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Wander Coalition

Clouds can be slip­pery.
Thin ice may break.
Stay nim­ble on nim­bus.
Tie up your skates.

12.7.10

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Sea­sons bless­ing.
Rea­son. Guess­ing.
Need­ing means to keep pro­gress­ing.
Seems a dream is being tested.
Rea­son to believe, reach­ing per­cep­tively, leads to means to breathe successfully.

10.29.10

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Even so.
Im breath­ing so.
Shan’t need to heave just seem to glow.
Too much bass to think.

10.29.10

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Breath­ing fast while breath­ing lasts with grief achiev­ing con­scious paths read­ing into evil wrath with seem­ingly secret thiev­ing laughs.

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Trav­el­ing. Lost. Reach­ing and dream­ing. Absorbed in kind­ness. Reformed by the mind­less. The mess that leads to thought real­iz­ing. Expres­sion of the weav­ing. The wind­ing. Divid­ing. The bind­ing. A sys­tem of action in a field of reac­tion. Curl­ing. Dip­ping. Fin­gers grip­ping the moons of past while lift­ing our eyes to the stars from the grass and even close to our even flows we feed the warmth up through our toes.

11.17.10

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Dis­tance real­ness so close I can feel it. Breath­ing objec­tions laced with themes. So appeal­ing. Some­times I sit. Other times I stand. All the time my mind is where I flood it down out through my hand. Infect­ing soci­ety with the abstract. Dis­tract­ing weary eyes with fas­ci­na­tion. Inten­tion lies in con­tem­pla­tion. Per­haps a gib­ber­ish cycle aint means for sur­vival. But maybe it lives in us all and were fight­ing. The will to see our world ignit­ing. The will to embrace all the beauty dis­graced by a world that fights love with souls so afraid. Beings trapped in fear. Com­mu­nal sui­cide. Los­ing hope. Choos­ing sides. Believ­ing hate. Deny­ing the ride. I won­der how many wake up to escape. If daily thought evac­u­a­tion is ther­apy for all twisted nerve end­ings. We are bril­liant. Still we’re filled with appre­hen­sion by soci­etal con­ven­tions. Served a plate of think con­ve­niently. Con­ve­nience is poi­son. We can avoid the por­tion maybe if we all join forces maybe if we all run towards it. We can embrace the extrav­a­gant, and flood the skies with passion.

11.17.10

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Cross­roads. All that we know is all we know already. Change is upon us. We can under­stand only wear­ing wheels of motion. Our devo­tion to the sky is waver­ing. Com­mo­tion in our eyes won’t let the dark inside us die. Per­haps we are built to seek and never find. Designed to live. Designed to ride. There is no door. There is no finale. If we have truly lived we will never truly die. Bruised by the mad world. Bleed­ing time. Believ­ing our­selves. We all can wake up. The shine is sun­light. We are all in one fight.

11.17.10

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We can feel the life beneath us. The crawl­ing world. The rid­ing tides that speak through moons and arrive in our skies. A feel­ing of safety. With grass in our toes. A com­fort­ing breeze in our ears and our nose. A beauty so uplift­ing our chest could explode. So awoken those sleep­ing can still see the road.

11.17.10

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Funky homosapi­ens rap­ing brain awak­en­ings. Hap­pen­ings com­pletely false with thoughts that snatch our rea­sons off. Moments trapped in feel­ings lost. Even in and even out with clouded shrouds and evening sauce. Boss of trick­ing boss of trade with sev­ered junkies over­paid. Dis­gust­ing actions mixed reac­tions div­ing ris­ing sat­is­fac­tion. Per­haps its dol­lars rip­ping gen­tly in a head where steam is vent­ing. Relent­ing plays relent­ing days invent­ing ways to sim­ply stay.

12.13.10

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Breed­ing anger read­ing, hang­ing, see­ing noth­ing, falling, dan­gling, over­look­ing, under think­ing, thum­b­less pick­ing drip­ping madly, sadly find­ing evil pat­terns, wake to won­der, under panic, over tragic dreams were hav­ing, search dis­cover, leav­ing, traf­fic, sola­mente, psychosomatic.

12.13.10

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Divide and con­quer. Going bonkers. Crazi­ness inside my process. Legs and feet inside my dock­ers. Pen and paper brain uncon­scious. Lost is fad­ing lost is find­ing. Lost but wrapped with minds for bind­ing. Stear for pas­sion jump for joy. Kneel­ing left to altar boys. Run and walk some­where between. Appear obscene heal fear and leave.

12.13.10

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The roller­coaster is host­ing jok­ers.
Pas­sion. Grief. Respect and admi­ra­tion.
Hope­ful wish­ing. United souls. Divided broth­ers.
Up and down. With tears of love bend­ing down to float above.
Feel­ings of fail­ure in a trial of striv­ing,
laugh­ing and cry­ing, falling and rising.

My brother can’t speak.
My brother still reaches.
My brother is weak.
My brother still reaches.

12.20.10

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Together by sea­son.
United by region.
A trial of pas­sion.
That lacked sat­is­fac­tion.
Once was for­ever.
A bro­ken endeavor.
Two lives col­lid­ing gen­tly.
Two lives aris­ing empty.
So it seems so doomed.
By the heart shaped bal­loon.
The vision is out west.
Or so coal­li­sion would suggest.

12.20.10

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Evil think­ing spir­its sink­ing feel­ing sober need­ing drink­ing. Need or want I bleed dis­gust. Vices pend­ing appre­hend­ing thoughts that send my brain for lend­ing. Eyes and ears and love and fear, sense­less act­ing lacks retract­ing. Con­trol­ling now enjoy­ing then, dis­tracted man one five plus ten.

12.20.10

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Severe is near.
Its clear it is.
Reach­ing out makes arms lose wrists.

12.20.10

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Blessed and depressed with a hole in the chest.
The eyes see blue when the clouds wear gray.
Crazi­ness splits us into an abyss with a fero­cious rip that needs a seam­stress.
Per­haps its believ­ing we ever could be.
Per­pet­u­ally lov­ing with clouds on our feet.

12.26.10

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Rid­dle rob­bery solid slop­pily.
Wicked mis­chief exe­cu­tion aston­ish­ing.
Con­stant for­got­ten.
Lost. Feel­ing rot­ten.
Wis­dom blocked by the not forgotronics.

1.6.11

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Asked me to stay.
But the night turned to day.
Asked me to leave.
But I stayed on the tree.
Why not both?
Bread and toast.
Feel­ing so free.
More free than most.

1.8.11

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They say its not legal but peo­ple are evil.
Invaded by ter­ror and thought­less pro­ce­dure.
Gun­shots from fever with necks under cleavers.
Reliev­ing our senses from dream­ing believ­ers.
Mis­judged by our being with poi­so­nous feel­ings.
Deci­sion to neglect embrac­ing the mad­ness.
Hate­ful advances towards steal­ing our chances.

1.12.11

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Leap­ing for affec­tion and float­ing on tran­quil­ity.
Neglect­ing imper­fec­tions and ignor­ing our fragility.
Chas­ing clouds for walk­ing fac­ing voices in us talk­ing.
Pas­sion over rea­son never skip­ping lov­ing season.

9.4.11

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Police with shat­tered eyes sav­ing grace through bat­tered limbs fak­ing aim embrac­ing sins com­pen­sat­ing pain within. Hate por­trayed around as a wave no longer found but with igno­rance and fear our chil­dren learn to live oppres­sion. Learn to walk regres­sion drift away from intro­spec­tion choos­ing now above pro­gres­sion. A les­son we all need is that soci­eties a thief steal­ing thoughts that are so free to give us hooves to walk like sheep.

9.4.11

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I’ve got time.
I’ve got no time.
Dreams I thought I had I just can’t find.
I’ve got no time.
I’ve got time.
Breath­ing just to keep my world alive.
I’ve got time.
I can’t rewind.
Most alive each time I lose my mind.
In my time.
Along my ride.
Find­ing every rea­son to sur­vive.
It mul­ti­plies.
Within my mind.
Dark­ness traps the light inside the skies.
Reach­ing out to find the souls like mine.

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Wide eyed to wan­der.
The brains first respon­der.
The feet that react cause in time we pro­vide a mis­sion for walk­ing out­side of the lines.
Reflec­tion exter­nal.
Embrac­ing noc­tur­nal.
Avoid­ing all sleep cause I don’t need much time if a sec­ond of dream­ing leaves sto­ries behind.

10.28.11

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Ground con­trol is crossed.
Air con­trols are lost.

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A thiev­ing free­dom rea­son is it seems we all just need it.

6.29.10

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Free­dom magic.
Bleed­ing tragic.
Read­ing leads to heav­ing spasms.
Rea­son being: dreams we’re hav­ing.
Cre­ation minds are weav­ing havoc.
Sense­less times of laugh­ing madly.
Seems so tragic.
Breath­ing magic.
Leads to rea­son, beauty’s path­way.
We must use it while we have it.

4.28.10

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Crazy notes for crazy folks bleed­ing lovely breath­ing jokes.

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We have to save our­selves.
We need some­one to show us the way.

8.24.10

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Mem­ory is dipped in action.
Reac­tion is mar­ried to passion.

6.29.10

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In the cold of new restric­tions.
Elab­o­rate schemes and con­tra­dic­tions.
Writ­ing ses­sions left with lessons.
Won­der­ment inscribes a mes­sage.
It seems the char­coal gray is blue.
It seems the moon shines right at you.
Although I ran and swung from ropes.
I’m happy to leap with para­chute hopes.

8.24.10

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Drunk and misty evening twist­ing. Rise and fall with spir­its lift­ing. Eyes that shine through tilted lids. With thoughts and talk we thought we hid. A great release erad­i­cates the wor­ried mind of scat­tered faith.

8.24.10

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Post­pon­ing moments that float through the ocean.
Faith­less dives with groov­ing motions.
Face­less eyes with spir­its bro­ken.
Wait­ing for the per­fect moment.

8.24.10

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Lost but found, in these dreams of my wake.
It seems I am lifted, with each breath I take.
Hon­est and pure sen­sa­tion.
Just another rev­e­la­tion.
Descended upon me, freely as the sun.
Awake together, all as one.

Once again full of wonder.

9.9.10
bs and me

-

A dive. A lift. A choice. A gift.
A breath we take. That seems to make.
A rea­son link to every shift.
Every shake. A spark. An ache.
Foot­steps.
Tip toe the stairs.
Rea­son being. Evening wear.
On then off. A blink. A stare.
In then out. A dream com­pared.
Cloud backs rest on the dreamshake boat.
Rea­son being. We made us float.

2.2.10

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Over things that dive through branches.
Leav­ing reeds like avalanches.
Breath­ing seems a clear advan­tage.
Or else our dream is just fan­tas­tic.
It seems we can’t just see our actions.
And read into the need­less act­ing.
I don’t know. Just play­ing the game.

-

If twenty four were twenty four hun­dred shit would be way eas­ier.
But what is easy if there is no stop­ping.
The work will never stop.
Its a good thing to be raised with a paint­brush in hand.
Born to reach inside minds with the cap­ti­va­tion fingers.

6.21.10

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Rea­son being.
Every­thing.
We are thiev­ing ways to be.
A team of hea­thens breath­ing sweetly.
Breath­ing easy.
Liv­ing freely.
Voices speak­ing dreams and rea­son.
Rea­son being.
Everything.

4.15.10

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To sleep and dream.
Hope to dream ela­tion.
Wake up more awake.

8.8.10

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Take the high­way,
To the breath­ing region.
In need of other means of thiev­ing,
Brains to make my rea­son even.

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Free­dom of rea­son.
Free­dom of being.
Free­dom believ­ing the rea­son I’m breathing’s to reach into you and feed on your feelings.

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Its sim­ply a cat­a­log. My hands are just try­ing to explain it to my eyes. This net­work hasn’t given me too much trou­ble over the years. So I feel that Ill come round. Just look for the man with the mus­tache smile. And every­thing will be even more okay then it already is.

5.24.10

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A rela­tion to life.
A chance at mis­take.
Only way to live.
A chance to cre­ate.
There isn’t much through these weary eyes but explo­ration.
Strange is what I think.
Strange is why I do.
Strange is run­ning round.
Strange is run­ning through.
The veins that give my brain.
A way to bring the strange to you.

5.24.10

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Art in the face of adver­sity:
Ideas that would have never been in production.

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Sleepy dreams.
Repeat­ing themes.
Believ­ing its the griev­ing sea­son dou­ble teams your breath­ing reason.

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We are all lost on a bat­tle­field.
End­less plains.
Every­day I feel for­tu­nate to have met you on one of them.
This finally dripped through my pen 5.3.10.

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It seems there are stars in cloudy skies that snatch my thoughts with widened eyes.
It seems I’m lost in end­less sands I’m led through hold­ing beaded hands.

8.17.10

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Some peo­ple lead.
Our minds through a dream.
Eyes lost in eyes.
Feel­ing so free.

8.17.10

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If a thou­sand smiles explode at night.
The evening sun may shine a light.
8.17.10

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I feel the weight of a life of wait­ing.
Eigh­teen wheeler shoul­ders.
The wind is just right. Belief eclipse. The evening shifts.
Into a scene that may exist.
It may not and so it seems.
The rea­son leaves til the dark­ness lends, the evening to the light again.

8.21.10

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Non­sense words. The con­tent: verbs.
Read­ing deep and reach­ing sleep.
Breath­ing for the evening leap.

5.3.10

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I’m always happy because I don’t deserve to be upset.

5.3.10

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All together lone­li­ness.
Bones that seek a loaner vest.
A vest to block the haters best.
Attempts to make a new regret.

4.15.10

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