untitiled

My thoughts are trapped in what is supposed to be a digital diamond mine
every time i open this "notebook" i look to find them
i look for yours
i always record mine
and like the lines of this poem
they will forever remain diamonds hidden in a digital crust
collecting digital dust
in a digital mine
for others to dig though
and although they may never find them
my hopes are that like me
they are looking
because someone is here
and someone is forever searching

My spirit forever reminds me about the pleasures of analogue

because when my fingers hit a keyboard they go clickety clack
and when my thumbs are on my blackberry they go tappety tap
and when i am up here speaking to you my lips go smackety smack


but the part i want to learn again most
is how to make the pen go every flowing with analog rhythms on the paper that is pure in form
without all the clickety tap smack
paper is a lost pleasure
paper is the child of a tree that was cut for for you and me
because of you and me
because once we told someone that we wanted it
only now were going away from it
we are not in as high demand for it and we recycle it
so now what have we got to say to the man who cuts it from the tree

My soul will forever give instruction to mind and spirit
it is forever true to me
it will talk to you two if you ask it to
there is part of this god signal in everything
in everyone as we continue is the makers world
there are the signals of the makers and the signals of god
my mind forever tries to sort thru them
my spirit is forever in tune to them
and my soul is true to them