the art of kEith ::: 'E' on everything

evrybody Goes in the whale Eventually

Sometimes I dream you’re still that hairy man
drowning in a lake.

flock. no flock. flock. no . flock.

tickled pink    creative
love is more potent
than this …

but i digress.
creativity is a gift.
it too, is a commodity
not too appreciated by the sickest of our society

the artist:

usually
the best one’s die

for lack of funds
or insanity.
or just plain crucification

i’ve taken to writing this here allegory
for one simple reason
you of this world
meaning you
must nurture the talent among us
the gifted
the strange
the hopeful
the lovers

these are the ones with the glue of humanity
strong enough to believe
despite
evil

so go ahead
lets make plastic

we We 

eat light

for breakfast

the following is true

travelling. as an artist is wont to do.
these days i’m seasoned.
3 weeks ago i started writing the 4th novel.
of which, i outlined via phone dicatation spring 2010.

it’s called Forrest Dandelion and the Wildflower Misfit Campaign
(a solution to every modern-day vagabond’s dilemma)

there will be a chapter in regards to NEGOTIATION
so many Hookers¹ Settle.

i got this room which was going for $140 + tax for a total of $40 cash

and i didn’t lose a thing …. (dignity, hormones, happiness)

there’s so much freakin wealth it’s amazing.

wake up…. america. santa clause is coming to town.

¹hooker, here, meaning any loser who sells themselves short. misses the boat. can’t see the forrest from the trees. afraid to receive a gift
²vers 1 (editing still possible)

arriving at Holiday Inn

zena xylophone. What doth foster you the reigns?
This love we never shared.
I miss you like darkness.
you venomous Thunder!

Give me your leathered hand
In some alternative
Universe
And let me kiss the wound
For the very first time.

turn on your love light
higher
now
pig PEN
lamentations and cloak
FEAr and demoralizing
the love of GOD
so Pure

HERE I AM!

the pig is dead. dead to the pig. the pig is dead. dead to the pig. the pig is dead. dead to the pig.

see the shining star of bethlehem I taste your PIG JUICE oil
goodbye foolish cowards
and trash can blues
goodbye delilah.
and all you lose.

hello freedom
love is pure.
hello freedom
hello
demure

i see lights
the dawn of heaven eternal
yes.

recovering love
brutal love
esoteric love
circular love
angry love
tepid love
holy love

love like every rowboat spring
and golden dandelion allure
love with precious rubies
and adorning chairs of solid wood

sit with me oh captain. to a place higher than here
to palace where there is no
fear

My love for you is of course platonic. the ever present disclaimer of which I am violently sick of mentioning. All understood nonetheless. Love has no boundaries. the thing I loved. Was once a closed vessel.

And so this act was redemption in it’s highest. An unfathomable necessity.  Guard your heart if you must, or let go. Be recieved by lusts fickle jab or spring to consciousness . My responsibility is reasonable enough. Me the gentle cherub. Burned beyond coal. Here I stand still. The vacillating salvation evermore. MORE. Ever, ever, more.

Woe to the wicked, the Carmel sweetened nothing that fizzles in reckless contempt … A ship .. burning forever seeking the chisled redemption 

essays on the benign
i used to have freedom
i could walk my dog in peace
then the devil came and stol’d that away

people of the mean
love is better

people of the echo
love is so much better

people distracted
love is better

goodnight