Cool Gardens

From Words To Portraits

The deconstruction of the human mind,A shifting of polarities, to portraits, from words.Embroderies of memories, Daily on-line vision necessities, Susceptible amenities. Daily daisies marking their paths, Fur longing shelter dwellers, Strange propellers, Pillars making their presence known To the venerable peers, Coughing up the seas As the breeze maintains its meditative ease. The releasing of the world,The re-shifting of focus on inter-being And the attainment of nothingness Through the veils of the Sacred Silence.

Businessman Vs. Homeless

The wheel and deal for a meal man Versus the organized, courteous homeless. One lies and cheats to secure his possessions, The other lives the truth of man's post-industrial reality. One forecloses, fires, and finagles, While the other relieves suffering by human courtesies.One lives in a regal place with all the luxuries, The other on a chair in the alley, With the rain as his partner. One travels across time zones,The other travels through time, And leaves everything virtually untouched. One furnishes compliments, The other insight, One flies lobsters in from Maine,The other flies through a glass window of a seafood restaurant, His main offense, touching the lobsters.Both may be lovers of music, But only the latter listens,For he has the time to be, Rather than be on time.

Circus Tiger

"A circus tiger mauled and killed his trainer.I wonder what set him off", Said the commentator.I don't know. How would you feel if separated from your family,You were shipped to different cities in a cage no less,bound of life, with pain/pleasure techniques,And complete humility for performance under duress,A whip no less.If you were a tiger would you do it???Would you break away,Think of escape and if desperate,Kill and avow your infinite humiliation and quaranteed death???Do you do it, now, as a human?If not, then I understand why you were not sureWhat set the tiger off, Mr. Commentator.

Wet Flower

Teaching a Woman Of the seductive mechanisms of man Upon the voluptuous vagina. Guiding her lips to the tenderWet flower of another woman, Expressing necessary patterns Of oral explorations. Expanding the learning curve Of an acquired taste of pussy. Sharing visions of climbs of ecstatic Heights between two flowers and their branch. Ah, if nipples could glance at watery truths In the eyes of Venus, If bodies flowered like wineT hrough the halls of dire desireLit by an unquenched sunset beyond The bodies of buildings, Along the railroad Going nowhere fast, Unrelinquished circles plowing through time,Regaining the same volume in the same space, So they taste and they think while they drink The purity of my manhood.

ART

Art. is the way to heart.The hearts of man can and will change.That change changes the world. We can bomb you with love and you cannot resist.We can kill you with compassion if you don't assist.We can assassinate your ego with the knowledge and AwarnessOf oneness, allness, onlyness, Opening darkness into its vibratory reality,The super string theory And its resultant simplification of purity. Explode or implode, External is eternally internal, And internal creates the external in eternity.Planets arise from chaosInto an experimentation of order, Then are lost again to another stepping podIn our solar system. The universe is trying to create eternal energy.The flesh as a part in the assembly Of the investiture of order, balance, Peace.

PRENATAL FAMILIARITIES

Devotion is focusing on the sound in every action.Life is rhythm, and its fluidity is dependant on the Tempo.In harmonies we find unity in diversity.In harnonies we find prenatal familiarities.Our true voice is our true colour, character. The consensus is a misguidedbody of cencus information.Though the tides seem to be slowly turning In organizing true resistance to globalistic economic totalitarianism,It might to be too late to save man's night. Remember the child of innocence resides in cool Gardens, Though the heat can be used to create the stimulus. Our physical sences only report the portion Of the actual motion in our universe.The rest require extrasensory skills attainedThrough the veils of the sacred silence.

Nations

Wishes come together as oneSuper candle that's the sunThe candle burns deep inside his heartHis wax bind finally thereHis wax bind they all had learned, the secrets of those that burnIn the valleys with a gunBut he still couldnt reach the sun
Nations come together as oneSend the children to the desertLet them fizzle away and fryBut all in their own mother's eyeWe can say or do most anythingAs long as we're allowed to thinkLet's make an example of them allTake this institution down to a fall, now fallNations come together as one

My Words

My words escape me, As I escape them, To define me, As not refined, mimed release expressions, Of continuous thoughts Pouring out like red wine From a dark green bottle on a creme colored carpet, Or white sand.
My words escape me, As I escape them, For love is beauty, and beauty is love, As diabolical dreams of intestines on a platter, As kidneys, lungs, and livers, Rushing the blood, my blood, winded, noisey.
My words escape me, As I escape the world.

Salivation

I have resolved to salivate On your favorite salad dressing, Or your dear held principles, Who run ahead of their respective schools. My form is that of a butterfly frozen in mid air, En route to the jungles, Thawed by escapism, Nourished by self preservation. My stride is that of a guitar string In the hands of a drunk gypsy courting a fair lady, Making love with the ascending and descending Frequencies of the heart. Time is the father of existence, Rhyme is the brother of the word, Words that define the world, Worlds that refine my words.
Natural water no longer exists, We must now create what was initially abundant, And destroy that which took its abundance away.
Is the garden clear for the new plants? Is the soil still rich enough to support life? My fears are the shadows behind the edge of dark buildings, The howls in the night.

FRIIK

What's my problem, Here's my problem, My problem is that I'm Too visual to be blind, Too audiological to be deaf, Too ideological to be in peace, Too compassionate to be in war, Too crazy to be sane, To sane to be lazy, Too emotional to be you If I could only stop my head, From going into constant infection, Then maybe I can swim back To my own version of consistent sanity. Angelic daemons, Liquid dreams, Transparent mountains Of our own reality.Burning oceans, Melting faces, Melting faces, Why!

Nil

If today I die, And cannot deny, The life that I live, For what I say now, Will befit, myself, in time. No time to die, nor live, No structures of a pyramid, Nor trained horses to arise,Surmise my position. My words define me As a surgically proficient baker, A baker who now lies still, For assuming these were my last words, I would say absolutely nil.