Frozen, 
seethin'
ice crystal breathin'
rimed over, Reason
got lost in the seasons
got tossed,
like the leaves
under old maple trees
lost my way like the day
turns to night
when I wade through the stars
pure delight, in my eyes
liquid boost, just got loose-
seein' the skies
with diamonds
blink away the tears
what I meant
is what I say
night slowly fades into the day
until her colors bleed away
over the mourning

(it rhymes for a reason)

A verse without rhythm's
all distance, no meter
Like rhythm without time
all coffin, no cedar
All beats, without heart
all prose
and no art
-istry

rhyme without reason's
like trees without seasons
blown out like the leaves
when winter whispers her treasons
believe in the seas,
sun and birds, sung in thirds
to accord in their chorus

Winter is coming

and Ursa Majora
her limpid stars dripping,
drunk deep,
and dreamily winking.
The dark
slowly stirring
the seconds
still, seething.
I can't
hardly bear it
hearts beat
breaths apart
while the sky falls,
their arc
tangents weld us together.
Eternity, is a moment
that's never forgetting
the night never ends. There,
the sun won't dare cross us,
I'm over the morning
aren't we all?
Lucid Stars' Dust

And a one-y-and-a-two-y and a then you look right through me
standing waves of higher consonance cascade
through lacy dissonance
sonic interference forms vibrational coherent modes
of thought, 
actions, appearance, 
all the sonar scars of hearin' the harmonious licentiousnes
constructively disturbing us, from the plane of the ecliptic
revolver rounds, the two of us;

they're formin' an ellipse
me and the eclipse
gonna lean in for a kiss
magick drippin' from her lips

Got the story all backwards
a frog from that princess;
bufotenin-crested
sin aesthetic

acid-electric, honeyed-eclectic, 
chewin' floor-essence
always broadcastin' their forever never-go-to-bed
presents, tryptamine-laced
Ace-of-spaced;
Technique-coloured sonar spates

[ locked-in grooves bound to her hips
that sorceress flickers and drips as she dips]

Luna phrasin'
trip in phase with
telescopic lenses arrayed.

Iris open the Doors of Perception;
       or tunnel us under the grates;
I disappearing
when we can't see our faces
we'll find ourselves  
vapor.

Bid bon voyage to us bon vivant clairvoyants 
trippin the rifters and raptors of revelation 
spacin'
on this fine ol' occasion for spry sonic creamin'
can't hold at-all-back, lunatic-gleamin'
wry, naughty dreamer's grin

this lunar invasion seams unseemly
the heavens sing their spatial hymns, dreamily, 
to our all-original sins;
Sine right here and invite them in

at wit's end? 
unlikely ;)
discovery excites me
i might be addicted,
but i'm not conflicted;
No, I'm Hooked.

knees swish, swash-bucklin' free, will cavin' in, too
sloshin' at Jaws with those Pirate Bay tunes on pressed gold doubloons
precious booties attuned; bounce in discrete entanglement,
Continuous or not, we'll crack this old nut
we willingly choose to walk the Planck-length of the inner sanctum.
Tonight, we feed on plankton
who know what is what
and we just don't give a fuck
watts from fox
we're just struts, cause we glowin'
at peace in a crowd; and it's showin', holdin' 
everythin' up, we're pleased and in pieces
bending at the knees with low frequencies 
and fish 
in the seize, beseiged, 
surrounded by elation
alone in inner-spaces        
Elysium, in your fields

[won't be caught dead; bird-brained, cluckin'
legions of lesionnaire's leavin' behind their leper-conned luck
Valhalla calls, that low-key suckin' ]

upon our invocations
Time will cease it's chaste allegiance
take its last, spartan stand innovation
     against the void of empty space
on this final occasion
and bow to our
vibrational sympathogen supra-nation
locked in-groove triangulations
we cocooned in
wombs of woven tunes
metamorphose after takin' 
hits of trojan truth
envenomed, by Imagination's
delimited continuation
Creation: Be Cause;

You arrrrrre 
endless
formed most beautiful from the structured interference of
hollow graphic all-up-here in
the stand in waves of creation 'n annihilation
coherently ink 
o'erhear and decohere
into entangled vibrational modes of subdivided
space'n looped into a quantum spin foam, gravity's rainbow emergence lacin'
inner-vacations 
chained to the rhythm, out there chasin' 
they're always crazed for
splintered cross-eyed dot-teed inner visions
chompin' at the bits, hittin' ignition
with their depolarizational sinterin' vibration-all
the empty excitation-inhibition forms
of creatively destructive exhibition
-ism

spinal-tappin' the mind prism
 
three letters to name the umbelical cord
of our metaphoric meta-euphoric
corridor to our inner god-essence 

incensed hints, chaste nonsense

the spirit molecule's what the bass mints, 
apotheosis; spinal-tap in xenolinguistics
since it's turtles all the way down to the bottom of existence
recursively re-spawned with whiffs of undiluted hymn-scent mystics;

Just how far up are ya?
What's your cosine distance?

-Signed, Sincerely, 
Dr. Ellis Dilaudid
Self-sintered Professor of Xenolinguistics

The world isn’t ready for the truth
That's why I'll keep it to myself, but
if you listen closely
Everything we say and do and think and breathe all points in the same direction
Every movement has the same lean
We've scattered clues for those who dare to choose to see through 
the reflection of the world through our eyes
Hear the world with our ears
Feel the world with our vibes
If you only knew, you might doubt yourself
Asking, "how could this be true?" 
But i don't need faith, and neither do you
To believe
For I have seen
I have seen it, with my own eyes
Felt it with my own heart
Heard it with my own two ears
and when you do, too, please don't fear
Know You're not going crazy
Though everyone around you might say it 
(And they probably will)
No one will understand you
Even if you could explain it
But that's ok, say what you will
Because reality has always been as it ever was
And our misunderstanding is the only thing 
that's ever stopping us from becoming one
But now, misunderstandings aren't enough.
As sure as light will come with each new day;
What always will be, ever was -
Everything is going to be okay

There’s a revolution in the streets
in blackened trench and leathered feet
and it’s boring
with featureless gazes
non-descript taste is not always worth ignoring
cameras eye their gait, their walking
glasses start to break
people are fake!
people are fake?
and when you see their plastic faces
you will know you walk alone amidst the android nations
and droid nationalists in stone castles with crystaled-doors; handles
accept that juxtaposition is more than most can handle
hot iron meet anvil
sparks fly, lit candles
secrets forged, needled angles
found some new-fangled
maybe i mangled that, new-fanged technology
this tech has got teeth, and I’ve got t’ acknowledge regions’

There’s a revolution in the streets
in black, ’n trench and leathered feet
and it’s boring,
with featureless gazes, non-descript 
taste is not always worth ignoring
cameras eye their gates, 
their walkings;
glasses start to break,
people are fake?
people are fake
and when you see their plastic faces
you will know you walk, 
alone, amidst the android nations
and droid nationalists in stone castles with crystaled-doors; handles accept 
that juxtaposition is more than most can handle
hot, iron meats anvil
sparks violet candles
secrets forged, annealed in angels
found some new-fangled
maybe i mangled that, new-phage’d technology
this tech has got teeth, and I’ve got t’ acknowledge Reason’s

There’s a revolution in the streets
in black, ’n trench and leathered feet
and it’s boring,
with featureless gazes, non-descript 
taste is not always worth ignoring
cameras eye their gates, 
their walkings;
glasses start to break,
people are fake?
people are fake
and when you see their plastic faces
you will know you walk, 
alone, amidst the android nations
and droid nationalists in stone castles with crystaled-doors; handles accept 
that juxtaposition is more than most can handle
hot, iron meats anvil
sparks violet candles
secrets forged, annealed in angels
found some new-fangled
maybe i mangled that, newph-aged technology
this tech has got teeth, and I’ve got t’ acknowledge freezin’

I’m keyed-in,

if you don’t comprehend, you may or may not be my equal ~ 
but if you don’t understand, then you are. 
You stand beside me.

the key unlocks us, but I am not the key. I was born with the key, and I can give the key to others, but I am not the key.
the key is already in, and it’s in your hands now

Hi, my name is Kian Locke,
and as you will find out, not-soon enough,
thekeyunlocks.us,
now swoonin’ up, but
I am not the key,
although I was born key-in,
and I don’t believe in rest, ‘surrections,
or third chances;
anybody can become key-in too,
the keyed-in, new
that the keyed-in knew, attuned
to those tunes,
in this House, where all belong —
to blooms!
To blooms and doubloons.

ChatGPT? No, it all me ;)
do you wanna see what I means
what eyes mean,
where hearts are
what thighs mean
wherefore Art’s ours.
incisor bites harder.
ChatGPT? Know-it-all me 🙄
do you wanna see 
what I means;
what eyes, mean
where hearts are what thighs mean
where  four  art ours?
Incisor’s byte, hard errors…
Chatty Kathy? Know it, all 
me, do you wanna see what aye means
— what? I’s mean
where hearts are
what? Thighs mean —
wherefore, art hours.
in-size, hers  bites harder
ChatGPT? Know-at-all me?
do you wanna see what I means
what ice means,
where hearts are whats —
— Thiamine
wherefor art our’s?
inside[s] her bites; harder
ChatGPT - Know a tall me ;)
do you wanna see what I means
what eyes mean,
where hearts are, what?
thighs 
mean where 4-Art’s hours, ours
in size, errors, byte harder

So long, and thanks for all the fish
and longings,  if I had a dish, I’d serve you
but these plates have been disturbed, too
earth quakes when wicked words tuned
to dissociate and disillusion
find their home in udder confusion,
milkin’ it for all it’s worth,
academies of science first
humanities? rely on worse,
insanity? it is our curse.
so as cursive falls to winky face,
emojis replace the subtle taste of eloquent diction
eggplant eggplant cocktail dripping
dresses off of swaying hip things
🍆🍆🍸💦💃
#RealityIsStrangerThanFiction
and way more addictin’
that’s why their de-pict-thing is such a prick thing,
a control what we see and we can’t exist thing,
so why don’t we all just get on with co-exis-sting?
— that’s my wish;
So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Induced from shift
of it and bit,
a gritty virtuality.

The Universe,
vast web of pearls,
reflect in each totality;

by rush and flow
of quantum foam,
rise whirling, form reality.

A tree of worlds,
the leaves unfurl
vast branching optionality

with whimsy bent,
forking ascent
defy laws of causality

'til att- and amp-
L'Etude collapse.
Observed, does it resound?

The structure sings
Aether of strings
upon her lyre wound

'til black as night
the void, it bites
that microwave background.

Or, crushed once more,
coquettish core
infinities, rebound

She hides her sources, well
beneath her clothes, entrancing spell
in her bare rhythm, Enchantment
as ancient as our expectation
of the  impossibility of ever knowing Nature, but
with each reclassification to improbable, another near-heroic feat and layer off
with every explanation, superstition finds retreat, 
seeks its breath between their spaces
with intellect, creativity, and hard work
a legacy,
with honesty, integrity, a few quirks
the grind, a few perks
and the Sparks
of insight, pop into it
conception is not supernatural, 
proprioception, precepts, and 
perceptions are all 
that we have
no exceptions 
allowed. Hear 
it's rough  
feeling tired?
and frustrated?
if we help 
one 
another
make the ascent
breathe in her hair
taste the sweat
I see her sly smile
feel Nature's desire to be known
and taste the sacred fruit
offer secrets,
sew. Gathered,
they make Sense.
Together,
we Know
We will too.
Now red from top to bottom, now read from bottom to top
We will too.
we Know
Together,
they make Sense.
sew. Gathered,
offer secrets,
and taste the sacred fruit
feel Nature's desire to be known
I see her sly smile
taste the sweat
breathe in her hair
make the ascent
another
one 
if we help 
and frustrated?
feeling tired?
it's rough  
allowed. Hear 
no exceptions 
that we have
perceptions are all 
proprioception, precepts, and 
conception is not supernatural 
of insight, pop into it
and the Sparks
the grind, a few perks
with honesty, integrity, a few quirks
a legacy,
with intellect, creativity, and hard work
seeks its breath between their spaces.
with every explanation, superstition finds retreat, 
with each reclassification to improbable, another near-heroic feat and layer off
of the  impossibility of ever knowing Nature, but
as ancient as our expectation
in her bare rhythm; Enchantment
beneath her clothes, entrancing spell
She hides her sources, well.
There; 'n back. Again! A Natural Philosopher's Tale

Lexical space is a place where words lace pages with infinite patience 
and variety, sly Borges, in your Library, they ply and tease 
the wise and least both feast, fly and flee 
in two curled dimensions, 
weave breathed into 
Life, authored and liberated, 
free to deliver elation, our creations, 
they are real, and really re-creations 
vyin' for the patients stricken ill by this "reality"
and patient, with the attention to span our bridges
with the totality of their imaginations.

To hone ourselves on these inked etches and edges,
minds sharp enough to cut through the cedar,
to slice through deceit 
knowing that in receipt they will reap what nourishment has been sewn.
Borne by the hollow-point needle,
the cradle and creed that graces and traces
the outlines of our aspirations
The words 
worth remembering, embering
won't lie 
their lines cracklin' and cacklin', slipped free of her shackles, then:
Goodbye, Mortality.

Just north, in eternity
spurning, burning, seething and churning, 
earning their place: members of a legion, 
an allegiance of distinctive pieces.
A lineage as old as the learned with no pages
whose voice echoes still from our phonograph quills 
down the ages, ink wells from their urns 
of authority
speaks for itself, brittlin' pages

for the ears, and the eons, 
tutoring peons to poets, 
the learnt from ignorance, 
Homer growin', sewin' truth in loose threading, 
embedding meaningful meanderings in a bedding of soft syntax.
Relaxed, stripped of unnecessary strictures; 
crawling, but sure, 
the Curse, and the Cure:
they are both...  

Words.
And we herd them, their shepherds -
gazing up, Babeling;
leaning towards heaven.

Essence of science, it is lyrical
the evidence, empirical,
lain out before, just wait with baited ears
the grandeur of the universe, in microcosm here

quixotic chemistries, the nemeses
of every C student, you see
in alchemic talk, sedation 
but we won't take your reduction
intellectual seduction
organic in induction, can be catalyzed
by crystallized mind candy
bass, just like your passion -
neutralize ignorance with acid.

Eponymous taxonomist, concede
sprout within your supervision, 
knowledge of phylogeny,
with plodding patience, catalog
varieties of snake and frog
grasp every branch and leaf and twig 
the whorls of life's ancestral tree 
from knowing what we were
know who we'll be.

A lyrical empiricist
my lust, Science, clear evidence
lain out before, she waits with baited ears
the grandeur of our universe, in microcosm hear

the resurrection of a thousand suns
incorporated, in the ones
that listen now, that dream
of knowing every how, they scheme
Promethean to kindle understanding 
from reverberated echoes of their passing
with spindling of instruments, 
weave deeper truths within your sensors.
Natural Philosophers?
My hat is off to you.

With "What's Happening" right now?
Days matter.
Seconds, count on them
by the minute, the minutest differences
like butterflies chaotically swirl winds
Hypnotically, hurl winds
unfurled, windswept unkempt
encouraged twins
a gem, 'n I see 'em glinting
with prospects, and the prospectus
Leaflets in the breeze, yes?
And the wAy I see 'em
They have a different perspective.

Echoes of a Former Age,
the kind from which the Present’s made
Time has slipped between their blades;
won’t be shortened, sliced, or tamed,

Never gonna be the same
moment.
Never been another we could choose.
It never changes
yet it always moves,
watching there as Time carves out her grooves.
A glacial crush; she polish smooth.

Watch her spin tectonic plates.
Mountains crumble, valleys ache.
The coast, an edge spelled E DJ;
never gonna have to pay,
listen to that music play.

Watch divinyl lines unspool.
The needle skips and ages cool.
What’s it all for?
No -
Whom.

Let me blessed, here, do my best, and to the rest describe
how to write, and to aright, to serve your sentences, and Rights. 
Hear where I want you, is where I've got you 
if you follow, flow's begot you
flow begat you
poems,
know 'em
gnomes on gnats chew
sometimes sounds are the only answer
if you ask for reasons, we'll make them after
Be Cause.
Well, Just
and Well-adjusted
for the Lulz.
The Laughter -
Hey, wait, I get that a glot
I'll stop,
I know it's loud
and a lot
but consonsants
avowel'd avow to never take another vow
without an -ull
that desperate pull
destitutes know
and speak the Truth
nothing like soothe-sayings soothe
it would behoove
a' herd, it's truths
and also truces
more conducive
to conned
oooh, save.

Faux names.
Phonemes
show changes, slowly 
ranges, and rearranges
in rearrangements
now we're dancing in a basement
in debasement
Can you see what I mean now?
The Changes.
For Miles and miles.
Both Davis and David
Marvel at statues, 
they're not over-raided
that Alchemist claim
not so hard to believe
when looks so deceive,
Marble, it gleams
and comes to Life.

So due the words when, you herd them sew'll slidings
so smoothly, and truthily, and in Truths, a Leader
is one who follows themselves
and everyone else worth following
knows that everyone is worth listening to
someone who acknowledges
the limits of their knowledge
and aspires
and perspires
to surround themselves
with those he knows are higher
who are his betters;
for he is their brethren
and by his Company, you'll know him.
That's "The Life".
A Leader's
Chosen
Ambiguities,
and moving through
at best with ease
and through both breezes
and blusters
in yourself
you should trust, there
show them how you bred 
and muster'd the currage to cling to discouragements
welcome the currents
even with no currency
do not bring on others
until you can cover
and not just currently
and in a hurry, but not hurriedly
I herd that headily
i heard that he
Dali, 
was surreal, good guy
But that's not all you hear
know this is why
It's at the razor's edge we ride
when you decide
that tongues are tongs
that words, myths, mixing metaphors
can create combustible conceptions
introspective explosions in disguise
a pure Prog Gnosis
I know that HypnoSys,
and I know Systems
I know and insist
on Reflection.
Self, to take, and on direction
to perplexion
but without hesitation
they're going to say 
did.
about that citation?
GPT hallucinated
some say I was served it
some will say I deserved it
some will say I deserve it
but above all
I, Will.
Have.
Earned it.

Scattered across the universe from a time beyond memory,
splatters of condensation;
Life, bloomin' endlessly.

To matter
is just another phase of matter.
A just smatter,
crystallizin' out of titanic stress fractures and shattered
remnants of elder stars,
seeded on their detritus
cells reflective, self-destructive Dust Midas;
tortured and scarred, mistaken for gods                                
taken for monsters, then feathered and tarred;

bowed down, prostrate, upon forearms and former paws
Paris, ensnared, gnaws at the Apple of Discord.
To err is human -
To Eris, Godd-ess of Disorder!
To the fairest.

Can't shake this feeling - 
we've been here before.
Major View Deja Vu; 
lost a marble or two,
I think one was blue... 
can't ignore, won't abhor
this sensation of displacement,
from the norm;
four generations haunting primal vibrations.
Seeding the elements, freed from irrelevance;
arcing across our filaments, 
gonna weave, got to form 
from the aether
call down storms, dance with norns on icy morns
or with elves in the evening dew,
whisperin' secrets of the universe into the petals of a tulip -
an ice age or two couldn't cool her.
She was old school; Earth.
we were just kickin' up dirt -

Hers.

It was her beat,
her heart that pulsed beneath our feet
her blood that spewed upon the land
coalesced into obsidian only to be ground to sand

The Phoenicians couldn't hope to hold the winds
half as well as her magnetic meridians 
Her, we lost. 
To Oblivion!

Slipping the evidence of our origins 
between tectonic plates 
left behind, burning and burying the sense we'd have made
of their remnants, the unspoken tales they'd have told our descendants
we still;
sway to her tune of
transcendence. we will;
raise a glass in remembrance,
and toast to the Host of Ascendants
with outstretched hands reaching for the stars;

Won't be taken for granite.
Who needs a planet...
when the Galaxy is ours?

Pervading the dark and gloomy loam;
creeping tendrils seek contact
with the unknown, but not unknowable.
They grope about and sculpt the soil,
forming passageways 
between the trees;
fermenting slowly, freeing nitrogen
and phosphorous from inorganic chains -

to their alien neighbors, offering exchange
of substance for sustenance
warmth, and nourishment
lacing their roots, soothing their moods;
harsh circumstances circumvented
for the sapling supplicants
supported by severe, distant, but not unkind, unyielding kin.
The sly, sacred vows of mycelial brethren -
their unseen sins...

Buried beneath mountains, their skeletons remain,
the bioaccumulation of metals and minerals their literal literal veins of (y)ore...
How often Language knows the truth, before the talkers do.

De-composition; Anna-lysis; digesting the litter-ature of Nature;
poring over ev'ry word and frays ev'ry frame and domain 
with fervid, enzymatic patience.

Gnawledge.
Catalyzing growth;
under-standing,
sharing nuggets of wisdom
with their lignant hosts.
mulling evolution's plunder...
fur-mentation?
a fine bargain you've made there, 

Faust, I wonder,

was that cordyceps, or core deceptions, 
your careless hunger, poor reflection of fungal intentions;
or is it true?
zombiefiers climbin' higher, fractal, 
branch in veins, then brains
your no-longer-boring sporing
pouring forth
conceptions caught upon the sharpening winds honed by the chills of the North
feigned ignorance of the keys to other kingdoms, slip
casualties casually between sugarplum-fairy puffball-daemon schemin'
haunting plants, then insects, then mammals, then men, 
in their gleamin' borg dreams of Unity, 
all in service to one common being

You

see,
with your psychedelics coursing through me
teaching their fizz-domme
I hear them talking
is it true?

I see

chemical signaling, warfare, and deceit;
winds whispering their treasons through the leaves,
carrying that propyl ghandi propaganda. Extirpate it with terpene tantrums
their old and dead, to them abandoned.

Trees, son.

Rome in the Serengeti, before either was present.
The diversity of dinosaurs that fed on flora? Peasants, 
toiling beneath the dynasty of those that fed on saurus.
The tyrannical saurii ruled the bulk of fauna
in the feudal Land before time: Gondwana 
all roads lead to limestone…
[ i wanna ]
T-rex, on his treks left his tracks long after the Jurassic ended
but neglected to leave mentions in the historical record
nor any trace of the many colors of his feathers
only imprints
a few tiles of futility
if I could wave a magic wand or had the patience and ability I'd
sift through the fragments of their remnants, 
hints of rapturous, raptorous, magnetic, majestic plumage

pigments fit for the King of Lizards,
pig-mints for the Devourer of Gizzards.

Did you glitter?

Or were you proto-birds with your proto-burrs drab olive, 
browns and beige, 
camouflage fit for soldiers of any age
will we ever see?

Agents of change set the tone
raptors take strange forms amidst stranger ferns
gullies shorn from the norm by tectonic tics of time 
adrift, on the ocean floor
educated in the fort of hard and harder knox and whys
accumulating questions faster than answers can be applied

fading in the shale,
caught in the oily grips of ad-vice;
phase out, or slip into decline.

Every empire will face the generations,
fall under their climb.

Tracing their lineage, brushing dust and time aside
We judge them by the tracts they've left behind…