movement is.

i'm seeing things in frames again. it's beautiful. the city. the trees. the water. the moon.

the last days of the first days of my life.

i'm at a point in my life where change is a constant. not always good change, not always bad. but i've been observant of it. and i feel that i'd finally like to document some of it. for what reason i still really don't know. maybe just to see if i'll actually trick myself into finishing something, or maybe even a few things ..? anyways, in 4 days i'm moving out of the codependent house my family lives in. i'm moving to the peninsula where life is a lot slower paced, or so i think it should be. i'm doing this as i leave a home where my 88 year old grandfather and 86 year old grandmother live, their oldest daughter, my mother lives in the basement. so yeah, i moved home from san diego california fresh off a breakup with a pretty blonde lady and life living in a tent. i moved back into the house i'd lived in two times before. got a job at the a thrift store on the outskirts of the city. i've been realizing that working to get to my days off is a draining way to live. especially when you're working for minimum wage, only because of the excuse you don't want to work in a restaurant anymore. anyway. i got fed up. walked out of my job and decided i'm moving to the peninsula town of port angeles. a small logging town just south of vancouver island on the u.s. side of the strait of juan de fuca. i'd been going out to the peninsula to surf and fish nearly everyday i had off of work. so when things started piling up at home i decided i'd lokk for a place to rent over there. i found a room for rent in a house in west port angeles for 400$ a month. so i'm doing it. but as the day to move gets closer to today things have been changing for myself and the ones around me. and i'm finally writing about it.

mirrors

like a blanketed illusion for a magician eyes
a synopsis for a lifestyle filled with alibis
a diluted form of living drawn for rat like mice
you built the hanger for your backbone hung with fishing line
and to say the least, that's fine by me; for a midnight conversation
toned by plastic teeth and those rabbits pulled from hats - straight to
their dying breed, they licked their chops and died alone from all the
poisoned tea.

it all gets lost.

the motion of everything tangable in an untangable world of dreams

my mood. somber like morning yet sharp like a fresh cup of black coffee.
my feet. they're uprooted from this lonely world like old broken fence posts.
my soul. tattered as torn sheets on a laundry line.
my heart. it reads blue, black and red.
my eyes. they're as open as every book they've never laid eyes on.
and me. i'm just dancing in the shadows of these oh so manufactured lifestyles with these silk skinned bony fingers transcribing my thoughts on plastic keys to this oh so hectic world.

the pulse of this dancing city

imagination station.
a park bench and some autumn wind.
wet pebbled concrete.
yellow taxi cabs.
the last pedals of a late summer rose ground into the sidewalk.
aluminum street lights flickering in a gray sky.
large medal green dumpsters surrounded by lakes of urine and malt liquor bottles.
business class heels an black umbrella and a hounds tooth jacket.
sewer caps steaming.
pink and blue neon.
bird shit.
flags.
and the pulse of this dancing city.

do wah diddy, diddy DUMB diddy DOOO!

hey! you ever think how fucked up it is that pretty much every single thing that can be exploited in the world.. is exploited? it's a carnival life and we're all the clowns... all for money, power, religion and the reddest lips from kool-aid?? and the funny thing is that when you die - you die. all your shit, materials, belief systems, clubs, ignorance, etc... that shit just hangs, it rots and the world get's more fucked as more folks chase the flashing lights. and you... you're dead. no one gives a shit about it except for your groupies... because the world, the birds, fish, even your so called friend commerce. it all keeps moving. climbing up the ladder never really matters unless you're doing something positive and real. and good show on those positive types the ones trying to keep mama nature "life's mama".

so chill out with the hamster wheel lifestyles and watch children be. or watch a bird fly around. especially in a city. a birds just trying to survive. watch them. not that shit on CBS. a crow is a Survivor. you'll learn some shit. they don't know shit about life. they just live. until you give them shit. same for little kids.

anyway. be nice to one another, create your own ideas, art, love and share the shit for free. don't hold shit over peoples heads and just be rad. seriously. go see some shit that people have to share for free. it's rad. jump out of your cages and throw your clam shells back into the ocean. the natives had it all right before the white folk came here and fucked it all up. money, power, religion and the reddest lips from kool-aid. come on kids. we're better than all of this jazz.

untitled

my soul is cleansed like a native baptism in the water of this northwestern coastline.
a breath away from societies commercialism's, i bob like a seal in the swell traveled westerly.

my mind bleeds towards the eagles above me, soaring with noble grace like natures watchmen.
moon hovering above the distant eastern cascading mountain tops.

i am one with it all. alive and innocent. something so far away from our everyday everything's.

yet this blessing only realized once returned to my home in this modern metropolis.
so far away from the northwestern coastlines. so far away from the breath of natures near untainted everything.