so predictable

why would a lethargic yawning dawn,
slowly burping out the previous night,

stumble upon a lost morning moon and sneer?

is it because that we remain planted
while invisible energy swirls?

is it because sometimes the remarkable

becomes predictable

and thus we all take all of our stars

and stones for granted?
or is it the just that our aging spiritual pendulum
ceases to sway on it's own?

... .thurlo.

sour funk

under construction

... .thurlo.

war is subjective

'never be too good at not getting caught

it might not be good for you'

never understood it when it was said

but now i am living it thick

and it is obvious now

cinnamon smoke

it starts softer than a prayer

more subtle than morning

and is what few want to believe

... .thurlo.

nobody knows

i never knew nothing

that water just kept creeping up my ankles like history

i ran out out of that flooding house grabbing life

absorbing what i thought would keep me alive
and keep me from crying

but that cement hill road that i never drove north

that cement hill that never gave me a reason to care

i ran towards that fucking hill holding my little treasures

i ran holding in one hand the blood and history and truth of my ancestors
and in the other the last death before dying

and it was only april...

some little downtown bookstore around 10 a.m. a few years removed

from the back of my metal plate

held in my hand that stretches in between these bars

i can see the scratched and dull reflection

of what i now consider nature

a cute idyllic glassy eyed shrine

where the air inside is lit up all amber and gold

a sanctuary within a self imposed prison

a spectacular garden surrounded by ice

... .thurlo.

one… (my love my light)

the mainstream is polluted - hold your nose...
monday morning coffee should always be stronger than the rest of the week.  seriously, there should exist 'the monday blend'.  some limited release concoction that allows freedom to linger in the face of of some bored firing squad.  for, while the shower is still wet and the sun still yawns, the weekend instantly becomes a distant blur and time accelerates head first into merging traffic only to idle in front of a manipulative light.  so forgive me for the bad cholesterol that goes to my head, but taking a moment to dip my a.m. donut into forgotten art will always distort this week day repetitious spin cycle for a few delightfully fragmented moments.  something to bide the time as i wait to lay my soul down, next to my heart.



my love my light

she is in essence
  all seasons green and giving
  chamomile chocolate cream
  soft
  september sunset sweet and warm

she is a heart that dances with grateful colors
  lips that sip like soft framboise fantastic
  eyes like sparkling cinnamon merlot
  bright
  skin as smooth as sun drenched ice

she is herbal smiling smoke
  radiating harmony within
  inviting arms opening without
  fiery
  she is maya angelou proud

strong when the wind will howl
like water when the sky is shy

she is within the dancing amber
she is within the sweetest porter
she is within the fearless rain

she is within me


from the collection 'thaw'…

masque

swimming in the sand
sinking under the moon
watching all the days go by
counting on you to keep the tide from burning my eyes

... .thurlo.

and, but, why

my phone number is an unimportant prime

and

my media access control is beyond a computer deciphered pi

way far out there, beyond any reasonable slick smiled lie

so i quietly listen when my sweat wanders near my eye

i am aware though i know i am not fully awake nor contrite

i know that the government tries to control loose minds

but

i admit that i don't understand nor comprehend fight or flight

it may just not be i - or me - or this skin bag of water that cries
why

my cassette tape is brittle and running dry

while those antiquated dirty heads no longer feign an ocean salty smile

and

while i listen slumped by hidden pain to avoid any personal strife

i dream any dream that doesn't lay by my side

but

i love that my crazy deceptive dog wags its body wild

i dig everything along with everybody under every sky

inherently clinging to their fragile fleeting soon to be forgotten lives

it may just not be i - or me - or this soul that cannot defy

why

... .thurlo.

spiritual complication

the sahara holds more secrets
than the old testament holds hope

the spectral fog that waltzes across the deepest ocean floors

has seen more than a child will see in a lifetime of stars

yet we spin around in comfort food circles bookmarking archaic rhymes
we echo raptures in unison as we are commanded to not tell a lie
we divide and cling and clutch to our romantic traditions
as if spiritual contemplation translates to a ticket into the great divine

so we deal with faith as a spiritual fable, and science as an ivy hoax,

and invisible bridges that could span hearts and hands and minds and hope
become generationally dangerously decaying metal skeletons of peace
that could never handle the load of defiant souls

... .thurlo.

careening clowns

like i have stated on earlier posts, sometimes it is just fun to free write unedited poetic rants to help me through the day...

careening cartoon clown cars moving forward in hectic concentric
             oscillating circles
hazardously veering into systematically placed donut drive thru's to inject caffeine
             laced withed chemical sugar
and all before the morning bell has rung

step back - sit back and look what a morning has become, hearts undone
             shrinking horizons
mechanical claws reaching for our throats - soulless cyber notes
             scars from the night clinging on
and less reasons, necessary treasons, and more needs to come

... .thurlo.

wandering honey

thigh high wandering honey

as if gravity was lost in the moment

caressing your flexing flesh

like a tongue caresses ice cream

sometimes life has events that happen

from deep within a psyche

so let it roll

let it live

... .thurlo.

your move

dragging baggage through this dissipating crowd
my right wrist feeling heavier than my left
i notice you noticing me
and i am sympathetic to your quest

innocently ignoring this life numbing electronic drizzle
i pray for my head-ache to burst upon your scene
but stalking souls is for the young my dear

and my legs just cannot seem to breathe

... .thurlo.

friday flowers and chakra dancing

within these friday flowers
like the sun
i place my heart

within this holy water
like oxygen
i breathe my love

and as subtle as the world that holds everything
like the universe

it holds our souls

... .thurlo.

day 2 day

 just another day they say...

so enjoy it in anyway you say...

tonight we dance with whiskey in our blood and ale under our feet

it seems as if mother nature and her crew no longer look at the calendar - no lie, old man winter is working overtime and he's angry about the hours.  seems to drive the faithful to howl at the moon a lot harder and a little more often than usual.  cheers, skøl, mud in your eye, say what you will, i'll be by your side.



tonight we dance with whiskey in our blood and ale under our feet
and while the hard hits of the fading day fall numb and forgotten
i know that within this glorious night that is blossoming
a moment will be alive
   with chance
a music infused mystical moment
just you and i alone amongst the masses
skeletons dancing out of their closets under some fat laughing moon
our souls singing
our spirits free
and for that chance alone
   i breathe

...from the collection 'thaw'

ember

time is vicious and mocks our loyalty
every second of every minute has just passed
before we even have a chance to understand
the images fade and the moments blur
and the future is as solid as smoke

the sunburn that stings above the cool water
the mortgage or the leaks or the retainer
the worn brakes bald tired suv still needing tuition
the bulk chocolate that has expired
the prozac with a chaser before the bell
the calendar that needs more dates
the unscheduled storms
the spiraling emotional cost of false revelations for a better tomorrow
the antidotes of wasteful distractions that leech the hours

with a life of fallen dominoes left behind
the grand design pulls the future towards us
the same way gravity tugs at our spines
and as each day falls
  leaving post flash ghostly images
    trying to burn a history
the ultimate chain reaction is strikingly mechanical

and nonchalantly finite


... .thurlo.

12:34 a.m.

the weight of dead air lurking within the dark hovers
until the cold gravity of another day gone
gives way
allowing the regrets to slowly crush down upon my chest

causing each breath that used to dance between sleeping and dreaming

to limp in silent midnight residue
and each murmur within my heart
to slowly care less and less

fire water

mother nature is frustrated and angry

father time chuckles and smirks

while we blissfully stumble through our daze

as if our self importance actually exists

... .thurlo.

so tired all of the time

geek gods within kaleidoscope skies toil

shooting stars vibrate against my thigh
pixelated fireworks cascade from my hand

yet you focus on everything that went wrong
this night

and you also wonder why
i am so tired
all of the time

... .thurlo.

i am the pen

i am the pen

that bridges my essence

onto paper

i am the brush

that climaxes - exhausted

onto canvas

i am my own ism

i am my own god

i am my own universe

bleeding internally

whispering out loud

listen to me

...from the collection 'untilted'

 - .thurlo.

soul ducat

the value of art

appraisement in the head or

cherished in the heart

... .thurlo.

empty demographics

aspirations
as drunk and as strong
  as the ale in
    which they swim

and as fragile
  as the sweaty dirt brown bottles
    that cradle them

aspirations
thrive within comfortable intoxication
  and die bitterly upon
    the chilly foggy morn

and life gets older and life gets tired
  and life loiters
    while the bones break down in silence

instant gratifications
obloquy consumptions and dark servile mutilations
outdated within the populated
  resides the obvious emptiness that no one is portraying
mindful souls left feeling underrated

  inculcated and without a sky to rise to

empty drinks
empty voices
empty souls
empty dreams
empty hearts
  ready to perish within the night

- ... .thurlo.

time with all its residuum concepts

art seems to always find a way to leak out of me.  i have a ton of these surreal doodles, found this one lurking beneath a bunch of old drawings.  forgotten and almost lost.  i will from time to time just draw without any discernible direction.  i will from time to time just write without any apparent bearing.  good for my soul to just let it flow.

time with all its residuum concepts
is not invited
life with all its gravity
is without law
souls with all its fleshy armor
are left breathless and lingering high

 - .thurlo.

so the riptide begins with sweeping zealots

the old man hides amongst the dogs

so the riptide begins with sweeping zealots 
secretly smirking through toothy grins and pretending to fly
  because their traffic has no realistic reason to question
    why the shoreline of sanity has begun to fade from view
and their gold temples of conformity will sing, rejoice, plead and wail
      burning and rewriting all that was known
and the blessed will scream nonsensical negative orgasms
  until the almighty plunge backwards into obedience and darkness and decay begins
recycling itself into heavenly submission

             once more

all the while the heretical thinkers will be censored
  and driven like pagan snakes back into hidden holes of survival
    begging for meager mental morsels of scientific truth
  to filter through clandestine subterranean pores

...thurlo.

lazy houses and puppets

lazy houses slump into formation
wires criss cross and obscure a faithful sky
fumes loiter on the corner
and the ground tries to hold onto the warmth of the sun

  long after our day has died

don't be a puppet

....thurlo.