[jotted notes of a recent dream]

traveled across country.
{west coast to the woods in michigan}
found all my friends.
stuck in a cabin with all of them.
military locks us inside. telling us to wait.
its snowy and cold outside.
everyone is panicking.
{i'm strangely quiet}
no one knows whats going on.
their personalities are melting.
some go berserk/they're shot down.
i just watch everyone.
days are passing. the sky is red.
someone escaped.
they come running back in screaming "ITS WAR!"
everyone looks out at the horizon.
the sun is rising with a stream of 10 mushroom clouds.
everyone just stares.
"well that's it. its the apocalypse."
they all just lie down on their faces.
no one cared anymore at this point
I'm still just standing there, shocked.
then all goes white.

something i wrote awile ago that im sharing wtih someone who reads this

its not well written i think. but yeah. sally this what i wrote that we talked about last night:

Jul. 13th, 2008 | 06:30 pm

i'm not going to be one of those people that "grows up". to me its always been one of those things where once people accept adulthood they seem to lose a part of themselves that leaves them seem so defined or serious. i'm not saying all "adults" are like this. its just anything that anyone does that's considered mature or grown up lacks an open field of creativity. its always been something that scares me. that whole aspect of life where by a certain age you have to become a certain way in order for to be taken seriously or have things work out a certain way. it scares me and disgusts me. its something i've personally vowed to never become.
one thing is I've always said was: "i'm going to be a kid foreva!"...and the needle point of this realization is is that i really cant. i no longer have that wonderment and amazement that i had as a kid. i'm not as ignorant[the good sort of ignorant] i've learned and know tings now. i dont see things at all like i use too. the only thing that would make me a kid is my "childish" behavior. but the more i think or feel this i realize there's more to being a kid than behavior. it is the way you see or think about things. things look and feel or seem different.
so i act like a kid but i'm not a kid. im at the age of an adult but i'm in no way what one would usually consider an adult...where does that leave me? because lately i don't feel solid on anything and my view on how i should be or act has been greatly distorted. the closet thing you could say is "somewhere in the between of adulthood and childism"...but i'm really not. i feel like im just sort of chillin in this more unknown zone where i try to keep the ideals of a child strong in my head but act on my own accord that to some may just seem like an immature asshole with the tendency of seriousness. i don't even know how to end this. but all i know is im not an adult and not really a child and i would prefer people on both ends leave me alone on how i should be...

121508913-
my issue with reading poetry now n days is that it all feels shallow. not honest. people taking fancy words and placing them around in the idea of art. but less honest. it feels like their goal is the image of it. not what they're actually trying to say. trying to sound beautiful rather than try being what it actually is.
i might be completely fucking wrong but it's all a matter of perspective now aint it?

my theory on the birth of poetry

there was someone who was crazy and insane beyond belief.
while they wandered around aimlessly they spat out what at the time wouldve been a mass amount of nonsense.
but one day an artist heard the crazy person. was whoa'd by what he heard.
so he decided to try writing the same things he did. and copies the crazy person.

and from there. it kinda went its own way.
thats my theory.
i dont give no shit what any book tells me otherwise.

the thing about life's repetitive quirks is that it always ends the same or in similar ways.
the thing about myself is i usually try to tell those scenarios to go fuck it.
the thing about those scenarios is they don't listen at all.
the thing about that tho is i spose that could be full circle right?
or at least that's what i tell myself.


and the sadder thing. is how those quirks seem to scroll over onto people.
and near the end of whatever. the person tells you something about change.
then bam the circle starts over and same shit was done and it's never really
different cept for the time and date. and when has that ever fuckin mattered.

espy sat with me today. we talked about things. he scribbled most of it down. i just wanted to ride my bike. espy drank 4 cups of coffee and 8 cups of tea to counter the coffee. he made 10 bathroom trips and smoked his entire pack of cigarettes. i payed attention to everyone walking outside. everything about them felt distorted. faces, tones of voice, movement. the sky pulsed brightness. i basked in it. it was wonderful. espy observed everyone else but saw things i didn't see. or that's how it seemed with him scribbling away in his worn down moleskin notebook.
we sat in silence after awhile. it was just a moment of company. nothing needed to be said. we both new it and went with it. he gave me the rest of his last cup of tea and decided to leave. he looked upset.
"too much on my mind like always" he spoke in a calm voice, "see you later..."
he walked away and vanished under the shade of a tree. i was tired. i wanted to sleep. everything felt swirly. the shade blended beautifully into the light. i was in the center of it all. a hole of shaded light. and whirlpool of sunshine quieting to a whisper.
everyone, everything vanished. it was just me. i heard espy yell for me to move on. it was a good idea. i got up. i fell asleep. everything changed. i woke up new. i woke up somewhere new.

"where was i?"

my life was crammed into a single bag, following me close n tight where ever i went.
I'd adventure to random curbs and benches and cafes. sit for a spell, thinking to myself.
about the things outside that never really occurred. I'd tell myself stories while munching
on some bread. drinking a tea, jones soda, or nos. watching everything till i got tired or bored of it.
get back up. walked away. another day dead...
----------------------------------------------------------------

i wandered city streets where gravel and metal structures of buildings stretched out and rearranged
themselves pointing down. the sun was sitting curved,it's back to the world staring off into space.
the air was fighting with the dirt and the dirt didn't let go. the people were causing a commotion
over the disruption of a sidewalk. and the lights were playing games with everything else in any way they could.
i payed attention to all of it. everything.
an old friend once told me i focused too much on my surroundings. maybe he was right.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
my skin fell apart to flecks of golden rays, converting my throat to a serpents tongue.
i killed my humanity in terms of ages i had lost a long time ago.
i am a statue of personal failures considered success.
watch me sink. as the world continues to soar.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
there was a myth to everything. i was witnessing my life from someone elses perspective.
just watching thru the eyes going thru the motion. my voice just comes out. my hands just move.
i just walk and peddle and move about. it all felt like a story with no plot, climax, or points
of interest. just interesting points of troding along with something neat to do.
i wasn't myself. i was just a witness waiting to close the book. just a bystander in the body
of the person im watching. that's all.

my life was turning into curdling water stuck between the holes of a drain. only drops of me passing thru. my voice was shot. my brain, so confused. I'm waking into that same daydream every night of this slow life. my skin felt sterilized. my bones, stuck in that meditating position. waiting for my breathe to bring some questions back into my answers, so i can fill that missing beat in my chest
and rest well when i can finally sleep.

the 1st two are zen stories i found on the website that is linked after them.
the 3rd piece is something i just wrote. enjoy.

========================================

===
The emperor, who was a devout Buddhist, invited a great Zen master to the Palace in order to ask him questions about Buddhism.

"What is the highest truth of the holy Buddhist doctrine?" the emperor inquired.

"Vast emptiness... and not a trace of holiness," the master replied.

"If there is no holiness," the emperor said, "then who or what are you?"

"I do not know," the master replied.
===========================================

One day Chuang Tzu and a friend were walking by a river.

"Look at the fish swimming about," said Chuang Tzu, "They are really enjoying themselves."

"You are not a fish," replied the friend, "So you can't truly know that they are enjoying themselves."

"You are not me," said Chuang Tzu. "So how do you know that I do not know that the fish are enjoying themselves?"
===========================================
http://goto.bilkent.edu.tr/gunes/ZEN/zenstories.htm
===========================================

i feel like at times I've discovered a certain level of truth. a way to liberate my mind on my own terms. my personal enlightenment. tho it grows as ivy on the
edges of my mind. hard to grasp. see. touch. feel. but i know it. it's there. I've seen it many times before and i know what it is. it holds hands with other
ideas. other philosophies leaves growing into my roots. it's all me. its my own form of peace i feel when they emit a dim light. i don't know if I'll ever
reach the point of holding it close. but when i crack apart. it comes about and makes me limp along a little further. it may not be perfect truth. but it's mine.
it makes sense to me. and when i can feel it. I've never smiled harder.

zen. universe. god. demon. creator. destroyer. philosopher. ignorance. chaos. peace.
swipe them off the plate clean. replace it with me. i fill my own void.

some days i was stuck to my ceiling. and everything id rather not have follow, always seem to anyways.
sitting and building up here taking all the room and making me feel more stuck. bored. and sometimes
like an inanimate object. i saw old crumpled notes to friends and withered books swim past
me conversing about their content. i was still stuck. i saw old clothes of mine jump out the
window together, running away, claiming they loved each other. i was still stuck.
i watched everyone below me go about their lives doing things they usually did and went their way.
i tried calling out to them a few times. but my voice decided to swim away with the passing notes and books.
i was still stuck. i came to terms with it. still stuck.
tried making a life of it. still stuck. then one day i fell...and was stuck to the floor. it was alright.
everything just felt upside down tho.

god came to me many times in my day. asking me over and over to come back with him like the "good ol' days". every time i would reply,"no I'm done with you".
and then on one day, like any other time he'd come to me
he offered something new,
"my 'son', i could offer you a world of beauty, a world of endless possibilities, i could offer you riches of the mind and profit, i could offer you anything you wanted and you wouldn't have to fight for it..."
"whats the catch?" i asked skeptically
and with a dagger always hiding behind his cloak
he replied
"i just need to take your dreams"

random thoughts/sentences

my idea of time has been heavily distorted. what felt like 2 days has been 12 hours and i dont remember sleeping.

life to me is a completely fluid possibility of anything and nothing. and i mean that to its fullest extent. there could be a real life manbearpig that ate god and puked out a universe for all i know.
or its just what we see. i dont know. anything is possible.

every style of music i've gotten into as of late is considered dead. riddled with assholes and serious people who took the fun away. i want to be the person to zombifies it. make it walk the night and eat the brains of the assholes and the people who let it died and have them shut the fuck up.

i currently cant breathe out of my nose and everything smells like boogers.

the last 5 years of my life have been heavily echoing in my head. im not proud. i feel secretly embaressed as i try to not feel overwhelmingly stupid about some things i use to think were important. they should be lessons. on ways to in my own perspective. better myself.

i hate talking and acting in the idea of right or wrong, perfection and flaws. its hard to kick some old habits tho.

i feel hopeless and still laugh. to me thats how i should treat life and all its little tragedies. laugh at it. laugh at every problem and issue of myself and everyone else. even if its a weak sad pathetic laugh just laugh. smile. and try to move the fuck on.

i'll read any book that interests me within a day or two. if it's not neat i'll read till it feels like my eyes are bleeding which usually only takes an hour or two. which you know. could feel like half a day to me.

that's all.

echoe

so many things echo(echo(cho(coh(diferently(ecoriffently(echo(riffently(than(an(how(ow
(itsomet(tsomet(imes(imes(imessounds(souds
in my head....

112508

there was something shaking hard. nothing visible. just was. i felt more jumbled. more confused.
just wake up. that's what i need. to just wake up.
people were getting fuzzier. weirder. different. they seem to be losing focus in my head in my eyes.
we were all inconsistent now. great. just great.
it's all still shaking.
"wake up james" my voice tells me. am i really dreaming tho?
"wake up jaaaaaaaaames" my voice repeats.

i feel like im flashing. like my eyes inside my head are flickering on and off. trying to open themselves.
im falling down. everything is still shaking. i feel exhausted.
"wake up"
its all a bit more faint. a bit more quiet. calmer. i think i feel my eyes stopping. im not where/who/what/why/when i seem. they all fit at this point.
its coming clear again minus the details. people are still fuzzy. everything is still weirder than what i thought it would be.
my heart is out of beat. out paced. my eyes are starting to feel like a resting humming bird.

"wake up"
"i am"
-------------------------------------------------------------------

i woke up in the form of an ironic laugh. i was heard everywhere i went far and wide.
not even the biggest hands covering ears could block me out now.
i was going fast. loud. ecstatic. happy. the world felt faster. everything seemed sad until i came in. i was the echoing dance insulting the world of seriousness. i was color. they were all black and white. i sucked people in my vacuum. they were building me up. i gave them life. color.
for a second nothing could stop me. you couldn't stop sound like this i thought.

then...somehow, i hiccuped. which caused a snapping like feeling that could only be described
like a snap of a rubber band. i shot back, fast, hard, painfully. people exploded back to where
they were. color leaked away. things started to feel slow again. became quieter. duller.

by the time i was back i woke up fairly normal. only a little bit disarranged.
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so one day i turn all my friends to marbles and put them in a little pouch. i carried it around with my everywhere and played with them every chance i had. i didnt know how they felt about this, but i assumed at the fact whenever my mind wandered theyd try to roll away they did not enjoy themselves.

so i then decided to trad them to a bunch of alley cats for their eyes. the cats had more fun with them then what i did and i had a whole collection of neat perspectives to look thru.

were there any repercussions? not at all.

well maybe the fact i didnt have friends anymore.
-----------------------------------------------------------

the Buddha allowed me to call him by his secret name. we debated the existence of tea. he sat in peace i sat in a flurry. mutal decision to relax and breath. he became the world. i became my mind. he grew and expanded knowledge, i shrunk into myself, i existed in my world, he existed in THE world. we both vanished into our respective spots. our tea went cold. time grew.
he came back a wiser older man.
i only came back slightly nutty....nothing was ever the same again.

END

7

somewhere deep inside my brain i get the feeling that i am a key part of the apocolypse....


that would be fun.

5

a man once told me about how slinging
words of figure 8's no longer hold an
authentic feel.

"you can only build kingdoms
so high on simple words
before the foundation
starts to snap"

we were hit by a sand storm
from off the distance.
flecks of rubble found its
way onto my tongue.

all around me
cities fell.

words meant nothing.

2

i sleep in my clothes
all the time

one morning i wake up
and wander over to
the store

the worker notices me in
the same clothes
and asks me if i got lucky
last night with a cocky
grin

i put down a can of drink
and pulled out two dollars
and told him "yeah i did,
i found two dollars on the
ground last night"

payed for the drink
and went on my merryish
way.

1

there was once a sage
who started his day
peeling off the cracked
dull words he spoke
so many years before this day.

the times were changing
he'd tell himself.
but he knew his time was
just about up.

he didn't bother packing his
things. he just got up
and headed across the lands
and fields, climbing hills,
walked thru a few village streets
until he reached a far isolated
field. with a single tree.

he settled himself down and
positioned himself in full lotus
position. meditating. breathing
what he knew to be his last
few breathes.

time passed as it normally did
for what felt like years.

the sage finally found his last moment
of peace tho.

until next time,
he whispered.

with a sudden flash, his flesh left
him and he was left as a single
statue under a tree...