Tomorrow's Safari:

I truly believe the renaissance of me was much more interesting than the renaissance of you.

Like watching a chandelier break through glass-lined terrariums filled with Shanghainese flamingos.

I hope you understand I feel this gravity stronger than you do.

I hope you understand that the gravity of my words are present to create an impact explosion onto your facade which lays as transparent as the flesh of jellyfish.

I aim to be like a meteorite destined exclusively for Spotted Blue Stingrays.

1966 Stingrays. 1996 Bulls. 1942 Bears. 2016 Cubs.

I want to you know that tomorrow’s safari is only for myself and those I admit.

For it is me who deems it appropriate for whom the antelope may gaze upon.

And which meerkats may mirror the fear I impose.

And I have so many questions of this world?

Questions which only I must answer.

For the questions I have are ones your simple mind could not grasp…

Do monkeys dance?

Do orangutans really enjoy Tang™?

Do bonobos like to entertain?

And I’m longing for the distance from this world.

Or perhaps I’m longing from the thinking that this thing you call distance isn’t really distance at all.

Its a charade.

A symposium of falsities indexed and over-calculated.

Tang™ Tang™ Ta Tang™ Tang™ Tang™…

-Austin James

Flying Spaghetti Monster

 

Memories pour back to my mind at  a supersonic speed.

Now is a time for patience not greed;

We all need something,

I want to know what that will be.

 

Samuel stop, I remind myself.

Please take the time to stock your shelf.

I feel tall as a redwood, others part of me short like elves.

Thinking too hard plunging my mind into spells.

 

Who knows what it is? This meaning I seek,

Thank The Flying Spaghetti Monster

I hold this mystique..

-Samuel Walter Keller

Khuda:

I wanna see what you look like in 15-bit.

I want to see if your angular features could still make men shake?

I want to watch you tear through the world like your tore through your conception.

Truth is, if they tried to encapsulate you onto a screen, you’d break through that as well.

I’d never seen the domino effect portrayed so well.

Like a symphony of well orchestrated emotional bids thrown askewed onto Chicago’s frozen streets.

Like you were littering confetti onto the dance floor.

Like listening to Samba, Street Rap and Classical simultaneously.

All inscribed to music theory that is elegantly mapped to the synchronicity that is your divinity.

And my God, woman..

That work ethic.

Like your knuckles bled to create the world around you.

Like old American. Like vintage Iranian.

I’d love to watch the world fall at your feet.

Watch you remake the world accented with your Egyptian obsession.

I know speed. You’re faster.

Race you to the top…

-Austin James

Begtse:

I hope these words follow a procession of dahlias littered in your name.

I hope you write every word about how the world belongs to you.

And you.

And you.

And you, and you and you, and me too.

I wanna know when this part of you can be scraped off my skin.

Like adhesive on Rubik's Cubes.

Like men glued to televisions.

Like toddlers glued to their iPhones.


And I saw it in you.

A pure rage. An unspecified disease in your cortex.

Like looking in a mirror. Like getting lost in my heart again.

Like dragging my skin onto concrete to erase the color off of it.

My lover, in now in the form of a butterfly.

Performs acrobatics among the bamboo.

-Austin James

Mykonos:

Sweet boy, I didn’t mean to take everything from you.

I didn’t mean to be your vampire.

It just tasted so damn good.

One could even argue I gave you all of me.

Which is what you bargained for…

I’ll trade you your skin for my property.

I’ll trade you your love for my future.

And to awake upon each other.

Brothers. Lovers. Strangers.

This love of addiction. Is a love of chaos.

The love of her. Is like free form tai-chi.

Like that moment your teeth sink into apricots.

And I know, these walls will not keep you.

Yet, I hope these words will soften you.

Sweet boy, you had tears in your eyes when you left me…

I didn’t understand them until I awoke the next morning without you.

-Austin James

Work It Out Baby:

If I wrote love on every wall. Would you believe me?

If I wrote it enough, would you help me profit off of it?

Could these sweet nothings in my ear be the construction of my destruction?

Your words, like sucrose on my ears. Like agave my nipples.

Your actions, like the open air, beginning to turn to fall.

What do you know of life boy?

Life is work.

life is play.

Life is work.

I watched her and I wrote of you.

I watched her change the candle light like she was inventing electricity.

She dripped wax, like it was anthrax.

Drip drop. Like the early part of a hurricane.

Maybe this love was all a dream?

Like textbook evidence on realty.

Little did they know, when art is involved; the lines begin to blur. .

And I swear to you, I’ll leave my notes on life and love behind the ice cream store...

-Austin James
-Samuel Walter Keller