email test

This is a test post via email, so i will be able to make blog posts from my fone while i am on the road and without access to a computer, which will most times be the case.

Introduction

So, i suppose this is the best time to introduce this blog.

The purpose of this blog is for the people that care to see what my life is becoming in the next weeks, months, and year(s). I will be sharing where i am, encounters with people, enthralling activities i partake in, thoughts that pass my mind, prose, poetry, photographs, and many similar things. I am sure there will be moments of thick updating, and others where the pickings are slim. I am sure i will transfer many things over from my journal to this blog, but i will be posting them to the date i wrote them in my journal. Yes, you can do that on blogspot, but i will notify it in a current post or somehow that i did so, so those of you who are interested, can go back and read.

I am to embark on a journey via bicycle around the country. I will take the essentials with me, accompanied by a few luxuries; the obvious bicycle goods, other obvious things such as clothes, sleeping bag, tent, guitar, music player, and the afore mentioned journal. I will be leaving from Appleton, Wisconsin to (in this approximate order) waupaca, steven's point, eau claire, minneapolis, la crosse, madison, sheboygan, milwaukee, chicago, maybe lower michigan, chicago again, bloomington indiana, columbus ohio, clevland, defiance ohio, western pennsylvania, and then kentucky/tennessee. From there, Around mid-fall i will be shooting for mississippi, lousiana, texas, all the way out to california and then up oregon and washington. This last portion isn't too throughly planned out, but i want to keep it somewhat spontaneous. eventually, i will wiggle my way back to appleton, but exactly when or what i will do afterwards is up to the decisions i make in the near future.

I am leaving on May 9; 2008.

Surface tension

We must communicate in ways to remain unheard - uninterpreted. The poet seeks to contain all pertaining to feeling; of feeling, of passi0on, of thought, all resting behind a cascade of words that will mean nothing to those who do not deserve understanding. Concealment; the taxing flask of imminent struggle tucked into the boot between the lines provided, a sense of alluring confusion rooted deep in the soil of the eyes. A poet seeks to wretch words hardly worth what glows deep in the soul. Desperate times wail for epic decisions; the measures created waste little if nothing is contrived from the muse, for the muse, by the muse.

Bread is manageable, but the heart pumps blood, finickly set, but yet the yeast sets in. Toiling slowly at first, unnoticed to the untrained cerebellum, eventually festering to the point of no return. Demons disperse but the stress sets in, the moisture of winter licking the cracks of pavement-EXPAND-fissures appear, splitting lands of various priests, govenors of qualms and vice. Spring is near.

Liquid of the flask fills the cracks, as spring requires a timely distress to regress, when a quake shakes the flakes of change, sullen memories overcome the hearts of the young. A special instance when bread is most suitable-feed them, and they will come! Rejoice in haphazardly constructed institutions of recovery; reality,it starts and sets again.

Forget the bitter taste of distane! Forget the enticing brace of lace! For heavens fucking sake, forget all you've been taught - it will mean everything to so few so soon. Little do these letters know, they know much more than most. They say perspective says it all, but retro speaks of style. Fantastic shadows cast down on wind sills, the streetlight pervades the space provided - the barricade. The barricade. The sane are nowhere to be found in this resting silence that follows nourishing wet.

I seek much more than what is read in between lines; nouns, the verbs, the adjectives adding to the momentum - The Sun. The rays ensure certain elements of enlightenment, required to embrace what words these pages cannot convey.

Misery has no struggle to overtake so much, but still, somehow, we seem to find a sense of happiness. Feeling alive is sometimes enough. Pushing through, just to get by, day by day- today? The smell of wet wool and polyester saturates the fabric into a blissful state of decay.

I require certain expectations; satisfaction far under-weighs distress, as i seek more sleep than this body has time for. So strange, surreal even, as if feeling the same amounts to any difference in rest...

We cry now, her and i. But her eyes cast a blessing on the spring. On how spring soil seeks to be marshland once again. She thrives; wails and wretches floods upon the land. Irrigation and city sewers will be no match for them. Soon enough. Soon so soon. Enough. Is it enough? Rest now to overcome then, the time will come. Soon enough.

Dispense - disperse many dimensions of change. Diverge from the machines; digress from their will and their words; cavalry of faith and of death.

Finding Alone.

People, faces;
Absorb this time and place,
And the words they speak-
Set the pace,
Wreck on discourse.
They wreck what holds them up.
It is what they seek.
Take what comes forth,
Week at the knees as this might be.
Watch us pass.
Watch them pass.
There they pass, watch-
One after another.
Relax.
This time will not last.
Inevitable fact will pervade the at hand task.

Engaging conversations lack these days. I seek more than what is before me, but i fear i am not looking in a manner that is suitable. I just expect shit to fall down in front of me. Sometimes. There is more i lack and seek, and also unsuitable ways to obtain them are prevalent. I do expect others to come to me. Always. Always. The time has come to change this.

Sickly nerves lust for silky skin; desires, sweet, gentle passion. Fresh, but not new to this fountain of youth.

The body's unrivaled aesthetic toils onward-
Uncharted territories await my arrival-
Of mind and body bound by time,
Materialistic stipulations of one's God and law,
Scenes of saw-
Cutting to raw.
The child's desire is wrecked,
Raped rivers designated to carry tortured souls to their untimely fate.
Maternal instincts left behind,
The body is separated from will,
And the sound of this mill churns air to chill wind.

And yet i seek to regain
What was separated from here,
So long ago.
Indentured servant no longer-
Live by day to day standards
As they stand on the surface,
Pervading all who come to close to -
See a dying son's demise.
Redirection is not desired-
Necessary is Rebirth through reprisal.

Desire does not sleep as sight begins to fade.
And a certain lust awaits when this particular body wakes.

Echoing through these halls looms a voice.
Creation surrogates the will of fate,
Simply by forgetting the steps after birth.
Fading,
Fading.
Screeching a response.
It is not returned.

Garbage suffocates growth,
But this beat manages to surpass the discrete path of discourse beyond the corridor.
Ahead.
As with all enlightened things,
bonds long time lost and forgotten will never be conveyed to meaning.

Ghosts move from place to pace,
the transitions of tracks traveled by those who wish to hear.
See?
The pacifier on ears?

Displace this taste and pleasure as one another converse,
Debate,
And relate experience.
Featured and displeased will the speculators be.
The time for us to leave has come.

Journal Posts: Apr7-14

The following journal entries i'd like to share, but i cannot post them at their proper dates because they are from before the creation of this blog. I am posting this on the 28th of April, but I want it to appear in proper order of the following posts.

April 7; 2008
Satisfaction looms, soaking all with the mist of impermanent joy. The smooth gliding of rubber and pavement accompanies the fresh rattle of a chain while the cold steel is pumped; bellows of the body's forge seek and push the steed to soar. And this body aches, not for being pushed to limits, but for the desire. I long for the coming weeks to leave, and to see her again, in that great city to the west. I wonder what the future will bring. Anticipation looms as it always does.

Times are coming together. Highs and lows mesh and maintain a satisfying intermediate. Methinks that bicycle riding improves the general feel of this life. With the long-awaited arrival of spring, i sometimes think it would be fun to stay here. But then, overwhelmingly, the drive is to leave everything here behind, at least for a time. Then, upon my hopefully short return, to see which companionships are worth the long-term commitments. I can already guess several of them, but only time will tell.

April 8; 2008
Energy conveyed from liquid bean to me results in revitalization, at least for now. I squeeze this moment for all of the momentum it has, but lacking is an adequate amount to keep me surfaced for long. I am set into this content, but not of the bitter taste of just black in my mouth. I almost struggle to keep in mind, positive perspectives keep the head held high.

I want to create, but i feel restrained. Soon enough, the cloud will dissipate. As of now, i can already see a future, although unclear. Anticipation looms like a dangerous storm.

April 9; 2008
My dreams fill with desperation. It shows in desire, panic, and it blinds with lust. It aches and it swells, especially after I awaken. I takes me several hours to recover after each sleep. Disorientation overwhelms my mind as i struggle to adjust to conscious life.

Weave and weave, but where are the baskets I seek to create? I need somewhere to store false hopes and the desire to deceive. Perhaps not so much a desire, but the feeling of desperation. This is mostly because one that claims i can trust is not trustworthy in the least bit. That is partially my undoing, because everybody sleeps in the bed they make. It is for reasons like this that i am leaving this place. I am not happy with who i have become here, and because of that, i fear i will not be able to become the person i seek out deep within. I need to find what i will do with my life. This transition will cost much in the personal loss of many relationships, but to be brutally honest, that is the point. An insurmountable set of relationships and circumstances are the driving forces of my unhappiness. I do not seek to vanquish such conflicts from my mind, because i have learned from them and i do value them, but i feel as if i can no longer remain attached to them in any shape or form. If i were to stay here, i could not remain unattached.

This longing to escape these demons has escalated to points of almost pushing me into uncontrollable frenzy. I have also noticed an increased amount of these same demons everywhere i go. Perhaps they are angels, but it is i the demon; either way, i must leave this life behind to start another. The tragedies i have held onto for so long will not be forgotten, but removed from the weight i carry.

Demons and angels are just words, just figureheads for an example, and what really matters are that all individuals involved in this metaphor become stronger, healthier, and more mature in the end. I sincerely wish that for all of you, whether i like or dislike you and/or your existence.

----

Mutter sensation-
Strange pace and hands over eyes-
Foul taste in mouth;
I am not sure where i am,
It is unclear if i stand.

Vague at best, this night,
Remaining stale in this state-
I jerk with a fright-
There is a light coming forth,
Faster with each second past.

----

This light shines through the mist of a cool night's breath,
Breathing in consignment of wrath-
This is my pain,
I sustain this endurance.

The waxing moon adds to the glow of this hearth-
I am so tired,
But i am alive.
Despite the faith that crosses my fate-
I fall, fail, and tire-
But yet i strive.

Circulation losses momentum in these hands,
But yet on i write-
Desperation thrives.
Overcast of the week vanishes,
With but a trace of fog-
But the day will come in,
With a menacing storm.
Onward I wait,
Forward i drive.

April 14; 2008
Frivolous thoughts-
Forsaken mind.
Coaxed bodies
In the riverbed of time.

Reaching out,
The pores taste air.
Despite the burgeoning frost,
The hand clasps.
No despair.

----

I lust enough to care,
Heavenly sense of enthusiasm.
Blissful cooperation merely for the sensations-
Warmth and compassion.

Restless enough to shake off the desire for sleep.
These open eyes seek more than the bleak white-
This square fortress of civilized life.

----


This high burns my veins with ambition, as treachery lies around every corner. I move forth, dodging the past, progressively passing the shackles. Wrath of the ruling class, monstrous momentum behind their claws. Ruling. Abiding. Ever watching...

Step before myself, and teeter on this edge. The undertow lies below, but i must not to fall in unless sheepishly I choose to taste and waste until the end of my days. I need no drink of dismay.

Forlorn, I feel as if it is, was, necessary for me to dump a large portion of what was left of seasons past over the despairing edge before me. Yes. Now i may complete myself. Now i may erect my potential, hold against the many towering divinities that encompass all that surrounds. They are possessed with my dsimantle and complete removal from this place of rest. But it is here, for now I remain, conciously profound.

Left the unneeded baggage, soon to physically embark on a mental journey. The only taxes to be paid will be those of enforcing charms of charisma and endurance.

Volumes of verse will pay respected dues, well worth and owed. I owe so few and expect my best.

Pretty memories-
Subsequent stout.
Hazy frenzies,
Of laughter and doubt.

I will be hailed delirious before a dire genius.