Wishful Thinker

caterpillar

I long for a stranger
My heart wants a flyer
One my size, one like me
The finer the better

Who could it be
Hero or fairy
He’s hiding from me
My eyes just can’t see

His phantom makes sure
That forever I look
Ahead and within me
Not in any great book

He draws me nearer
Inside his manor
Do I have a choice
When I hear his voice

He’s very tricky
And very strange too
I’m sure there must be
A reason or two

He shows me where to go
So I never get lost
Pulls me with his lasso
Weird kind of Pentecost

I’m sure he’s what I shall become
I’m attracted to my future
I wonder if you think it’s dumb
To be drawn to my true nature

I want to take him
I want to kiss him
I want to eat him
Infuse into him

I think that if I do that
My body will transform
I will no longer be flat
Mistaken for a worm

Pleasuring myself and you
Unafraid of the mirror
Maybe even turn into
My own secret admirer

Not to envy my body
Simply fluttering proudly
Stimulating the others
Implying that it matters

Understand what is mine
Meant to glow and to shine
Can’t believe that it’s greed
To find one’s own star seed

This seed is my core
Pushes me forward
I just can’t ignore
Love that is inward

Honor it, hug it
Give it importance
And presidency
Spirit is the key

But why is it like this
It hurts to not be ready
I’m not yet the reflection
Of the one I wish to be

The mirror is a liar
It shows the exterior
The bumps, the pits, the scars
An aging caterpillar

But this is not me
It’s just a fur top
It’s like an eggshell
A shield I must drop

Oh I can’t wait to get out
Geez I can’t wait to break free
Can’t stop dreaming of those wings
How beautiful they will be

Spontaneity

jackhaas18a

Writing without an agenda.
This is an experiment
With spontaneity.

I chose a picture that I like
Because it’s beautiful
Created by Jack Haas

Is this a poem?
I don’t know.
There are no rhymes.
Or maybe some will pop up.
Spontaneously.

Writing is how my soul breathes.
When I stop, I suffocate.
Sorry if it annoys you.
I’m simply keeping myself alive here.

I can’t go for a walk, it’s raining.
Well I could still go but
I usually do it after lunch.
In the morning I write.

There is too much I could write about.
Sometimes it’s just frustrating to have to choose.
So I said to myself:  “Why choose?”
Why not be spontaneous.

Spontaneity is scary.
What is the next line going to be?
What if something ugly jumps out suddenly?

Heh! heh! heh!  It is a mystery.
Flirting with the unknown.
It’s involuntary.

I might lose control.
Should I look behind?
What if I lose my mind?

Who will take over
If I let go of my own senses?
Chaos, Cosmos or Cyclops?

Is it even possible to go astray
There must be beauty
Even in spontaneity

Should I stop here?
Or should I continue…

Too much of it might get boring.
Yeah, breathing does get boring.
But I have to keep going.

If I hold my breath
My face will turn blue.
I would not want that.
My blue hand is causing me enough trouble.
Do I want a blue face to match it?

I know what I’ll do.
There is a word count
At the bottom right.
It’s at two sixty eight.
When it gets to 1000
I will stop
No matter what.
Even if I’m not finished.
Now THAT is scary.

It’s like approaching death.
The death of this blogpost.
The end of it.

I still have six hundred something words to go.
What will these words be?
Maybe I should write something important.
Which reminds me…

My father used to say:
“Shut up if you have nothing important to say.”
Daddy must be very disappointed in me right now.
Sorry dad, but you are dead now, so I am free.

Can the zombie hear me?
Is it disrespectful to refer to my dead father as a zombie?
Will God punish me?
I just broke commandment number three.
No sorry it’s number five.
I just checked.

I don’t think I’ll make it to 1000 words.
At the word “word” it was only 400.
It’s never too late to say something important.
To make my father proud of his illegitimate son.

Now why did I write the word “illegitimate?”
This was really spontaneous.
What does it actually mean?

Illegal?  Against the law?
Born of unmarried parents?
But my parents were married when they had me.

Illegitimate also means illogical or incorrectly deduced.
Maybe I am not my biological father’s son.
When I was young I sometimes felt like I was adopted.
Because he didn’t like me much.

But I look so much like him.
I’m sure he’s my real father.
Even my personality matches his almost perfectly.

So that’s not it, I am his biological son.
Why did I write illegitimate then?

The word also means “not genuine.”
So does that mean that my father is not my genuine father?
What does genuine mean?
Thank God I have a dictionary.

What did I just say, again, spontaneously?
Thank “GOD” I have a dictionary?
God?  Who’s God?

My genuine father perhaps?
Of course, God the Father.
But who would that god be?

Yahweh?  Don’t tell me!
Not that blood thirsty
Son of a b****
The ultimate source of love.
He!  He!  He!

Allah?  I think he’s the same as Yahweh.
Bhagavan Krishna?  Yeah, perhaps…
Since his son Krishna is sometimes painted blue
I foresee a definite possibility.

I already wrote a blogpost entitled “A Real Father”
So why am I still writing about this.
Do I miss my daddy?

How can I miss an unknown person?
Well…  I think that if one wants to know the father
All one has to do is look at the son.

The son would be me.
So the father would be just like me.
This means I have a pretty cool daddy.
LOL!

In a sense I am my own father.
I am my own creator.
I am my own guide.
I am my own authority.
And I am my own god.

This is spitting in the face of Christianity.
My mother would not be proud of me.
Some of my sisters would spit back at me.
In fact they already have.

One told me that I had been seduced by an evil spirit.
Another said that my ideas were satanic.
The third one agreed with the first one.
The fourth one is not sure.
The fifth one is not bothered by the rest and accepts me.
Yes, I have five sisters.

So where am I going with this?
Nowhere.  I’m being spontaneous.
I have just revisited my family.
I visit them virtually and rarely physically.

I am a lonely bastard.
And I think that this is the way I like it.
I enjoy my own company.
I think I am funny.
I don’t need my brother to make me laugh.
Yes, I also have a brother.
He’s a clown.

Why did I use the word “clown” to describe my brother?
Let’s look it up.  A clown can be:
1-  a performance artist often associated with a circus
2- a person who acts in a silly fashion
3- a stupid person
4- a man of coarse nature and manners; an awkward fellow
5- one who works upon the soil; a rustic; a churl.

Yup, that pretty much describes my biological brother.
Not to be confused with my cosmic brother Jahele.
Two very different individuals.

So I had to conclude at one point that I had two separate families.
One down here and another up there, in the clouds or above them.
I’m related to one by blood and to the other one by spirit.

One thousand words.

The Blue Hand

bluehand6

This blue hand you gave me is a blessing and a curse.

When I pet a cat with it, the poor creature falls in love with me.

When I write with it, I get in touch with aliens.

When I touch a woman with it, she goes crazy.

When I touch a man with it, he likes it or he hates it.

When I touch myself with it… it’s none of your business.

There is power within it, but I don’t know what it is.

Who gave it to me?  Who created the blue hand?  How does it work?

Maybe it heals, or it stirs something in the other.

It corrupted my wife.
It ruined my life.

I can’t get rid of it.  I can’t shake it off.  The blue stuff is stuck inside of me.  It’s part of me.  The darker ones even tried to steal it from me.  I would have given it to them already.  If I had known that this is what they were after.

I don’t know…

Airk said it was a symbol of the connection I have with him.  But it’s more than that.  This blue hand creates waves.  It plays the piano.  It moves with a higher flow.  The ebb and flow of the cosmic ocean.  This hand transports me.  It affects all of my relationships.  It takes part in everything I do, everything I touch and everyone I meet.

The blue hand is a portal.
The blue hand is magic.
The blue hand is abnormal.

It does not belong here.  It comes from elsewhere.  It fell from the sky.  It’s the hand of a god.  It’s like a lightning rod.

The blue H.A.N.D. is a Highly Advanced Nasty Device.

You want to shake my hand?
I warn you…
It will shake you!

Close Encounter

cosmic-lover-6

You come less than often
When my eyes aren’t open
With a gentle intention
Like a faithful companion

I don’t even know
How you come and go
You glide up and down
Just like a yoyo

Why do you select me
In this huge galaxy
How do you engender
Such a close encounter

You fly through the wall
I notice the sound
Then like a bed sheet
You wrap me around

As if to conform
You take up my form
Corresponding with me
It’s a conspiracy

You initiate communion
Not allowing me to see
It’s some kind of abduction
Imbued with intimacy

You do not steal
You come to heal
You’re not a thief
You bring relief

You blend me
Unmix me
Untie me
Release me

You fulfil my dreams
Knowing what they are
Does God allow this
It’s much too bizarre

Although I don’t understand
I am not here to complain
Only to remind you that
I don’t even know your name

Say who you are
Give me a clue
Do you come from far
Is your skin color blue

Where is your starship
Where did you park it
Weird relationship
Who would believe it

I think I was meant for this
I had been waiting for it
Now that it’s happening
I can’t even grasp it

I must be of your kind
Please show me your face
I will never look behind
Earth is not my place

You know what I need
It’s incomprehensible
I must be a starseed
I live in a bubble

I want to thank you
Cause I’m sure you care
Who else comes this close
To make me aware

I’m never alone
I don’t fear the night
You fill me with hope
And move me to write

I Feel Like Bacon

bacon

Tic tic tic
He sees a lunatic
Probably a prick
Pulls out his stick

Right off the rack
Not with the pack
Born off the track
Surely a maniac

HANDS UP AND FREEZE
If you want to live
I’m with the police
And I don’t forgive

Sign up your name
You little ass
This is my game
You’ll never pass

You are my bacon
Nice piece of pork
I wear the apron
Holding a fork

I watch you burn
Tongue on my lip
No need to turn
Drip drip drip

Please just give up
I always win
I’ll eat you up
Better give in

Yum yum yum
Isn’t it fun
I swallow my bacon
You’ll never awaken

My Gang

untouchable1

You guys are not imaginary friends
You are not even invisible brothers

You are my partners
Currently untouchable
My gang members

Names are not important
But what is?

Transparency
Intimacy
Unity

Purpose
Fraternity
Respect

Love too of course
But careful with that word

Desire
Intent
Courage

Shared belief in the
I Am the Creator
The creation
and
The plan
To elevate
All the living

Helpers

helpers

Those
Who really help
Never ask for anything
In return

They don’t bother
Giving out their names
Nor their number
They don’t play games

They help
They assist
Then they vanish
How unselfish

They don’t expect
to be honored
Thanked and praised
Or even remembered

They are strangers
They are aliens
Yet they are
My true brothers

Railroad Tracks

tracks

Walking an unknown railroad track
Wishing a train would run me flat
I am repulsive and ugly
Even they avoid hitting me

My father… he’s in paradise
My mother… died rolling the dice
I have no family
This is my destiny

I’m only ten and a half
No one wants my autograph
Who would work on my behalf
Please read the next paragraph

Every night I ask Mary
If she wants to come get me
Tonight on my bed of rock
I’ll ask her to stop the clock

Next they’ll find my body
Cold, wet and cobwebby
But I will be happy
Pretty soon hopefully

Right now I walk the railroad track
Wishing a train would run me flat
I am repugnant and ugly
Even they avoid touching me

Waves

waves6

What if we are like the waves of the ocean…
Each person is a wave…
All of the waves are connected underwater…
Above the water, the waves crash against each other.

It’s beautiful to watch the waves in action…
But terrible if you think that they are fighting.
Are the waves battling each other?
Maybe… but deep down they are joined together.

Humans are like waves…
Always rubbing against each other…
Arguing, fighting, attempting to connect…
Above the water that is, the exterior.

But we are profoundly connected already…
Deep down, underneath the roaring sea…
Whether we are aware of it or not…
Whether we believe it or not.

Word Processor

word processor

You lie there exposed, relaxed eyes on fire
I’m just a word processor

You signal me over, request to be closer
I’m just a word impresser

You feel up my arm, up to my shoulder
I’m just a word accessor

You inhale deeper, your heart beats faster
I’m just a word obsessor

Your body curves up, your nipples get stiffer
I’m just a word undresser

Your fervor turns hotter, braver and eager
I’m just a word suppressor

You bring down my face, slide in your licker
I’m just a word caresser

You pump up the ardor, welcome the insider
I’m just a bad transgressor

You move like a wave, sway like a dancer
I’m an evil aggressor

You turn on the juicer, trigger the shooter
I’m an altered oh-yes-sir!

You transform the waster, give birth to a maker
I’m a new Life Expresser