I dream to save the world
I desire to be saved
so while I’m out living my dream
saving the world
who will be here with me
saving me from myself
Smokers Lane
I sleep here
so I can’t not notice
it surrounds me
and to be aware, is to be alive
but I try to do my time
and allow them to do theirs
so I don’t judge them
I try not to
but as I walk down this lane
I see masked pain
the lies of men trying to stay sane
the laughs of men cloaking their shame
and they nod off
a nod I’m familiar with
some of these men are as old as the heroine and crack epidemic
in and out of prison, but never fully escaping
but this is their escape
I can only imagine their pain and the things they’ve seen
some are as young as generation Z
having no solid footing and direction in life
just youthful living for the thrill
figuring they have years to sacrifice
the world doesn’t care about them
so why should they care
and so they join generations as old as their grandfathers and great grandfathers
passing time
numbing pain
disguising shame
and they nod off
as if in a hypnotic trans
they are somewhere, this I know
but they are not here
and in that, I guess they are successful
finally successful at something
but reality kicks in, because as they know all too well
nothing lasts forever
and that’s where the chase begins
I guess that’s the only thrill,
the chase
and it’s hard not to judge
because I still have to observe with caution
never knowing when they will snap out of it
and who they will become in the midst
because when they chase
their eyes and mind is just like mine-
tunnel-visioned
walking down this smokers lane
Bedrock
this damn bedrocks
and not like the cradle I never had
it shakes
squeaks
and creaks
with movement
an old rusted bunk, painted over
in need of oil, then replacement!
I move as subtly as I can
as to not rock my bottom bunky into a deeper sleep
or a sudden awakened state
it’s the 4th and last bay
no walls separate us
seems like a shelter or high end concentration camp
each bay consisting of two rows of 7 bunks
28 x 4 is the amount of souls that I accompany in sleep
28 x 4 different sleeping patterns, states, sounds, and smells
28 x 4 haunted souls that dream and are caught by nightmares that catch up and accumulate all at once
28 x 4 different men rocking twisting turning and shake their bunks
28 x 4 different reasons to feel paranoid and be as vulnerable as a human can ever be in life
all them minus one of course
because I’m awake
and as I climb down from the wretched platform that grants me sight of every bay
even sight of my own demise if I happen to fall during my sleep
I rise to my knees slowly, crawling towards the edge
trying to make as less noise as possible
while I am still berated by the mixture of snores and stirs
I straddle over the end rail
me and my short legs
then grip tightly for leverage
holding onto something I rather let go and be rid of
story of my life right
slow does it, cuz I have to be mindful of everyone’s slumber
especially my bunky
and as I near ground, each of the four bars descended at a time
I hear an outburst
someone having a full conversation in their sleep
another uproar of snoring
another toss and turn
another shake quake and rock
and then I touch the prison floor
safely reaching rock bottom
80’s Crazy
they say 80’s babies
were the crack babies
because the 80’s
were crack crazy
but I’m not crack baby
yet I’m 80’s crazy
because crazy made me-
see I was born of death
therefore, life made me crazy
so what category do I fit in?
well…like usual, I don’t
just like my earliest recollections of trauma
I exist in the greys and hazy
so I’m maybe a shady baby
As it SEEms
several merchants
and a beggar
each holding something in their hand
besides the beggar
their palms upturned as if they were bearing gifts
but the beggar
and yet they all had something to sell
but the beggar
feeling the need to make myself look better
I went to give to the beggar
but he said “look closer,
my hand is not empty- you are.
I don’t need anything,
for I have everything inside of my hand
and I feel its very weight even now
can’t you see?”
what I understood right then was
ego is ignorant
perception isn’t everything
money buys things,
but answers nothing
and in physics, “displacement” would venture-
him having the whole world in his hand
Projecting
I get in my body sometimes
and I project
but who doesn’t
life is always full of emotional projection
it’s easier
rather you feel what I can’t come out and say
or easily explain
so I don’t feel it alone
so I don’t feel I’m alone
but sometimes I leave my body
my spirit taking off like a rocket
astrally climbing out of its vessel
into the landscape of the cosmos
and I travel,
I travel the realm of energies
I sail the waves of vibrations
I explore the colors of consciousness and frequencies
and I feel like superman, a cloud, and a blanket all in one
seeing everything
feeling everything
voyaging wonder
discovering the atmosphere of knowing
embracing the connection of all,
invigorated and completed by the massive oneness
I never felt so whole and seen so much
it’s overwhelming to the senses
but feels magnetic
I see loose diamonds and opals
bodies are abstract swaths of flowing matter
like aurora skies
the universe is like a large canvass
and its souls are the paints
black crimson and light blue
with swaths of burgundy, maroon, magenta, and indigo
shimmers of emerald green, flakes of gold, and with a thin glowing shield of platinum-like whiteness
marveling at perfect formlessness
faces and bodies in their convention sense, do not exist
but I know them, I know you
I can feel you, I can feel your name
I can feel your identity
can you feel me?
can you tell?
can you see or feel the light?
can you feel my energy?
has my name reached your conscious and caused you to think of me?
I’m outside myself, I’m free
and I don’t wanna go back
I’m projecting