nude

you were on a
man handled carriage
studded with glimmering gold
shining like a sun
solemn in peace as i become
filled with the rooting vegetation of any
of the men that stare at you, blinding me,
staring at
the sun.
i,
causing the eclipse, you force your eyes to me.
you are a decoration for the populace
like a toy that comes
to life when people are away.
all there is
is to be
your away.
you stand in front of them all, clothed in
extravagant jade and silk,
face powdered by the inclination to let people use
their imagination -
a defense tactic.
you throw off your clothes,
completely
nude,
skin blue
with cold,
leaving wonder for all those people right
there crumpled on the wooden ancient
floor as you sprint away from it
and it's jade and silk shadows.
as you sneak around the corner, there is he, sitting,
blinded by you, the sun,
admiring the new wonders in darkness which
shroud over his eyes,
you burn through all his senses as you stand in
front of him, existing.
tears, the new sense, he resurfaces like a
baby bird hatching from an egg,
crying for help with confusion and fear as he slowly learns
what it feels like to feel.
as you take his prehensile hand,
the long prehensile souls
of two
collections of particles
and pixels on a page like the leaves
to the trees and the
trees to the forest,
feel the void of the universe being
stretched, filled up with the pressure of infinite
mathematical paradoxes as love contradicts physics.

Fri, Mar 28, 2008  Permanent link

anti-matter

I remember.
I remember pacing around my room
interrogating you like a
suited lawyer interrogates a
guilty suspect sitting on that podium.


you.
you converse with the guilty, who are like you -
suddenly
mute.
I remember pontificating on the
stage of my room, on that
isolated, childhood
soapbox.
no longer am
i afraid of the ghosts
that swim all around
lighting up my room, yet
they are still there.
You were the brightest one
of all, taking their light
away form them, yet you say
you give it all to them.
you lair,
you
homunculus.
You are an anti-matter
photon, which, coming in
contact with regular photons,
explodes bright light but in
essence you are not
darkness but
emitting
anti-
light.
you can fade out of reality
with, eventually, everything
else as i discover reality to be
anti-reality.

I.
I, raise my head to you
realizing through all the
searching, that nothing in
the world makes any
god damn sense.
as my final repose
I ask you, solemn and
blank, being open,
if the opposite of
reality is chaotic interpretation, or
is it really
thinking
that you live in a realistic world,
while you have
no idea what
any of that means?
because,
what is reality,
but being completely grounded
and gratified?
in that world,
our world,
interpretation would do nothing
and if it touched our world,
this world,
matter would collide with anti-matter
with explosions and
anti-explosions.




with no answer from you, which i have
never had,
I grovel on the floor.

"dear lord, most high, non existent:
thank you for this world
which also does not
exist."

Fri, Mar 28, 2008  Permanent link

heaven

my vision slowly faded into an
overwhelming white
glow.
at the gates of heaven,
only the weak survive.
and i was never ready to die
ever.
God was standing in front of me
he was dressed in army garb
that had very obviously never been
through much.
he quickly apologized for everything -
i smiled and he looked relieved.
he said he
never meant it to
be like
how it is
and there was nothing he could do about it.
he said he's not as
big as people made him (out to be)
and that he's actually
a decent guy
who is just a little lonely
and never got the right attention
for what he actually was.

I looked up very
quickly, with youthful curiosity, and
I asked him what he
actually was.

There was a slight, awkward pause
and we both had a pretty hardy
laugh.


The question of what to ask of
him, is a pretty vastly addressed
inquiry, but i stumbled
out ever so
humanly:

"uh, God? Lord? Jesus?
what's the...

most repeated
sentence
in the universe?"

he sighed through his nose
and looked at me very gravely.
his mouth opened loosely and he timidly
directed his vision to the ground,
"are you oka—"
he cut me
off:



"I love you.




"I love you
is the most repeated sentence
in the universe,
my
son."

Fri, Mar 28, 2008  Permanent link