This is our true life.
Look at us
living,
and me
trying to feel everything
i once kept outside me.

i once was an angry kid
i once thought nobody loved me
or gave a damn
and when i got older
i had to lose someone i love
to realize myself
and i wonder
why people are here
and then
i see you
and
know why
and love flows through my heart
on my way to die
gonna live all the while
gonna love you so fucking much
my hearts gonna wanna burst
from your look
from your touch
never gonna lose you
never gonna lose me
gonna lose this whole life eventually
and i hope
it’s a good death
i hope i get to do everything i need to do
i hope you’ll let me love you

so i always look both ways
	 before crossing the street
	 	 i always look both ways
	 	 	 before
	 	 	 	 ripping my fucking heart out
and giving it.

if i live in the mountains alone
then
i wont need anyone to love me,
i’ll give my love
to nature
and rip my heart out
at the top of the mountain
and let my love flow
like blood
to the mouth of the river.

Meditated their entire lives
until their minds
were completely free
of everything
except their bodies.

They gave their bodies
and marched on the Myanmar army
and held their ground
and showed the world
how sacred freedom is
and worth dying for
to send the world a message.

the myanmar army
opened fire on the monks
and two days later
the monks were quarantined
in their monasteries
surrounded by the army,
to either hold,
or,
systematically eliminate.

Cold
ignorant
machine
human beings
with no heart
vs.
the Buddhist Monks of Myanmar
and there were ten thousand people that stood with them
when they were murdered.
It’s not talked of as much
as the Jewish oppression
throughout the ages,
but the Buddhists of Asia have had to deal with
many an oppressive government
and are still
defiant in the face of it.

Myanmar will fall one day,
and rebuild itself
as free Burma.

The government
cut the internet off in their country
so this wont be read
by any of them,
except
some awesome hacker over there.

They should know
that i’m on their side
and if you’re smart enough
to hack out of the government
net
and read this
then
DO
SOMETHING
ABOUT
IT!

Start the dissent
by hacking government
internet,
so your people can
get their first taste of beautiful freedom
and then they should learn
that you must demand it
they should learn of Martin Luther King Jr. for the first time
they should learn of the American Revolution
like the Vietnamese did,
and then
make martyrs of the dead buddhist monks,
like muslim jihadists
and fight!

China,
you fucking piece of shit country,
how could you act like this
after a thousand years?
Don’t you realize
the buddhist mind
will never be conquered?
And you teach your neighbor’s Generals
to be this cruel to
the most beautiful creatures on the planet?
You do nothing to condemn the act?
You do nothing either Russia
or India?
You say nothing,
you fucking worthless countries.
So focused
on controlling chaos
with an iron fist,
overcompensating
for
true weakness.

They meditated
until it was clear
the time was now
to have no fear
and they walked the streets
to let the world know
that right here
there are people yearning to live free
and they will show the world
(they arent showing their government)
a nation of people
crying for freedom
standing up
to automoton human beings
in uniforms
holding fully automatic weapons
disturbing
disgusting
horrible
and tragic,
people trying to be heard in
a heartless living nightmare.
Forget about night of the living dead,
or any other horror movie,
imagine living your entire life in submission
enslaved! enslaved!
so many minds
admition to
submission
in complacency.

The monks are sparking
dissent
the monks are
to be dispatched with
along with any photographers
to intimidate the media as well
we will gun you down
because
this is our town
and you
are like insects to us
you dont want us?
We are like violent jealous lovers
and will kill you
for not loving us.

And the monks walked down the street
and thousands of people joined them
and they walked downtown
and stood against
the automotons
and their automatic weapons
and were massacred,
the bodies of citizens
left lifeless in the street
the bodies of sacred buddhist monks
rounded up and executed
found face down
in the jungle mud.

I’m sorry for having to show a dead human being on my website.

I think of poems
that i don’t want to write,
and i’ve thought of
some that
were so to the point of my
vulnerability
that
i let them disappear
from my heart
like a chicken shit bastard.

Sometimes i’m selfish
and i keep it for myself

one time i was selfish
and wrote a poem
i should have let disappear
and one time i was
malicious
and wrote a poem
to hurt someone
i loved so much
i couldn’t take feeling so much
if she wasn’t there
so i wrote a poem in despair
that couldn’t take the pain
and then
thats when this poem
turned
from jazz
to blues.

You’re the beautiful thing in my mind,
are you real or
my solipsist dream?
You’re the beautiful thing
i want to love
is it you or me
is it?
tell me
you
are
for
me
and that this is the thing i love…

now the blues turns
from rock n’ roll
to death metal
because i would die
for you

something says
i could have let some stanzas disappear
something says
i’ve said too much
something says
that something says
that something says too much

I love you harder than i want
you make me love you so much
all i want is to be with you
all i want
is to be with you.
all
i
want
is
to
be
with
you,
all i wan’t is to be with you.

your too hip

and
i’m too cool

i’m too cool
and your too hip

i think it would be magic
if all of a sudden
you were here with me
and
i
turned into a puddle
in front of you

if i should let slip
that i love you
if i should let slip my love…

I would die for you
like a knight
for his dark age queen
and conquer the earth for you

and when we’re at peace
I would write poems
of my love for you
in an endless stream
from my burning heart
dream.

I’ll never finish
my Mexico story
in time
for the contest deadline
eating gouda and crackers
and drinking
cabernet sauvignon
from the bottle
listening to the Beatles
Sun King through
The End,
it’ll never happen
at this rate,
until i stop
writing this poem
and get back to finishing the story.

Besides, it’s too long,
they won’t have enough money to print all the pages
of my story
that keeps going
and you know what?
I don’t give a fuck,
because
i already won
my own contest,
and dubbed myself
the best poet alive
just like
Lil’ Wayne says he’s the best rapper.
Who’s better than me?
How do they’re words read?
Do they make you feel the same as mine?

Fuck no,
drunken
poems like this
only
come from Jackie Chan’s
hands and feet.

(chorus)

Best poet alive!
Best poet alive!
Best poet alive!
Best poet alive!

my dogs curled up at 2am.
i see the life he has,
eating, playing, crying, digging, exploring,
sniffing around with his nose
but when its 2am
he’s sleeping,
dreaming too…

life popping up
out of nowhere
it’s all too meaningful
to be randomness
in nothingness
like some
loveless scientist
might argue…

the ones who feel
and see,
know that
life
is
an amazing thing
that we’re here in.
we have so much in common with each other,
we get to see this world
in this universe,
we get to see,
we get to live,
what a privilege,
what a privilege to be
even a dog
in this place,

what an absolutely
beautiful thing.

i want these words
to sound
like wind
blowing through
a bamboo
forest of
birds calling
out in
the night,
’singing
for soulmating
singing for soulmating,’
singing birds
in the cool night
bamboo forest wind
blows
poetry
from a being
overwhelmed
by the beauty
of life
flowing furiously
until the end,
trying hard to comprehend
the meaning
of so much
beautiful fleeting,
the past
is like a dream we had in the flesh
and me
dropping poems
to remember the trail by.

Coming from the realest place–
Mind afloat in space
like a lily pad
on the pond world.

my hearts on fire
and i’ll never put it out
i’m gonna let it burn wild forever

someday they’ll realize
that
the new bikhus were born in America
because it was where
the world needed
enlightenment most.

I’m living
the hard life i wanted for myself.

What’s your dream?
This is mine.
My dream is this moment.

Everything i don’t have.
My dream is none of that.

If i were on an island all alone,
i’d write a poem everyday
and whenever a bottle
washed upon the shore
i’d stick a poem inside.

I’d write them in blood on banana leaves.
It feels like i already do.