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Date Posted: 10:48:50 11/06/01 Tue
Author: Christopher Leon Hudson (AMinorProphet)
Author Host/IP: 205.188.200.57
Subject: Simultaneous Reaction To A Second Of Fresh Air

well i realize that by writing this enclosed statement that im adding more reading then there should be..but..if you have the time..try and read this..i wrote it the other night and well..it might be worth reading..if not then i understand..just dont leave the dream halfway finished.. anyway..i hope you enjoy :)

-Chris





Simultaneous Reaction To A Second Of Fresh Air

Breathing down
Conception turned to sound
Didnt mean to rhyme
Make sense of myself
Reality has struck
Doesnt really mean anything
This escape
Conception turned to life
Golden fish in a golden black bible
It sits
My fingers wrapped accordingly
This isnt about me
Or you
Karma has struck
Most likely will show its face again
Before you die atleast
This isnt about you
Fall flat in a season of neptune
Run fast till I feel a orange warmth
Should have seen it earlier
Its beckoning
Forever changing
The world never stops
Not for it atleast
Cant grasp the theoretical living space
Empty chairs
Holy graves
Dirty water
It was a fight in itself
Left everything broken and bruised
Chose to run from sanity
Instead of letting everything take form
Shape is turned to a inverse
Inverse into a shape
That is changed with a simple
Missguided
Click of a fingernail
Constant tapping
Forever hitting fingers on a broken dashboard
Letting it hang out the window
Gracefully
It could say something wrong
Watch itself fall apart
Swim in a blanket
A free loading shark
Make up a word with a S
Turn around
Burn down a mess
A load full of happiness
Churned in with decaying flesh
Its all in the newspaper
On July 18th
It all makes sense
To eight people
Who cant tell tuesday from a house fly
Turn in their paychecks
For a peice of the pie
Rotten coconut dripped in a tin can foil
Wrapped over a dirty
Piece of pumpkin skin
Hashing off
Into the sea
This is the reality
This is me
This is why I must leave
For happiness is but an accord
Not the car
But still baught in hordes
Of a massive being that I can not describe
Till completeness is found
Poetic dreams dimmed dissaproved
As the bonds of a lifetime
Drip like a droplet
Of fresh sun dew
Watch as it bends
Falls down in the sand
Till all things are equal
All things make sense
Symphonys are taught
To five year old children
Who teach it to eighty four year old puppies
That lick up the dead ants beside the porch
Delicately sucking them till they choke
Spit them out for fear
Of being the tenderness
Deep in their throats
Tears fall again
Doggies run and hide
Jump in bloody pools
Of prerendered sorts
Where they find their names
They are in silver
Just a number
For a hot day under the steps
Of a slumber
Sleeping delicately under the sun
Of a summer
That was made to be wasted away
Tripping all day
From the mall to the airport
Wasting away
The life that is so short
So long at the same time
They waste it away
Letting the teddy bears eat clay
Words arent real
Neither is time
Its all in the mind
Just to make all things
Feel better about death
we are all going to die
I think its breating
Soaking and waiting again
For a momentary sentence
Where it can finish
What it was going to say
Before it was rudely interrupted
It has no meaning
As was stated before by a wise man one time
Who decided it was best to trade eight nickels
For one dirty dime
For that dime had been in the hand
Of a love he had so vaguelly cherished
He waited for it
Even licked it
For a taste of something
Beautiful
He swallowed it
Expected to shit out
A buck or two
But was left with a swollen testical instead
The presidents encryption
Left bleeding on his head
He tryed so hard to run away
Dream on the bottom
Wait for another day
For when he could talk to his monkey
And itd be ok
And all things would appear gray
Before his color blindness
He had seen shadows of a fall
Where the leaves would turn brown
And he could drink from them all
Gentle little droplets of dew still hang there
Dripping slowly over his head
He sees them fall down
With oxygen surrounding their outer
Hydrogenized cores
He waits
Till it hits the tip of his forehead
Just like her laugh
How it makes him feel nauseous
He feels the nickel
Gently tare away at his stomachs lineing
He crys out
As the rain falls down
He hears the violin
And the sound of a cow
As his legs let go of his waiste
And he falls on all fours
Spitting out what he so dearly cherished
He traded his life for the taste
Of a fingerprint gone to waste
He still loved the beauty even then
As he puked all in the face
Of his only freind
Watching his popcorn cornelled cornflakes trickle down his face
He felt at peace
For he was alive
For just a second longer
Then he should have been dead
He felt his face go numb
His eyes tear up
As he sees her in his vision
Her hands so soft
Rubbing his back to prop him up
For all the things he could have told her
They wouldnt have mattered
She was mistaken for by a glimpse
A radius thats forever locked in time
A foreshadow of the death that is to come
A waiting period for which all things run
Home till their legs cant carry them further
His death in the hands of a pissed off father
Who looks him in his eyes as he kicks him from his place of worship
His home
Where his shrine to himself sits self indulged
Burning silently
His closet sits burning
Cascaded in with the moons light
His father walks back in
Looking at the smoke seeping in through the hallway of his house
He screams
So bitter
So pissed off
So restraint with himself
His face etched in a grave
Of sillyness
As the son walks on further
Leaving his old life behind
He feels free for once
As the rain beats down on his moonlighted colorful face
He cries out in happiness
Laughing a laugh he hadnt laughed since he was eight
When he stepped on a bull frog
To his dog who ate
His guts and pure decay with a straight face
Then watched as he spit it up
Like the ants that crawled up his leg
Till his dog cryed out in pain
Welping silently as his eyes turned gray
Like the sky
He died
Was buried at a unmarked site
In his backyard that wasnt his to begin with
Now he walks down the street
His puke riddened buddy still holding him
Carrying him slowly to his car
His broken down volvo with the cracked mirrors
From where his hand had busted them
Still laughing
He falls on his face
As the smell of the vomit finally reaches his freinds nose
In panic
As his freind vomits as well
And begins to laugh
As the chain reaction takes place
The water rolling down the sewer drains
Both freinds laughiing at their lives
Gently washing away
Like a half empty fishtank
Which was never ment to be full anyway
They laugh till they spit up water
From drinking too much carbonated products
And listening to too much shitty records
Their vinyls
And fathers
Now burning down with their fire ridden house
The crickle
And crackle
Of the wood that holds the chimmney in place
Carefully falling off onto the plum trees
That make faces at the grasshoppers that hop away frantically
Looking for a place to hide
And kick their heels
Waiting for the mantis
That sits praying to his father
Which lays sitting in his lap
He prays as he fucks his mother
Then she bites his head off
In her lap
Still sitting as she is stepped on
By the youngest of four boys
Who runs from the rubbage
Clutching his chest
Feeling his lungs give way
As he falls
Cries out to his eldest brother
Whose just laughing his life away
He crawls slowly
Looking at his skin
Which is melting away before him
In this moment he feels pain
But pain that his brain can not
Will not explain to him
He cries
Within a burdens notice
He lets go
Takes a breath
Dies like the pinetree
Which hangs half over in the streets lamps lap
Dangling by a threat of the root that kept it warm through the winter
Till it looks up
Smiles at the plums
Delicately falling and withering away
To the ground
Like the dew droplets
That watch themselves give way
Decay
Rot away
As the sonnet of the conquest
Of life and death
Is thought but over
But for a concious notice
It has only just begun to show shape and form
It shows no remorse still
As the car explodes
Shattering itself into the two young bodies
That watch in anguish as it hits them
Head on
Like the drunken driver
That just hit their car
Head on
They feel alone
The worse night
Of the worst day of a death that
At one time
Felt so far away
Is closer then their eyelashes to their pupils
They hold tight
Sleeptight
Die
Watch the sky
As their eyes cannot receive the spectrum of light
That gave them sight
The enigma they fight
It dies
As they are covered in tons
And tons of melting metal
Their bodies slowly withering away
As their concious's
Lean up from them
And run away
To a better day when everything felt
Ok
To be alive and see the sky give way
They run all day
Continuesly digging
Their souls into their graves
As they take turns
Shoveling dirt into their shovels
Just to make ends meat
Where no marker is placed
No coffin assigned
Just a sign
That says stop but not go
Where the people they love
Rest in the wilderness of a humble
Saturation of the soul
They rest with their peers
Whose souls they had kept alive
Through every given year
Through pictures and sounds
They had felt the ground
Give way to hopes of a better day
When everyone could all hold hands and pray
And never have to worry about the strain
Of feeling pain
At all
So this is what happens
When everything goes damp
Turns white and fades away
When you become god
And your servants are but so humble at your feet
Waiting and begging to please
They wait sitting on their knees
As they look up
Into something that should not have been given power to begin with
It still gets raped
And wraths the punishment beneath its spine
As the silly clown dances
The fucker jack smiles
His eyes made of glass
The floor of a moist marble
Which sits in its lap
It watches it shamble
As the castle is washed in
With the passing of the hurricane
The people lay dead
In the towns yard below
Their eyes so beautiful
Their faces so cold
Only hopes and wishes
For removal
Of the nakedness of death
They only hope to run from it
Die they say
As they feel themselves give way
The passing of the same rain
On a different day
The same clouds beat down
Way over head
As the plane crashes down
In a field somewhere in Arkansas
Twenty innocent lives in ruins
But much more to feel pain so soon
As the families watch on from a monitor
Thats attached to a TV at a bus station
They look for shelter
Feeling their legs give way
They cry it away
Push themselves from everything
And break down
What if you couldnt feel it
No sound or color
Just nothing
All at once
What if you had everything
The sense of being complete
Layed before it
And it pissed on it
Would it still dry it
Put it in its closet
And save it for later
Could it feel ok
When all negative things
Are all that could be said
To begin with
When there is no you but me
No them but it
No we but he
He who has seen but still soaked up the life of everything
Could it be so easy
To take a gun to its head
Blow away its ambition
What about the lead
The waste of the bullet
The rapeist in the corner
Stroaking his beard as he slaps down harder
Kicking and screaming
Waiting and bleeding
Dreaming of this better world
Of fields of pearl
Where all things are unique
What of the sonnet
The brand new bonnet
What of the incompleteness
The sense of getting tired
The hands
Getting smashed
Over
And over
Into a beautiful rapture of itself
It cant itself
Thats why it dies from what it has become
Once so beautiful
In a Victorian gift shop
It set pirched
Waiting for a lucky little boy
A little girl
To take it home and play with it
Till it fell apart
And was nothing more then a door stop
When it could still look at them
Years later
Their faces different
Their eyes mented
They sit pirched in insanity
Just waiting to die alone
So they can taste the bittersweetness
That was once sold for a buck fifty
Just to waste away in a field
Under a tombstone
That still has no name
The resting of a tired soul
Should go unknown
For at one time
It was known
To be so helpful and beautiful
That it for once could be
Foreseen in itself
A beautiful beggining
It sits apologizing to itself
For no one else will speak to it
No one can see its beauty
The exceptance of wanting
The wanting of breathing
Of exercise
The need of careing
Of love and shareing
All things seem so distant to it
Just to be touched
Would be enough syntament
To keep it warm for years
To use it again
Even in a childhood sin
Would be enough to break it in
And let it breath in
Just to let it be at one
Reminded constantly of how it used to be
Like a broken guitar
Sitting
By a shattered television set
It all made sense to someone
That somebody will never know
For all things are never known
In a false sense of happiness
The randomness of life
Happiness inbetween sadness
The feeling of aproval
Of running
Really fast
From everything
And feeling superior
To all beings
As you quite your job
Go home
Make love to your wife one last time
Then strip yourself
Of all earthly possessions
And run some more
To get in the best shape
That your body has even seen
Or felt
Or touched
Or known you to be
That inner concious that crys out
Insanity can be found in me
Is awakening
It begs to be
Wrapped in natevity
Till nature is renewed
All things are made new again
There is but one thing
One army
One soul
That makes itself known
To every single person at the party
The one moment where
Everything goes silent
All things fall to the floor
And every single secret is made official
As they crown a new whore
Make it walk the floor
Alone with nothing but itself to cherish
The simple pleasures
Of taking its shirt off
Just to display its hard work
The adultry
The sinister adultry
Of eating decayed poultry
That fell from high in the sky
The repetitiveness that is displayed
From day to day
Same rhymes
Over and over
Till someone stands up
And shouts
Get the fuck out of the way
Your blocking my vision to the sun
For it can hear the pianos
But cannot see what it was meant to see
It can feel the rain drops still
The same rain
That something else once felt
It can feel all things
In nature and man made all at once
The collection of waiting
And writing all day
Just for recognition
Just to piss in your bosses eye
And laugh about it to your new next door neighbor
Is but satisfying
To someone who has realized
Their life is but for granted
Their hands are but dirty from love
And their political stand points
Are nothing more then a write up in a chemistry book
Waiting for someone to make sense of it
When there is nothing to know to begin with
This is all things
The world wishes not to speak of
The deadlyness of wakeing up alone
With no one sitting by the phone
To call and listen to it bitch and moan
At peices of chocolate that are inches
From its reach
Of sandy beaches
That it will never see
Of outer space
Pluto and Saturn
Of everything else
That fell with a clatter
The moon exploded
Just like the commode
When its uncle decided too much chicken was too much
So it says its happy to itself
Happy to not commit suicide
But still die
To not beleive in god
But still burn in hell
It says its time to stop being fake
Be real for half a second
Just to know what its like
Too want to feel
What some dead poet once felt
When his hands fell apart
And he laughed
One last laugh
Then died
The depression that it has seen
From day to day
The history books
Beckoning him to stay
And rhyme the same words over and over
Till someone gets pissed again
For self repetition
And if it understood that last line
For nice cold warmth
Soft
Cold
Warmth
That even it cant describe
With its lips pressed
Gently to its
The one it calls its love
God damn it loves it
As it gently runs some more
Still running
Waiting for the earth to run out of space
It gallops
Kicking its heals
Running like their is no breath
No air
No worries
No cares
Sure Its heard it
But at the moment
Its on vacation
As the hunter sees it from ages away
His bow set pirched
In the sand
Held high over the forrest
From which he ran
He puts a arrow in its place
Pulls back
And lets it go
Watches it gently
As it flows
Between the trees
Within the seeds
That were sown
To make all things grow
It follows
Itself till it cant go any further
Then it burys itself
In the liver of a doe
So helpless
To love itself
For what it does
Is not what it wishes
The hopes
Dreams
It once seen
Is but a aftermath
For the death its precede
As they taste of the meat
Their lips dripping with the blood
Of a million dead elk
Licking it up
Ounces at a time
To grams
Till the white man
Comes and bakes golden hams
Just to waste time
For a luxury
That even the poorest of hitchhikers
Couldnt see
Nor beleive in itself to proceive
It runs some more
Still hopping
But on one leg
Its nerves dead from dead weight
Its eyes blind of the richness
The color
Of the song in its head
Continueing over
And over
In a cycle
That it cannot stop
But really
Deep down
Wishes not to stop
But help
Just watch
As it grows deeper
Into its skull
Takes over its brain
Makes it whole
This is what It sees
When It thinks of thee
Constantly looking
For some way to break
Self confidence
So It can feel alone
Till it cant feel
A single sense of being
Of broken bone
Of tarnish and feeling
Of nothing but a riddle
So gently played
On a wooden fiddle
So it can break again
Again in the symphony
Just to see a fishbowl
Laying broken
Beside the sea
With no hope in it
For me



christopher leon hudson november 5th 2001

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