Prajna Garba

I found what i wanted
and then i wanted again
i tore off the windows
the wind stopped blowing
but i didn't stick around in the silence.

too eager to please the storm,
i pushed it along with my handsome fingers
i pushed it on into my house where the kids were watching tv
i told them to "never watch tv in the house."

if you knew what time it was to hit the strand, rocking collie flowers and handstands all the w a y down to lupos on demagogue street trying to reproach a sorrow is a difficult and lost art fantasmagorically stringent and devoid of melancholy, articulated by the finest of flowery sages rummaging through stages of speaker wires and candy flavored mikes that keep you licking for more, i'm just your chore don't hear me har har chlorine in my lyrics cleans the doubts away, breaks my disease when nothing more to say
you're not a rabbit, i'm not a trap. i'm not a lyricist yet, i'm a prose musician

completely clearing the sauntering shimmy shade of situation. freedom holds my paycheck on bond that will retire when i do to0. clearly the money isn't what i'm glued to my computer for, i'm searching for a landmine to blow away my suspicions of cold cuts being left out a bit too long a bit clearer now not with a sandwhich but stuck alone in the icebox for coolaid centuries

and arhythmic gasses still stir up my spine, you know i havent heard words like these yet, not that i want them to be mine, me sideways coming from different angle, unrecognizable without feature, without presupposition, purely juvenile and hesitatingly delinquient, asunder with smoke and ashes left from the box car that holds our hollow fantasies. i clutch to the rail for fealing the road falling off. i control the airwaves now, no music will be played till your ears are free from dissatisfaction unsanitary fucking over females industry chancelour sanctioned, governor improved, father stands by the door watching just who you let in, cant stand to ever wipe the sin of a theocratic oligarchy from his dinner. and still americans are getting thinner and thinner, i plan to be redeamed once i have lost my bleeding capabilities, until that point my life is a breezy hangover with lots of fringes and i happen to dance on the singed edges, liquifying my asses

The end is far.
So far that I cannot see it coming.
Perhaps, I am blind.
All that is important in your mind seems sudden afterwards.
I remember when the end was far.

Run
Run like the wind,
Run like the wind passing through the tall woods,
Run like the wind passing through the tall woods, and knocking snow off the branches
Nice legs.

Time opens slowly,
My mind waits.

Closes slower,
My mind waits.

And within the point that there is no time,
My mind sleeps.

I hear a roar in the wind,
outside my window.
I see the lights shining,
words in my eyes

I smell the power of money,
wasted on problems of the night.
I taste dirt from the long voyage and hiding

I feal the streetcar moving and shaking.
I am enlightened by a feminist

I have conquered my Fear.

I once saw the auspicious trees
there wasn't much the forest could say
In the swaying arch of green above
leaves heave and sway
but the dark swamps that fall below
show their great peace

The focus of my reflection
that greated me in the seas
was also here to show its face

In my heart that had ached
for a cure to its disease
calmness dissolves what i believe
but holds the whiteness of clay

As i approached the undercarriage
of the brothers bright
a pleasant look upon her face
for greetings of my mother

I have the art to say,
You capture me in stillness
As I lay, dreaming of stars and
Places of terrible beauty!
They have been replaced.

Capital in Paris. Where you find your dwelling
You tease me with your insides
I am a flea upon a pedastal with your collar around me
The trees have since withered away from the last time you were here
But the councelor's tale still emanates
the musky air is hollow, like a birds blossom
My mother is lost to me, in my heart and soul
I call out to unveal the mask but it is too early
and Doves awaken holy sacrament
causing a commotion

The headache of self righteousness continues
in blister and in heat, the wrongful doing i have caused
has come back to haunt the ghost
You are nowhere to be found and in a birth of new awakening
i realize you never were.

When I sing to you
My lips jump
When I cry for blue
The sea weeps
When I pray to you
My heart thumps
And When you hear me
I hear you

God! You enrapture me
I'm tumbling with ecstasy
Myself into your arms
Your tounge twists with trusty words
Sanguine, yet amazingly sober
You complicate my idea of recess
Yes, the curves do wrap my hair, but its still out of control.
You burn so warmly, flowing
Overwhelming and single, free with cherry eyes
You are so hot

I think for now I will use this space to document all of my old poems that i deem worthy of reading more than once.

My point, i guess, is to make this a daily affair. One spot where i can just write about whateverthehell i want to and just let loose. It's created for me, but it might be a mixed bag of insight and whining that you could find commiserable.

I might create a lot of posts that talk about how martians eat underwater bananas when they came the first time. and silly stuff like that. i would take those entries more seriously than the ones the monotone themes that i throw down your throat.

An internet cannot give you social company. It can only distract you from finding your friends, and your purpose in life. So i see it as a big sign of distraction that i spend so many hours each day on the internet, hooked in. I am the definition of 'no life' although i don't take that personally. I know at any moment i can turn it around and get active. The thing is that i haven't really been active very much over the past 4 years and i wish to return to something that gives my life meaning. Some ideas are music school, forming a band, getting a job that helps out people, moving, running away, writing songs and selling myself as a performer, writing a book, teaching a class in meditation, and selling myself on ebay. However, no external action will bring me the complete solution, but improving mastery over my mind, the freeing of my active spirit out of its bondage, will be my goal.

For a while, i thought this goal was a matter of sitting around, observing, breathing, yoga, etc. Those things are great, but they are incomplete in actively pursuing my goal as stated above. Therefore I will keep taking one step out into this tepid water until i find my boat in the darkness. Basically, i don't want most of what life is giving me right now, i only want to live near friends with similar interests, who will compell me to take my mind off of things and take myself a little less seriously, so that i can feel like i'm moving again. Peace.