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Empty Hangar

Inside of me, I find,
crooked canyons
dried up river-beds,
faithful lovers,
beautiful friends,
prophets, sages, poets, kings,
all of these and many more things;
a rainbow chase,
some tea with rocks,
more stars than ever have I seen,
and so many more than these.
I find a beauty all my own,
a place, a time, where no one knows
I'm here, I'm now.
And if I die before I wake,
none of these, will I take.
For inside of me's inside of you
and inside of we's our noble truth.
Nothing's hidden, in the end,
for each of us to be
and everyone to whee!

I long to be alone
I long to be held
I think I'll hold me.


When have I slept, truly to require awakening?

Have I not been alive, heart beating, lungs breathing, muscles teeming?
As though I have been out of tune, those with authority on spirits tell of the need
to make contact with the Me I have forgotten or never knew. When did this
happen? Shall I become again as a child? Will my me continue changing?
What is the need?
True, my eyes have closed millions of times to open again, blinking. I do not see,
other than in writing and reading, where my eyes have closed and need opening.
Closing a book, my mind becomes enraptured with the earth and sky. And
comatose disappears with a dose of real living of life.
I want to be so transparent others see what is
focus light like a lens. precise. play with the rainbow
so bright, my flashlight's inside
so warm, my fire burns bright
so clear, i see only me
others see ever we

I wants to be so transparent others see what is
focus light like a lens. precise. play with the rainbow
so bright, my flashlight's inside
so warm, my fire burns bright
so clear, i see only me
others see ever we

so transparent others what
focus. precise. play
bright, inside
warm, bright
clear, me



Nothing boils down to Everything.
Only the infinite can say anything.
Even an ant has a name.

these frustrations won't go anywhere so better use them

this world has a lot of opportunities but none of them have more than a little
purpose. Not for me anyways.
Serve who? God? Lucifer? Man? Who? You? Me? I? My Self?

every one's got issues. what to do what to do...

I DO. I Do. what I do I do.
We do we do what we do we do.

A Love Story
by J. M. K.

Now and again a flash of inspiration, admiration and absolute appreciation

blows our minds. We look through the telescopes or we look through the
microscopes or sometimes we even look through our very own eyes.
Once, one did look through all three and for a brief instant beheld. This
one, we'll call him Boy, wrote nothing of this instant and feels it would prove
impossible if attempted. Boy, a boy, arrived like all boys from a woman with the
help of a man. This instant also goes unrecorded. What does remain of these
brief moments is an undefinable existence which this story concerns itself with
"I Love You." Spoke Boy, making sure to emphasize the 'Y'.
"I Love you Too." came the reply.
Long before, after and during these momentary momentous mementos of
moments, ...nothing.

Dear Hearts of the Readers reading:

This preparatory note prepares for nothing after nothing. Be aware that what
follows is everything to one.

Preparatory Note

"Love, Love, Love. Love, Love, Love. Love, Love, Love. Love, Love,
There is nothing to be sung.
Upon some time in a place like here and now, Boy once decided. Yes, he
actually decided upon something. As much as this decision may have been
motivated by an understanding between he and his genetic coding, we'll call it a
"Whoa Man! Women!"
"I know. Sweet! Here. Hit this."
"So. Like. I just said something right?"
"Whoa thing at a time."
"OK. OK. I think I got this one. Let's play!"
"Pass that shit. What do you wanna play?"
"Here. House!"
A scream erupted from somewhere deep inside the building. A baby cried
like it had nothing to lose. Perhaps there were two. Either way, they had no way
of knowing. "Who are you?"
"Who am I."
No one answered.
Remember...I be I and You be I too, but only We be We. Oui? Si! See?


o no if only
what would one change
could a strange transformation take place

let me eat more than grass

please a seed
and a gait of dignity

this walk and jaw

cudn't give no more
even were there more grass, this side

I'll ride the fence and work the morn

create a day and live a new sound of some-thing
let make a feast for ears the years the light hands

stuffd to death the wind would give any freedom would I take
stead of greet 2 mouths to feed

to be a-doodle-doin my way...
what a way...
like a crowIn rooster
growin with the days of suns

Don't Worry; Be Happy!
breathe slow and deep
Show Up, Do Your Best, and Try to Laugh!

Drink Plenty of Water
Everything in moderation

To Thine Own Self Be True

Be Grateful
Give hugs

Learn to Listen.

¡Live and Love!
alone creating memories to be thrown away
let's write a play about a play in a dream of clouds
we can put letters together singing praises all around
like cheers with beers and toasty wine, we love the times!

perhaps a new bent...



Even if we could jump over the mountain, the mountain won't move.
It moves although it moves. Mountains move and mountains grow.

Thank Heavens!
'the best thing since leavened bread'

Contemplating the reign of tyranny exerted over the human race, one rarely

comes to the apex of the conspiracy-theory pyramid to discover television!

Millennia have passed in the natural progression of existence; only recently has a

worldwide domination such as this, come to power. Genghis Khan, Napoleon

Bonaparte, Adolf Hitler, Karl Christian Rove. No warlord ever waged a greater

battle against human freedom than the "boob-tube". All hail the far-seeing one,


How noble the gods of humanity, created in our image. How beautiful the stories

told exemplifying their journeys. Oh, great story-telling sage of ages past,

present and future, we greet thee with tired bodies, simple minds and open

hearts. Carry us through our gloriously tragic comedy with your gluey metaphors

and sticky similes. Connect, for us, the dots and puzzle-pieces; show us the


Once upon a place and time far away from here and now, there lived a people. Confused,

bewildered, frightened, cold, hungry, and thirsty, they showed bountiful stamina in their

continual expansions. Creating, destroying, consuming, producing, creatures of decadent

wealth and depraved poverty, they marched on through ages of growth and decline alike.

One such creature, inspired and insane, scaled cliffs, braved weather, survived wilderness

and ascended to the peak in the midst of this civilization. There found this person a light-

producing plant. Like no other herb ever consumed, it gave out light and warmth. The
plant continued growing atop the mountain and forever in the mind of this one brave


Descending the peak, this in-lighted person began to weave wondrous words. In semi-

suspended disbelief and ever-present hope, its companions dared not blink lest their

wandering attention lose one strand of this splendorous web. Gathered around this firmly

burning flame, each left with more than when they came. All building their minds around

this new creation, one after another came to the one with questions and all left with

answers differing inasmuch as each their eyes differed in snowflake individuality.

The light of the in-lighted one so in-lighted each of the devoted, many new light-tales came

about. Following the passing of many in-lighted sooth-saying sages, a truly momentous

day came to come and pass.

"Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?" asked a curious soul of these now ancient

stories and sages.

The creatures discouraged this questioner with many varied curses and death wishes.

The questioner, ever open, heard not their fearful anger and pursued this longing for

answers. Tall tales of a gruesome death remain told today.

Inspired, insane, in-lighted, the entity scaled cliffs, braved weather, survived wilderness

and ascended to the peak in the midst of civilization discovering a light-producing plant

greater in luminescence than any word heard never contained.

Confused, bewildered, frightened, cold, hungry, thirsty, in-lighted and out-brighted, the

brave soul spent three long days and nights in a blinding dance with this growth.

Returning during the slumber of the entire civilization, the new one spoke not, wrote not,
and communicated nothing of the experience.

Laughing hysterically the rest of the days and dancing hither and tither, the new one

danced from people to people, leaving each with a fresh new lump of shit.

Once upon a place and time far away from here and now, there rested a million plus piles

of shit. Out of each grew a small light-producing plant glowing, growing and stinking like

shit, forever and never, Amen.

Oh in-lighted one of many names, let us praise this piece with several. Claes

Oldenburg, thank you for toilets. Thank you Orlan for WTF!?! Technically, thank

you Paul Nipkow for the electric-telescope! And Mierle Ukeles and Mel Chin,

thanks for shit!

Thank You for Watching


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