25 March 2005

Wind

Follow me
follow me down
To a twisted road
through the city
Sometimes at night
I think it's pretty here
I look around
And think about
you
What I don't see
is what happens in your
head
I'm glad you are not dead
Take your medicine
and feel better
Lately I like the
weather
We need to make time
to feel the
wind
And see it rush through your
hair

24 March 2005

Raison d'etre

Describing heaven
Sometimes it is paradise lost
A feeling that we thought
Would never end

Underneath the bitterness
And the anger
We sometimes find
The raison d'etre

The momentary condition
That keeps you happy
For a certain amount of time
And scarless

Rats in a maze
Find the reason
For being
With the cheese

We are like rats
Struggling to survive
For something
We view as important

23 March 2005

Madrigal Of The Inner Eye

Madrigal of the inner eye
Shining through with abundance
Farcical shuddering of youth
Infected with dubious exile

Letting go of radiant thoughts
The devil facing a starlit plain
Renegade machines cutting boldly
Separating the wheat from the chaff

Automatic starry delusion
Precipitating nocturnal adventures
Draping ourselves in mad illusion
Killing the inner sun

Faces awash in lavender and crimson
Beckoning us to destroy all inhibition
Merciless attack of urban lice
Destroying all that shines

Diamond studded miscreants sulking
Stalkers of the inner mind
Following impulses downward
Meting out what must be

Accidents waiting to happen
Searching for a way out
The cold essence of warfare
Crashing around our naive ears

Justice has been blinded
The city marches in time
Smoke rising from the streets
Oedipus decapitated

Crying blood from our tear ducts
Murder in the streets
Walk with caution and presence
Forbid death driving down the door

Insatiable curiousity
Kneeling at the altar of blasphemy
Odious knowledge seeping blood stained
Contradicting natural instinct

The battle cry of revolution
Apathy executed by firing squad
Loneliness sentenced to the gas chamber
Anger eventually appeased

Falling down hard on my knees
Closely inspecting the asphalt
Ripping up my skin
This is my Easter Sunday

Resurrection of the twilight idols
Cigarette smoking charismatics
Looking for a rich kid thrill
Wandering the blackest night

Annihilation of shyness
Awkwardness convicted of petty theft
Insurmountable excitement
Hearts pounding in their chests

Molotov cocktails embracing daisies
Emerald green absinthe soaked hell
Playing without a full deck
Monopolizing the theft of time and peace

Figure skaters open a brothel
Friendship requires a contract
Miscellaneous ambidextrous madness
Stab my colon with spicy excess

Purgatory at a discount
Souls for sale cheap
Coupons for a mental institution
Raving zombies on parade

Going to a rock concert with a mugger
Uterine lining as an opening act
Facing the most boring epiphanies
Tabby cats ruling the world

Serial killers playing backgammon
Judas Iscariot dealing blackjack
Speed freaks serving prime rib
Gunsmiths eating shoe leather

Musical chairs open a pizza parlor
Beer is up for sainthood
Vodka replaces Santa Claus
Nose fetishists at the racetrack

Middle management monotheistically medicated
Charles Darwin on a cheap date
Palm trees playing parsimonious pinnacle
Savage reprisal for unwanted thoughts

Acrimonious social workers
Living on noodles and dreams
Finding money in your shoe
Pedicure salon kicked by an ostrich

Biker gang joins a convent
Sophocles arrested for molesting the Sphinx
Pollock working at a paint store
California renounces statehood

Follow me down a dusty dirt road
Dust off my boots with eyelashes
Living under a freeway overpass
Realizing you are free

Temptation to drink battery acid
The last of the hemp shirted cowboys
Anthropomorphize strawberries
Fall down a manhole

Everything fades to black
Start chewing on my lips
Turn off the T.V.
Wash away the dirt

22 March 2005

Horns

Horns
like the devil
A hand
in the mist
Flower
without color
in the shadows
Who is that person
sitting in the twilight
between white grey and black
She is someone
who sought you out
She sacrificed for you
whom she believed in
And you believed in her
It was told
between the two of you
While sitting on the sidewalk
or at a table
And someone said
come over here
I want to know who the two of you are

21 March 2005

Out On The Highway

We've been across Nebraska
I was thinking
of Johnny, Patti and Mike
I was looking out at those fields
thinking of how they lived
on the edge of a knife
Dylan came on the radio
was it music or was it sex
There were times when
I was thinking
to die was probably best
Out on the highway
we relied on each other then
But it seems like we could
never make the turn
on that last bend
We headed homeward
driving down the I-10
I didn't know how long
it would seem since then
I didn't know how long
I would live since then

20 March 2005

Beyond Duplication

There is a power
I feel in you
That can not be contained
It breathes of its own volition
Rising with the sun
Seething with the moon
It lives of its own accord
We are slaves to its muse
A drama of incendiary touch
I do not want to let go
Let the originals stand
In silent moratorium
There was a time that could not be expressed
Let alone put to rest
The will was alive
The means were forming
Purity was at hand
Innocence to shock the world
A world of corruption
Society had failed
Moving forward regardless
Intellect and emotion had embraced each other
In a dance of insanity
I welcomed defeat at your hands
Surrendering with the only language I knew
Paradise was a damp room
Containing the blank sheet of possibility
Caressing the rare moment
That makes life vibrant

19 March 2005

Your Sins Tore Me To Pieces

Your sins tore me to pieces
My sins ripped into you
If I had to do it over again
I would still pick you
Would you still pick me
To wrestle and roll in the darkness

Yesterday is like a movie
Rolling onward beyond our control
I am incapable of changing a frame
I can not rewrite a scene
It is in the can
Yesterday is a movie

My microbes flood your blood
Your blood is on my hands
In the stillness of the night
All is understood
If only I could remember
How to live in the moment

I shut my eyes and you still are there
Discovering your own voice
Projecting mercy and empathy
Putting to rest the ruthlessness of the past
Is it cool to be cold
Afraid of the soft dissonance

18 March 2005

The Last True Moment

The last true moment
Is frozen in time
So we can look at it
In awe and wonder
Observe every angle
Every subsequent possibility
That reality can possibly offer
The excitement of fresh tangents
Heating up our blood
The danger of mad rampage
The tenderness of abandon
Choice as our opiate
Addicted to life
Unable to let go
Contemplating the nature of freedom
Fate and reality locked eye to eye
Prepared to devour each other
I know you
We are different sides of the same leaf
Existing together forever
As inseparable as one soul
Indelible
Standing apart from time
Not a moment by definition
A state of being
Bliss
Bottled and sold at market
So that they who thirst
May drink

17 March 2005

The Wanderers

The world full of surprise
That you survived
Even as your life seems bruised
We watch as if it is a play

A savage record of dramatic chaos
Plunging us deeper into the abyss
That is but a chamber in your heart
Shrouded in mystery

We are both wanderers
Nomads on the emotional landscape
Peace will only come with death
If at all

I once took you by the hand
And stared deeply into your eyes
I was left speechless
Time stopped

You march on with a strength that is fathomless
A running paradox of perseverance and self-destruction
People forget about your pain
But I remember

I do not know where it will end
Transfixed by the blood on your dress
We will have to wait and see
Like the rest of the world

16 March 2005

Iridescent

The diamond cut the glass
Until it shattered
Bringing seven years of bad luck
Or was it all imagined
A stubborn mind at play
Creating a stark wasteland
Out of loss of control
To convince oneself
That love does not exist
To avoid the struggle
Tearing down the walls
Of repression and defiance
Blinded by a smile
I can smell you
The sunset is scarlet
I just want to give
The dawn breaks through the night
It looked like a flower
Crimson and moist
My life pumped through those veins
My nights were black and vain
The softness of your skin
Contrasted with the strength of your spirit
The beauty you carry inside
Magnified by your body
Iridescent

15 March 2005

I Embrace The Twilight Idols

Freedom and anarchy blend
Twisting in the night
To finally see the shoreline
After years lost in a stormy sea

I want to pull myself
Out of the water
To lie gasping
On the sand

I can see a new world
Opening up to me
Like land on the horizon
A new dawn

The darkness fades into memory
As the sun bursts through the clouds
Coldness giving way to heat
Fresh abandon

I embrace the twilight idols
The feeling is anxious and shivering
Throw away the promises
Put off peace for excitement

Not ready to die
I dance with death
At a more frenzied pace
Than before

14 March 2005

To Stand Naked

Pieces of a past
That are crumbling fragments
Desperately trying to find
The common theme

I have to let go
Of every illusion
That is holding me back
From expressing truth

To have the courage
To stand naked
Is beautiful
Love personified

Abolish the clutter in my mind
Make sense of the strange memories
Find peace among the dusty shards
Of shattered glass made of dreams

There was a time for exploration
A time for liberation
That led to unrest
To a thousand more questions posed

The ultimate journey
Is not to be taken lightly
Compassion is not for the weak
Insanity is not for the strong

13 March 2005

The Night Is For Sorting Through The Ruins

The black notebook
Grabs me by the throat
Taunting my life with
Blood stained hands
Whipping my soul with
Psychotic ramblings
Dragging my life to the edge
A taste of ecstasy
Can lead to insanity
People crave what they want
And want what they crave
Desires explode early in the day
The night is for sorting through the ruins
I thought I could cover everything
In Verse
But there are too many people
For me to explore fully
A sea of humanity
I try to remind myself that the glass
Is half full
But of what
Of heartbreak and ambition
Of semen and blood
There is a locked chamber in my heart
Containing peace
Only death holds the key
And I will wait
Until then I seek the softness of beauty
The clarity of love

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 1

Through the saddest eyes I often saw
what was seething beneath the surface of
the inner mind. What emotions could push
through the fragile shell of humanity?
I often wondered what was in the very
nature of the human animal that could
inflict such cruelty yet at the same
time open the doorway to tenderness. It was
as if the human race was engaged in
a contradictory game that had no conclusion
other than to perpetuate itself.
The angels in my mind urged me to grant
existence the benefit of the doubt. The head
of a baby pushing through the labial lips.
A slap brings cries, tears, and proof of breath.
The endless possibilities that come with
intelligent life. The bipedal animal that
learns quickly to adapt and survive. The
game of love in a world that is an
arranged marriage. The copulation that leads
to birth and the beating heart that leads
to death.
The sunflowers thrive and die. The
sunset fights the night and is overcome.
There is hunger, lust, and pride. The
girl drinks the wine and awaits the
first painful penetration. There is the
mystery of love and the justice of death.
An old man stands in the cold awaiting
a change of luck. A woman moans during
coitus. The flowers bloom and hatred
festers beyond the reach of understanding.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 2

God begs humanity to believe. If only
out of pity. God could die of loneliness
otherwise. Trampled by the onward rush
of creation. Seduced by grandeur and
reduced to a frustrated voyeurism.
Fanaticism on parade. Prelude to a war
of alchemy. Distrustful of an innocent
glance. The smell of a rabid animal's
loins.
Was it fate or recklessness that
brought me here? Staring over the cliff
of incredulity. The rejection of the
modern world. The stink of industrialism
rising from the storm drains. The pain
of progress.
Freedom of the will. The ultimate curse
of humanity. The rejection of the hive
mentality. The responsibility of cruelty and
love.
As I walk the streets I wonder
if so many have suffered for so little
or if the answer lies in a bright blue sky
littered with white clouds. I stop and
notice the rusted shell of humanity sitting
discarded in the corner of a vacant lot.
The wind runs through my hair. The sun
shines on my face. The gargoyles of my
mind take a lunch break. I forgive
the tree roots bursting through the
sidewalk. But does the earth forgive
us for binding it with concrete
and holding hostage a world?

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 3

The only dream worth having is the
dream that ends all dreams. The fated rush
of anonymity filling us with dread. To wander
the city and fear our own deaths. Clutching
for a bitter immortality. The widow weeps and
curses the sky.
To be alone in the desert or on a beach.
To be alone in one's room. To be on one's knees
in an alley searching for a human touch. The
fear of life followed by the fear of death.
The sunset shines a golden hue on
slivers of broken glass. Shards of glass that
have pierced our shoes. The night brings a
hollow feeling to the hallways of our minds.
The carpets are stained with struggle. The
land is battered with love.
Open the window and feel the wind rush
through your hair and across your face. It is
a little birth. Hear your footsteps on the
sidewalk and know you are alive. Nothing
else exists.
The embrace of a lover. The most
intimate kiss. The physical hold on the
mind. The mental hold on the physical.
I walked upon the land and stretched
my mental wings until I saw you. There
were times I thought the wings were
broken. When I found you I realized that
I had been flying through the darkest
night faster than the speed of sound. I
thought I was dead and could not figure
out why I was breathing.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 4

The miraculous fissures in my soul
continued to widen and crack until the
rays of light burst through and revealed
what had become of the angel. Abandoned
on the rocks of a former empire of
thoughts. Bloody and sacrosanct. Peaceful and
serene in the aftermath of euphoric
purpose.
What could define the union of warm
compassion and icy confidence? There was
a time and place beyond the confines of
time and space where we still stand among
the whispers and thunder. In the face
of suspicion emerged our fate. Still partially
hidden from our eyes.
The twilight of our ideals cast a
magical glow upon the rest of our lives.
To walk the land as men and women
aware of the evolving kaleidoscope of our
desires and existence. As vagrants of the
world. As vagabonds defiant of a prosaic
society engulfed in the passionate flames
of creation and destruction.
To destroy the knowledge instilled
in us. To create a new epistemology.
To open ourselves to the radiant dawn
of understanding.
The graceful nuance of despair leads
to a different sort of peace. A calmer
induction into a faulty world. A world
that temporarily bottles the shining
brilliance of love.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 5

Journey down a rainy street. The windows
are covered with drops of water. The chilly breeze
howls through the alley and in between the
buildings. Pull the scarf tightly around your
neck and button your coat. You feel the chill
on your face and see your breath escape you.
Your pace hastens as you quickly make your
way down the street to your destination.
A tall dark building where you have been
staying with friends. You walk up the stairs
and push through the door that leads into
the main room. Everyone present seems
agitated. It seems that a letter and
package have arrived for you. From the looks
on everyone's faces you know what it is.
It all leads to another kind of journey,
doesn't it? Straight to the center of your
soul. A search for happiness that never ends.
For a moment, reverie. And then something
weightier, something darker embraces you.
There is a certain finality to the frost
on the street. It echoes the emptiness
inside your heart that you are trying
to fill. The depression is blotted out by
anxiety. You know you have a job to do.
The knowledge will not make it any
easier. You proceed with the habit that
passes the days. You steel yourself against
the world. A ray of light penetrates the
clouds. Opening the window the sky doesn't
seem as cloudy as clear. The breeze doesn't
seem as chilly as pure.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 6

The dark hot musky smell of a
tropical land. It feels as if a fever
has me by the throat forming a thick
sphere of gelatinous mucus on the roof
of my mouth. Is my forehead as hot
as I think or is it some strange illusion
that the heat has chosen to vex me with
as part of a merciless game?
A city unending and alive with the
joy and sorrow of millions. A chaotic
madness that for some reason proceeds
without calamity. Where is the violence?
The missing person reports proceed incessantly.
Can love be found among this swirling mass
of humanity? Is the outside world aware
of the beating heart of this city? Is this
city aware of the outside world?
A ballet of infamy on the ruins of
a once great empire. The theater is
silent and the dancers still as if time
has stopped and been crystallized into one
classic image. Applause breaks the spell
that has captivated us.
The longing for home. Imagining the
moment of return. A vivid dream that
almost becomes reality from the power of
sense memory. A matter of time passing
leading to the eventual homeward voyage.
The pleasure of crossing the few remaining
miles. The sun shines on our faces and
our spirits are lifted as we arrive at the
starting point.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 7

Sonic landscape. Reverie at dawn. To
take the last remnants of the night and
embrace them until they dissolve into dust
from the sheer force of will. One morning
I sat my muse down at the table and
finding her useless I slapped her.
The bird of prey stalks its victim with
a patience only known to beast. It would
perhaps take years to reap the rewards of
the hunt. Wings stretched. Taking her by
the neck.
The savage urge to survive and thrive.
Civilization is but a sloppy amount of rouge
applied to the human animal's face. Would
it be possible to wash the blood off of our
trembling hands? Are we vindicated like the
jackal? Acting out of natural instinct?
The search continues along the bloody terrain.
Is inspiration a curse? Would she emerge
from the wreckage wiser and more articulate
in her artistry? Or perhaps only a shattered
memory of what was and a forbidden expression
of what could ever be?
The morning lapses into afternoon. The
day becomes a preparation for the returning
night. The questions remain unanswered and
forgotten in the heat. Fanning away the last
vestiges of rational thought. Anticipating the
moral ambiguity of darkness. Bracing ourselves
against the turning of the globe. Reaching
for the last ray of sunlight amidst the
conquering night.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 8

There was a time to fill in the blank
spaces. And they were so easily filled. That
is perhaps the most amazing thing. That
someone could be on a path so sure as to
need little education. That someone could be
the dazzling product of a synthesis of
formal and self education. That this could
equal a life. That this could equal an
artist.
I remember those yesterdays with
nostalgia and awe. That no matter how
dirty the world could be there was
a light of understanding. It forever changed
my outlook. It made even mortality seem
a minor inconvenience. Those special days
became a drug of sorts that resulted in
years of withdrawal. Or was it merely a
transition to another view? Another pursuit?
Branches from the same tree?
And what of the future? Would I
receive a letter and package containing the
truth? Containing beauty? Has the muse who
was dead for so long returned? Why did
she die? How was life breathed into a being
that was cold and dead for so long?
The beast has raged on with a heart
that longed for reawakening. The spirit
almost drowned but found to be clinging
to the rocks of a twilight shoreline. A
new beginning contemplating a distant end.
And for you I know it has been a
similar voyage.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 9

Following a certain path out of the woods
and into a starry dream that held us at
ransom. Make believe eyes that thwarted
all expression of the inner soul releasing
demons that held us at bay. Take my hand
and follow me down the winding path that
leads to an uncertain end. Is it here that
I find the eclipse of my soul?
The hunger in our souls leads to a new
kind of decadence. A thirst that can not
be quenched by ordinary means. As we
sacrifice future generations to the physical
world. I took a long look into your eyes.
One that has lasted years. The touch of
your hand that stayed with me.
Perhaps we could take a hold of one
another and soldier our way onward into
the blackest night. Do we possess what
is needed? Could this be evidence of
something in our hearts that lives on
despite a doubting world?
Put your body against mine and show
me the meaning of life. In a darkened
room give me a reason to believe. Take
all that I have left to give. Promise me
that you won't stop pushing onward. Show
the world what is possible. What can still
be done in a new direction. And the flowers
of our experience will take root and bloom.
As we turn to face the brilliant sun of
our tomorrows. Let me feel your presence
near.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 10

The red sunset presided over the misery
of war. Beauty contrasting wildly with the
struggle of a society to reinvent itself. What
price freedom? Do the dying have any understanding
of what is happening to them politically beyond the
certain comfort of death? In chaos there is
the urge to hold on to what is precious. To hold
a token of the most sentimental urge close
to one's heart and away from the jaws of oblivion.
It seems almost a pathetic act, yet perhaps
the last gasp of the human spirit.
Men seeking comfort in the breasts of
women. Seeking comfort in alcohol and other
drugs. Seeking comfort in the senselessness of
violence. Seeking comfort in the futility of
war. Futile for the aggressor. Futile for the
defender. Until the system readjusts itself and
continues.
The hero operates in secrecy. He is a
phantom who steals and murders the truth for
a mundane purpose. So the system will not
crack. He medicates himself regularly and
prefers not to go home. He is a vagabond whose
heart is filled with wanderlust. He is criticized
for his restlessness and rootless existence. He
continues his routine out of habit and boredom.
If he keeps moving he does not have to think.
He only has to follow orders. He assassinates
one far nobler than himself. He silences the
whistleblower. The heart dies, but the body
of the beast moves on fulfilling its savage
destiny.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 11

The pain of life has us by the balls.
I don't pretend to know why. Except
someone said that the heat of the stove had
to punish the soup until the soup was edible.
Eat the cold soup and take your chances.
We are like soup. Bubbling in the pot with
all of our rancid dreams.
I saw you standing in pools of blood and
pain. And I wondered what it must have been
like. Praying to a dead man. Receiving flowers
from kings. You came up from behind me. And
pushed your body against mine. If I could
stand there with you today all pain would be
eclipsed by your love.
Stumbling out through the doorway and down
the street I felt a strange intuition
capture my soul. I felt our hands locked
and our spirits entwined. The sun and the
wind intersecting in our souls. I know you.
I see you when the leaves flutter in the
breeze.
I felt a savage reprisal gaining momentum
and force within my heart. I held your hand
and looked into your eyes. I saw the death
of a million yesterdays and the birth of a
single tomorrow. And the sadness permeated
our lives. Consolidated our hopes. And lit the
fire of our emotion.
I stand on the beach of a passionate sea.
And you know what that means. Take me
down to a place on the shore where we can
stand in each other's light.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 12

Sitting on a balcony waiting for the
night. An animal instinct took over my heart
and emotions and left me floundering in the
wind. Is blood flowing through our veins all
that it takes? There was a time when the
bond felt strong enough to help us weather
the fiercest storm. And a time when it
was weak enough to splinter into shards of
glass glistening in the sun.
Damn the circumstance that lead to
all of this. It seemed as random as an
avalanche burying us alive. Roses withering
in the arid breeze. Lost in the fields of
hope. The desires that overpower us. The
battlefield that is yesterday. The wounds
that are partially healed. The limited range
of a previous life. And the mistakes that
drove a stake into the heart of our existence.
I take my share of the blame for paradise
lost. Perhaps the lion's share.
Sometimes a candle is lit in the room of
our transgressions. And we can see in hindsight
how we lost our way. We can salvage today
and dream of tomorrow, but forever have lost
yesterday. As I walked down the street you
cared enough to ask if I was alright. I said
yes. And I don't know if I lied. We had
our time like the sunflowers dying on the
canvas. I could not face the end. And
when I was too weak to walk, like some
kind of Christ you carried me. To a
special place on the shoreline.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 13

Don't talk about her. She lives on in
my heart. I think she's still alive
because people don't really die. Every time
she tried to kill herself it was because
a man had broken her heart. Society played
no role. The world was merely fodder
for her dark wit. The virgin meets the
lion and is devoured. No ingenue was she.
Yet her heart was as fragile as a
cardboard box torn to pieces.
Buy her a drink as the world rushes by.
A new and improved world where everyone is
getting what they want. That is the real
dream. Obtaining what your heart desires
and then having the courage to look
yourself in the eye in the mirror with
full knowledge of which dark pit you had
to descend into to achieve your ends.
But you can't wake up from that dream
because it has become your reality. For
better or worse.
She didn't want to be alone. She just
wanted some time to herself. Some time
to write. Some time to think. Some time
to drink. And that's where the trouble
started. She ached to be filled. And she
needed her man for that. But not all the
time. So one night she ordered her dinner,
shortly after she woke up. Then she went
into the bathroom. Finding a man's straight
edge razor that someone had left behind,
she cut her wrists. And not very well.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 14

"It is for love that the whole universe sprang into existence,
and it is for the sake of love that it is kept going."
----Meher Baba

It was a time of possibility. Of taking
the present into one's hands and carving out
a future. Moving on is not always the answer.
Sometimes one must stay put and go inward.
On occasion one must plant roots in order to
ensure growth. After the harvest the roots may
be torn from the earth. I had an idea in my
head. An idea that had been inverted and twisted
over time since my younger days. To create was
the original idea. Spawned from an early love
affair. To create without regard for the
consequences was the inverted and twisted notion
I found myself armed with at the time. As
long as the territory was virgin.
There were other possibilities. That now
I will never know. That lack of knowledge is
probably for the best. Because with a path of
life come comrades. And with comrades comes
love. And love is not for weaklings. And even if
the whole universe sprang into existence for love,
how much love can the heart endure?
The choices have been made and the tracks
have been laid. I can live with the results. I
can see by the first rays of dawn. I can
treasure what was found and do without what
was lost. I found a beautiful and reckless
muse sitting on the rocks of the beach of
my soul. And she taught me how to live in
the void of what I had lost. By showing
me that everything is nothing. And nothing
is everything. And evolution is the only
true revolution.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 15

A vision of my death. Pure in its finality.
But then realizing that I am still here.
Continuing with what I have to do today.
With death comes change. And the changes in
our lives are like little deaths of our former
selves. I want my former self to die. So that
my new self can face a radiant dawn.
I can't make water run up hill. But I can
run up hill. Hill after hill after hill. Until there
are no hills left. He ran up his own hills. He pulled
drunks out of the gutter. He died running up hill.
His friend ran up hill behind him until he left
his friend behind. He circled most of the world
searching for the sun.
The ship sailed four sheets to the wind. And
beached itself on the floor. Sailing through a
dreamless dark void of slumber. Memories can
live or die just like people. And calling my friend
and being barely able to speak. And waking up
in bed with my dream sleeping next to me.
Still alive.
Sometimes one can fall down the mountain.
That can be dangerous and lead to death. But
death is a door to something else. Sooner or
later that door will open for us all. And we
will move on. But we are frightened of the
unknown like a child. And like children we
stumble through the darkness and light of
our lives. It takes time to move on. Like it
takes time to learn. Feeling our way along
the wall of a darkened room searching for
the light.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 16

Sometimes there is something headed out
of control. We try to force things to be
where we want them, but things have their
own way. We are slaves to the currents in
our lives. We must get into the flow that
only we can know to move into the light
of our destiny. Sometimes it is like a blind
man feeling his way.
The anger gave way to love and a
precarious balance of contentment. With that
realization I no longer felt like a vagabond
who had lost all reference points. But I was
still a vagabond. The wind of years of
wandering relentlessly pressing against my body.
I had a new platform to leap from...like
a cat cornered on a ledge who suddenly
remembers he has legs. Like a gambler of
steady nerves pulling the wild card from the
deck. I do not know if there is a God in
heaven, but I had an answer that was made
especially for me.
Wiping the sweat off of my face I
knew that there was far to travel. But
I was not afraid. Because I had been
to the center of the darkest city. And I
had seen the rising of my own personal
phoenix. The ashes were the bittersweet
memories of yesterday. I had a new and
intoxicating desire to construct tomorrow. It
seemed as if I had no choice but to go
on. Following the path that was forged in
the past.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 17

The intellectual bond superseded the social
strata. Although we first met on the other side
of the tracks; and I think that appealed to
you. You had a bit of a rough upbringing and
always longed for home. Always searched for
some kind of family. I learned about your
checkered past. The incarceration and forays
into controlled substances. But there was
emotion, wasn't there? I'm sure there was
a certain amount of passion. Passion mixed
with ambition. And certainly a need to be
loved and understood. As opposed to abandoned.
A burning drive to succeed and win the love
of the world.
I never understood the shadow from the
past. Spreading darkness like a phantom
crawling through the night. The insecurity
strangling the life out of the horizon. Again a
need for controlled substances. But this time
I saw it at close range. Staring me in
the face on almost a daily basis. Ambition
for what? To live a life of fantasy and
phantasm. To what end? I had to finally
extricate myself from a world of delusion.
It was hard to leave the illusion of beauty
behind. The choice was to move forward or be
forever mired in its grasp. The stagnation I
saw chilled me to the bone. But somewhere
in the night someone is still dreaming dreams
that come to naught. And I suppose that
is better than letting the dream die in
a cloud of dust.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 18

Run with a sense of passion, determination,
and purpose. Under a cloudless sky. The goal
is a sense of peace. A last winded gasp in
search of communion. I have been lost in
a maze of reason desperately searching for a
rational exit. Perhaps the best escape is not
of the mind but of the heart.
There was an empire. An empire smeared
with hatred. A culture at its peak, almost
negated by the lust of control. But the virtues
remain in place. Calling to the offspring of
freedom. At times it seems as if the words
of the past have no impact. But the children
can hear. The children can feel. The children
can know and use the knowledge to guide
them to a better day.
Love sometimes got the better of me.
Love takes strength of purpose or it is not
worth the effort. Many people search for
the easy route. The simple path is easily
corrupted by the worst intentions. But taking
a stand involves risk. One should be prepared
to die for love if that is what it takes.
Death is certain regardless. Timing is of
the essence.
I sensed you had the truth in your
hands. I trusted the look in your eye. And
I was never disappointed. Always ready to
release yesterday for the sake of tomorrow,
I stand waiting for the call to action. And
if the call never comes I will die in
peace knowing that I answered the call in the
past.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 19

The demons had me by the throat and
I thought that they would get the better
of me. The struggle continues in near perpetuity
because the dark forces come from my very
mind only to be met with the passion from
my heart. When I was younger I felt
the cool breeze upon my face and sensed my
place in existence. Later the rush of being
was running neck and neck with the rush of
making my way through life. Now I want
to seize the absolute moment again and feel
what is at the center of my soul.
Follow me down the road of exuberance
into the valley of experience. Climb with
me to the mountain top of exhilaration. I
want to see your face in the sunrise
and feel your body in the moonlight. We
will never be the same again but forever
changed. It will be as if the dawn of a
new day transcended our hopes.
The moment will not last but be a
mere transition to a brighter tomorrow.
But the effect on our joint souls will never
leave us as it will forever be a thread of
our evolution. Not to mention a fond memory
that is so bittersweet. So join me in the
room of my dreams and let the journey
begin. Let us follow our desires and hopes
to a place of knowledge and emotion. The
sooner we start our voyage, the sooner we
will arrive at the shore of our greatest
triumph.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 20

The faded dream of yesteryear came rushing
back with a vengeance. Staring me in the face.
Begging for communion. I had to explain that
I had moved on. That I didn't know what
to do now. Confronted with such a vivid and
striking dream. But the vision inflamed a soft
faded memory. And it was bittersweet to feel
it again. I wanted to reach out and embrace
it with all of the strength in my body.
There were times I saw the angel
transcendent from abuse. The abuse that came
from within I could clearly see, but the abuse
that came from without I was barely starting
to comprehend. You looked into my eyes and
I saw the heights of ecstasy and the depths
of despair. You held my gaze and I saw
truth. Could love and beauty be very far
behind? I could never doubt for long.
From the passage of time eternal I saw
you. From the cradle of screaming madness
I felt you. After crossing your path in the
darkness I realized I always knew. The
dervishes of dance lay prostrate on the floor.
You stand at the front wondering if you
should give them more. The crumbling social
structure called you a whore.
I gave up everything I ever dreamed of
just to have a glimpse of the darkest jewel.
Because the light reflected from your visage
made me see. And the thoughts that came
through the air shattered all of the fallen
doubts.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 21

The innocence of a child contemplating joy.
The perfection of the night air. Unbelievably
billowing white clouds against a crystal blue sky
during the day. The world was a small place
even as I stood on the ledge. Even as the
sand blinded me. Red was fun, but misunderstood,
so I explained it away. One day the thorns
dug too deep and it was not seen as an accident.
It was seen as retribution. It was seen as an
eye for an eye.
From whence did I come? I did not know,
but I knew that this was temporary. But it
could not be cut short. That would impact others.
I was here for them. But it was not always
pretty or easy. I remember sweetness being
denied. And the stoic resolve. One could do
without most of the temptations of life. To
give in to the temptations could mean to be
ruled by them. When would I be ready to move
on? And when would they be ready? No one could
say the hour.
The years went by; marked by success and
failure, but mostly success. Sometimes success was
a curse. Sometimes responsibility floundered like
a train racing off the tracks. Eventually there
was a new level of freedom. But even that was
a double edged sword. Enjoyed at the expense
of time and energy. Moving on was not always
easy; sometimes it could take years. But they
were not lost years. I put them to good use.
As all activity is worth the effort for the
mere lessons learned.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 22

The rains came today washing away the
dirt of yesterday. Washing away the nonsensical,
the cumbersome, and all that is worn out. The
air will be fresh with new possibilities. Shall
we press on, marching on the wet and seemingly
virginal ground? The crystal passages of time have
been swept away. I can forgive you now in order
for us to move on, but can you forgive me?
To engage in the dance of chance until all is
forgiven. What is love but a gamble? Deal the
cards and play.
The roses blossomed and bloomed in the
sun of a brilliant tomorrow. I saw the ruby
red visage of your spirit casting a shadow
on the ground. How could such turbulence exist
within such a fair countenance? Your thorns
brushed against me leaving a taste of scarlet
blood on my hands. I could barely look into
your eyes and smile without breaking into a
million pieces. To hold your hand and return
your gaze and grin was an eternal moment
beyond the contradictions of time and space.
The ruins of the past forged a new path
into the visions of tomorrow. The future was
a tangible thing firmly in the grasp of the
new prince. Embrace the vowels of the rainbow
and witness the dawning of a new age. At first
few could understand, but eventually the youth
caught a glimpse of the sword that would cut
through the cobwebs and catacombs of a
dying era, clearing the way for a new
approach to the reflections of life.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 23

You were having a hard time, so we joined
forces temporarily. It seemed like a lifetime.
You helped me out in certain ways and I helped
you out in certain ways. The disintegration of
your family seemed to send your life spinning
out on a wild tangent. For a while I could
deal with it, but then you grew so demanding
that I had to cut you loose. I heard from
you sporadically for several years and then you
were silent. I often wondered if you remained
fallen.
There was a time and a place where the
night seemed magical and full of wonder. I
was living a double life. Although there was
nothing nefariously immoral about it, certain aspects
of my life were separated into compartments
that rarely touched each other. Certain hours were
spent earning money and certain hours were spent
spending it in pursuit of an agenda bursting
with dreams. The night was an adventure that
propelled our lives forward starting with the
first signs of dusk.
The night blessed me and folded me into a
slumber where I could explore the rugged
terrain of my visions. I walked to the end of
the road by the railroad tracks and caught a
shadowy glimpse of the future. It was up to me.
Up to me to search the alleys and highways for
a piece of beauty and a taste of truth. Along
the way I met fellow seekers. Our journeys
together make up some of my most pleasant
memories. Even though this world isolates us.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 24

I saw the look in your eyes like a
trapped animal. Disbelief in your gaze regarding
the circumstances that had befallen your days.
Society was demanding vengeance for a supposed
action. Or was it vengeance for a supposed
inaction? Who could be sure? Of course the
political compromise would benefit those who
pursued you. And you would be inconvenienced
to a degree.
The dark beauty appeared like an angel in
our midst. Her penetrating eyes piercing our
hearts like arrows. A perfect visage to launch
a thousand dreams. Life was suddenly worth
living. Suffering had purpose. The struggle to
survive was eclipsed by her primal beauty.
Remember me? The savage beast cried.
For how long were you planning on forsaking
me for the mediocrity of the mundane
world? How dare you cower in the shadows
of propriety while I languish in the sun
of aesthetic lust alone? Rise out of the
ashes of yesterday and greet the rising star
of tomorrow.
I dragged myself to the rocks near
the shoreline. My hands and knees were bloody
from the effort. Seating myself on a jagged
cliff I stared out towards the horizon. I
searched for any clue to my fate. The brightness
of the sea and the sky blinded the clarity
of my vision. The foggy haze left me unsure
of the future. I entered the darkest abyss
of my mind and pressed on regardless.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 25

Tender were your years. I could see it in
your eyes and your smile. Also in your tears.
Fragile was your heart, but resilient was your
spirit even as your world crumbled at your
feet. The savage glow in your eyes gave birth
to a glorious cacophony that rang out throughout
the land in sonic waves of spun gold. I saw
the full colors of the spectrum in your presence.
From a golden sun to a violet sea. I threw
myself into the bright ocean of your eyes.
I stood on the bank of the river and
stared at the muddy waters. Observing a scene
similar to that from where all life sprang. It
seemed irreversible the way the water flowed
unabated, just as the life force rushes on without
much thought or consent. The stars were overhead
giving faint light and quiet witness to life on
Earth. Did they approve of our teeming agitation
or were they beyond such contemplation? I wondered
if I could ever know.
Could I take you by the hand and finally
understand the mystery? Would the cool soft
dampness unlock a secret? Would I only find the
crushing sadness of your reverie? All nights are a
night to remember. All nights are as identifiable as
snowflakes. To feel the breeze from the open
window. To be spent as the day was spent. To
make something from time is the same as to
make something from life. The warm embrace
of the dawn reminds me of you. The blood
on our hands only serves to bond us closer
than before.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 26

The city spawned us. Sending us into parallel
orbits experiencing the cornerstones of life. Each
new beginning heralding an ever expansive idea
of who we are. The milestones litter the streets
that we have crossed, propelling us forward to meet
our destiny. The pain that forged our characters
was not enjoyable and the occasional pits of
pleasure that we stumbled into left us dazed and
out of breath. The past has been haunting our
present and must be exorcised before it pollutes
our future.
Young supple flesh gave way to the intoxicants
of life and the night would never be the same
again. A paralyzing obsession with a western
land that monopolized all thought, feeling, and
action. Babylonian excess permeated our bodies
and penetrated our souls until the night was a
distant memory and the dawn an unexpected
visitor. We had arrived at the shoreline with
plans of conquest. But perhaps we were the
conquered. Perhaps we were the vanquished.
The wet black streets beckon us once again.
The lonely weary challenge remains as a monolithic
obelisk in our midst. Yet I missed the dreary
rooms. I looked forward to visiting the old
haunts once again. The old haunted haunts. The
anti-hero was life itself, set in a savage play. I
would make yet another attempt to come to terms
with the darkness. To challenge the sun. To make
claim to the idea that out of destruction can
come new life like a phoenix rising from the
ashes of the burning effigy of our former selves.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 27

The temptation to dive into the pounding
surf of a roaring ocean engulfed me. But what
of the consequences? Could I at this point
risk everything to conquer the unknown? How would
it affect those around me? I stared at the foam
and spray of the receding tide. And longed for
another chance. As if the temptation of abandon
was life itself. The call of the siren was still
ringing in my ears. Haunting me by day and night
ever since I first heard the sound.
It felt good to be alive, the sun shining on
my face, no matter which path I chose. And I
felt a new camaraderie with my companions. New
and fresher than before. I did not know why
these brighter feelings had transpired, but I was
determined to exploit their joy, as one sucks the
juice from ripened fruit. I had decisions to make,
but felt so malleable, that if circumstances were
thrust upon me by another, I would play along.
To a certain extent. Or would I?
Changes were approaching so rapidly as if to
leave me dizzy. But I had a very strong urge
to ride out the storm. Come what may. Curiosity
was getting the better of me, and restlessness
was weighing upon my mind. The last remaining
phantoms of doubt and denial were fading into the
shadows as the sun showed another path. I would
proceed cautiously, but not without excitement.
Perhaps the answer that I was looking for
was not too far off in the distance. I braced
myself to experience what was awaiting me
not so much farther down the line.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 28

The blonde daisy swayed in the breeze. I
caught the colors of the scene in my mind. Gold,
green, and blue. To rub a shade of blue from your
being. The dark green of late spring. The dazzling
gold that is this flower's crown. The splendor
of creation engulfed me in its vitality and
irreverence. To dance the fertile rite that borders
on madness. Orange and reddish scarlet from the
sun as it sets. As gold turns to blood red. Followed
by the blackness and blank slate of possibility that
is night. Leading my thoughts into the whiter shades
of grey, stunned by the limitless vistas of amorality
that exist beyond right and wrong.
Years of living were evident in your gaze,
yet you looked still quite young. I wondered
about the things that you experienced during your
darkest nights that some might consider wrong; even
though the participants were obviously willing. As of
late your life seemed to be relatively controlled, if
not without certain legal amusements. I casually
contemplated where the course of your life might
lead to next. Although, you slyly appeared to be mature
beyond your years.
There was a hardness mixed with a warm vigor
for life that I saw in your face. An understanding
of the fundamental duality between work and play.
Between reason and emotion. Between denial and
excess. A countenance framed in gold. A visage
that spelled out experience. A beautiful soul. Taking
flight without shame or guilt over a moral battlefield
with a power and control that could only come
from a strong heart.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 29

It was only a couple of months, but it seemed
like a lifetime. It seems like it was only yesterday.
We took the night by the throat and we burned
it down. We were free. Perhaps that freedom was
only temporary for both of us. Perhaps freedom
has an ephemeral quality on this Earth. I remember
the days and nights rolling along like a train. And
your train ran off of the tracks, didn't it? We
were both at the crossroads of our young lives;
intersecting with each other meaningfully for one
last time.
It is impossible to fully recapture the feeling
of that time; but sometimes I sense a part of
it, sometimes I smell it. I remember you yelling
at the top of your lungs and the shock on my
new friend's face. And when you broke your ankle
I remember not taking you to the hospital. But
someone else did. I remember the white angel
that took you by the hand until your nose ran
red rivers of blood. And you cupped your hands.
But the blood overflowed into the hall for all to
see.
You helped me at a time when I needed help.
And I helped you at a time when you needed
help. I was the only one who could help you
and you were the only one who could help me.
And I will never forget. Sometimes I wonder
what became of you. Sometimes I am afraid to
know. Inroads were made into virgin territory.
We bore the water that was necessary to
sustain us. And I continued on with my life
in the remains of the city.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 30

I saw the disturbing scenes played out
indoors and in the streets. Prostitution took on
many forms. It was becoming difficult to
tell who the exploited was and how exploitation
in general and victimhood in particular had
become such a codependent situation. Sometimes
the scene lost all semblance of control. Violence
erupted in a sudden and spectacular display of
naked aggression. Everyone was surprised and
shocked. Suddenly the game was over.
The immediate result of anarchy in the
scene was for the major players to isolate
themselves from the wild cards that had been
allowed to drift in and out of the social
situation. This led to stagnation. A conservative
dull tone prevented the most interesting ideas
and elements from presenting themselves to the
artist. The identity of the artist as an artist
was weakened and drawn into question. The trade
off between security and art seemed painfully
expensive and limiting.
I had the feeling that the same mistakes
would be made again and again. That security
led to complacency. That art could only exist
conjoined with a certain element of risk and
that this equation could not be faked and
perhaps not even orchestrated. Perhaps certain
things had to develop naturally, organically. And
that this type of artistic Darwinism would never
be survival of the fittest, but almost
inversely, survival of the wildest. Like an
animal that can not be tamed.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 31

I was at peace with it. There was a part
of myself that only lived for a part of you. Before
you came along that part of me was dead. I
was in mourning until I met you. And in
mourning I will be when we part. When one of
us leaves this earth it will be a new mourning
for the other. There is a passion between part
of me and part of you. Perhaps it is a past
life that can not be tamed. Perhaps it is a
distant memory. I think like minded ones have
a means of finding each other. And I looked
for you. I looked for you longer than you
looked for me. For me it seems that the
search is always longer than for those I find.
But that makes the finding that much sweeter.
The literal blood of your passion moved me.
I felt swept away even as others were
shocked. I was spellbound. I steadily greeted
the blood of the artist. I would take anything
from you. As long as you let me add my part.
Like a wolf howling in the night. Like a
gangster whispering threats. The twins of
the dark before the dawn. I remember those
days. They were bittersweet. If I think about
that time hard enough I can feel the rush
to my brain. It did not border on love. It
was love. In everyone's face. But rip away the
shards of nostalgia. Do not live in the past.
Because I was looking at the clouds today.
And I realized the miracle of existence.
Grabbing me by the throat with all of its
reckless beauty.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 32

The razor's edge sliced through the desert
and into the hearts of the many who had left
behind their past lives to become a part of the
burning sand. The fog of the morning slipped
away without warning as the heat of the sun
rose to rule the afternoon. I looked upon the
searchers who had left the mainstream of society
behind to take their journey to the edge of the
new world. To the last shoreline on earth. To
sweat it out with the rest of us on the last
precipice. I saw the hope and idealism there.
The blinding sun changed the scent of our skins
as we wrestled with everything that could not be
forgotten. And we will meet our destiny among
the ruins of the New Babylon.
It took guts to face the sunset. To rise
up and walk towards the waning sun and into the
night. But the glory and splendor that could be
found there! In the ragged nocturnal light.
I saw the harm and I saw the good. I saw
the broken hearted and I saw the joyous.
The desperate and the celebrated. The human
parade. Why did I feel drawn to these streets?
Where the people showed their souls without
concern? Where I wandered amidst heartache
and excess? Where the smile of a child seemed
strangely sacrosanct? Take my own personal
demons and lay them on the cracked boulevards.
Destroy the last feelings of insecurity on the
rocks of revolution. I saw you standing on
the corner of my mind and I wondered why
you were always by my side.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 33

Blonde or black, I was confused by the
choice. I saw the golden circle and knew the
meaning. Why do you raise me above the floor? I
journeyed long and hard for this moment only to
be made to wait with a friend from previous
journeys. And we are on a new journey together.
I felt it in my veins when I looked into your
eyes. Have the savage years ravaged us both?
Or is the ephemeral nature of time a mere
illusion and do we maintain our grace? I saw
the meaning of it all spelled out before me
as never before. I have seen life dormant
and I have seen life fly. Spreading its wings
and venturing past a new horizon.
What could tame the wild abandon of this
love? It has gone beyond the point of logic.
I crave more, like an addict on the skids.
The power and the beauty overwhelm me as
never before. And the impulse is undeniable. I
am a stranger lost in a maze of emotions that
I barely understand. But I want you with
me. I can barely stand us being apart. I
can barely stand any of us being apart.
I see that we are all forever conjoined.
And when your eyes stare beyond the people
I know I understand. I heard the universe
in your laughter. I felt humanity in your tears.
We remembered what it was to be alive in
your presence. I can never forget. It will
be carried with me to the grave. Even as I
die, others will continue until they realize
the inherent beauty.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 34

The sun rose on a day of drifting and
contemplation. The streets were virtually deserted
on a day when the populace was distracted by
other pursuits. I wandered the city alone. At a
few of my usual haunts I was recognized and
welcomed. I felt as if I was a specter. The
heat of the afternoon sun pressed against me, but
did not feel particularly bothersome. I wondered
if this was what death was like. A whitewashed
phantasmagoria. I felt at peace, but there was a
sadness that permeated the afternoon. I was
alive among the living, but the touch of reality
was fleeting. Was I losing my identity? My
personal boundaries seemed arbitrary. As if I
could do neither harm nor good. Perfection seemed
irrelevant. Nothing seemed real. In the brightest
light I felt the darkness. And the earthiness
of the darkest shadow overwhelmed me. I do not
care about the past mistakes. I would change
nothing now. My errors have made me who I
am. Without fault there is no learning.
There was a place, that should be a sacred
place, but no one who saw it would ever recognize
it as such. But I was there. I heard you
spill your stories and I think I understand.
It made me feel less desolate. I realized
I was connected to you. And everyone. It made
me question my life. In a good way. It made
me question the value I assigned to various
ideas. I felt something new in your heart,
as if that was what I had been missing
all along.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 35

I saw the world in a new way. Removed
from the tunnel vision concerns of the self. The
mere fact of existence was stunning. The values of
the world were standing on their heads. The race
towards death seemed less futile. I was in the
now. Take my hand and lead me to the next
precipice. I am ready to dive into the eternal
sea with the sun on my back. Take me there.
In this life I see and I learn. The brutality
leads to wisdom.
Is this what I am going to take with
me? The shadows and illusions of a dark world?
The striving and the struggling for ego? I
am flawed as I stumble upon the path. And
that is the point. You are me. And I am you.
Can I find the nexus? Can I draw you near
to me? Can I see the point in your scheme
that is the connection? I feel crushed upon
in the aftermath. Your flesh on the ground.
The tears in your eyes an expression of the
new emotions. The blood in your veins the symbol
of the new humanity. I felt your breath. I
know you are alive. The taste of your mouth
becoming the echoes of a new reality. And you
reached for me with your hands. As one human
being seeks out another. Because that is our
nature. Just as a lioness hunts her prey. I
wanted to share your company. As the sun sets
darkening the city. Because that is better than
scavenging the streets alone. Your embrace almost
shattered my bones. Your stare forever in my
refracted mind.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 36

The timing was the thing. The only thing
that saved me in the physical world besides love.
Just when I would think myself lost, the leaf
would be turned. And I could see. This of course
happened many times. Each time I was as stunned
as the last. But who was turning the leaves?
What sacred rush in my blood could reveal this
to me? The answer was lurking beyond death. And
beyond life. To understand it would be to cease all
rational understanding. To understand it would be
to experience existence beyond the human realm.
And within our hearts.
Monotony was appearing to me to be an illusion.
No repeated act was truly repeated. There was
always a variance of difference. All actions were
individually color coded in the spectrum of life and
displayed through a universal prism. Life is not a
repetitive chore. Every action, every moment, is living
proof of the miracle of existence. I understood
this at last as my own life and the lives of
others raced by at an alarming speed. The key
is to understand that each moment is precious
and individual and significant.
I realized there was a sun when you opened
your eyes and began your day. It was enough to
get me to arise and stagger out of bed. And
once awake I began all that there is to start
another day of my life and my purpose. We all
have a purpose in this life and we have to
face it every day. Most forcibly at the beginning
of each day. Do not let another day pass
without starting to move towards your purpose.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 37

The passion of life is intertwined with the
sadness. In our lives the two cling to each other.
Beauty is on her knees looking up for salvation.
I see the hope and the weariness in her face.
At times she looks desperate and at times she looks
radiant. Where will her journey lead her? From the
pit of hell to the apex of her sunrise. She reaches
out to us, but how can we be ready? At times we
do not understand and at times we let her take us
for a ride. I live for her.
There is a time to assassinate the last vestiges
of complacency. To take by the throat the demon of
indecision. I declare that time to be now. A time
to live in the moment. A moment that should
become a lifetime. Every second contains the seed
of possibility. As the seeds fall away one has only
to grasp a few to grow a world of difference.
The choice is continually ours every instant of
every day. The sword is decisiveness. Use it
to cut through mediocrity.
Truth stumbled along the path. I held her
face in my hands. And suddenly I could see.
Many have died for her. It is time for many to
live for her. Many have tried to stamp her out.
Yet she remains; scarred and bloody, yet indestructible,
making her way through our brutal world. If beauty
inspires passion, truth inspires sadness. When that
sadness turns to determination, victory will be at
hand. Where truth is allowed to grow the world
will be transformed and beauty will be achingly
omnipresent among the ruins of our past failures
until those failures are a dim memory.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 38

You can see the humanity in their eyes. I
can tell when they understand. When they can go
outside of themselves and see what another
person is going through. I can see it in their
faces. And in their eyes. I can dream of beauty
incarnate. There are times when I run into
beauty out in the world. There are times when
beauty exists only in my dreams. I feel her
gentleness. Her childlike innocence that has grown
into adolescent playfulness and is on the verge of
adult love. Can I follow her there?
There was the sadness of contemplating all
that I had lost. All that had washed out to the
sea. Sometimes I felt as if I had lost all
that I had. Then I realized that to lose
was to change. That to change was to grow.
That to grow was to become. I started seeing
the images of those who had gone before me.
They beckoned to me. And they were beautiful.
I wanted their world. I was filled with
desire for their existence. I felt as if that
desire was dangerous and could lead to my demise.
What were they trying to tell me? Could I
find peace in her arms? Where was this vision
leading me? To yet another challenge? The
pen was like a syringe. The ink like a drug
that fueled my life and gave it purpose. Or
made it bearable. She watched over the darkness
of my life like an angel. She appeared to me
and taught me what beauty truly was. I then
learned the truth from her. She showed me
a glimpse of the true meaning and purpose of life.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 39

Should I keep the momentum going? Take
it as it's rolling? I want to see you flowing.
The rules were self-imposed by my mind. They did
not really exist. I was always free. Free to enjoy
what was. Without a care in the world. I made
my own messes which I had to extricate myself
from as well as I could. Half of the time I did
understand how useless and wasteful it was to lend
an ear to the judgments of society. The other half
of the time I navigated through hell.
Keep the rhythm going. Take opinions from
polling. Down the river we are rowing. I saw
the blackness and I saw the sun. Who could
say I did not live? If I did not understand
the mystery of each moment then, I understand
it now. Damn perfection. Perfection is an illusion
like water in the desert. And like water in the
desert, perfection is ephemeral and fades away. Reality
is not perfect, but the collision of our energies.
Sometimes it is difficult to continue.
I saw you looking at me in a dream and
it reminded me of our past and the future we
were moving towards. It reminded me of how
our paths continued to intersect over time. Your
piercing beauty struck and astonished me. I did
not feel alone. There was no need to seek you,
because you already lived in my heart. You were
guiding me with purpose. At the time I did
not know in which direction. There was a calm
steady passion in your gaze. There was deep
love and recognition in your eyes. Existence has
gone full circle in your visage.

The Heart Of The Beast----Page 40

The outlaw watched the sun descend beneath
the hills. It took patience and persistence to achieve
the goals. The process was loved, which led to eventual
success. There was a certain sadness at the end of
the journey. It had been a long and painful time
interspersed with insight. The darkness had abated
and I wished it would never return. The fear and
chaos seemed unreal. As if they could not possibly
exist. The work required was not over, but was
being seen for what it was; work, and nothing more.
I only needed what was needed of me. The
last ruins of my former life were drifting away.
It was time for a new dawn. To walk the
streets freely in the early morning haze. To feel
free again. To be natural and at one with my
state. To live without fear. The savagery of the
world held at bay for the illusion that it is.
The panther of time tightening its jaws on my
life, but losing its grip on my soul. The aftermath
of destiny.
I wanted to be with you and watch the
sun as it rose over a new road. In a sense
we are there. Standing shoulder to shoulder
witnessing all the colors of the spectrum on the
horizon. The breeze flowing freely against our
faces. All I want is to continue the journey
with you. I have nothing left to weigh me
down. The phantoms of the past are receding
into the shadows. I know you will always
be with me because we are part of each
other. There is no end to a world with
no beginning.

All poems by Chris Steven Young ©2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017