Painted words on a Pixelated Canvas

Golden gleaming incandescence drips from a starry dream scape above
Radiating upward like an orb from a glove
And sailing into the sky like the wings of a dove
Yet becoming all encompassing like true eminence of love

Tapping through topographic time lines like Morse code
Moving outward omni directional just as a star explodes
Yet falling away from all that it ever was like a hillside erodes
And collapsing back onto itself under such a heavy load

Under the hallowed moonlight twigs fall as redwoods dance
Critters racing in every way just to escape the avalanche
Hypnotic hymns of dancing shadows brought forth by moving plants
As the golden starry dream scape is left inside a trance.

Run On Sentences Of Social Observation and Deductions Made Therein

A fresh breeze blowing through the summer air, no cares just beautiful glares of sunshine reflections, perfections of directions, with no intra personal interventions, not to mention the suspension of bogus realistic mental entrenchments, that's how events went, on this day of blue sky as birds fly, clouds die, and I am not asking how am I and as the cards fall I do not question why, I just let things lie or is it lay, things happen so fast that we can't even say, just trying to exist in a land of dismay as our hands bond together in an attempt to smooth out social decay yet set aside enough time to play, as well as to show appreciation to those who make us feel that special way. It's not a time to shatter and tatter other being's battered realities because can't you see, Thats straight social cancer, b, an inability for us to act civilly to allow each other to be free and exist inside a realm of individuality and contentment, not so full of resentment that we all walk around telling one another just to get bent... let's vent... it's good but only if done right because if you aren't polite you might just cause a fight and when that shit goes down it's like you've lost hold of the kite and now everything is floating... yes, it's floating out of sight.

Wednesday Afternoon

Contemporary contemplation of a conundrum called reality. As I sit here at this lounge, or bar, in downtown Astoria my mind is filled with so many thoughts about life. People strive forward, forever humping the American dream which lay in the slot machines sitting in the corner. I, too, was just there... And, I came away with more than I put in.... If only just $5 more, it was still a microcosm of an American dream which we all search for at some point in life... one small dream which I just lived out in this small Oregon town.

I noticed something interesting while 'people watching' this evening. Instead of using the main entrance, a lady ventured into the 'restaurant half' of this fine establishment only to enter the bar inconspicuously. Now, a people watcher, -I am- and, as a people watcher, -I saw-. Why would this lady use the restaurant as her gateway to liquid salvation when the main entry way would prove far less complicated? Does she have a hidden life which exists within the dark walls of this local watering hole? A life only to be disembarked from upon her departure? As interest begins to interact and mingle into interference within this existence, I must ask: Who ARE these people? Why are they here?

The Tide

How... Can... We go on
Without communication?
Such a violent world
Even in this very nation.
Whatever happened to
The notion of philanthropy?
All we have is commotion
A road that ends in catastrophe
...Catastrophe...

But, the tide washes away
A thousand lonely tears
Yes, the tide washes away
A thousand lonely years
And, the tide washes away
All these lonely tears
The tide... washes away...
Washes away today.

It seems like war is everywhere
And that there's no place to hide
Life is full of ups and downs
Like a roller coaster ride
We need to spread more love
To eliminate the hate
This is one fight that we have to win
Because we decide our fate.

It's a must to live in harmony
Or we'll be left in the ashes
But we're getting closer to destruction
As every hour passes
Apathy has become the status quo
As everyone goes insane
We better think of something quick
Or we'll be left out in the rain

But, the tide washes away
A thousand lonely tears
Yes, the tide washes away
A thousand lonely years
And, the tide washes away
All these lonely tears
The tide... washes away...
Washes away today.

Chance at Bliss

I don't have all the words
To explain just how I feel
The ups and downs that come each day
Combined with all that I conceal

The air grows cold and stale
All depending on the day
And I am left in silence
Yet I have so much to say

It all gets buried deep inside,
A slough of joy and dismality
A constant battle to coexist
While maintaining individuality

But in the amber sunlight's glow
I can see right through the mist
Just knowing that life goes on
I search for one more chance at bliss.

The Sun Rises Once More

A blank page.... a fresh canvas to paint with words... the water colors of my mind. This blog had an existence at one time in the past. However, due to many factors it was nearly forgotten like a road sign in the rear view mirror. One day I decided to erase the old entries with the desire to provide myself with a blank slate to utilize when I found a proper time and place. The time is now and the place is Astoria, Oregon.

I have written quite a lot in the past six months. I posted a few blogs on myspace whereas most of the material is contained within the confines of glue bound composition books and wired notebooks. So, why would I choose to use this blog once again? There are two main reasons that come to mind. One, the Myspace blog setup is über crappy. Two, a web log is spicy and fresh... like jalepeño febreeze. You can't help but love it... even if you are left in the corner crying. Besides, I type faster than I can write and everything looks so much more artistic in a blog... something which my rants are far from. My writing is to art what ground beef is to steak: tasty... sometimes. Crude and unrefined... Always. Did I mention rarely beautiful? At any rate, a new dawn has arrived and the light from the sunrise is ever vibrant... ready to paint a new semi-grammatic dream scape with pigments of verbiage and subtle hues of mass insanity.