thedawnofvenus

Why does the Dalai Lama smile and laugh? When does he feel the pain of everyone? Is it at night, when he travels in our dreams, To see where we have been and all the unique And beautiful things we’ve seen, Is it when he bathes, or has his head shaved, is It when he prays, because he’s not meant to feel Anything when he prays, if I could ask, Why he always laughs, I would probably laugh, And he can ask himself every day! He knows The secrets of our fate, perhaps that’s Because he constantly prays, we are all destined to be Eternally loving our selfish selfless human suffering. You’ll find nothing here, but am

Betwixt and Between, straddling the fence A words stuck halfway between your mouth and your arse, (The media, to mediate, to meditate, up above fate In the centre of a heart, amidst the extent and the start, We shall sit, and there is nowhere else we could ever have been, And there is nowhere else we would rather be Than where we will always be And this is nowhere, and this is now And we are nothing, but it feels like everything, And that’s what counts. A world awaits your eyes fixate betwixt the simile and the noun In the heavens, in the void, in this macrocosmic dream, There is nowhere we haven’t or will not be or been

Make every line                         make them gasp Make every word                             a heart attack I can feel that mantra, more than my skin. Beginning would be to assume there was a place for me to begin. I bathe in bright truth true only to me. As ashes escape an urn, I release every word. I hear each strange new sound more than I've ever heard. In each pair of eyes I cross I  see sky, in each page I turn I read pi With a smile, that's a circle, it waves hello/goodbye Out of all the things I've done, the hopes I've lost, the hearts I've won, out of each and every one the best is saved for last, a rest, from constan

A trick death to their breasts from A wasp, wafts native from our lofts, some skum Streetkid deadbeat punks with patches parched from laughs they march on ministry well and swell round our black guard bases------- at the hatches, catch the latches; it's not hard, they're just faces by the fires for the thatches, place the bourgeois just in case the scapegrace break and in their chaos chase, it's lucky we have the U.S.M.C------- waves of letters filed like debtors, spill and fill our hearts with glass: "you'd better not tell us what to do" with their fliers we build fires, but all they serve is to inspire In smoke the skies cry wor

Our bodies are such fragile things! Lifeframes, taking photos on the Empire State Screaming madness Seas no, oceans of stars up & down & out To the horizon Funny grins upon our faces, flinging pennies overboard Look Di is climbing out to take a photo down! Fuck fuck fuck fuck don’t fall fuck face flat down I’ll take your photo stranger I’ll point out famous rectangles Let’s point, Let’s point, Let’s point out this moment Thankyou Diana yr good.

Gusts & Gales I am like a       tree in the wind You & me we are alike, we are Not quite the same, but nothing is That is why I am only like a Tree in the breeze of life, now I am a Wave on the shoreline, and one twist Of fate’s knife.

The cold day did not warm until I warmed to it The rain did not cease until we swam in it Outside amidst the abyss, the stars are dancing, 100 billion years ago They kissed. And when everything is one, we will live again Until then let’s all understand: there is no blame Out in the acid rain we’ll meet, for the first time in our first lives We will feel content, leave footprints in the dust of the dead of all we knew existed Side by side, as the ocean sighs, it is as transient as they Our soles fall through space in an arc of exceeding grace Where the pull to the sun equals the drop into the abyss, And on the precipice of

Cold shivers, underneath a microscope, you look like the sun Papa, when I die, pin me up against the sky See me fade with the stars, at dawn break you’ll see what I’ve become A spirit for a minute, a fleeting fixed desire Hiding in-between the grooves of your favourite chorus In the time it takes for a match to lose its fire I will expire, into A song sung in a circle With friends, late by the fire Just a fleeting fixed desire Warm shivers, out beyond a telescope, I’ll one day be your Son

Like city lights, receding I can feel a car, it’s breathing Toasted winds with angel wings And the sounds they sing through the bushland soul And blood seeps into the distance, back into the Earth To bring Gold out to our greedy eyes As the sun sinks beneath a weeping sky – The night is the Pacific Ocean