Overlook the Sea

All along shatter-colored rooftops
crimson terra cotta
tarnished, green copper drains
to the ocean down below

you the sage

the wise one
a seer into lives lived

a man whos gone

and traveled unto

the layers of time

and lives of other minds

great seer

distance traveler

echoes in the next room
beckon a million miles

warm crackling vibrations emenate from
the speakers transmit from another time
Drifting along thos sundrenched rooftops
Seabirds dart and dive
around your weightless frame
you drift and meander
in between cumulous
and air so sweet
glints of light on the ocean shore
we circle up here for time
Out over the curving horizon
ships dot the white capped sea
the captain scrutinizes the dials
gently touches the pinned photo
of his Meredith
She cradling their child
in summer dress and clothes line
She on the widow watch
waiting for her long gone lover
and giver of life to return
their boy cradled cooing in her arms
her breasts keep him warm
ocean breeze blows in
from the West
the grasses sweep in
the evening thrusts
rocky soils birth
earthen blooms
blue dusty tones
succulent and tight to their bearer
rich horizon

sweeping striate casts of amber,

blue ochre, incandescant licks of blaze
sun sets on muldoon bay
ocean swells into its berth
impregnates its sanctuary cove
lunar pulling
the way of a good lover
in and out
strife and grace
she calls to you at dawn

leaves you feeling empty
than when she was

lying across the end

of your bed

late afternoon light basked
She returns at dusk
movement
bodies are one
magnetic attraction
give and take
unto you
into me

Day One. We Leave For Armageddon

Drifting down that long dusty road
a long way to go
mystery on my right side
lust in the back

We're watching the night sky from the rolled down hood
the pale blue paint on the car is like neon against the full moon night.
hair in the cool arid breeze
i look into my rear view and exchange a desirous glance at the mistress
in my back seat

I ask Mystery if she's enjoying the ride.
she replies, "This reminds me what I dreamt about last night".
I try not to think about it too much - what she might be getting at.
She always had the ability to force me to finish what she was thinking.
and she'd always get the answer she wanted. How manipulative.

The gravel puncturing against the tires
the low rumble of the engine
the sweet smell of desert lilies punctuate my last sense
I could drive on this road for all the nights left in my life.

Hopefully the sun will never rise again.
I could stay here on this lunar plane.

Real Torts And Missed Opulent Territories

They were more like
watercolor washes
and the landscape
swished and swooned
around you like
a drunken sphere
and to drink it would
not neccesarily be the path
Nor have I been known to
stay on that path
I've strayed
I've strewn
I've missed my mark
I've been to the moon, man.
Should I take the
abode and share the
locale
would you share
Would you be nigh?
Maybe a sojourn into
the desert
the open heart and
cauterized wound
the mother earth
ripped and dragged her
led her away
seashore mist
and foam in my breath
the expanse of this horizon
I've left it to my better senses
sight within
and from a scene above
we were in those aged towers
speaking and scratching
sentiments of love
guarded and ascending
I don't want to stray
so let's lead each other
you with the pen
and me with the letter.

dreamin about the past

A past that never was
But all the characters were the same
My old flame
the one that drove me insane
with love
lust anger
rage passion
jealousy. Did i mention love?

There she was
not a reunion but
a comfortable return
she in my arms
lips pressed together
tight embrace
can't hold her tight enough

I wanted to bed her
but it seemed as though
I'd lost my chance
"you should have tried earlier"
I listen to After Everything
remember the daylight drives
I remember the after hours journeys
to the beach
listening to my favorite band ever, The Church.
We could go drifting off into the dunes
looking for signs from The Father
I do believe
That's what I saw.
In fact, I still have a relic from that day
it stays in my amulet jar
next to the quartz arrowhead
broken rosary that found its way around
my neck for a time
and a stone with a hole in it.

I appreciate the subtleties
the lost mercurical wisp of epiphany
passing by like a steam train
in the night
soft amber glow of the passenger windows
streak by on a daedaleum spinning
The flicker in a childs eye
soft smiles
and innocent laughter

Afterlife

off in the distance
yeah, up ahead
this car brakes and swerves
rolls into a ditch
slides down an enbankment
end over end
tires come undone
and go bounding off in unknown tangents
(they're still rollong down a lone airstrip somewhere)
lies smoking on its hood

crawl from the wreckage
emerge like a deformed newborn
from your crippled womb

you spit blood and grass
and broken teeth
why, is that an angel I see
wait there's something grey in the corner of my eye
lifes lost all meaning now
the corporeal sense remains no longer
all I feel is air now
a gentle lifting under the arms
there you stand next to me
I am intact and unharmed
we stride up the path to our front door
you reach for the key
insert it into the lock
and it unlatches
grants us entrance
the stairs are where they have always been
my favorite painting of
Steve Kilbey's "The Beginning Of Everything" hangs
in the library staring at the reader
The sunlight peeks in through the soft lit lamps
incandescant
magnificent just like I left it there before
clip clop clip
walk down the hall
the wooden slats creak and whisper
talk about centuries past
how they were sacrificed
for the good of man
(I was a Jain, you know)
reveal myself to the garden out back
stone path which teaches me to stray
investigate the bloom which catches my eyes
it wasn't there yesterday.
there's a whole field of wild california rose before me
I dare not stray amongst its branches but
admire it from its edge
Achillea spots the landscape
its coryomb flat it's penduncle reaching
up to the sun
the one
the glint of a soft field
orange sunlight glow
cast over everything
walking along this garden of my choosing
I stumble upon the remains
of a fox
which by now its bleached bones
are starched and dried
pitted from the decalcification
the return to the earth
the cycle of life
my body will someday lie
not in a wooden box
but in the earth
for all the digesters there
to take me back
to my elemental form
to the essence of what our shells are
This fox must have struggled
it must have darted and dodged
while a horror of claw and teeth
breathed down its neck
I feel alright still
The only thing my bones hurt like the ages
I must go lie down
rest this weary capsule
let my my spirit travel
set it free for an hour or so
Back through the screen door
its creaks and slaps shut behind me
my shoes are muddy
and it seems i got a cut somewhere
maybe it was the thorns?
I must have got a little too close
I unlace my boots and slip them off
and raise up to meet my countenance
in the mirror
a little dishevled
some lines on the face
and that sneaking gray hair
(that's my sage mark)
off to bed I go
across the talking floor boards
up the old wood stair
my hand gently lifting me
up each riser
the smell of a light musty wood smell
wafts by
(a ghost maybe?)
at the top of the stairs
the picture of my mother's grandparents
stares at me
they follow me into the bedroom
I grasp the glass crystal door knob
which leads to my bedroom
and slowly turn the latch
it unhinges with a pop
and the door springs free open
I push on in and begin to undress
(my body aches)
I pull back the crisp white sheets
(where have I seen this before?)
the bed absorbs every inch of me
it is bliss
I lie there looking at the hand etched copper ceiling
I get lost in it's niches
the veil of sleep begins to wash over me
I see you lying there in your net
looking up at the stars
I see my hand carressing your side
and looking at you
love in my heart
and awestruck with your beauty
you on the inside
your love just shines through
shimmers with unchecked radiance
they we were all running
like the apocolypse was at hand
we ran until the land ran out from under us
and we flew
without wings
without effort
without question
of what abilities
we covered up with our
daylight minds
drifting over land
barely scraping the surface
almost clipping the trees
it was when you realized
the improbability
the concious mind
the critic
the doubter
That you would plummet to earth
like a space born
astral shooter
rocketing towards
the soft brown earth
I can't seem to recover
I can't let go of the corporeal logic
the earth spins closer
sickening feeling closing in
the trees are a blur and I feel the
limbs give me a lash as I penetrate their canopy
bones splinter
this can't be happening
the pain it's back with all the revenge
of a jealous lover
to claim me for its own
the pain has taken owness
I lie there coughing pine needles
and dirt blood and broken teeth
the trees are smoking from where I
pentrated the canopy
a bird calls in the tops
siings me a song
maybe a lullaby
and then there is sleep.

Looking For The Churning Fire In My Soul. I Know It's There.

the sound of an old locomotive
hitching up it's bar steam-driven gears
the wheel spin on the rain slicked track
Coal gets thrown in the cauldron
The sound of the flat shovel
scraping the wooden, coal stained floor
belching into the heavenly azure
the billowy coiling blackness
obscures the warm, true ball of fire in the sky
The crow sits on the lamp post
in the station
he calls out your name
but you only look in disdain
for this poor poor creature
of such meager means
If he only knew
If she could only tell
their lives are in short denial
and I, the avatar who crouches
in the jungle
who lives your life inside you
and pushes you to do things
you wouldn't consider otherwise

Passengers in the windows
go streaming by
the coal breathing beast picks
up momentum
the faces go from discernible
expressions of excitement and
saddness
lost and focused
a child pulling on the bonnet
of a reserved and sophisticated woman
to a mixing blur
of contradictory contorted
countenances
nothing is making sense
and it all coming true
in the windows of this soul
of this steel wheeled beast

Walking along that macadam path
the smell of earth surrounds
invigorates, renews your soul
you go in tired and scared
and reappear a new life

Running through those trees
the wind blowing from all directions
the trees breath is brisk
it goes right through you
they feed you messages centuries old

you know me
we know thee
and we're on the streets of old
hand-laid streets
we tread upon
gaslamp lit and those
known sweet smelling tradewinds
we traveled upon

trigger on my mind

Been reading
on the ways I can connect

Topical and deep
I could question
Why wouldn't I?
Why don't you?

Think of it like this
you are an amoeba
in life's sea
you don't know any more
than the nearest amoeba
yet you/we think we know and figure this
whole realm out.
such follishness
no religion
no depth of knowing on man's part
could ever begin to figure this

I'm telling you it's ugly, sad, cruel,
magnificent, beautiful, excitable,
majickal, illustrious
all the grammatical errors
speeeeling mishaps
and what you thought you were
and nothing you've ever
considered
because and cause cuz
life is enjoying this moment
taking it all in
each and every moment

i don't proclaim to get is all the time
or even a fration htereof
but I know
you know
If you let it.

just let it.

Naughty or Nice?

I'm searching for a title
something to launch from
I just came across the history
of St. Nicholas.
Did you know about Knecht Ruprecht?
One of St. Nick's accomplices.
Upon arriving at the doorstep
he would summon the children to the door
where they would have to perform
tricks or dance and entertain him.
if they failed at doing so or
their crimes over the past year
justified so
they would be beaten or
put into Ruprecht's sack and
taken away to his home in
the Black Forest.
Such violence.
Conversely, if they were good or
they performed well enough for
Ruprecht they would be given gifts and treats.
Saint Nicholas was a giving man
to people in their darkest hour
he would find them in the night and
deliver gold
the pawnbrokers are protected by him
children, sailors too
Supossedly he is responsible for
the destruction of the temple of Artemis
Some say that Nicholas' Feast Day is
to overshadow Diana's birthday of the same day.
We come from violence
We are controlled by the threat of violence
We love to see violence
(I certainly don't speak for all on this)

Tangential Travel By Thought

Log in.
Lock on.
My sidewinder is growling.
"Kilo Mike Alpha, Do you copy?"
Cruising at angels 30
I want to engage
Just waiting for Hotel to copy

"Maintain angels 30 and disengage".
"What the Fuck, this enemy is clearly violating my airspace!"

Fuck it, I'm going full guns
I'm within range and taking this shot.

A blaze of irradiated shells
pierce their canopy and frame
disintegrating it's integrity in
about 100 rounds per second.

Awash in adrenaline
I am an ace in the hole
I'll put a spear right down
your last turbine
You'll be spewing JP5
down your nose
YO'll be gasping for your last breath
if I'm on patrol

Well, if that wasn't
the biggest load of tripe
Yeah here I am
typing my keys
finding the words to give
into my ascent into
what I do not care to know
what I do not even have the
capability to grasp
For here we are
we are here people
we are here
we are now
not later
not then
And I'd like to know
how this all merges
how we can throw our characters into
space and wait for an answer
an answer
like a SETI post
not defunct
but waiting
patiently and biding my time
with art and artifice
with flotsam and that shore shit
that washes on your sandy beaches
from centuries before

Blues.
I don't know how I got here.
Tangential travels of
clicks and scrolls
Like the seers before
beware the day
you stop fighting the
desire to just give in.

beware

And just then, like the hurried
ending to a meandering interlude
a stranger taps me on the shoulder
and asks the way to Denton and Foster.

I respond, "There's Church Street over to the
left and up the hill. it's a climb but you should find
what you're looking for there."

That was the last time I saw that
nomad.

Bypass The Artery, We're Going Straight For The Heart

Maybe it's not good to
change music midstream in thought
Ah yes, back to the romantic
back to the heart
Being gentle is a good thing
and silence is golden
My words, my letters typed
are the only verbalization
from my being

I remember lying on my hood
looking up at the great dome
and wondering
pondering what this all
really was/is

We live these lives
what is it?
What are we, really?
Aside from driven by the corporeal sense
the spirit is what I am talking about.
Who, What, When, Where, Why?
I am looking for answers in
the response a stranger gives me on a street
the fortune cookie that I open
the amulet which sways from from my mirror
If she is looking at me
there are things afoot
When she turn her back, so to speak,
She is calm with my decisions

I'm always looking at the subleties
for messages

Contradiction

Light and soft
that's where the comparisons lie

Hot pain from a hot, lit torch
to an ice in Arctic shores.

To a new love
hopeful and sewn

to finding loving letters
Not written to home.

I'd like to take this time

That was the last time I
ever thought I'd ever say ever

While you are here
can I let you know
I love you
THis is not a sign of weakness
Though we might be trained

There's a lot out there
dumbing you down
making you forlorn
and suspecting of the other man
And woman

Don't let it get to you
let the love within
let yourself give in
It might be a inkling
it may be a speck
It might be hoover dam
(Well then, this not for you then)
I want you to know we are here and
we are all here to move forward
in all that we instinctivey know
to give in all the day-to-day moments

I love you all....I really do.

Caught up in my moment

Granted Access
I'm In.
There's a Jungle here
The major has entered the corrugated
metal bunker
Silently approaching each of us as we lie
in our bunks
We dream of monster truck rallies
pregnant girlfriends
and winning this fucking war of attrition

And as I lay down on the gas
through that thick forest
with its humps and barrels
we rolled on
rolled on to a crimson horizon

back in that bunk I lie
with the yelling revelry in my ear
in my soul
we are a men changed
for what?
To become
what we as boys
dreamt of.
Killing machines
In the good of survival
of our machines
that spread like a forest fire
across the brush

Can you see that green, golden land?
brush washing in the wind
lions licking their lips of their
last fighting prey
Sun
it is risen high in the sky
parched
and alive

march with you
my savior
lead me to you
I am with you
There is a lot of living to be had
here and after.

ciao xoxxoxxo

Title

noose lossened
loose verbs froth from his
wordy lips
the way they part
the lost syllables
the lost species
the lost portion
that grew inside me

I heard once that it can enter through you
in and by all the stoma that you contain
you are plant
you are man
you are fish

And like the sea you will roll
under heaven's weight
and hell's gravity

Here you go

Here's some more of my songwriting
Listen to the words
Listen to the rhyme
Listen to my soul
I am putting all on the line

time and time begins and ends

Starting with I and ending on we
I want to talk to you
In all your singular sides

I want to rip right through this veil
See what it has to hide
Maybe nothing
Maybe more

A quick three line sonnet
A fast way to be reborn

YOu surely have given me
a life to live
I thank you great creator
Though your visage may be grim
and smug
there's a possibility you
would be hacked to pieces

were you to make yourself known
because like the
spawn you regurgitated
we have a burning glow
of hatred for things we don't understand
Like the times we burned and pillaged the towns
where a single pagan ran.

In a little kaliedescope I see you
You're many and varied
Like the lot we all are
Cruel and loving
Lost and found
high and low
hemmed to the bow
Of crashing waves
and a figurehead that spoke to us
which led us into rocky shores

There I lie gasping on that marvelous jeweled shore
the salt water nourishing my creaking, tired bones
I left my booger board on that damn ship
I can't go on no more.

Thus spoke Meqluiades

I spent the evening figuring out how to
upload my music to GarageBands.com
Here's the site:
http://www.garageband.com/artist/conjur

Unfortunately, at first, I couldn't convert my music files
to mp3 (the rewuired format)
But after some
hemming and hawing
I downloaded Nero
and shazaam I finally did it.

Well, it's 3am and I have
one of my songs up
I feel proud to put my music out there.
I hope you enjoy it
take something away
inspires you to quit your day job
buy a rickshaw and see the country side
by candle light

Thank you great spirit(s)
for always showing me
the way home.

xoxoxoxox, Brian

At The Juction

In the middle
Of the road i do dwell
Not the fringe
Not the bypass

You asked for the listless kinky
the darkened blue lit room

your silhouette
is blue adjectives
and negative dark depressions

your lips make blueberry moans
and your licorice hair tossed under the weight
of fistular grip
it's strong and demanding

Trippy Epiphany

I noticed that if you take say, for instance

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=926016

and you play the videos in specific
order simultaneously you can get an answer
unlike you've never heard before

tryityouit'llmakeyoufeelgood