We experiancers sit,

Whispering, waiting,

To observe time as a creation

Breathing and screaming,

Watching as all appointed entertainment

Evaporates into eternity.

Upside Down

Take my arm and I’ll show you a place,

Where green falls from ageless trees and flows into universal lakes.

Where albino whales sing each other fables,

And penguins fly through transdimensional clouds, laughing at their freedom.

Peer through Imagination’s telescope and see a time,

Where the sun sets upside down

And the moon whispers lullabies to nesting doves ,

Sleeping under Father Oak’s tired smile.

A land where voiceless elves speak in unknown tongues,

And guerillas drink tea high atop an ancient mountain

While birds fly in and out of Nothing.

We will have to swim,

Or find some far traveling bird with glorious white feathers,

And fire yellow eyes that burn through the night.

And off we will go, to a place resting behind out thoughts,

A sanctuary where Imagination grows free,

And Life laughs at each new creation.

This morning is cold,

Smoke blows from a tired dogs nose with each heavy breath.

Sniffing the fresh air,

Reading stories from the dead night.

What can you tell me old fellow?

What demons walked this yard last witching hour?

Your eyes say it all,

Open a window deep into your imagination.

Show us old dog,

The world waits for you to speak.

Elephant Graveyard

Hollow souls flout silently down an ancient and eternal river,

Fly across dolphins shrouded in black,

And skeletons of sleeping whales,

All come to one final place, one graveyard.

An aging land, sleeping in heavy mist,

Where some laugh and dance in Eternity’s magik,

But many weep over the past that has slipped away,

Destroyed from the loss of a world which they were left clinging to.

Blind with the belief,

The dogma,

That there is an end,

And following life only comes an empty void,

Not just another dream.

936 Birds Sing Outside my Window

The birds sing, early morning dusk.

Singing, hoping that soon the sun will awake,

Rise and smile on this world.

They don’t believe that in their songs there is the key to waking the world.

They just know that their singing makes it all the more amazing,

And in their singing

They create beauty,

But not for themselves

But for those of us craving a lullaby to wake with the sun.

Shake my Hand Sun

Souls come together

And join each other once again on a tired stage,

Preparing for what will always be their greatest role.

None have chosen their new roles,

Made ignorant of their past,

All believing that what they play is not an act,

Not some show for one observer,

But who they play is who they are,

Not some disguise lost in an illusion of life and death.

The actors begin and the man watching smiles with divinity,

Watches as souls become actors,

And actors become souls all playing the same game,

All unaware that they are nothing more then the smiling man’s infinite imagination,

Played out upon the palm of his hand.

Sun Spot

A lonely island,

Far off and distant,

Surrounded by an ocean of clones,

Giant creations forced to live a life of stumbling perfection.

A sea of plastic waves

Where dogs walk in velvet slippers,

Hurried along by colorless manikins

Whistling the song of monotony.

This island, far and distant,

Still holds strong, waits for the sun to pass into oblivion,

And restless souls to open their eyes towards its shore.

Burning Buddha

Burning in eternal darkness,

It crackles from unknown locations,

Echoes into the past,

Ripples into the future.

A smoking tempest

With a careful, silent eye

Seeing the beauty of its destruction,

Birthed into creations of flame,

Burning off the fuel from their own existence.

42

Think of a world where animals are lighter then air,

And giggling faces swim through the clouds,

Every hour, everyday, flying free.

Streets high above with purple clowns selling psychedelic balloons

To visiting storks and songbirds,

Who only wish a glimpse of this shining city flowing atop ageless clouds.

And far below these clouds,

A town of gray faces clinging to their too dear concrete

And green portraits of fallen leaders,

All to be traded in for the next-newest expense,

Plastic distractions from existence.

Resting with gravity lay fallen sidewalks

Where black tied clowns stand on faceless street corners,

Watching for Bliss,

Hunting her through dark allies and false general electric light,

Chasing her throughout time.

Simply so no child is given the taste of happiness,

And shown the color of their being.

But there is hope for this fallen city,

Some brave purple clown will come to visit,

To sell a dejected soul balloons made from the stars.

And this lost soul will release the balloon’s beauty,

And watch it soar high to their freedom.

This is the pray of black tied clowns,

But their time has almost come to pass,

For that dejected soul has lifted toward the sky,

And others soon begin to look towards the clouds.

A flowing river,

Sitting,

Existing in the center.

The point where all inspiration

Now resides,

And forms herself into beauty.

Giggling Rabbits

Strange rabbits walk down the sidewalk,

With floppy ears and laughing carrots,

Each one hopping along to a new destination,

A new place to sit alone in silence,

Isolated from the world

And the perverted wolves waiting under street lights,

Hungry for self-destruction.

Such odd creatures,

All eager and ready

For a new kind of evolution,

Revolution perhaps.

Their whiskers twitch at the upcoming winds,

New times approach

And all the rabbits have gone mad.

Keep Singing Old Man

Nothing but an old man,

Lost and confused,

Stuck inside a random body

And placed into a time of fear and doubt.

A time in need of a savior,

But he is not their one.,

They are their own saviors.

Finally joined together,

Ready to guide their evolution through the stars.

And the old man sits,

Waiting on a park bench

Outside of time,

Waiting to watch their flight into infinite.

Waking Life

It’s amazing what can be seen behind closed eyes;

Lands full of giant gray beasts,

Strolling alongside ancient rives flowing past eternity.

Times when beautifully divine birds

Paint sunsets with their porcelain feathers

And cold blue mountains rest along the horizon.

It’s amazing what can be seen behind closed eyes,

Unimaginable what they perceive when opened onto life.

Tears in the Aqueduct

Vampires walk down my road at night,

With polyester suits

And alligator suitcases.

They seem to be moving in,

Settling down in this lost valley of once eternal woods,

Removing ancient oaks that have watched this dream

For timeless nights.

Poor things look so disappointed,

As if we failed to stop and listen,

But their wise spirits knew this all along

And their tears melt into time.

Lost in Infinite

The birds are singing my dear,

Singing in the early morning black and white.

It’s the rebirth of eternity,

And all the creatures of imagination

Yawn in anticipation.

Wish you were here my dear,

Wish you could hear my dear,

The lullaby of a new days love.

Wagging Tail

Life’s coil, grabbing hold,

Bringing together enemies and tangled lovers,

Throwing people, infinite and beautiful,

Throwing all creations into one,

One being,

Everything and nothing

Forever a part of

Mothers Smile.

The wind roars behind painted glass,

Bringing forth times of change,

Leaves fall, flowers die

And trees prepare for a dream filled Slumber.

My dog sleeps across the room,

Breathing in quick, wise snorts.

My dog sleeps in the distant corner,

Smiling at the life inside his head.