soul rest, mind float,
was a dream. a groove
in the universe’s flow.
mistake forgotten and sometimes
feels so sad, the pain of heart,
scars of youth, up close. then,
then one gets old. then has to go.
create distance with the past-
to find space.


paper or plastic.

paper or plastic.

makes one
off into hopes
and planets, revolving
around a
universe bleeding transparent
dreams had
while traveling
in rem, undoing
the errors of
an imagined delusion. history
the gun, the bullet, and
the blood of
innocence shed. faith
extinct for political

one wander
off to see
the phoniness of

the plastics and synthetic
fabric of
to pledge unallegiance to
a burnt out
social contract
and a melting divine
while wisdom whispers
secrets of suicide
into its
prophets, praying
to distant stars
for patience,
awaiting paradise
on mountain tops,
deep in

makes one wonder.
helps one wander off.




lost ago, along an ancient
time when man was just an image of an imagination,
breathing an empty idea, floating
as a bubble, waiting to be popped-

big bang.

creation seemed to float out of
the sea, grew legs, and began to
wander the earth in search of a
place to float, and rest its bones.

how did time begin, and who was
there to record the moment of the flash
when consciousness awoke, and whispered
into our dreams, “that nightmares aren’t worth living”?

it’s easy to get mad at all the logic,
keeping everything in check- all of the social
norms, and all the walls that people
have built up, while in the company of “friends”.

everyone forgot about the accident,
and started to believe that they belonged
here, and started calling buildings
homes, and other specimens one’s family.

but it was just a horrible accident that happened long ago.

a big bang, big bang, bang bang, bang bang, long
a big bang, big bang, bang bang, bang bang, long
a big bang, big bang, bang bang, bang bang, long


little boys’ schemes.

little boys’ schemes.

man and his god. prophecy.

god sends messengers who fall in love with the hedonism,
so they never return.
god turns displeased.
sends down his son- inri, who then goes lost till the age of xxxii.
sacrifice the son to save the soul,
and all the sheep then get in line to drink from a fountain of poison-
a disease that ends corrupting thinking.
god witnesses man become violent.
this new religion blinded our vision.

man becomes virus and parasite.

spreading through universes in digital form-
this is man’s revolt.

man whispers to christ, “how does it feel to be dead?”-
     the missing link to oedipus.
man offers god a final kiss.
man pronounces that,
“god is dead.”
god withers into thought-

a feeling that one has and so now
god has been dead for about 150 years or so (ask
     zarathustra), but man still continues
hours of prayer and offers “him” the victims of war.
but a new hour approaches and whispers, “the god of
     man, which was a man is dead,
but a new god of energy being is quickly evolving-

approaching through dreams.”

man and his monkey. philosophy.

will be mystery waiting for the rest of humanity to catch
     on, keep up with the directions,
many of which will require special instruction. hope or
     pray, depending on my mood, that society
will be up for it. may take a couple of centuries for
     anybody to really be
able to speak freely, but who will be there listening
     amongst the heretics and skeptics,
the leftists speaking politics? existentialists and
     absurdists debating free will and psychology,
the suspense and tension are killing. will humanity
     really evolve? is there anywhere
to go? will just have to be mystery waiting for the rest
     of humanity.

man and his superego. psychology.

     since genesis 3:6, humanity has been destined to failure or so the west whispered while i lay dormant in xalisco, but i don’t harbor any hurt feelings. don’t harbor anything. i’m just here in passing. just here passing by.