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Rotations of simple movment
drenched in sweat
and emotion
The barriers of my soul
The chains of my heart
Are all free by your touch
your smoky blue eyes penetrate
and evoke another time
WE've been here before you and me
Funny meeting you this way again
Your hand is small and gentle within
my trusting grasp
we merge like fjord to inlet
like river to sea
I could think of no better way than to
get lost in my fantasies.

The Next Lineup

grit.
Martin Sheen on Bass (post Apocolypse Now = Shades and all)
Roger Moore with the sinister drums
It's smoky
an occasional glimpse of the Ray-bans through the fog
Ray Klu-Klux-Klanzarek on modules
Riffing up
Jim Morrison the personality
the Shaman
leads this dance of what's made me.....

Me

I use words like a painter uses color

No Title (a title can be so dense, there's no need for further elaboration)

Words are powerful, illuminative, illustrative
they roll off my brain like a press....
A week to the day
and you still haven't given into reason
you're still hanging on to
dissolved truths
and a mean bucket of lies
you were sold at the traveling side show
the barter with his arm in a sling
and the mistress that just held on too long
the trade
dark secret and revealing
glossy hair in the harsh irridescent,
flourescent lamplight
the shake
the organ sings in the background
the spinning tea cups file into a blur
round and round
seasick and nauseous
the serum, the medicine
sold by the ounce
proven to take your fears away
that's until it kicks in and you want out
it's too late....hours of duress.
I'm feeling better now
strictly mine
strict time.
hours later and my watch has mysteriously stopped
you've gone
now I've got it right
so right
I'm on to something big
don't ask what it is
it's that big
I can only sense it
the beauty of hindered sight
It might be orange
It might be the end
It may just be beginning
it's coming this way
and its good
It won't be the first
certainly won't be the last
and we'll be the better for it
I passed through a charming small town today
so boho
in the mountains; the blue ridge mountains
appalachia
the true blue hung on my every last word
and I'm trying to find a way out of this free thought line
here goes
I've tried
we've tried
we're trying
and it might be good enough
like a walk down those hand laid streets
people laugh and smoke
we traipse on by
to my yellow padded lift ticket into the clouds

Hey, did you ever create the ending before the beginning?

It's So Right

Driving along
flickering white lines
metronome
Gerry Brown drifts in and out of my conciousness
over the airwaves
almost imperceptible
it's not until I realize what the dial is tuned to
that's the beauty of traveling through other towns
they're on different frequencies, you see.
That's how I like my jazz
unexpected, mirth
filled with cadence out of step of any 4/4 time
the brush
the snare
the soothing, swimming sax
the sultry voice croons
lifting to some gritty lamp lit
boozed boulevard
where drunks hang on lamp poles
croon themselves to sleep
Can you hear it?
I see a pinwheel
spinning in warm Summer afternoon breezes
(it's not humid, it's just right.)
colors blur
in the background
sunflowers reach to the light
The road goes on and
the music drifts in and out
and my mind just flys
in and out of the future, the past,
the present
Where a story has no beginning, no climax
no de'noumet, no resolve
Is it really a story then?
this ramble just does what's intended
paint a picture
a snapshot
leaving the reader to take it from there
My voice
I've heard some times
And this is one of those instances.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Circling Wings Hold Steady On The Rising Thermals.

"I'm not ready to leave this life", the impuned ascender cried.
"My child, you have never been more ready, more nearer to the truth", whispered the phantasmic lifting foal. Her hooves cut her clothes, the awkward antlers stabbed her shoulders crying and begging release. "My child, you forlorn beast of the caged fools, you must come with me. I have been ordered to rip you away with blinding force from whence you stride, from whence you came, dear.
They traveled horizontally and at angles of time not understood by the lemming and sheep of what she was made. They punished the decriers of the flat-world fact and discarded the bodies of the idealist into the briars, leaving them bleeding for the vultures.
"My dear, you will like it where I am taking you. It may not happen at once. In fact, it may take a millenia, but you will begin to realize once you awaken that the life you once had in stone was nothing more than fiction - a fast fact of rumoring tyrants leading you down a path of blindness and automation. I have come here to help you grow wings and mold your sight into light once blinding, now to create clarity where you once had shadows."
the asceding lifted muttered nothing. She only looked skyward, feeling the atmosphere thin, her breath quickened. The white spots on the foal fur flickered in the moonlit stratoshpere. Her cloven hooves then, grasped her with the softness of ferns.

Waves, Algorithms, Past Participles And The Longing Of Travel

odd light
harsh afternoon glow
suggestive camera angles
and a damsel in distress
Her lacquered heels
stuck in the frozen snow
I'm giving in to secret
languages and rumors
of the past
Her presence is real
Her hair floating
Her smile is warm and forgiving

A hand outstretched from the clouds
a city burns and falls into itself
we roast marshmallows by the dim city lights
and talk of the scourge and how it took hold
the bees and the trees and the fumbling staticians
We are here if you need us
we'll be here forever and more
just reach in when you need us.

Pour Out My Heart

Age Of Reason

It's been coming on like a subtle wind
like someone is validating the feelings I"ve been feeling
for such a long time
Suddenly it's ok to
think that my majickal energy
is somehow manifest
and my inner voice doesn't shut me down
when these swells arrive anymore
It's as though she's saying, "You are ready. Just give it time."
I am patient and have been a patient for oh such
a long, long time
I am ready for the fuse

People Sit Things Get Set

Remember the fair
The girls
the late night phone calls
threats from a concerned brother
I remember the conciliatory drop

I remember why I left that town
what a wasteland of distracted thought
I could've walked to the nearest rail
but what was I thinking
Fevered friends with a penchant for destruction
above the law
or so I thought
What dream
Remember an excursion only to be led to a creekside plunge
in the early part April
I thought this would be my demise
the "friends" were actually cohorts
to my death
I took the plunge in that creek
we all did for that matter
crazed and reaching for the next chapter
What a nightmare
Somehow the divinity led astray to freedom from that life
I thank you

This memory has suddenly forced
itself on my occipital lobe
an extreme flashback
Who was I then?
Who am I now?
I think more focused
free of the detritus
absolved of my sins
through action
purious thought
sweet dedication
loves found
loves lost
sweet singularity
and the escape of not having to
worry about some girl's opnion.
Women, they have been the lust and loss of my
half life's journey
free to be me now
free
just free

xoxoxoxoxooxoxox,
Brian