Been Busy Being a

Bee, not a B.

B as in Bee as in worker . I work hard for the money (honey).
B is for Bryan.
B also can morph meaning in an aid to disguise a secretive reference to "The B Group".
Ive walked my Dharma Six Times this week and noticed the ceramic reptile all over again.
She must be doing a lot of whoring.

She put a ceramic toad out in front of her apartment door. This was a subtle way of displaying her business hours and a slight joke to all the men hugged by the spell of their wives, implying they would leave a reptile state and become "Kings" again. 

Reader, Ive just talked you down with a transparent pretentious waste of words and time.

Congrats.

The B above the We

The B Group. The B is the New A.
The A is a front to shadow the B.
And now its all bogus. The sad fact that I fell for the hi tech propaganda.
The end of recent blood shed came promised as Immediate.
Then 16.
Then 23.
And the We sit by,
watching them dramatize the situation with the chewing on of their silk ties.
And while its projecting off the boob tube for the youth seeking truth,
were missing the meeting of the B group with the A.

(Oh, Rabbit here's a carrot.)
Hotel Corridors have dancing puppets on the wall, 130 guests with strings attached to money, money, money.

(Out from behind the worlds closed windows)

What is that the We see?
The blank stare of the B and A easy peas mind.
They have peace cause they know they are going to end the pain for everyone, including themselves,by destroying EVERYTHING!

The Lodge

I needed to find a way inside the lodge at the end of the street. I grabbed my typewriter, put it inside its charming case and began walking. I knocked special, by chance I got it right ad the door opened.

I assumed I would see beer coolers, kegs, old men, suits, draft handles.... but none of that was their. The man behind the desk was making notes inside of a binder and two women sat on a couch behind me.

"What would you like?" he said.
"A beer if you got it."

He looked around and said he was out of beer. He pulled out a water jug filled with wine and poured me a tall glass of Red. He then gave me the vat with the remaining wine and sediment.

The girl on the couch, silent, odd, was drinking her wine from the bottom half of a hookah. I sat on the couch and suddenly felt this odd feeling of sitting in a family members living room. The father was polishing the bar top, the young girl, with her short shorts declining inward, was examining her thigh for stretch marks and the mother was cheating on a crossword puzzle.

I quickly realized that this was not the location that the Free Masons come to and have their meetings. Or was it? I couldn't be sure. No no no, it couldn't be. I had screwed up with my assumptions, read to much into the secretive vibes the building gave off.

I decided to finish my wine, sediment and all, and get up and leave. Half way home, drunk and stupid, (thinking what my explanation would have been if asked about the typewriter) I realized I had left my Royal, case and all! I rushed back, trying to remember the "secret knock". Would it matter though? I mean the knock could probably be any knock, my mistake was in thinking one was needed!

I reached the door. I tried the handle. They didn't lock it. I opened the door and their they stood, the man in his underwear, the two females completely naked and my typewriter,directly in the middle, surrounded by their sweating bodies.

They all looked at me like I now new something.

A reptilian Sign

She put a ceramic toad out in front of her apartment door. This was a subtle way of displaying her business hours and a slight joke to all the men hugged by the spell of their wives, implying they would leave a reptile state and become "Kings" again.

He fell into the game, Not by choice.

Its from the flat to the oval that it was noticed as a puddle...
Staring into it, shivering outward, rings of outer world and self reflected back to him.
Walking past, catching the glance of a pregnant woman pushing a first born in a shopping cart,
he held onto his pool cue that he used as a walking stick and began wondering if the money from his upcoming hustle would be enough for a stroller.

News Update

For anyone who follows or stumbles across this blog, possibly while tripping over a ridiculous Tea Cup puppy and magically typing in this web address, let me drop shoot some News on your overpriced jeans. (Stop scrubbing, Its not going to come out!)

Ive come to a little bit of a haze.
Im waiting for new beats to find me or for me to gladly accidentally encounter.
No logging of my newest writings will be done for a little while. Time to collect, ponder and wait.

Its It! Wind.Dust.

It had created another It.
The Its newborn It went off to hide.
The Its newborn It stayed hidden, only peeking out to ruin the lightness of unimaginable days encountered rarely by the originating It.

"Call me God if your going to bother me!" demanding the fathering It. Continuing on with his proclamation he shouted;

"For now on I am going to be referred to as Dust and you as Wind!"

Dust continued to be bothered by Wind for what felt like Eons. The longevity of the bothersome acts of Wind was of course not entirely long and not quite short enough to be called a brief Mishap. The confusion towards this time line seemed to arise from an event that never quite left the memory of Dust. It was constantly blowing at Dust, disrupting its calm on the brightest of days when Dust could be seen by onlookers in the ray of a sun beam. The anger from Dust towards Wind was becoming evident.

Dust was building itself into thick piles, trying to gain weight as a resistance towards Wind. But it was not working. It was flaring up the allergies of the Tenants and they were becoming more disruptive to Dust with there moist paper towels and feather wands. Finally something was said by Dust.

"That is it Wind! I just want to be! Your always ruining my life!"

and Wind replied gently, with a soft cast of movement across the living room.

"I apologize, Ive merely been trying to move you."

Settling

The commotion had strung a ruckus from the dirt beneath our feet,
and as we blindly stand waiting for it all to lightly fall,
squinting as the grains jam our eyes, wedged wide open...
We wait for it all to settle.
Perhaps the green that we know not whether is truly green or just a tad bit blue,
was lonely and flat without a glaze,
but it has received partnership from the silk and wood and now places to rest our sore backs.
Still waiting for it all to settle.
But standing, waiting, watching, staring at the dust that we call our own,
I feel myself, know myself, see my origin and its total history.
Ingrained in the sand pebble grain on the surface of the fiber of the culminated brain,
Is a message, that I fuzzy eyed stare at,
hoping for a magnification or emancipation from the frustration and hesitation that ultimately brought myself here to begin with,
and the message in the settling cloud of sand reads
Patience.

I heard it crack

Sickened porcelain Ego,
Ive broken my toe.
Never has a purple glow made me feel so insufficient,
for fulfilling a need.
When does the moist rock of this cave you made home in
collapse?
In fact,
the hitch in my get up and go,
represents the willingness and consistent,
struggle upwards.
That I want to reflect back at you, show you.
And,
Until these bones become instant coffee powdered cream,
you'll know...

That I progress.

Only to find myself back again

Pumping out the shine
how many times have i crossed past the line of knowing and defining time?
Feeling the feels,
all around me wind out the reel of certainty.
Contained in circumference, tear apart the curves.
break out only to find ive been contained again,
in a cyclic culmination,
of nothing.

And A rise pops out from behind my deepest depth,
far out, I stand long mouthed, swept, away.
Away with it all!
I command your retreat only to find myself back again.
in the middle,
which has been spoken as clear...
But I pen and define as an observation,
from a mountain,
at the culmination,
of a larger,
nothing.