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"Time To Think"

When they ask me what I need I'll say a capo, a lemonade, a dollar fifty
A big bathtub, prosthetic feet, diana ross' role in mahogany
So I can hang out with billy dee williams, and he can hang out with me
Pizza, love, and hominy, grits, peach pits, and songs to sing
More accountability so I can't get away with being mean
Shooting stars, dungarees, band aids on both of my knees
A big old house high in the trees, a little shack down by the beach
A motor home with golden keys, an A+ in geography
And lots of time to think, I need more time to think

When they ask me what I've seen I'll say saturn and soliloquies
Walden pond, hypocrisy, tetris, and insanity
Debt and dope and apathy, ode to joy and pool parties
Smooch and run and ancestry, arthur ashe and manatees
Sailboats, necessity, lepidopterology
The cave of time, dignity, cirque du soleil and lethargy
Surface area, rosaries, fair is fair and billie jean
Vonnegut at the university, karmic retribution and bigotry
Thyroglossal duct cysts, celibacy, love on the rocks, anonymity
Osgood schlatter in my left knee, sad flute solos and decaf tea
Silly friends, incontinency, yertle the turtle and hierarchy
Do it for johnny, pepsilepsy, powder blue ten speeds and puberty
Sylvia plath, conspiracies, bad medicine, karaoke
Passing gas, irrelevancy, seize the day and let it be
Loving dumb skaters who love pcp, dying and dancing on mtv
Close calls and infinity, little kids who look up to me
It's the end of the world as we know it and we didn't start the fire and adam green
I need more time to think, don't you think?
I need more time to think

When they ask me what I need I'll say a capo, a lemonade, a dollar fifty

15th-May-2011 10:53 am(no subject)

Theory of Um/Yang

 

 

The Um-Yang is the Korean word for Yin-Yang of Chinese. It is a theory

of Eastern metaphysics. It states that in nature, there exists an equal

polar dichotomy, which co-exists to form everything within nature. The ancient

scholars believed that, "In the beginning there was only vital

energy, Ki, consisting of Um and Yang. These opposing forces moved and circulated...

As this movement gained speed, a mass of sediment was pushed together and,

since there was no outlet for this, it consolidated to form the earth in

the center of the universe."
 

It is the interaction of these two

forces, which created all things and all life. The symbol of Um-Yang is

a circle with a squiggly line through the middle, which overlaps both

halves, equally. It is said that the symbol of Um-Yang is a representation

of two dragons swallowing each other in a constant rotation, never ending

without any beginning. It is important to understand that the symbol is

not just a circle divided into two halves. However, they interact to form

different degrees of Um and Yang, but as a whole the opposing forces are

equal. In order for one to exist, there must also exist the opposite to

one: Light and dark, heaven and earth, right and wrong, love and hate,

good and evil, strong and weak, microcosm and macrocosm, stability and

flexibility, finality and eternity, etc. All things co-exist and one must

learn to create a harmonious balance to develop the ultimate good within

the Universe.


Analogy of building a house:

We believe, whether you are building your moral character or physical

attributes, one must build it as though building a house. You first lay

a foundation of rock or concrete, then build the body or frame with wood,

which gives it flexibility. You would not build a house on the foundation

of sand or lose gravel and if you did, the house would surely move and

collapse. It is this concept, which we utilize in combining the Um and

Yang to develop a harmonious balance within the "self," humanity,

and the Universe.


Three Elements of Um:

 

- Yu - Yu is the concept of soft, unrelenting motion,

like flowing water. Water is soft yet it can erode the strongest of

metals. Water moves in perpetual motion, unrelenting and constantly

seeking a path. It rounds angular edges and conserves energy by conserving

momentum, maximizing on its kinetic energy.

- Won - Won is the concept of circular patterns. It

shows that all things in life follow a cyclical pattern, starting from

one point and finishing at the same point, which it started. Force can

be curved or redirected by minimal opposing force, conserving energy

to maximize impact. It also relates to centrifugal force, the power

generated by a spinning motion. Even a fishing line can cut through

flesh and bone, if spun with enough speed.

- Hap - Hap is the combining or gathering. In order

to create something, one must know all of its fundamental parts. Then,

one can vary the combinations in order to create functionally different

objects. In the combinations of things, one must maintain the concepts

of efficiency, maximizing energy with minimal force.

 



Three Elements of Yang:

 

- Kang - Kang is the concept of hardness, like rock

or steel. Without a strong foundation, there is no stability, form or

longevity. It also has to do with determination of will, never giving

in nor yielding, but always staying focused at the task as hand.

- Kak - Kak is the concept of angles. All things possess

specific shape and pattern to create specific results. Knowing angles

enhances the understanding of form, movement and positioning to maximize

balance and power. This also refers to angles of attack and body positioning

in relation to the opponent and the environment, developing better orientation

and directions of attack and defense. This is particularly important

in executing effective joint manipulation techniques. With the slightest

change of angles, any person's joint can be dislocated with minimal

force.

- Kan - Kan is the concept of distancing. One must

understanding the proper range of the opponent's and the individual's

arms, legs and/or weapon in order to effectively create a defensive

perimeter as well as executing proper attacks, striking the target.

Proper footwork and body positioning must be practiced in order to maximize

mobility for attack and escape.


LIttle Miss Lolli socked you
She pulled out your arm
and bopped you
She held your head to a furnace
burnt your pretty hair and decided
You needed one less leg
Little MIss Lolli socked you.
Now you have a black eye
She dressed you with your tongue tied around
your feet and your ass saggin
So now you get a rug burn everytime
You turn a corner
LIttle Miss Lolli Socked you
She sowed you up and said some
words, and now your dead
no more of your bullshit from your head.

Lalo stuck a gun to your back
and tied you up with prickle bushes
told his brother, who was younger,
and now your getting corncobs in your heiner
Lolli watched and smacked her gum
"Uhh uhh No, we arent done
we gonna get us, bitch, another one
show you how you are bung"

Cathy came by winced and smiled
"make sure they scream,
shop their pockets as if their aisles,
make them got that extra mile."

Bert said NO but laughed, they
had those fuckers burning their own gas.
They left them dry lined up like
pigs till peter n wanda
came by, put them in wigs

They sat around
wearing crowns laughing
at the mess they found.
they divided their candy
called mandy sandy and brandy
and moved outa town.
Now toni, she new all about it.
Smacked the bitch who said she farted
told the last three to come
to take them home and make
a dump run. She yelled "Holla"
as they left.
and nOW maybe theyre all bereft.
with reason.
kuz thats so much more. pleasin.

Fears:
That my feelings will be less, that with their extent
and my developed trust in them, they may diminish.
This is an infant's fear.

Shall I accost the skies,
Their blue elemental porcelain plastic glass,
unending dome panel limit? seamless. seamless. infinite.

a baby shadow is a moth.
She is blinded, feathered and concerned
with other things.
like the boy tonight, her top, jewelry
and butter-down locks. she has a mane.
What a lioness of mimical proportions.

inside water, a waterwheel turns.

we are mimical of star galaxies.

    MEOW


feathered fortunes and a strong gale.
We are all sailors in medium ink blue
Royal violet is our yum sum sour love, albeit we too witness the clearest
White nuboso by lightest bold blue.
We are midnight sailors.
We have cream for dawn.
We are mended, mending the tatters
a rabbit on the moon
she rolls her nig wax ball. a pack rabbit she searches tirelessly endlessly.
she finds you waning, waxed. I mend for her. she boons.
I mend spring. Dresses, kilts, shawls, and baby shoes.
My shoes. A pair of booties and some moccasins. Mukluks.
This Rabbit, She is well worth her stars.  The starry eyed sky casually observant.
The Moon, She Glows, is as strong as her path.
Red Earth. We darn for her. Our blood, is her birthmark stain on earth's scowl.
Maybe earth will ease her forehead, her green armpits oblige the ease.
I am compelled to hold, faithfully, that we will ease among her hilly mountainous
declotage regions. We take her skirts and weave, mend them anew.

I sleep beneath Moon's dew as the breeze basks in swirls.
enchantment. I am naked, erection and breathe - Life's dew.
Pine. Fir. Madrone. Cedar.
Deep forest angelics hold me in a breathe.
I sleep, my breathe a boon, and i cry. Silenytly I return,
Uterine fetal to my rose. There I am closer to me, the depths of me, the hearth of me,
in my moonshine,sky dew and angle, graced by her greenery, my wrist, an ankle
I am enthused, golden downy some, and bidden a brief abrupture
A stag, golden and russet enters enters the light
Stepping hesitantly upright. Looks down at me,
eyes alight, smooth around a reproachfulness, revealing
a younger insecuirty
I drown, The hart looks up, off and beyond
and then down at me, eyes distracted, focused on other factors.
I am still and darkened some and off he goes. A breathe in the otherwise silent forest.

I am again alone. I am foliage to him now, for now.
The wind chills me for a moment
and then blows in warm from above me.
Rocks high up still warmer than the night.
yet i am cool. cool enough to shiver.

My mind strays.
Before sleep closes my eyes.
eyes far larger than my given face.

I am Hind
My legs are Eros
and they move, confidence,
sprite spring and buoyncy in
their knotted cords.
I look down, still
aware of the scar on my
Inner thigh. the one that
marked me. Venison it read. It read red.
i feel marked, marred by it. And fatty, fattened for bloomers.
I grab my hind quarters,
flex and feel complete
in my foreskin, turn round and peek
I observe it for a moment
poke it, as if
he were his own entity, my penis
a forested anenome, a morning glory
my own luminescent celestial towers and kingdom
a phallus palace.
something to see.
made for moonlight
and days of swimming
underwear, belts, socks,
Shoes that clunk some, shoes that squeak by, clean rubber and sock lint
the comfort of fit jeans and an ass that likes a good pair of loose
My hind quarters speak up again.
I curl. I am hind him now.
hind my hart
'hind my heart.
heart went fro, to and fro, forward, held it for two, to..., too!

my heart went ahead.

//**
I am wendigo.
I am Wendigo
Murdered sheep and mutilated male children,
little girls left to watch, the show and shot to rot.
what greasy palms.
you deliver me to cannibal white masters whether chinese, aAmerican, or Australian.
These are wendigo cain maggots. I am wendigo.
You fear in revelations the wrath of the Lamb
I am Murdered Lamb.
You did not see me and yet you knew me all along. I am dead lamb infested with dis-ease and blood of cousins. dove, goat, lamb, pig, horse, deer.
I am murdered deer child.
I am faithfull fire married and marred to sweet streams, sweet dreams and oceanic salt titanica.
I am murdered and slain. Your darker curiosity. the murder of my mother, you slew her in pregnancy and drew from her my sister, cut Her throat and blinded Her eyes out of spite.
You men. White as cream and dark as your doubt.
You are dead and barely mended.
You hunt and live atop skeletal remains of our solar
father's honored many.
We aren't as easily scorched. We do
Bot hide as maggotry. You pick my body apart fill me with your magnetic filings
inspect me, rub my fat on your small egos. The little you just holding on to your self-absolution.
I AM DEAD AND BREATHING. I will now hunt you for your brains.
I will lick my fingers as i understand
and offer you an honest insult, and no injury.
If you hunt the Holi again, I will not spare your flesh to holy fire.
You will be ash rather than steam bath and health, soft heath hearth.
Wakeup and help yourself to clean up time.
Take a whiff of the filth.
How else did i track you, my precious, my dear?
//**

my heart is no more
it tells me how rotten it is.
Likea beefy tuber Rotten
with wear and sour blood
I'm changing my diet.
It is strange
The thought of eating
Your heart, Spoiled, Stringy
and Sour. It would be
Simmered in a tomato broth
with celery and potatoes
Served with Good chewy bread.
The dish inferior to the bread's
quality. I must cease this diet
of carnivorous voracity.
Eating chemica pinche destetura
quagmires that clog: Can you See NAZI
fooded items? Little whored out children
of cafeteris fare. Barren and peeking
their pink and green at you. Would
You take them home for any excuse
or gusto pure and simple.
Does your heart rot in protest?
Mine does. Death to this Kraft Cheese BOIL, INFECTED BUBO RAT PACK GREASY SMEAR INDUSTRIAL RESIDUE.

How am I to enjoy this whoredom of American Whiskey jack logic?
I eat little caramel confections of wndless nuances?

A Black and White honey bee.

They are to be eaten. These honey nut Cheerios, Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops.
A balancing act. Rue to the paige.
To the Knight, an evening with Pen.
The Pauper, bread and butter and a flagon of your finest Meade.
Oh, T'ej.
I return to my visitor's permit.
This is not my daughter's promise.
I can walk this one myself.
Yeah and I take your bad sugggestions
and THEY WILL be recycled and composted.
And NAW! I Mulch. So you can leave it. get it?

My days are not numbered
by your illlogics. I will be stompin and rain calling
once i step out. Out of this hospital.
MY mush'll be PHAT. My arrows, dartses.
My Meow'll ruffit. Therell be salt in my eye,
and I'll be raw with my Skylines.

FUCK YOU! NOW DIG IT!

*****ser la mosca

 

I sat today inside my room and tossed and turned with the hours i clipped news and magazines perviewing their shreds of time.
I sat on the pot and observed a house fly. As i gained anger and rage at this feeble mosca i heard my friend's echo voice ring in my clear in my head and echo width like sonar in a softened cavern, my ribcage.

A few summers ago, to me Re: a mosquito in my face

"Don't hurt me I'm Sacred"

I laughed, stoned. I've thought of it often.

 

Today I raised my fist to maim the hopusefly

I was his impudent titan executioner

He, Monroe as i named him, bumbled confused.
I released my tyrant reflex and took a good shit and piss.

Over my bowels, the gurgles and the plop, the tinkle and my pain over a hemmeroid, I contemplated pacifism.
Am i to merely practice a meditative awareness of loving kindness as it strikes me ambitious? To learn to navigate the human world with less attachment and find myself free-er thus, or would i take a mini-moment revolutionary stance turning back and forward the gear of my being ladeling my stance with rusted neutrality and find myself oh so rebelliously comfortable with one of god's little denizens.

a fellow punker, like me, a fly named Monroe.

I am sure he is more curious than we find him, our curiosity of him ceases with our ascertainment, of course, of impurities.

And yet i now find myself sharing my room with him.
I look forward to my progression into a peaceful life style, importantly now, because of this fly i have named Monroe.
Outside, i have finally accustomed myself to the presence of crows and their character-being; the pigeon i fight for in recognition of her mythos remains a true true love of mine.
Living in our waster he and she pigeon mind their manners even as they limp with deformed legs, cancerous lumps and toxic debris of which i am sure contain some nuclear byproducts even if it is only a matter of a half of 19 days or so. They speak, these rock doves, in pidgen. Where they hatch, i do not know. I wish to hold some of their chicks. These doves of cliffs and ocean's heaves tide breasts open cave yawns and hollow breathe tiding. The breathe of the ocean. So not dead alive and softened echo of her birth heaves. Moments soft and hard enough to crush the Rock or Arnold Swartzeneggar. Her rocks and her midnight swirls the pools of never..ever..

This fly, Monroe, is my Buddy. He is quiet now, perched somewhere in my room.
I am in the Hospital.
An entertaining Vixen her darker thrusts are far richer than my appeal for food.
I'd prefer a lighter fare.
Here in the hospital I have seen damsels in distress, beyond the lengths and limits of their stresses's diesel ability to quell, charge and howl at me for i entertained their dwindling patience.
Monroe, he buzzez with care.
Drunken on his privelege to be here there anywhere in my cubby hole room, one where they stuff big socks at me.
Perhaps i am like Monroe, to be squished.. or perhaps i am like his cousin - also once larval yet matured - glistening emerald saphire dragonfly (an obvious sign of magic in the world).
These women are not princes nor princess or a madame's weighting, they are darker heaved things and the phone is off the dial, the heat is overcompensated for the lack of breeze to bring my clarity.
release.

There is soup on walls here and yucky corners.

I have laughed at this environment, in consideration of the ironic old moniker most definately not applicable here and now, sanitarium. Where is monrow?

I would like to feel his company.
That Monroe and other certain critters are divided from each other might have maybe bothered me at a time long ago.

Now I am filled for moments of enjoinment, clarity and confidence in my coral choral direction.

My dreams of waking up an angel of Mary in the sweetness of the seas to a soft yet melodically paced and burgeoning symphonic harmonic orchestra privy to those willing and practiced enough to be swept up into an enthusiasm for the song that is the unending creation lullabye, ballad, dirge, rock opera, fado and pop chemic multisynthetic computer bleep software cheep audio herald of hours of ours of jubilation.

If i am to tolerate Monroe and feel myself open and give to a co-operative synthesis of place and time perhaps this mini-milagro of buddhist clerical insight will lead me to further patience, appreciation and openness for the "Monroe-ness" of myself as well as that of others

---> I cannot wait to leave here.
I have 7 more days till i am alloted my leave of here.
So far I have recieved visions of a multitutde of directions for myself and for/concerning the involvement of others in the further/furthering mystery opening its dimensions.
It is deep and i know and believe it is alive.
Monroe is back and now active above me.
He moves so softly. why is it that i would not feel a soft and alloted patient kindness towards this mosca?
He is very sweet, i can tell.

 

Long live la Mosca!

May he and she mosca be able to do their god granted duties in peace and may we enjoy their company.

 


11th-May-2011 03:54 pm - lith-o-gratin cookie, in pluth style.

I am, an Olive Enigma. And Oh! The Vastness of this savage garden has me switching feet, allured to my soul- for real- and its candy coated rain and searching for Nirvana for my creed. Three doors down i find my evanescent childhood fears, an equivical peanut m&m and shady slim to your flaming lips, you are my red hot chilli pepper. You've got me embracing the martian, and sliding on over to you, both day and night. I am in this, super massive black hole, my muse - a cherry poppin daddy. I'll bee dreamin of you, como la flor - and por fin, its a good night, moon.

This has been my Arrested development. I give thanks to Tennessee and mr. Wendell the Wed-Lentil.

 

<3 , captain carmex the ciderella man

 

p.s. eat your fucking cheesecake, roman...

 


23rd-Apr-2011 11:27 am - Your not alone....


 im making it on rowan branches
but no and they are colored, madrone

I will have beads and cord for my adorn-ment
right now, i need new sneakers.
i am deciding whether or not to wear underwear  or just pants
if Im a midnight hustler, can i dance and not be as hateful?

I will wear them, in their liquid
i will know their doors and their zippers, coat jackets.
i have a memo and its more of an art than a note wrote dry
i step out of old husks and cavern shades scales and fins 
and i am collected, my blossoms. red like a tulip
but no i rise read and come to head in white shirt, brown skin.
white shirt, i face my email, a memo.
a new way to do OM
OMMMMMMMMMM

do 
you know that she ends her story with a new begining...

once upon a time... 


and , ho, how to save the world. have you heard?

yes its you and me, honey bear.

and i guess i got to change between sets or something. next up. simple shed.
17th-Jan-2011 05:22 am(no subject)

I haunt tonight. I made a promise. No more crunch and stunch. Nightmares sliding down a slide. It's Wheee for them and I'm happy to see them in the starlight. The aurora the meld like her skirt. The aurora. Borealis. Because this north and that is south this is up and that is down. Her skirts. Auroras. They are now in a dream of their own. The little nightmares. So cute. I am fond of them now. I pushed them GO. and now they are dreams in their own. Right. Own right. Thus is right and that is left. Left left. What you left.

What have you left me? Time. Irreplaceable and creamy than any virgin I have known. And I have know virgins and cream. And milk and honey and suds. My dear,
Is this our bath? You like it hot. Need it hot and that keeps me warm as I'd hate to see you freeze. Wait, no. I'd hate not to see you. And if you freeze I will find you and breathe into you. And return you to core stuff. Heat.
What gets machines going?

Gimmicks and tricks and the world has theirs and we are Saturn and Uranus at a ball astride with Big Neptune Whoa and Pluto is going to town on those houerdurves, homey. Honey. Homey. Honey my homey. Its down. And now the little stars run through the ballroom alive and confused. Smiling.
What is this? Sailor moon? My 6th grade science fair project?
Oh boy.
My earth my hearth. Yes. My ankles are nekkid too. And How! Such coarse description when I'm just sweeping some stuff up. Yep, back to the hearth. Mind your manners you little totoros or illl get my eye on you! Haha.
My mind is sweeping thoughts and lookin cockeyed at them now. Too much sleep too little sleep. What to do what to do.

So I don't know what to do with these days. I find myself being me my dad my mom me earth Angelica and pearly softness and somehow it isn't. Not really because I'm just growing. Up. From life. The soldiers. The dead THE VICTORIOUS the MIA the blood on your shoe and the scars. The old stories I left at bars. The old stories too scared to leave their foxdens. the child their old crumbly cold escapes. With their wrong clothes for the fucking weather.
my friends the floozies and the middlemen smart and smut dumb.
Those ones like lonely porridge. stories.

Enough about them. I stop at you. And tomorrow. Who I'm around. Laughing and crying and makin the best of a royal mess so less messy than I remember.
So ive figured out that if you make it through the Hells the seven deadly sins and the carnage of another's lives you find yourself again. Like you had been in a Really big accident.
Only the accident was you got covered with metric tons of other peoples laundry. And somehow it's also yours. But I've gagged and bit the dust and been through hoops that only crackheads and bag lady's and sick lonely psychiatrists or Jesus! or you could begin to make any clear sense outa. They've seen enough shock treatment and understand the world of words without words describing the fabrics of our lives and our penchant for fear in it's most primal and haunting natures.
Some too scared to look and some too knowing to poke when it ain't there place to poke and others too familiar with the haunt of life that just is. Because sometimes it just is. And that's that I guess:

I laugh like a ladybug and love myself as a black ant should and does. Respecting respecting and always forward and on it goes.
On a daily basis.
I think I'm figuring out how to use a brain and how to furthermore coax it into a harmony of sorts with heart spirit body and soul.

I have a habit of odd formed taboos. Like limbless children with assertive personalities and always looking for their solution. My carnival. The carnie within. The carnie families within.

Honestly I find myself feeling awkward on how to proceed with my life and I begin to want to believe that you, here and now, would solve it all or that it would be "what would work" for what I need and what I want. And I would get going. But I don't. I know you have to find more of yourself and get what you need and what you want right now. And I do to. Only I feel the easiest and truest would be with and through you and us. But that would defeat the magic and grace of what this is and what you mean to me in my life.
It's surreal and endless in it's beauty and depth only to find itself very real and very grounded in the reaches of "meta fabric reality" that is well reality to most if not all of us.

I know it is my time to take the moments as they come and grow more into myself and not let my ability to transform be my jail but rather my catalyst towards freedom and more a life that I can call mine. And love it. For real. And Im still not t playing.

And I balance and am flexible more and more all the while finding further stability in my predicament. I don't have many answers although I have a backlogg of files in my psyche that tells me enuf and sustains me further along my course.

As corny as it sounds it feels like learning to fly too. Like I find less and less ground - as I knew it - below my feet and yet findmyself more and more complete in a free fall but it's not down it's little ups and little downs and mostly up but only kinda sorta. Because my faith grows stronger and I examine things like a Greek scientist only nowadays with what knowledge I have being me and being a nerd and being a dropout.

I feel my way around. I am a blind man with moth wings at my fingertips and I take a long time understand what is and what isn't and how it all connnects. Only this time. My cerebellum is on better relations with the rest of me. Usually it's like a sponge kinda. And soaks it all up. Data data data experience input and its storage and operational facilities.

I think I am growing in my wise and my awareness. Although my awareness is gowing a lot in a lot of litle ways like a child or a whole bunch of children or better yet an extremely multimultifaceted child with careful differences in the texture of his self. And my wise from my toes and beyond is less dirgey and dark but is finding its conjuction softly like it's being raised by my awareness going to town and drinking of life as much as it finds in the now and the big zib bow bow beyond.

I guess in short. Things are looking good but they are slower and evenpaced in it's lasting productivity.
I miss you in your solidity and in your shine: in your glow and how sometimes you are carried to you tip toes by your light even though your bigger than I am.

I miss your boldness and your attentive care. I miss your eyes and your lashes and your spirit that sold me. Your heart that I trust and I knew of with a glance even though I had barely met you.

I trust you body and your blood and your temper and I appreciate your emotions like I cannot describe.
Only our space unfolds and you are more of life than I though it would hold for me.
I trust you and I miss you and I am working things out too.

I'm ready for more real. I'd pop it if I could. But I've found I'm better off learning it and growing into it. Boy. Do you know that last year I felt so very disconnected from the universe as a whole and that the shit I went through had it's hilight in 1 you and 2 me in i and i is as a becoming.

Thank you for our rendesvous. I trust in something and a lot more that you are well.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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