fork

Lost in a breath,
Wandering.

Which is.
the path?

I ponder sadness,
does it have true meaning?

if emptyness.
is the greatest joy?

I wonder.
do you?

I see happiness.
but it is empty.

But I.
am told,
such is Life.

Who?

 Have you ever wondered what you are? why you were, or even there...from where do we become. When since birth we are taught to fear, ones own reflection. I walked outside for the first time in 10 years yesterday and it felt like astral projection but tell me why I walk by all neighbors in silence. Yet here we are left wondering why it is much easier to hold a conversation in the grocery store, with a complete stranger via mobile...serene.

 What is this toxic stench in the air that surrounds my being like second hand smoke stacks of boiling cabbage. I seen a Opossum flip its stomach inside out as children hung upside down from monkey bars swinging...back and fourth singing. While we spun on the Mary-go-Round, hailing scriptures raising road kill from the depths of the heavens.

 Call fourth the birds from 9 hells pitiless ens-amble... Sounds of the crypts Apocalypse soothed from lips of our leader, Thoughtless children shed no tears living amongst the living, walking with the dead. She rode a seahorse into the sunset and whispered to the trees her fantasy of making love to sea turtles. And you ask me again. Who are you? I have no answer to something I cannot even fathom.

http://lostrefugees.blogspot.com

Sleep Walkers

 Sleep walk into the slumber, Hive sleeps the brood soothsayer Mephistopheles meditates on shores of the Columbia river. Sipping from the eternal rain ship wrecked debris of sacred. Scribed runes on elder Oaks, they guard this sacred land. Sworn to Oath in its misery' we shan't remain silent. Tweaked out of minds, out of body experience we merge as one voice to get nothing done once again, we pray to our lord Procrastination. Then one day 9 years later you seam to be struck by sunlight through a different dew drop lens televised intelligence and the roots remain pure as sacred flesh of Liberty. When we awoke midsummer eve deep in the land of fairies, we rode panthers in-search of blue rings. Once that was found what we once seek, wisdom's passed down turn to ash in the records of knowledge...back into the slumber we are all sleepwalkers.

1 million thoughts...

 One million thoughts drowned the megalithic crown that ruled the land of linguistics. Text message terrorists confused the youth of it's language. They began to loose art of conversation while trapped in digital worlds, of light and vibration. Whats the use of vocal cords when you can read and try to emulate emotion through letters on a small screen. a customized tone for the bell, toning sanctuary a reminder that we are not in misery.

 We spent decades trying to master the art of telepathy just to be distracted by cell phonic frequency, but we remain a glitched freak in the system. Trying to find methods of communication with inhabitants, consumed by holy spirits. The answers are sealed within relics and pigments from centuries old when once one finds the essence of word is no longer bold.

 When true emotions get lost in translation text messages fail to convey ripples of silence,
 broken by ring tones.

My Sands

I once whispered words to a grain of sand, it multiplied into a vast sea of sand which later became an ocean floor.

they never wrote books about me and credited these feats, to myths and gods.

unattached to the fable, I brush the facts off my shoulders for it brings joy to see all the people enjoying what I had left for them.

Please stop polluting the water which houses my sand that you play on, and craft into glass.

LKCP2KXIV

Insomniax Doktrine Vol. 1

first book i had written http://www.amazon.com/Insomniax-Doktrine-Lance-Cruz-Phromnopavong/dp/1257070576

Vapors of Gods

Once we lay our eyes to rest, the world blossoms insights not seen by sons of man.

And as it seems at times they only listen to voices of God's Scribes of man.

There are those who seek alchemical whispers through eyes outside of ones mind.

But un aware the true reflection resides in the pools of darkness hidden deep within the cosmos...

Seek not and thou shall find, the many treasure gods placed inside...

Coded in language of the birds for in each his own to decode,

Reach out for Akashic vapors...for its very keys you hold.

LKCP2KXIII

π

And on the door steps of heavens she shouted out to the world...
Backed by the brightness of Stars, shedding tears, asking why...still no Change.

He sat quietly in the center of the Sun, whispering galactic tounges, hoping someone will understand his Scrys.

Long winters night the two meet at zero point telepathic gestures gliding in opposite directions...

One Eclipses the Moon, the other the Sun, while Mars peaks at Retrograde...
In the still hands of time, we walk Backwards and forward motionless in the minds eye.

LKCP2KXIII

Legendary Status

Some Go Madd, others Go blind, a few commit suicide, while others Design.

In these hour's I step into the red sea...crossing by way the rings of Saturn.

Until the dawn raises the dew to glisten as light shed upon, these new creations the witching hours bred.

Liberty caps stretching out to eclipse the moon, its gills release spores into akashic winds...spreading magic touched by the breathe of the Sun...

Dresses emerge from the fields to caress the light of the sun, in search for it's host.

And somewhere out amongst the concrete and spit...rumors still causing whispers in the playgrounds.

About his silver thread, in order to fully extract the maddness, and evoke dreams into designs...

Count Mezuesta, used only the finest threads made of hair, from his own head.

And if you are ever walking in the streets of pioneer square Seattle and listen closey while the city sleeps...

You can hear his shears softly snipping carried by the winds.

LKCP2KXIII