For the creative misfits

my friend Jeremy and I have a excitingly strange correspondence going , composed mostly of meaningless playful sentences (the last text message from him reads, "A horse called frilly bought me a lily, stole my heart disease  / moons perplexed and institutionalized / honestly crows / favoured flavours / covert optimists / collections from the kennedys") , but occasionally it morphs into something of substance ... we coax inspiration out of each other, I wrote this in honour of his life today:

sitting here I think about the deviating cosmos inside of me: 

how unexact, how nonexistent . 

I'm halfway to losing all the data I've procured .... 

secret meetings with impenetrable ghosts , 

the Holiest lingers some where ... 

like a child

I

play

a game

with

God, who sits in an apple tree playing chess with angels

I'm sitting on a brown chair and there is a window

pulling the sky into my room...

& it feels like I might be living today.

... in 50 years I will be living with egg shells and banana peels

in a mudhouse ten feet underground

Questions

Am I an art piece ?

What if Love is Art.

“You are all dead,”   says the God of 2100.

but what if we have even just perhaps hardly

One More Day ...

- well then act fast , man ,

swallow this flash of sound-mist before our

circuit-scorched digital land evaporates , morphs ,

leaves us only remnants of HTML , bleached code &

the beats halfway to heaven , we'll have only

the spasms of synths , crumbs of digital drums ,

sliced morsels of halfhearted verses 
(the ascended verses nearly half-chewed by God) , 
& who will rap for us then ?

Today Knows The Whole Beast, tomorrow this

will be but a pillaged corpse massacred infinity

times over by the cyber vultures and not even

the guardian sicklings will be able to stop them...

since we don't have Godhands

we can't pick particles out of the sky

& drag em back to earth ... it's too late,

this thing's already beyond us

I'm sitting in an atom of time

What is Atom's Dream ? “Arcane Magic”

what matters in this atom of time ? , &

who will remember it aside from God ?

no one is around but maybe

When I am smithereens what will it mean

that I had ever had a dream

what thought counts

man dies like red blood cells in Godzilla,

no one notices.

how could I think of myself as anything,   
(I am so small, one in 6 billion current survivors of time)

I am but a micro-ounce of a piece of fabric,

and my life alone counts for nothing, 
the only meaning my life holds is that I am part of the fabric, 
the fabric which makes up a coat... a coat that God wears,

so all his children dress him in warmth.

see the colours ... all his people making up a

Technicolour Dream Coat ... 
and God wears it in heaven, 
he cloaks himself in the Love he made, 
we are but images of God of Love , we are Love 
if we are anything because we are but what God says we are,

and if he says we are images of Love then we are images of Love ...

know your identity, that's it, that's what you can do on earth.  
if I don't love I don't know who I am; I am a no one,

I am Meaninglessness to the most infinite degree.

this all comes in a dot of time,

how does it even come; 
I know it does not even come from me ; 
I say, this is a comforting revelation; 
and it all swam down into my mind on a spirit wave,

Jesus and his disciples nearly capsized

in the same mote of time when I received

an idea that we are made to be nothing but

part of a cloak for our father to wear.