I'm Wasting.

and thats why fromnow on.
ill try my

very best to stopwasting



anddestroying myself down.

because even though imake great efforts to stopwasting,

im still wasting all my efforts.

© 2011 the still air


The problems with simplicity are as follows:

We waste no time figuring a       way out
             because the path rests rightinfront of our feet,
and we're  amazed when
  the pages of instructions   lead us to the   complete,

but isn't that exactly what they're for?

The simplest of designs can portray
the exact    same     messages
that   are     hidden   amongst
      some of    the   most controversial and  complicated    presages.

and complicated doesn't run our planet earth anymore.

We're   trapped inside  an    age    of simplicity,
         starting at    A          and   landing at  B,
connecting dots     that were   so obviously   layed before us,
 because  we want things A.S.A.P.

 it's   a struggle just to try   to paint a    picture.

And if we fall out of the flow          with no  simple mindedness,
    we run   out   into  the world   with   extreme  eccentricity,
and we, at often times,  find ourselves,
         falling into the  simpleness of   simplicity.

Is there a problem?

    the simple    brilliance of a   simple man,
can   simply drive him      to  finish   what    he   intends,
with   a whole new outlook, and  whole new  eyes,
just      so        things        will      be    easier   in the end.

Are we  in   an  age  of laziness?

Or are  we  just   simply   brilliant.
because there are  thousands  upon   thousands  of ways,
to  complete      simple   tasks, and there are       easier     ways,
      to complete them, so  the   complex  mind will  appraise.

And this is          where       complexity  stands  strong.

   with    what   we  know,  we can play out every outcome,
and   we  can   shadow  the   easiest and more  efficient way,
but   by  opening  up   our   minds   to the  complexion of every situation,
and realizing        that  we   don't      have to live   in  dog  days


and   realizing   that  the  most  difficult   of tasks,
can be tackled with   new eyes  and  we can  clear away  the haziness,
and  discover  efficiency over the old   ways
and we can exercise every place in our brain and know that it's not laziness

but simple brilliance.

Simpleness is the world I’m growing up in,
and i plan on making my contribution simpler,
by tackling things with brand new eyes.
and walking life a little easier.

© 2011 the still air


Get In the Car

Transgressions and transformations.
Reincarnations of tattered souls. 
Remember what dreams are composed of,
Remember we are only fools.

If we don't accept changes,
And live strictly off of hypotheses,
The only change we could undergo,
Is end of friendships and new enemies.

You see our mind has a mind of it's own,
And within it is our functions,
And we control our functions,
So change is all part of that motion.

Openness is a saint. 
We cannot conduct energy,
Unless we accept all transgressions,
And become the transformer for the enemy. 

Everyone is the enemy,
And we are all due for new formation,
So please don't be scared,
when the lights touch down in new motions. 

Keep the car running. 
Keep the engines purr,
To be heard from a distance.
To be heard. 

© 2011 the still air


bring life back home

put the fire out inside me.
please stop this burning sensation.
please rem ve ev ry th ught.
give me slight desire for                   segregation.

heal the burns,            clot the wounds.
      rem ve       the          sc rs.
give me peace.        give me rest.
   take away the                              dark.

bring life back home .

© 2011 the still air

time zones and coordinates

Timezones and coordinates
are both fancy ways of saying,
“I’m over here, you’re over there,
and there are borders keeping,

us apart.”

But placing facts out of the way,
I could never say, “in this distance,
I can still feel you here.
It’s like our bodies still remain in coexistence,


And I could never flatten the world,
drain every ocean, or build bridges.
I can’t decrease the distance,
by moving tectonic plates small tiny smidges,

because that would ruin the world,
just to make me happy.

© 2011 The Still Air


Hide in the light

Sometimes just the fact,
That facts turn into reasons,
Becomes reasons to hide,
Hide from the seasons.

And sometimes the world,
Causes our world to tremble,
Trembling in firery fear,
And the fear to disassemble.

So sometimes it's ok,
To not be ok in the night,
Because night time brings darkness,
And darkness finds we hide in the light,

When it comes around.

© 2011 The Still Air


Body and Soul

"Do you believe in angels?"
She said,
As she placed her hood,
Upon her head,

And let the rain fall,
All around her,
With an umbrella at her side,
Embracing the cool water.

"Do you believe there’s,
Someone watching?
Someone who knows,
How were moving?

Someone who knows,
Every last sway,
And every last footstep,
And every last day?"

With that I said,
"Close your eyes,
Listen to the sounds,
And realize,

That with nights we have left,
There’s just so many thoughts,
To let run through our heads,
To run us overwrought."

"I was curious,
Of what its like to die,"
She said, "for every person,
There's not enough stars in the sky.

If we were meant,
To be alive,
I’m sure the angels,
Would make us realize,

That a star,
Has no conception,
To our,

So I took her hand,
And placed it over the moon,
To show her how dark,
The world could be soon,

And I said, "we’re all the moon,
We’re not the stars.
The angels are all flickering,
Guiding us through who we are.

I know the way,
You feel right now,
And I know the world,
Turns up somehow,

But in these dire days,
Please don’t separate,
Your body and soul,
Don’t contemplate,

Just step outside,
And breathe the air,
And realize,
That life’s not fair,

But it’s the people,
We hold close and dear,
It’s the people,
That we hold so near,

It’s the angels,
We all have in our hearts,
It’s the angels,
Who have grown to be a part,

of us

that make this life
worth living.

I do believe in angels,"
I said,
As I removed her hood,
From her head.

And let the rain,
Run down her face,
"Those are the angels,
washing your tears away."

© 2011 The Still Air



The best i can be
only comes with moonlight
so it seems,
that sleeping isn't right.

It's the one time i'm useful,
so to let it go to waste,
is like pretending i don't exist,
like pretending my home's not a place.

© 2011 The Still Air

not what i hear

why should someone like me,
deserve something so great.
why should someone like me,
have to sit and wait.

last night, there were signs,
loud and brilliant and bright,
and they were hidden in the sky,
and i slept right through the night.

i'm here because you want me here
not because anyone else wants me here.
if i was meant to be alive, then truly i would be,
but that's not what i hear.

© 2011 The Still Air


If only I wouldn't miss you

If only i wouldn't miss you, 
It would be so easy to dream constantly for weeks.
It would be so easy to disregard what life is.
It would be so easy to just disappear
And then reappear in silence.

If only i wouldn't miss you,
It would be so simple to slip away,
It would be so simple to let myself fall,
It would be so simple to let go of the railing
And catch on at the last second.

I would miss you,
It's not easy to dream at all, because you're so real,
It's not easy to think for a minute that i'm minuscule,
And it's not easy to know that leaving would mean leaving you,
And that's something i'm not willing to do.

I still can't wait to reach my home in the sand,
But i'm happy enough living in my home with you.

© 2011 The Still Air


When lost at sea

location isn't key,
when you're lost at sea,
it's not the first thing to come to mind,
nor is the time.
You simply feel your way through
without fear of whats in front of you,
and in the moment of despair,
you'll remember you're still here.
No matter which way you steer,
you'll eventually come near,

the shore.

© 2011 The Still Air


we're all the same, we're all uniqiue

we're all composed
of 206 bones
layered with skin
layered with sin
we're constantly told, "we're all the same"
blood cells, muscles, tissues, brain.
we all contain similar physique,
so why are we told, "we're all unique?"
our insides, in a way
are all the same,
though some pieces are missing,
hearts are still beating
pumping blood at intense pressure like some sort of perk,
brains are functioning even if they don't work
and we live the same life,
find our meaning, and then die,
so if we're all so unique
why are our days on repeat?
the outside is where the differences are.
we're labeled like we're in boxes and jars,
and sub-categorized for our own terms
even if we don't affirm.
if we looked in our mirrors,
would we see any clearer?
or would the question ponder
would we even slightly wonder.
are we all the same,
or all unique in different ways.

or are we all the same because we're all unique?

© 2011 The Still Air


The Train

A thought train leaving a station
appears to be heading to the little town of reasoning
instead of the city of facts.
Neither is more pleasing.

The train scheduled to leave at a quarter after four
reminds me that there is no rush this quiet morning.
reminds me that there are no more facts.
reminds me that everyone's thoughts shut down in the evening,

while mine just started its engine.
I fed it. I gave it coal.
and this reasoning that i should hate,
lacks all control.

and having no control,
                  just happens to be something I love.

© 2011 The Still Air


a creature in territory

There are moments when I am just simply
                                  a               creature
wandering aimlessly among animal       territory
                       without proper understanding of the measure .

Countless operations
              seamless excavations
curious explorations
              no restorations.

the creature I am in that moment of time
                wandering among animal territory
makes me realize, perhaps just for myself,
         how much the animal I actually am, in theory .

© 2011 The Still Air


Wake up

Wake up, wake up,
Youre wasting somuchtime.
Theres a world to hide from
When youre less than fine.
Slow down, slow down
And make the clock count
Spend time on what you know
Because falling asleep is barely an amount.
Slow down. Youre getting older.
Wake up. Sleep is a crime.
Slow down. The hands of the clock wont do it for you.
Wake up.
Sleep is a waste of time.

© 2011 The Still Air


When was the last time?

When was the last time you stopped for a moment,
forgot      what time was,     forgot what  movement was capable of at best
   and just focused on  you,     blocked your    mind from    being potent,
listened to yourself   breathe,   listened  to  the   heart inside   your own chest?
       when was the last time you even noticed your own existence
   noticed that  you are   a human being  wandering aimlessly along    this planet   earth,
but   noticed that you     are not just a human being  wandering aimlessly looking for   assistance
but   realized that you   are    something    worth  talking   about.   you   are    something   with   worth?

     when was the last time you listened to your own breathing?

© 2011 The Still Air


the door at the bottom of the sea

Sea sights; no sight has ever been seen
                              like these sights
and fights,   i might          consider
opening a door at the       bottom
of the sea.

I might consider reconsidering my consideration
                         to open that door at the bottom
of the sea.

only because fear drives the driving thoughts
that fight the lights in my frightful head.
and it steers the freight ship charging through
                         ruggid            waters.
the sea.

the frightened freights fight forward
     and when they stop
when                           all else fails

thats when i'll reconsider
          considering diving deep down
to open that door

at the bottom of the sea.          

© 2011 The Still Air



remember persuasion
remember passion
remember cold air
and the kisses here

remember the heart beats
remember the warm treats
remember the flames
inside small frames

remember her eyes
remember good nights
remember the photographs
that hold time and momentful laughs

remember the renew
things you'd never undo
remember the symmetry
of mid february

© 2011 The Still Air


There is something about these dragonfly's

are they kissing the water
   deciding if the taste is worth settling with ?
or  are they touching their feet along the surface
  wishing they could swim alongside the fish?
is the congregation communicating
   about a possible shift traverse ?
or are they just being peaceful          
   lazily waiting for  the intense heat to disperse?
i wonder if the instinct of the dragonfly's mind
   is as complex as that of me or her
and i can't help but wonder
   if the connection between them is instinctively defer
or truly something so much more vibrant
   and containing so much more complexion
than the simple motion i take to move us
   using a complex set of systems controlled by minds election .
simply done
   but difficult to explain why
is that a feeling
   felt by these dragonfly's ?
is instinct part of me or us
   like the instincts of the creatures ?
or is it more than that?
   is it beyond measures?
if these tiny swift creatures understood love
   would their intents be the same ?
or would  they be confused on who they are or what they are for
   similar to the thoughts that make us insane?
or would they still follow their instincts
   but treat the other as a muse ?
there's just something fascinating about these dragonfly's
   that have me captivated and amused.

© 2011 The Still Air


waking to lime light.

Chasing the wake
 catching the shoreline
leaving a dream
 to find the time
everchanging so slowly
 hands moving with a slight
sense of actual time
 under the lime light.

© 2011 The Still Air



The    act    of    concentratingthethoughts,
The art of         moving your      eyes,
Along each       detail and                   smile line
In the           second              you realize;

        The beautiful scenery     allaround,
                  Will   CONCOMITANTLY          d sappear
     as the       continuous         eyelock begins,
and         you focus on only     what'snear.

© 2011 The Still Air


heartbeat language

the heartbeat is a language all of its own;
its rhythm's identify with another 
and detect the speed, motion, and accent
and finds the right dialect to let emotions flutter.

when the language matches another heart,
the two translate, instill, and seal
because the words are worth remembering
as chest comes to chest and rhythms all they feel.

© 2011 The Still Air