This Is The Frequency 

Soft dream 
transmissions
from the dead 
 
Do you copy? 
 
They speak in 
hieroglyphics
 
I lose myself in 
the transgression 
of time 

The monotony 
of gray skin 
 
Cut off the 
 
machinery
 
Turn it off 
 
Turn it off 
 


 
 
 
I Ching Jukebox 

Spectral
Dadaists
appear
eating
greasy
wings

Neon 
moons of 
expression
bellow
in dark 
corners

Exploded
Buddhas
dig crazy 
wisdom on 
I-Ching
Jukeboxes
 
Move on 
over for the 
 
gray ghost 
of infinity







A Penny Dream 

The future is 
expected be 
written, insidious 
words chose as 
lines and sound 
exhibit self 
deconstruction
words as leakage 
multiply
intentionally
deconstructing in 
automatic
movement....
abstract
breaths.... textual 
suicide, dream 
crimes psychic 
sweat standing 
wild surrealistic 
thrusting
a penny dream 
becomes long 
and cold adorned 
with slow 
despair, pointless 
nonsense of the 
heart the anger 
paints layers of 
wonder and neon 
purgatory
muttered


memories and the 
amateurish
sketching of stale 
flesh and the 
usual trappings 
God exists in 
songs that offer 
no hope