4......3.....2....1...Creation

Start

triangles and sandstone
a quarter-sized pebble
no wait
silver dollar, black
drifting along crests and valleys
whitecaps and acid rain
this is the ocean
this is time
these are the slow motion vehicles
of glaciers
lifting you up
laying you down on the cold ocean floor
ready for escape at any time
you pause
and stalk your way down the hall
for fear of sounding too profound
I toss in a fact
to throw you off

now a grain of sand
insignificant
and useless
you are a mere vote
in this great democracy
this great desert
when once, long ago
you were special
a pebble laying on a stipple print beach
magnified dots per inch
you were chosen

the hands of a child
first learning to skip stones
wrapped their tiny fingers around your flesh
warming your soul, caressing it's figure
life is starting over
as the molten rivers
connect you to a new future

Political reconstructionism

I want to change the government.
Every politician is corrupt.

This, of course, is a result of a political conversation. My sister is a democrat. I hear her rambling on and on about "republican" this "bush" that. "Foreign policy", "jobs", "bla bla bla".

We need a radio station
We need a television station
We need pod casts
We need satellite broadcasts
Devoted to politics.
We need to know everything there is to know about our candidates.
We need to know the good and the bad
We need an unbiased research agency to study our candidates and report to us.
We need unfiltered and unadulterated truth.
Every politician is corrupt.

We need the agency to report this, to report the level of corruption.

Our votes and opinions should have no connection to advertising.
Our votes and opinions should have no connection to money, or buyouts.
The government should support itself when it comes to elections.
No candidate should have any more coverage than the next.
The government "for the people, by the people" does not exist. It has evolved, devolved into this corrupt money-laundering monster. A monster that needs to be taught a lesson. We need to stand up against the government that has become this monster. You and I, blue collar and frustrated, need to stand up for what is right. We have been pushed around and bullied far too long.

I am not speaking of a revolution.
I am not speaking of anarchy
(that would be immature and idiotic)
What I am speaking of is............. A new government. Rewriting the constitution.

The United States of America is not the same as it was. We are not the small idealistic nation that we once were. We are not a self sufficient perfect nation.
Our government has become nothing more than a big business. This is true.
We only make decisions for monetary gain. Our elections are based upon money. Our policies are skewed to show more profit. Our actions as a nation are all dictated by money and not society.

I understand that some communism may not be the best.
I understand that some democracies are not the best.
I understand that anarchy is not the best.
But what is so wrong with fixing our government? What is so wrong with changing the system for the benefit of it's people? What is so bad about adapting?
Mostly, what is so wrong with trying?
Why must we stick with this constitution that was written in a different time, culture and state of mind than our own.

Call me an idiot; call me what you will, but I just don't understand.

That brings about a question.....

What do infants dream?

do they dream of womb and doctor?
do they dream of blood and muffled sound?
do they dream of fluid motion?
do they dream at all?
It has been said that the blind do not dream with images. The blind dream with sound and touch.
I am sure that the same could be said for a person with a lack of feeling; dreaming in sights and sound.
I am sure that the same could be said for one without hearing; dreaming in touch and sight.
I am sure that the same could be said for a person who cannot see color; dreaming in black and white and gray and sound and touch.
I do not taste in my dreams.
I do not dream of scent.
Although I have touch, I do not dream with it.
I perceive colors.
I perceive images.
I perceive sounds.
I want to dream like a newborn.
I want my mind to have nothing but itself.
I would like my imagination without reference.
I would like true reflection.


If a fetus would dream without senses, I would envy that dream.

A secret.

Don't tell anybody
Don't even look like you know something. People can read you like a book, you know? You are a jabberjaw. You cannot keep a secret. You cannot keep your mouth shut. You are a gossip queen. I can't trust you not to tell.

You walk around with a weight on your shoulders until you tell your secret.
Until you get it off your chest, you look scared.
You look like, at any moment, you could spill your guts. (which are actually my guts that I gave you)

I am starting a religion.

This is crazy..................
..........But, how crazy was Jesus?
how crazy was Buddha?
how crazy was Gandhi?
how crazy was Einstein?
how crazy was Confucius?

I could do it. If you could just follow me.




Why would you follow me????????????>>>>>>>>>>>>>>???????????.............?????????





Because you need it.
You do.

***********************************
DID YOU KNOW THAT ALLIGATORS ONLY LIVE TO ABOUT 50 YEARS OLD AND CROCODILES LIVE TO ABOUT 100?
***********************************

You are lost trying to find yourself. You have given up on religion.
Somehow, you have figured out that the bible does not solve anything, or lead you anywhere.
Sure, it is a good book. Filled with good teachings and stories. You know that life just isn't that simple. You are just too smart for that.
You are intelligent.
You have thought and debated.

That is why I am here.
To show you why.
To step up.

I know that you know, but, does everybody else?
I am willing to devote my life to religion.
I am willing to ba a savior.
I am willing to be a martyr.

Isn't that all you need?
Isn't that all you have been searching for?
Isn't that the reason you haven't already started your own religion?

keep the secret.
don't spill the beans
don't tell your friends
they will think I am crazy

Was Buddha crazy?

Narcissism

Narcissism.
What is this all about?

These delusions of grandeur.

What is perfection?

Why do I think that I am better than everybody else alive?

I can see that there are differences between everybody.
I can see that no one way of thought is any better than any others.
I can see that there is no possible way for my thought process to be better than anyone; just different.

We are all raised to believe different things.
We are all raised with different ways of thinking about different things.

Basically, we have the same morals.

Although the way we think of those morals is different.
The way we process our actions against those morals is different.

(I know that this is vague.
I know I speak in circles...... That's what I am good at.)

Even though I know all of these differences and relativities. I still think that I am , somehow, better than everybody else alive. What went wrong? In my childhood, what was askew? Is this because I am the youngest?
Is this because I was trained to OVERappreciate even the very least bit of affection?
Am i just immature?
That would make sense.

I don't really know.

And truly, I don't really care. I like thinking that I am better than everybody, even if I am not. Even if I know I am not. Even if I will never be. Even if it makes me worse for thinking so.
I enjoy the feeling of greatness, of absolute.

I hope I never lose this feeling.
I hope I can fall in love.

A short story for Ya'll

I was told to write a short story about, who the fuck knows what.

So I sat down and thought. I thought some more..... Then I came to a conclusion (as all good brainstorms should). I am an idiot who cannot ever write a short story.

What was I doing in high school, when I was supposed to be writing short stories; or at least reading them?

Was I staring at the girls tits next to me?

Was I thinking of the future?

Was I reading?

Was I watching the clock?

Most likely I was staring at the girl's tits next to me. When I was supposed to be learning about writing short stories, or at least reading one. Most likely I was thinking of, hopefully sometime seeing those tits without that stupid shirt on. The one that says "Stop staring, start tipping". When is my next class?

So alone I sit, awaiting inspiration. Waiting for a higher being to touch my skull and make me smart. Waiting for somebody fun to burst through my door without invitation. Somebody spontaneous, somebody startling. With an apple martini turned to watermelon(Ran out of apple pucker), I sit here. As I do every night.

At a blank computer screen.

Waiting for the words to float out of thin air, around my skull and to my fingers.

I know your waiting for it. You are waiting for the "that's when it happened" The "Then I saw".

But, there isn't one. Just a sad sorry night without inspiration, lacking any real purpose. And the only conclusion perceived is I am an idiot who cannot ever write a short story.

When i grow up!

I can't wait
until the day
that i am older
when women will want to be with me for that reason
i will be wise
instead of idealistic
i will be knowledgeable
instead of condescending
i will be an alcoholic
instead of a drunk
i will be exciting
instead of spontaneous
i will be caring
instead of being compassionate
i will be loving
instead of clingy
i will be everything
instead of being hopeful
i will be overweight
instead of chubby
i will have a young heart
instead of immature
i will be a procrastinator
instead of a coward
i will be a father
instead of a son
i will be a friend
instead of a buddy

I want to grow old
to find myself
to be myself
to be you
to see everything for how it really is
and not how my hormones
and thoughts perceive it

That will never happen; i know
but i guess it feels good
to think it will

it gives you hope
instead of thought

How old were you when you grew up?

Remember when you were a child.....
and all your underwear
had brown streaks running down the backside

all of your underwear.......

When came the day
you told yourself
you werent going to wipe your ass with your underwear anymore?

the day when you grew up?

Pontification at its finest. Read the previous post.

A little bit more about "Tex"
Tex says, that you cannot understand existence
I say "sure you can, Tex
how could you not, it is so easy"

Tex, looks at me
with that look
the look like he is better
and wiser
the look of a manager
a manager of a Kroger no less

I say "Tex, To understand existence is to understand understanding.
you must first understand that there is no understanding, thereby understanding understanding.
once you can understand that
then understanding existence
is simple
quite simple actually
existence is just a pathway
that your conscious mind takes to understanding
once you have understood that there is no understanding
then you will understand
that existence
is just a path"

Tex, looks at me
with that look
the look like he is better
and wiser
the look of a manager
a manager of a Kroger no less

He points his finger to the sky
and says, in his southern accent,
"thats all in need to understand"

As i finish my beer
slamming it down to the bar
wiping my lips
with forearm
"You just say that because you don't understand me"

Kroger OGRE!

Let me tell you about my night.
It started, with plans and free pool
pool wasn't free
but wings were twenty five cents
so we left
only to end up in a cheaper, but less hip
pool hall
with a fat waitress
so we left
only to end up in a cheaper, but less hip
bikini bar.
where I drank my guts off
where the little old Asian lady
fell in love
with my Asian friend
and bought us all shots
and I bought the waitress a shot
because she had a three year old daughter

we played pool with "Tex"
who apparently went to Texas A&M
"Go Longhorns!"
college boy, turned thirty six
wore a turtle neck
under his collared shirt

He manages a Kroger

His mother died,
I know, because I made a "your mom" joke
and he responded exactly like you wouldn't want him to
the response that every "your mom" joke maker fears
He manages a Kroger

The last call cut off my
"vampires will never hurt you"

On the drive home
White castle and a police officer
So we took the long way

Avoiding a speed bump is never a good idea
as I hit a rock
and popped my tire
we parked, grabbed a beer
slapped on the spare

In our drunken gait
Ray and I learned the rock a lesson
by flipping it over
not once, but three times flipped
and spitting on it

This morning ended up like every other
hungover and ashamed
but,
I don't manage a Kroger.

"Go Longhorns!"

Dust bunnies drank all my scotch.

I haven't smiled in three god damn days
and my hand is sore
from spilling my guts
luckily the paper
spreads its wings, opens spine
to catch my entrails
via pen
via type

I fall asleep without warning
and breathe alone, at random
each step is a heartbeat
waiting to trip, ready to fall
face down as an infant without reaction
every line break
and every period is just
a blink of my eye
waiting to pop from my skull
and roll onto the floor

under the bed
where i hide my whiskey
where the dust bunnies protect my wine
my vice
my daily nightcap

somebody tell them to stop
throwing parties
till all hours of the morning
with their electronic
hiphoporchestropop

now, i have no problem with dust bunnies
living under my bed
and i sure wont kick them out
but, drunk dust bunnies
I hate!

I haven't smiled in three days
as i walk like a zombie
my head still rattles
from last night
so, again, i spill my guts.

Excerpt

"Your mind starts things on fire, just to blow them out.
Your mind takes things apart just to put them back together.
Your mind lost two screws and ended up with three extra washers."

A. Reynolds

The clarity of sound.

I was thinking.....
As I was eating a burrito, all of the filling spilling out of the sides. Yes, I had cut it and was using a fork.
But, who determines how sharp a fork can be?
Who?
Somebody has to.
Somebody has to sit in a little cubicle somewhere far away from here and determine exactly how sharp your forks should be. Just enough to spear your food, but not sharp enough to be dangerous to the touch.
Huh.......

Then there is everything else in the whole world. There are standards and guidelines for everything....... Just imagine ----------
How wide roads are.
How thick walls are.
How thin cans are.
How tight lids snap.
How strong cardboard is.
How heavy cups are.
How long tires last.
The ratio of carbon to iron in your toaster.
The clarity of sound emanating from your television.
The brightness of said television.

Everything has measurements and figures that we know nothing about.
Everything has been thought out and engineered exactly to meet our needs.
That is......
Except for the sharpness of my fork!

Beer and sleeping pills.

Right now I am watching the shining
I am listening to play crack the sky
I am typing on my computer
I am drinking a beer
I am sitting down
I am relaxing
I am getting drunk
I am settling down
I am so fucking good at multitasking.

Somebody please help me
Jack Nicholson is scaring me
My leg is falling asleep.

I know that you want me to keep you alive
with the "existence" and everything
I know that you want me to tell you
right from wrong
moral standpoints
and immoral discretion

truth is
sometimes
we, even the most intelligent of us
even the most inventive of us
all of us knowing
all of us thinking
we sometimes
get a little down on ourselves
no matter what
no matter the situation

I thought the other day
I was taking sleeping pills and beer
that since I was doing it anyway
slowly
why not just do it all at once
why not just finish the bottle
why not just finish the case

If all I ever do
is slowly kill myself
if all I ever do is start
but never finish the job
then what's the point
I should just do one or the other
I should just eat healthy
and ride my bike
and eat granola
because otherwise
all I am really doing is killing myself
slowly
but, killing myself.

Am I a pussy?
should I just do it?
Or is that just what life is?
killing yourself slowly?
everyday inching towards your own demise?

A dream within a dream.

I had a dream
i fell asleep with my computer
and in my dream i had written something on my computer
i had no idea what was written, as i was dreaming
but i do remember that it was about a page and a half long
it looked like a lengthy poem
not nearly using as many
spaces
and stops
as
my
nor mal
poems
But, what i really loved was this......
i was dreaming that i was dreaming
and in my dream within a dream i had remembered to try and save my work
i told myself to sleep just a little bit longer
and press
save as...
...thats all you have to do before you wake up
press
save as...
so i did, it felt great
i felt that i had made a connection between
my conscious and subconscious
using my computer
I remembered thinking that
this is going to be great when i wake up
i will have something saved on my computer
that i wrote while in a dream
after i pressed
save as...
I was woken up by a moving company
hired to
deliver a new bed
into my room
angry i was still asleep
and said they had been knocking
luckily my mother had shown up
and let them in
i paid no mind.
all i wanted to see was my computer
so i opened it up
and turned it on
and opened the file
guess what it said.
The meaning of life?
the reason for dreaming?
Life after death?
A 13th dimension?
Spirits and souls?
Was it a poem about my dead dog?
Was it a connection from outer space?
did it predict the future?
Maybe
But the file didn't save correctly
and all i got was this
-----------------------
-
<<<<<___________----------__________
-------------,.,<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
--------
The whole page and a half
nothing but
__________<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
................................................>>>>>>>>,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,---------
and__________---------__________--------__________-------
or+++++++++++++++++===============>>>>>>>>>>>,,,
So, did i write those symbols in my dream?
I don't really know
good question.
this was not an experience i had
it was a dream i had
it was a dream within a dream
So there was no moving company
there was no computer
there was no
save as...
no words
no symbols.
nothing.
so i woke up,
walked upstairs
opened my computer
and turned it on.
there it was....
the meaning of life.
Really, no joke.
Wanna know what it is?
___________________-------------------------------------------------------_______
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<__________________-------
____-----___--__-_--__---__>-.>->->>,,-..,_++_+__<<<<>>_+_:":":
+_+_+_+_+)_(_)(_*^%#@#&^^*&^%$)*(_
)_+_+_)+_+_)+<<><><<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>,<<<<,,,,,,,,,,.........;;;;;;;;;'
--------============_____________------............_______--
It lasts for a page and a half, so i just paraphrased.

I found it! (i know its dumb, but i had fun)

I have got it!

the meaning of life

i was so excited when i found it
it was hidden under a rock
under a castle under the earth
in a box
in a paper towel
in a real towel
covered with soot
covered with dirt
covered with blood
and sweat
drenched in tears
and cum
and rain

it smelled like the garbage disposal would
if it didn't work

with eggs and tomatoes
and cauliflower and cheese

It looked like Jesus resurrected
it looked like God's penis dipped in chocolate

and i almost took a bite
i almost thought about taking a bite
it went through my head
at the very least
I took a step back
and i said to myself
"how do i know what god's penis looks like?"

So I put it back
under a rock
under a castle under the earth
I put it in a box
and wrapped it in a towel
then in a real towel
i covered it with soot
and then some dirt
i bled all over it

It was hot
so i cried
then i came all over it (it did look like god's penis)

It started to rain.....
so i made breakfast

and then i made dinner

I had dessert.

i went home
to tell everybody about my discovery
and nobody was there to greet me
nobody even recognized me

i was ignored
i was followed
i was covered in soot
and blood
and cum
i was wrapped in a paper towel
then in a real towel

and buried somewhere
in the earth
in a castle underneath another castle
and i stank.

like cauliflower and cheese
and eggs and tomatoes
but i did
i really did
at anything i did

i looked like gods penis
dipped in chocolate........

Oh i am cumming!

Here i am
Allister Reynolds

I have just finished.

and this is my life
yes
i know
yes i am depressed
of course i am depressed
wouldn't you be
put yourself in my shoes
please do..


please.....
because somebody needs to
if not me than whom?

I have just finished a book.

you know how i hate to finish things
i absolutely hate it
every second of it
god dammit
get it through your skull

i have never meant anything any more than this:
i hate finishing.

I have just finished four beers.

the first time you came...
you felt ashamed and dislocated
the first time you had sex
you felt ashamed and dislocated
the first time you watched television
the first time you fell over
the first time you spoke to a woman
the first time that you wrote anything
or drew anything

I have just finished three sleeping pills.

I have a resentment for completion
I don't know if it is a basic human thought or not
i don't know if i am alone
or not

the book is not about where it leaves you
but where it takes you,
how you travel

naked and alone
it leaves you
ashamed and dislocated.

A poem to end all poems

There is no denying our own existential reality
how we have every right to question
anything
and everything that we have ever known
or will ever know

it is so easy to dismiss any belief
with this simple understanding

in the understanding:
that there is no understanding

the understanding:
that there is no possible way to understand

that having been said
ok
alright

but you need to establish a reality
everybody needs a reality, a plane, a dimension in which you live
whether you chose to understand or not
you still need a place to do all this misunderstanding

and the place that you do this is here
and you are here
and there is no denying that you are here


because i can see you
because i can touch you
and hold you
if i wanted to....
but you stink
and you sweat a lot
so why in the fucking hell would i want to touch you?
your gay.

so there you go

you have established a reality
you have established a plane on which you will exist
that plane has rules
that plane has morals
that plane has basic principals

you may not fly

you may not move things with your mind

you may not and will not ever, ever bend the rules

you may not ever leave this plain

you cannot

do you believe me yet
do you believe in reality yet

all that this is about;
is me

this is not about you
this is not about your needing for a reality
this is about my needing for a reality
this is about my need for truth
and my search for divinity

you don't really smell
but i still don't want to touch you
you aren't gay (I hope not(not like it matters))
and neither am i

this is about me explaining existence to myself
because i have given up
i have given up believing in not believing
i have given up in understanding in never understanding.


i believe in a reality

at least we have established that.