Scribbling of a Wondering Stranger
By: Symbolisieren Brockschmidt
Anti Me
I have trouble finishing things.
That’s why its hard for me to begin them.
I think the ending is in the beginning
Like a good movie or a bad habit
I am not sure which?
Any way I have trouble finishing things
Because I am afraid of loosing.
There is an anti me inside me
Tearing at my shoes and making me stand still.
The anti me is a memory.
It fuels my apathy
Drains desire
Chokes passion
And leaves me
Lunch
Tell me about yourself ?
He says choking on his own lack of interest.
How many times do I have to repeat myself?
Do the words ever expunge?
I repeat myself too much.
Can’t we talk about movies.
You’re a voyeur any way.
Looking into my brain,
and thinking about lunch.
I am here for the pills.
He is here because he has to be
He has the degree hanging on the wall
Why waste good paper
It’s a way to make a living
listening to my sob story
and thinking about lunch.
Imprisoned by his own monotony
trying not to appear as bored as he is.
Safe
Baby speak
If you don’t you’ll cry
And I’ll worry for you
Because the crying scares me
Because I was a baby
and no one heard me
That crying that’s not
quiet crying is so confusing.
It makes me nervous please calm down
I hope you are ok
I don’t want to ignore you
Are they treating you alright ?
I hope your safe
God please make
her or him safe.
Magic
I believe magic is in everything
if you choose to see it.
Sometimes energy is palpable
You can touch it
Feel it, See it, Taste it.
I am a mass of atoms moving at a slow vibration
There is nothing but a string of atoms connecting me to you.
And every other being and the universe.
#
Momma
Her hair was blond
Her body was full
Her voice could calm or stir the waters
She is gone now except in my heart.
I weep for her and yearn for her
I hope for her, that she is with God she loved.
I hope I was a good son
One that she deserved.
There are memories wrapped in words
She was a southern gale
that stretched across my life.
And truth was her virtue
And charity was her virtue
And love was her virtue.
Released from pain
Into the heavens
I love you.
Scars
Some times scars run bone deep
They carve out the light
And leave me week and terrified
In some way, I am still a child
Running away with a bloody nose
And tired feet, sweat dripping,
A sick stomach , and shaking.
Will I ever stop running away from you,
Away from myself.
These nightmares are my only dreams
So sometimes I cant sleep.
Even when I am asleep, I am still running.
I wake up and the sweat beads off my forehead
I feel sick to my stomach.
Time chokes me turning me blue.
I am still running away from you,
Away from myself,
Away from the scars.
Still
When I’m still I am moving fastest.
My mind is lightening
Words flow so fast they cant come out.
People stare trying to decipher meaning
I am beyond them,
Beyond myself.
Don’t they know the arch of the universe ,
That every thing is nothing ,
And that I am . I am. I am.
Fascism
I am afraid of fascism
I am afraid of my government
Because they lie when someone lies
Its hard to tell where there really coming from.
Hitler had every one convinced in his time
And that was less then a century ago.
Now 600,000 civilians have died in Iraq and counting
4,000 American Soldiers have died and counting.
Secret prisons, Illegal wire tapping, the Patriot Act.
Yes I am afraid of fascism and you should be too.
fas·cism [fá shìzzəm]
dictatorial movement: any movement, ideology, or attitude that favors dictatorial government, centralized control of private enterprise, repression of all opposition, and extreme nationalism.
Traveling
I want my shoes to ware thin.
I want my calves to ache.
I want my arms to stretch out to the sun.
I want cool wind to wind through my sweaty hair.
I want to walk the Earth
I want a new name.
I want to leave this all behind and just keep moving.
I want to fall in love with a total stranger.
I want to loose my self completely.
I want to want nothing at all.
Soaring in Spring
Blue sky so deep an ocean,
the sun an island in the sky.
The flowers are out and everywhere
I am walking again.
I am yearning again.
I am flying.
Up there somewhere.
The clouds are my pillows.
I can kiss the hidden stars.
Wrap me in a dream.
Weave me with the intricate soul
of a wandering stranger.
I am.
Old Man
His eyes are old now.
They reflect his age.
Dissonant blue, distant sad,
what was his life?
What did it mean to be him.
To live in his time,
to walk in his shoes.
He grew up in a poor family
In a river town.
He grew up and ran.
He ran away to the military.
Did he ever stop running?
His eyes say no.
I miss him already.
Sister
I remember we had a food fight in summer time.
We chased each other down and smeared butter on each other. Mom, laughed. We lived on Easy Street and ran around the house in the East Texas. We were happy then.
My sister ran too. She ran and never stopped, forgetting the race was over. She ran in the East Texas sun. She was wild and free and herself, alone. Like a patch of Heather.
The Spring of Soul
The white floats by effortlessly
I stroll along as heaven
reaches out to me for a moment
and clings to my cheek.
It sends tears down my face
I yearn for the sun.
White so brilliant almost comforting.
Edges of rooftops once stoic lines are
blurred, indefinable, illusive,
as is my loitering here in the desert of reason.
Lost in the drifts of snow.
To a mountain my eyes lust.
Ineffable, eternal, white
the wisdom of there face.
Graced to see the eons,
to bear up the wheel of time.
White Horse
Breath so sacred I yearn for you once more.
Was life so mutable to take away my air?
My eyes are open now.
I see the light and in it a thousand memories.
You are there.
Its cold but warm, I can hear them calling me.
I can feel myself slip away.
I’m almost there.
The light surrounds me.
More brilliant then the sun.
Here
These red cliffs remind me that I am whole.
There is an eternity in its silence.
There is tranquility in the river below.
My breath is insubstantial against these red barriers of the eons. I am healed by this enlightenment and in this vision I’m at peace. There is only this holy moment here. Tomorrows a mystery. As I search for my path here, I watch God staring back at me and I am amazed. I am still,
Transfigured here, in this moment we are one. For I breathed you in today, and forgot I was here.
Encompass the Sun
I have lived, I have loved, I have heard a voice that was time it was low and barely audible, it was there all the expanse of my life. Frail after thoughts, these sacred moments become, as we into the arms of death. The light within me burns. I am the phoenix. I am love, I am liberty,
I am light. I encompass the sun.
Intimate
I feel your breath it touches me so deep.
I yearn for your words.
They hang upon your lips like quite anvils.
Piercing my heart
with anticipation, with wonder, with aspiration.
My body is a canvass waiting for your lips to paint.
All the colors of my heart waiting for you to take
All my anticipation, my wonder, my aspiration.
Complacency
I’ve been contemplating the complexities of life.
You know the information age and the ignorance it breeds.
You wouldn’t eat what they feed you if it wasn’t advertised on T.V.
Life is such a bore when there’s reality on the screen.
There’s War Machines built over New Orleans.
Antarctica is melting and Survivors on at five
and today in Bagdad another soldier lost his arm.
Can you live with your complacency?
Heartbeat
Sinus rhythm of the ocean.
Pulse the shuddering quake of a wave on the rocks.
Vibration coursing through my body.
Heart beat of the mother echoes.
Entity within beyond form and time.
Weightless I surrender.
Into the one that forms three.
Salt Lake Shity
My hands are Seismic
clasping to delusion.
Through out the intense cerebral rush
into the pit of my little suffering,
into the street, the night, the air.
Escape and embrace
the desolation,
the quintessential truth.
The moment where the lines
between you and I dissolve,
between they and us,
between what we have
and what is lost.
These pockets are bare.
These shoes have worn thin.
These thoughts have forms,
and form beyond form.
To these the evidence
of my blood
my life effused with you,
a stranger.
Dissonant the sounds
the city creates
and suffocates.
The technocracy
is passing itself of as
Humanity.
Fortunes Fool
Within me, a burning, fuels my
desire and a passion fuels my heart.
Your finger tips caress my spine.
I shudder helplessly.
I caress your arm,
you, do you feel?
Your eyes penetrate my soul.
I am disarmed.
I feel scared, can I trust again?
There within them a sweetness.
A child like serenity.
I love you.
I am lost here with in you.
With in you my confliction
an aching awareness
of Love.
I am vulnerable far too open.
Your holding my heart in your hands so
be careful, its made of glass.
Its broken before.
We sit here in an eternity of silence.
Knowing and ignoring it.
Choosing to remain ignorant.
I never meant for this to happen.
Neither did you.
I cry out in exasperation.
In a desperation.
In silence.
I ignore it,
my little pain,
my heart.
I know it betrays me.
I am fortunes fool.
Tears
Within my bosom buried the light that broke out my eyes.
Foreign the warmth it brings when like drops of blood they fall.
I they fall and expunge the quiet desperation,
the still born madness,
the tedium of the tomb.
They absorb the essence of my flesh.
They are me.
With out them I would not be.
I am the light fantastic, boundless, un comparable.
Composed of sinews carved out of the stars.
Born of blood and tears.
John Doe Christ
Jesus Christ lays in a card board box on a steele table.
Waiting...Waiting...Waiting...
For some one to fill his cup.
For some one to explore his wounds.
For some one to recognize his divinity.
There is an echo of this sacred heart reverberating through the streets.
Thump...Thump...Thump...
Ears fall deaf to it.
A rich man passes in disgust.
A woman remarks with contempt on the smell.
A child laughs and points.
The holy ghost is passing over this city.
Silence...Silence...Silence...
A dog sniffs then barks.
A Mail man shakes his head and walks past.
A blind woman stops and says, Are you ok?
Are you ok? Hello? Some body help!
The second coming was not televised.
His prophecy is held on dry lips and sad eyes.
There is no one to testify, no one knows him.
His crucifix is a snowy side walk in D.C.
On his right hand was a thief.
On his left hand was a murderer.
Shuffling through his bare pockets, together.
You and me.
Striping off his shoes.
They sent him off to the county morgue.
No one mourned him.
By: Mark Brocksmith
By: Symbolisieren Brockschmidt
Anti Me
I have trouble finishing things.
That’s why its hard for me to begin them.
I think the ending is in the beginning
Like a good movie or a bad habit
I am not sure which?
Any way I have trouble finishing things
Because I am afraid of loosing.
There is an anti me inside me
Tearing at my shoes and making me stand still.
The anti me is a memory.
It fuels my apathy
Drains desire
Chokes passion
And leaves me
Lunch
Tell me about yourself ?
He says choking on his own lack of interest.
How many times do I have to repeat myself?
Do the words ever expunge?
I repeat myself too much.
Can’t we talk about movies.
You’re a voyeur any way.
Looking into my brain,
and thinking about lunch.
I am here for the pills.
He is here because he has to be
He has the degree hanging on the wall
Why waste good paper
It’s a way to make a living
listening to my sob story
and thinking about lunch.
Imprisoned by his own monotony
trying not to appear as bored as he is.
Safe
Baby speak
If you don’t you’ll cry
And I’ll worry for you
Because the crying scares me
Because I was a baby
and no one heard me
That crying that’s not
quiet crying is so confusing.
It makes me nervous please calm down
I hope you are ok
I don’t want to ignore you
Are they treating you alright ?
I hope your safe
God please make
her or him safe.
Magic
I believe magic is in everything
if you choose to see it.
Sometimes energy is palpable
You can touch it
Feel it, See it, Taste it.
I am a mass of atoms moving at a slow vibration
There is nothing but a string of atoms connecting me to you.
And every other being and the universe.
#
Momma
Her hair was blond
Her body was full
Her voice could calm or stir the waters
She is gone now except in my heart.
I weep for her and yearn for her
I hope for her, that she is with God she loved.
I hope I was a good son
One that she deserved.
There are memories wrapped in words
She was a southern gale
that stretched across my life.
And truth was her virtue
And charity was her virtue
And love was her virtue.
Released from pain
Into the heavens
I love you.
Scars
Some times scars run bone deep
They carve out the light
And leave me week and terrified
In some way, I am still a child
Running away with a bloody nose
And tired feet, sweat dripping,
A sick stomach , and shaking.
Will I ever stop running away from you,
Away from myself.
These nightmares are my only dreams
So sometimes I cant sleep.
Even when I am asleep, I am still running.
I wake up and the sweat beads off my forehead
I feel sick to my stomach.
Time chokes me turning me blue.
I am still running away from you,
Away from myself,
Away from the scars.
Still
When I’m still I am moving fastest.
My mind is lightening
Words flow so fast they cant come out.
People stare trying to decipher meaning
I am beyond them,
Beyond myself.
Don’t they know the arch of the universe ,
That every thing is nothing ,
And that I am . I am. I am.
Fascism
I am afraid of fascism
I am afraid of my government
Because they lie when someone lies
Its hard to tell where there really coming from.
Hitler had every one convinced in his time
And that was less then a century ago.
Now 600,000 civilians have died in Iraq and counting
4,000 American Soldiers have died and counting.
Secret prisons, Illegal wire tapping, the Patriot Act.
Yes I am afraid of fascism and you should be too.
fas·cism [fá shìzzəm]
dictatorial movement: any movement, ideology, or attitude that favors dictatorial government, centralized control of private enterprise, repression of all opposition, and extreme nationalism.
Traveling
I want my shoes to ware thin.
I want my calves to ache.
I want my arms to stretch out to the sun.
I want cool wind to wind through my sweaty hair.
I want to walk the Earth
I want a new name.
I want to leave this all behind and just keep moving.
I want to fall in love with a total stranger.
I want to loose my self completely.
I want to want nothing at all.
Soaring in Spring
Blue sky so deep an ocean,
the sun an island in the sky.
The flowers are out and everywhere
I am walking again.
I am yearning again.
I am flying.
Up there somewhere.
The clouds are my pillows.
I can kiss the hidden stars.
Wrap me in a dream.
Weave me with the intricate soul
of a wandering stranger.
I am.
Old Man
His eyes are old now.
They reflect his age.
Dissonant blue, distant sad,
what was his life?
What did it mean to be him.
To live in his time,
to walk in his shoes.
He grew up in a poor family
In a river town.
He grew up and ran.
He ran away to the military.
Did he ever stop running?
His eyes say no.
I miss him already.
Sister
I remember we had a food fight in summer time.
We chased each other down and smeared butter on each other. Mom, laughed. We lived on Easy Street and ran around the house in the East Texas. We were happy then.
My sister ran too. She ran and never stopped, forgetting the race was over. She ran in the East Texas sun. She was wild and free and herself, alone. Like a patch of Heather.
The Spring of Soul
The white floats by effortlessly
I stroll along as heaven
reaches out to me for a moment
and clings to my cheek.
It sends tears down my face
I yearn for the sun.
White so brilliant almost comforting.
Edges of rooftops once stoic lines are
blurred, indefinable, illusive,
as is my loitering here in the desert of reason.
Lost in the drifts of snow.
To a mountain my eyes lust.
Ineffable, eternal, white
the wisdom of there face.
Graced to see the eons,
to bear up the wheel of time.
White Horse
Breath so sacred I yearn for you once more.
Was life so mutable to take away my air?
My eyes are open now.
I see the light and in it a thousand memories.
You are there.
Its cold but warm, I can hear them calling me.
I can feel myself slip away.
I’m almost there.
The light surrounds me.
More brilliant then the sun.
Here
These red cliffs remind me that I am whole.
There is an eternity in its silence.
There is tranquility in the river below.
My breath is insubstantial against these red barriers of the eons. I am healed by this enlightenment and in this vision I’m at peace. There is only this holy moment here. Tomorrows a mystery. As I search for my path here, I watch God staring back at me and I am amazed. I am still,
Transfigured here, in this moment we are one. For I breathed you in today, and forgot I was here.
Encompass the Sun
I have lived, I have loved, I have heard a voice that was time it was low and barely audible, it was there all the expanse of my life. Frail after thoughts, these sacred moments become, as we into the arms of death. The light within me burns. I am the phoenix. I am love, I am liberty,
I am light. I encompass the sun.
Intimate
I feel your breath it touches me so deep.
I yearn for your words.
They hang upon your lips like quite anvils.
Piercing my heart
with anticipation, with wonder, with aspiration.
My body is a canvass waiting for your lips to paint.
All the colors of my heart waiting for you to take
All my anticipation, my wonder, my aspiration.
Complacency
I’ve been contemplating the complexities of life.
You know the information age and the ignorance it breeds.
You wouldn’t eat what they feed you if it wasn’t advertised on T.V.
Life is such a bore when there’s reality on the screen.
There’s War Machines built over New Orleans.
Antarctica is melting and Survivors on at five
and today in Bagdad another soldier lost his arm.
Can you live with your complacency?
Heartbeat
Sinus rhythm of the ocean.
Pulse the shuddering quake of a wave on the rocks.
Vibration coursing through my body.
Heart beat of the mother echoes.
Entity within beyond form and time.
Weightless I surrender.
Into the one that forms three.
Salt Lake Shity
My hands are Seismic
clasping to delusion.
Through out the intense cerebral rush
into the pit of my little suffering,
into the street, the night, the air.
Escape and embrace
the desolation,
the quintessential truth.
The moment where the lines
between you and I dissolve,
between they and us,
between what we have
and what is lost.
These pockets are bare.
These shoes have worn thin.
These thoughts have forms,
and form beyond form.
To these the evidence
of my blood
my life effused with you,
a stranger.
Dissonant the sounds
the city creates
and suffocates.
The technocracy
is passing itself of as
Humanity.
Fortunes Fool
Within me, a burning, fuels my
desire and a passion fuels my heart.
Your finger tips caress my spine.
I shudder helplessly.
I caress your arm,
you, do you feel?
Your eyes penetrate my soul.
I am disarmed.
I feel scared, can I trust again?
There within them a sweetness.
A child like serenity.
I love you.
I am lost here with in you.
With in you my confliction
an aching awareness
of Love.
I am vulnerable far too open.
Your holding my heart in your hands so
be careful, its made of glass.
Its broken before.
We sit here in an eternity of silence.
Knowing and ignoring it.
Choosing to remain ignorant.
I never meant for this to happen.
Neither did you.
I cry out in exasperation.
In a desperation.
In silence.
I ignore it,
my little pain,
my heart.
I know it betrays me.
I am fortunes fool.
Tears
Within my bosom buried the light that broke out my eyes.
Foreign the warmth it brings when like drops of blood they fall.
I they fall and expunge the quiet desperation,
the still born madness,
the tedium of the tomb.
They absorb the essence of my flesh.
They are me.
With out them I would not be.
I am the light fantastic, boundless, un comparable.
Composed of sinews carved out of the stars.
Born of blood and tears.
John Doe Christ
Jesus Christ lays in a card board box on a steele table.
Waiting...Waiting...Waiting...
For some one to fill his cup.
For some one to explore his wounds.
For some one to recognize his divinity.
There is an echo of this sacred heart reverberating through the streets.
Thump...Thump...Thump...
Ears fall deaf to it.
A rich man passes in disgust.
A woman remarks with contempt on the smell.
A child laughs and points.
The holy ghost is passing over this city.
Silence...Silence...Silence...
A dog sniffs then barks.
A Mail man shakes his head and walks past.
A blind woman stops and says, Are you ok?
Are you ok? Hello? Some body help!
The second coming was not televised.
His prophecy is held on dry lips and sad eyes.
There is no one to testify, no one knows him.
His crucifix is a snowy side walk in D.C.
On his right hand was a thief.
On his left hand was a murderer.
Shuffling through his bare pockets, together.
You and me.
Striping off his shoes.
They sent him off to the county morgue.
No one mourned him.
By: Mark Brocksmith
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