1.
I am here, in the now. I see all; I am the blade of grass, lost in a flowing meadow of grain. I am drift in the sea and sing this song of myself.

The world passes by, a freight train on the tracks to nowhere, never stopping to admire the roses, never turning back to reflect upon the past.
I am the passenger, the man waiting, in a tattered grey hat, plaid overcoat and scuffed loafers. The train arrives but I do not get on.

2.
Different colored souls surround me, some black like the blackest wood on a chilly December night, others bright as the drops of morning mountain dew on a blade of grass.
I am without my soul as a bird is without wings, helpless and immobile. However, my soul is not extraordinary it is but a soul, my soul, there it is unique. I am Jesus’ chalice, an ordinary carpenter’s goblet. Drink me and enlighten yourself

Every day something hits me, I get knocked out cold. Every day I come to again and see everything in a new light. Bulletproof and fragile at the same time, duality itself

3.
Society tries to infringe upon my life.
I am not the war, nor am I the protests.
I am not the famine.
The Genocide,
The pain.
I am not the drunk father who murdered a family of four.
I am not CNN
I am not the IKEA consumer whore
I am not the “Double shot latte with extra sugar and cream”
I am the cold sweat, the chill laughter, and the cut on the top of your mouth.

Hollywood is the spoiled child of the world. Full of phony’s so afraid of the truth; they make me want to go out and save America’s youth. I am ten feet tall, I am the front page, I stand out and call, beckoning people into the new age.

4.
An artist paints a painting that instills passion, hate, reason, tranquility or love into a person He fills the canvas up with a plethora of colors and emotions each stroke deliberate and defined.
However, he did not do anything divine, or even mystical
After all, it’s only paint.




5.
I am the running rabbit, digging a hole for my problems, and once the work is done, I need to get out and dig another one.
I am the Type A child whilst being in a type B society.

6.
I see the office worker, working the job he hates, to buy merchandise he doesn’t need. He is his 3 piece sofa set. His Valenciana Chandelier, and his ivory silverware set imported from Africa.
I am the young man on acid who realized that there is no such thing as death and life is only a dream. We are all one, living breathing consciousness interconnected yet independent.
7.
I am the generation raised by over protective mothers. Along side me are hoards of vicarious individuals. Staring like a junkie, straight into the TV, They are the spirit, the son and the father, yet they are lost in their ways.
They live in a house of cards, protected from the world by a few empty truths. I am the messiah. Who are they to call the kettle black?
What do these lawyers think they are? They diffidently aren’t happy, they are the archetype of society B. Weaving a web of lies to protect the public from the truth. Liar lawyer what’s the difference?
8.
Everybody in this world is delusional and I am the blade of grass, the orbiting specter, the voice of reason.
I am the near-life experience
I am the insomniac nothing is real and nothing is quite out of place.
I sing of myself, and sing of you.
Now go out and do what you do.

Work your job, but your stuff. Buy a beer for a guy named bob. But one day you will see, this world is not all Type B.