I'm in a bright room with something of a reception. There is a tall young woman with pale skin, dirty blonde hair that is slightly curly and tied back into a ponytail, and very crisp blue eyes. I ask her if she can contact the real world for me to let themthat I am lucid dreaming, to see if I can get them to try and transmit a signal to me from RL. The girl blinks... An eerie purple glow shines through her eyelids. She is crystal clear. She tells me she cannot send such a message, with a smile, as though that should be obvious. I ask her if there is anybody who can send a message like that and she replies "Yes, the senders"
join us for a tour of
giving you and the love of life in your room
a beautiful dusting opinion of the northern skyline
puppies must be out this week
rusting along towards a larchmont everglade
noting the appendage
she drinks up
now i'm here again, the side room, where I do my work
the carpets a gruddy red
theres a real business going on inside
I power it, i'm not it it's energy
energy connected is the finest form of sin
sin sine sin sine up down intertwine
DNA double days in meiosis mitosis mitochondria
so you say i forgot my biology
im keeping an eye on the time
this is our world
this is my new ringtone
nobody is picking up
im still on the couch, sideways
trying to wake up
im on the floor
by the wall
on my side with my arm between my legs
I laugh for a kick
it's nirvana for nine seconds
old fire is still on light
cutching up to the brusco boys
i dont think i expressed myself clearly enough when I said
get me the fuck out of here
out of here
i'm on my side
my arm is squeezed between my legs
im looking up at the clock that isn't there
time keeping time keeping tabs
i'm wearing a moustache, look at me now
there's endless amounts of bullshit
i'm sleepy, i'm not getting work done
i'm doing a different kind of work
god's work
playing football in a spiral staircase
there isn't any senior champion
with that clear grain image
driving to atlanta to hate us
driving to atlanta for a fucked foggy monday
Carved iguanas,
moon drops,
they picked them out of the nylon. fuzzy rabbits.
slime crust gathered around edges
links were made.
it didn't really matter.
like ralph nader winning the election
we cast our ballots for shame
tuckered and indecisive
spitting on the ballot slot.
At nine pm there was another bell,
louder this time, it sounded in the small of her conundrum.
we lost ourselves in a timeless battle
snares rattling out ricochets in the swathes of gun fight
knocked out, my comrade had blood running from his jaw
his eyes were half shut, he sputtered out this:
"Not to be named, not to be forgotten,
not heavens door, not hell,
not caribean, not london,
no, no, no, not that path,
this one"
Caring about it was the last thing we could do,
I got lost in so many saturdays,
so many sundays under the rug,
stoned on the couch, we giggled
but there's nothing to laugh about
crime rate
war
customs officials with heavy machine guns
mowing the lawn
Marble stair cases
A crap load of stars
Bottles of water, in glass
Women in peacock
Velvet chairs
A wide array of hors d' oeuvres
And tonights entertainment is:
Countache, scrumple, migraine
Plums hanging from a vine
Marked for destruction
unappreciated
lost
courtship
Clang Clang Clang
The bell sounds again, louder, softer, clumsier
no limit to what we can do.
My satiable dogma lost its zoning permit
cluttered with nonsense to a boiling point
mischief rascal intentions
covered in it, I mean
absolutely, fucking, covered in it
dude, there's no getting out of this one
you're in it for the long haul
you've never been in it for the short one
cling to your guns,
nix incompetence, take what you're given
and shine right through them.
There ain't no stopping
and there ain't no turning back in this world
panoramic still shots cant capture
the world wide fucking magnitude
of slam dunk paparazzi shell fish
tell you how many drams I downed
playing a part,
playing a fucking part
dragging myself across the floor
licking the garbage
wearing the trash bag as my tuxedo
and one of those things from under the cap of a bottle as the ring,
we made it official
puking terribly onto all sweaters, young and old
cursing at little kids
not a pretty picture.
And then it dawned on me.
There's not a cent in Salem
or a Coin in Compton
that can end this witch hunt wisely
going at eighty with no brakes
no shortage of gas
and a foot made of iron
I double and triple my speed
and settle down for it.
I'm losing my feathers for a shindig
this isn't nice.
But neither is she.
Together we were something,
I knocked on a door I couldn't open
and didn't want to open
and no kids came running out to greet me
and I'm ok with that
But to stand at the threshold
furiously rapping at the uncertain
rain or shine, trying to deliver a package
you start to realize
nothing is getting signed for
and you've only yourself to blame
They like to tell us that there will come a time
when we get older
when things will snap and gel
I like that Idea,
don't you?
So it's in my head that if I keep banging
and shelling the shit out of deserts
one day I get a house and car and wife and life
that's good enough
but not too good,
but not to be fucked with
and when the goonies come to rape the wife
and kill the kids
and burn the house down
I'll be the one motherfucker who thought to buy a revolver
and I'll come out blasting
and you'll know once and for all
that fucking with me
is a really really really bad idea
standing there in bloody triumph,
with the matted scalp of a demon
clutched in terrifying hand
I'll open fire on the news cameras
the spectators
the ones I loved the most
and I'll raise my smoldering cannon
point the barrel at my sweaty
throbbing
veiny
cabeza
and unleash the hellish ghost
that would swang in the pulse
of every half drunk puzzled kid
flicking a cherried cigarette onto wet pavement.
i was perplexed,
it really left me twisted of head
the passion that i once relied on
seemed to have fled
i have bled, the ink out of
the lines between the valleys
so the tees flow into seas
and blue is dripping from the leaves
I mean the pages
of the purple plant of life
before giraffes
are required to admire
what I've acquired (#2chainz)
it really left me twisted of head
the passion that i once relied on
seemed to have fled
i have bled, the ink out of
the lines between the valleys
so the tees flow into seas
and blue is dripping from the leaves
I mean the pages
of the purple plant of life
before giraffes
are required to admire
what I've acquired (#2chainz)
Recorded three rap songs which I hope will be incorporated into the next DCheeks.ZDSCH.3ZSE compilation.
Here goes your chorus for nookimunitris
tick tock
there's something wrong with my head doc
i need a new pill for my brain doc
i seem to have a problem and it's strange doc
my mind is set on nookie money trees
nookie money trees
nookie money trees
welcome to the garden
nookie money trees
dees begin to harden
nookie money trees
only thing that smell right
nookie money drugs that fill my tummy till I'm silly shining like a smokey philly
tip for your cheese:
nookie money trees.
nothing ever is as real
as anything else
mini macaroni wheels
spin behind the mouse
there was a website called the spring of tees
where they crowdfund dope shirts on the daily
no money down plus money in the bank
if you can sell ten man, you know who to thank
easy to use easier to love
innovative? useful? dope? all of the above
so come make your tee cause it's all on "we"
hit a founder up for a discount, g
if you got a klout score like kim k
you could prolly make 10 g's or more a day
even normal people from the north to the south
use teespring just to put food in they kid's mouths
one young chick even buying a house
with her profits off teespring (large amounts)
so if you into shirts into cash have a club
in a band raising money have some fans on the web
if you want it high quality and no cost down
teespring is the thing, other sites is clowns.
The dog threw up this morning, I gave him too much food, and eggs. He's big but skinny. Needs to gain some weight.
Prior to that, I had the opportunity to try and fall back to sleep for an hour from 7-8 in the morning, while Rod Stewart ran around the house shitting and stuff.
6:00am - Original wake up to let out dog, etc.
7:00 - Trying to fall back asleep
7:30 - Getting sleep ticks finally
::enter lucid dream state::
~7:40 - Tip up and float out at about a 30 degree angle very close to the ground. Drift around the house to check on the dog. He is hard to find. Things seem to be ok.
~7:50 - Back in the bed sitting lotus, light surrounds. Dog has become a fluffy terrier who sits peacefully in front of me. Sitting upright, slow breaths, extremely relaxed. Need to relieve stress caused by dog. Left hand flat at chest, right hand push out with breath out. Push away the stress. aaah!
~7:55 - Preparing for wake up. Simulate act of rising from bed several times. One false awakening, not caught til end.
::wake up::
8:05 - Got up to walk the dog.
so that's how it went down.