#poetry - where to begin and end

a man contemplates where to begin
his venture is thought compression
he releases to begin again
repeats for sake of perfection
to hone process and shave time

fiddler crabs die like champions

i drive all the neighborhoods gawking
at all the ugly houses
and i write down their addresses
like my name is chris cringle
there's money in this i have license

i drew a colorful broken mirror
gold and black triangles outside
it's a mind that has been tested
it's a mind that has refused limitation
it's a mind that has killed fiddler crabs

my friend likes my other friend's seed collection
a pleasant and soothing observation
respect given is a self honor
i have similar fondness for that friend's beer collection
after only three glasses of tastings

i killed so many fiddler crabs
long before i knew how awful it was to be desolation
i wasted whole villages of them
and i called them retreaters
children are barbarians

a child called out to me today with a deep voice
hey buddy, hey buddy
from his first floor window
i said hey buddy back
his voice was way too deep for a child

i remember the day i strolled silently by
as one fat ugly child beat another skinny child
down to the ground without mercy
both the fat kid and me ignored the crying
and i didn't even have somewhere i really had to be

the last real walk in the clouds i took
included hearing somebody spray painting the hallway
no one was there but i heard it and then
i became overwhelmed by the fumes and ran out of the building
and fainted on the sidewalk

nobody would help me even though i asked for help
i figured i had journeyed back in time and lost the language
when i could stand i looked down at the asphalt
the ground became a swell of maggots
the maggots were people they were souls waiting to be reborn

i saw the heat waves rising off my body again
this time instead of roses i smelled brimstone and sulfur
yet i declared to the light of day
i am a rose child
come journeying to this hell only to bear witness

when i returned to the building
i had to re-teach myself the alphabet
it took five minutes to write 26 letters
and because i thought it i had given myself lead poisoning
at least that's what it felt like

i soon after drove my car with a passenger
who touted the merits of a nothing-believing taoist creed
i could feel him drain my spirit
and right when i felt wholly drained and taken
i saw letters on my car stereo spell out 'here and now'

i was reborn that night after a dream i had departed
and had been judged and deemed worthy of returning
i then saw myself from a height walking from the judgment place on toward my body
and when i awoke i fixed myself a bowl of oatmeal
but the water tasted like arsenic

two nights earlier
i saw a face in the night sky clouds
while i sat indian style on the sidewalk outside my apartment building
after thinking it would be nice if i could kill death
i felt a sharp pain in the center of my crown

when i came back inside i walked into the bathroom
i stood before the mirror pressing my hands to it
i could feel a surge of energy passing through me
and i could see the skin on my chin and cheeks bubbling
as though i was racing through a voluntary and severe stroke

i went into my study and opened the window and lit some candles
and then i read Revelations outloud until I got extremely bored
Revelations has a time and place
but after a self-induced stroke it's a bit tiresome and unsatisfying
so I closed the bible and walked away

a matter of spiritual affairs

they say weed will give a man boobs,
       i'm pretty sure its the pizza.

they say weed can not kill a man
      under any circumstance.

now, i stand by my green dragon
     and my green-orange dragon,
but i know my survival now
depends on my will not to ride them---

for three solid weeks,
each night a hell of mind,
                a heart beating 3X fast
skin on fire, testicles retracted,
musculature failing, pain in all extremities,
vision bubbled, loss of speech, and spasm.

heart attack symptoms, stroke symptoms,
        the creme de la creme of fear!

three vendors, four bud-types,
eighteen trips          the same horror

all my angels renounced me,
the mystical door shut on my fingers,

a spiritual lubricant, sure
i've said hello now to mr. ice cold darkness.

this may be my reward for wanting proof
      of the divine realm,
for navigating by increments of science
and leaving faith checked at the door.

through it all, i am ever weed's friend,
it wasn't you, my friend, it was me---
it is me who must say 'farewell dragon'

i knocked too hard on the cherub's door,
i woke the cause of the door
i am stalked now, stalked---forget sleep,
       the nightmare is alive and well
       and i must try to remember how
to be brave, where i put fearless,
why i thought so towards divine things
and how i swam in boiling seas before
      how it was i spanned the spiritual
                       walked the spirit walk.

all this will return, i am sure, in time.
for now, well, for now i need no more
lubricant, no more step ladder---
      this is not a schizophrenic episode
      this is not a bad trip
my delta waves are normal, i would bet,
this is not product of fast turning thoughts,
this is real, by god it is real!
and i am comfortable knowing it so

phase in, phase out, man boobs, pizza, haunting.
                                                      c'est la vie!

anyway, middle-aged woman sits alone on bench,
talks to herself and bites whipped cream,
                                       i step on my cigarette.