most of us are looking for a savior - a he, a she, a there, a that; always that; never this. what a quandary this, our carrot on a stick is; the carrot's ours, the stick's ours, and so is the infernal design that makes it all so believable.

npwm, #1 #1

no,
no, don't worry about it
yes, you're fine.
it's great.
what you're doing is,
in fact,
wonderful.

it's me that's "wrong,"
my inhibitions
spawning discomfort
as i observe your freedom.

teach me
you do by being.

you are beautiful, and
the unhindered flow
of life through you
is something i cherish -

when i'm not making sure that no one else is looking.

npwm, #2 #1

this.



that...

these,
those.

but all there is is this
until this imagines that
and then chooses these
over those

how can it be
that what i choose
is disharmony?

when, in order for the absence
of peace to be felt
peace must be known
and well

peace?
peaaaaaaaaaace?
where are you peaaace?

i look this way and that,
peering into the distance
of a lifetime

oh!
there you are...
you were behind me all along.

npwm, #4 #1

your reaction is
what you felt you needed
to feel in response
to this stimuli

i provide for you
the raw materials

you sculpt them
into your reality

is it real?
more real than mine?
are you alright?
can we still be fine?

regardless
of what comes to pass
and that which preceded
it's fine if you'll let it be

i'll be here
remaining true
i won't reject
your thoughts or you

take me as i am
as i take you as you are

fucked up and lovely

breathing fire and life

awake or dreaming

stuttering through
"reality"
never shared.

it's so much darker here
on the east coast
than it is lighter there
in the west

or am i mistaken?

npwm, #5 #1

sitting here as
the black car drives round
as the crow swoops down
from rooftop to tree branch

b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-waaaaaaaaa
motorcycle's echo in the distance
the distance drifting towards me

and what do i have?
besides this seat upon which i'm sitting
and this head filled
with thoughts i'm thinking
and this mind so full of space

and time

where am i?
ca-caw, caw, caw
and whatever that sound is
that'll never make it to text
or from words into a mind,
whole as it was in my ears

what carry these flimsy vessels
filled with emptiness
filled with that
which it is figured should be

does it follow the crows?
they're gone now.
did the idea drift away
on some breeze similar to that
which they have sailed away upon?

where does realization rest?
are its rations "on the house?"
a little bit of lagniappe
for this blind hermit
peddling the best and worst of things

to the best and worst of me.

back to reality,
this more persistent dream.

npwm, #6 #1

pity the poets'
souls trapped in flesh and mind's
eternal ascent



our words "love" and "God"
obscure the true Truth behind -
cosmic unity

npwm, #9 #1

so,
apparently to-
day
i feel like pre-
facing statements
with a "so,"


so, i'll sow "so" -

sew "so" on-
to the fabric of

what i say today -

because i say "so,"
be-
cause
i say so.


i can be a cautionary tale!



so please don't fall victim to
that narrow so narrow -

your own stupid brain.


- but especially -
- so, especially -
- (so especially) -
- so, so especially don't
fall into the narrower
masquerading
as smarter.


he'll
replace windows with mirrors
and keep
you focused for a lifetime.

npwm, #11 #1

ideas, thoughts
decay
become soil

feed new generations
of ideas, thoughts

seemingly related,
seemingly unrelated,
all from same place

in same space

One



thoughts, like trees.
people, like trees.
generations, like trees.

trees, like trees.

seemingly unrelated.
all from from.



thoughts like clay,
moulded into ideas


children like clay,
moulded into monsters

moulded already broken

broken to break

continue breaking,
unless braking,
changing


decay;
feed life,
fed poison


children like clay,
nurtured
to nurture

sow love,

life


decays, feeds life


people are children -
always children,
sometimes denying.

always, though,
a child when dying