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For most Christmas reminds us of hurrying around making last minute preparations while shopping, cooking and cleaning. For children it is about patience, family, presents and honesty. Where though honestly does it lead to in adult life, and which is more of a delusion. As an adult this time of the year we take as a chance to make up for being naughty, or appreciate others for being nice. Often this appreciation is shown by doing as much as possible for one another during the holiday season. Imagine, though, a Christmas where we all just stopped, and allowed for peace on earth during this extraordinarily stressful fast-paced time of the year.

We all deserve that more then anything.
 
heat was absent
for so long:
air made stale,
water stagnant,
earth petrified.

flame gave birth
to new horizons,
death of the incomplete,
the phoenix raised.

retribution made,
on pale mountains

fire burns lush palms,
seeping waxy milk

cupped by cracked hands
the balm
of new creation.
 
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dreams can teach more then school can
if you listen well

_________
thats what a homeless man told me the other day.
there was quite a bit after like an hour,
this happened a couple of days
before christmas and
seemed worth
sharing.
 
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what say the image
to eyes
moved
elsewhere?
 
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big brothers eyes aren't blind
light bulb covert voyeurism
while wheelchair-bound inmates
pace back and forth
pace back and forth
pace back and forth

the powers-to-be reassure me
while security drones feign comradery
rendering the word 'mate' meaningless
I pace back and forth
back and forth
back and forth

staining lives with my pyschosis
parents brothers girlfriend friends forcing smiles through tears
while I silently suffer surrounded by fellow inmates
extroverted introverted
back and forth
back and forth

nurses distributing placebos like candy
apathetic, immune, indifferent to suffering
nurse rat shits and mad scientists
paperwork
paperwork
Paperwork

I pace
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
contemplating suicide
 
It's all so lacking and empty, it's a waste.
Going nowhere, lost with an air of haste,
Yet I can't smell it, my nose doesn't work.
There is no space where this doesn't lurk.
 
Drunken thoughts meandering
Through thoughts of pure intent
Thoughts of goodness are floundering
Through expressions of I'll intent

If art is what one does make it
Then my mind is lost in Intent
Expressions of all that are familiar
Are ways in which I resent
 
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I need to accept we're through.
There's nothing else I can see.
There's no hope of you.
This is a bad place to be.

Void of far too much,
inadequate care.
Down here there's no touch,
there's nothing to share.

My desire is dulled,
my love has gone away.
Not enough has been nulled,
The dread consumes me in decay.

Simultaneous opposites perpetually assail me,
with long enough breaks in activity to toy around.
I'm laying in a maze for there is no key,
with questions abound.

But my curiousity is dead,
the answers don't matter.
The story needn't be said,
because all that is left are the remnants of a shatter.
 
my eyes only saw the palm.
it swayed, played by the wind
growing, reaching for the sun,
bathing in the moon.
marks etched on the trunk
reveal fractured time in continuity.
fingers of palm fronds
grasp invisible energy,
the sun and palm are directly connected.
the connection cut at dusk,
the moon on the dresser turned on.
the atmosphere bends light
like the surface of water,
the palm knows not of this,
it grows.
everything facilitates growth
incessantly
just as the ball it is anchored to
incessantly tumbles through space.
death is growth
without the knowledge
of it being such.
 
we keep these lives
we all only live our life
until we accept all living
in love
the sweetest bitter oil
the scent we follow
until
it becomes the air
as the beauty we always wish was held
but seldom ever dared

to hold
to release
to allow the heart to return
 
sunday morning i had a dream
in a cold, clean sweat i heard the scream
children crying, the whole world dying
and no one had a clue
monday nights the fires came
hatred, anger, primal rage
where's the love that i've heard tell
my conscience is trapped inside this hell
tuesday afternoon i saw the sign
breathless, waiting, for the end of time
darkness takes innocence laughter falls
blood tears from my eye... its my turn to die
 
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