-------------------

  ...for I can't find an anger more justified than toward a betraying friend who rapes the dying and sick, who need nothing more than to be sent away;

Shunned back home to the arms of love,
a love that'll heal what's not already scarred,
kiss what is as they're marks of pain implied
to those borne into a cursed body.

His manipulation and deceit pull the
sick away to wither alone as the scars grow.

(He) offers a hand and brotherly embrace;
make promises filled with abandon.

But those vibes are too easy to retrace from four years gone by.

The character of a worthless man masked
by a brilliant mind and friendly smile? 

There is never forgiveness, ever,
ever justified for a man who rapes the dying and sick.

Shunned back home to the arms of love,
a love that'll heal what's not already scarred,
kiss what is as they're marks of pain implied
to those borne into a cursed body.

No anger so justified; no death so true...

No hate so right; no killing so pure...

No curse so Holy; no Hell so welcoming...

...than the one deserved by a man who rapes the dying and sick.

10:22

Oh Eight Thirty

"0830 in the garage, light on sleep, already drank my coffee (extra bold) and listening to The Mars Volta? Could be the fixin's for a great day. Expect a noonish burnout."

"0830 PST, running on 6 hours of sleep in 2 nights, off to a 12 hour day of work/school. I give myself until 11:00: 8 hours until its acceptable. *sigh*" - m3shiiko iic.

It's amazing how things work so cyclically.

Before we know what just happened it's like so many times repressed.

Severity of life.

One week is all it takes and I'm reeling in distrust.

But in one night she fades like brothers gone before.

The tragedy of Scott was in that no one knew (what to do).

Serve justice to the unremembering.

Imply guilt to the out of mind.

Punish the sweet girl of curse.

All of this is vanity wrought of insanity.

Those born with black waves in their soul, whose control...

As she sees her ways: her past, her now...

she dreads it all again: blood and death borne still to a land which from she was cursed and banished to suffer alone, to take the pill meant to kill.

"Living the dream," she'd say with a smile, but knows all too well that even a nightmare is a dream.

Mania is a demon bipolar bear's gnarly teeth. 

They'll crush bones.

They'll eat teeth.

Trust is for the naive, and self-sacrifice will leave you dead in a realm of no afterlife.

But what's worse than forgivable is hell's despair trenches. 

It hides under the oasis, yet inside, life slows until the sands are made of glass.

In Vanity

Nearly an hour has passed since
I took this pen
and this paper.


The man told the world, "If you want to be a writer..."
_________________


Greatness relies on what?
I don't know. I'll let you know when I do.
No - I'll already be known to you by then.


Not in vanity, but in desperation.


That's the vanity - to be eternal in a lonely, unloving Universe (the clouds that blow down...)


Infinite themes to tie together that one man, or billions,
as I now see, can relate them all.


Oppressed or repressed? The people do it to themselves.
Without a unified theme or mindless pride,
the peoples' masses don't need to be surpressed.
The fear isn't of suppression, it's of unity and compromise.
That their love won't be of all.


Now - the hour of dawn.
Now or never, with not enough faith?
Never.


The fields are so dry;
the air is so dry;
the hills are so dry,
that life may never grow.


The clouds that blow down from the mountain,
bring neither rain nor snow.
Going down into a never ending Fall.
It doesn't snow, but it's not quite warm .

Power Deux

Don't have enough words to throw at this one.
Only so many to say in a day.


But look around!
    These people around me,
    they heard the best today!


The power to change their minds
has the power to break the walls.
And what lies behind
is why we heed the calls.
    Of life, of love.
    They said that love could heal us all.
        Of pain, of hate,
        staggered and stacked,
        into a wall.
Around our hearts and minds,
around the joys surrounding us
of all time.


So follow me, dead brothers.
They said that love could heal us.
That love could heal us all...


So follow me - the words weren't really mine.
I won't take the credit.
But I hope that love could heal us all.
That love could heal us all...


But I won't put faith in it.

Quickshort

Quick, short; to the point.
There's only a minute to go
and not even a way to impart
to you what I mean.


So enjoy your night,
hungry and thirsty as you may be.
I can't quench you.


Keep looking - I can't feed you.
You've only got a minute; surprised I said this much.
Keep looking - I'm hungry, too.


Welcome back.
Did you find what you needed?
What you wanted?
Did you enjoy your travels?


I'd love to let you in.
Right, I found it.
I'm full - swollen to the brim.


So enjoy your night,
as hungry and thirsty as you may be.
I will not quench you.


Keep looking - I won't feed you.
You've had your minute.
No more; enough to share.


Keep looking.

To Have Faith

I can't seem to get beyond the idea,

to believe in a God, not just the one

of the world, but a sense of Universe.

It's not even of logic of a puzzle.

A God; a Spirit.

Just to feel Him, in the spirit with my soul, if there is even.

Live like there's any hope to have an eternal legacy;

never forgotten.

A witness of being.

Faithless, you might call me.

To be faithless, there must first be something,

in which with my soul to believe.

He tells me to have blind faith.

I'd love to, sorry.

It's not that I don't want to.

I just don't.

To have faith, there first must be something in which to believe.

__________

It wasn't a resentment, logic bomb or laziness that traces my absence; 

it just wasn't - that's my point.

Babysitting Hamid

There's a place in a dream
where everything moves so slow that
you'd think it were made of glass.


I've seen it so many times before,
so I don't know why you'd all sit and stop
to see a place in a dream so slow.


So slow.
So slow.

...


Everything, made of glass.
Everything is so slow you'd think it were made of glass.


It lowers voltage to where you don't move, for hours.
Not a word or glance can make it our from your mind
to your body, which has shut down to time. Grace.


You move so slowly, I'd think you were made of glass.
So I'll be careful with my freedom, to move about.
I'll try'n not shatter you.
Not even your spirit can move away, should I break you, glass girl.

Dressed Old

He's a dressed old soul
trapped deep within a dream's dream.
Hoping to feel what nobody has ever felt.
Or an old friend to remind him of what is real;
to separate what's a dream and
to be young together, forever.

Caught beautifully between imagination; between perception.
Between imagination; between perception.
xxx