Brian Mattern

Astral experience,
starts with
total ambivalence.
...

motions

of obedience
suggesting
...

Feeble speak through parables,
not so loud as the terribles
who market status quo.
...

It's not NWO or even Illuminati
Catch it in the mirror
Reflection can ya spot me?
...

Fool-hardy times we live in,
boy when ya'll find the limits.
Creeping farther outward, 'this cirque is so tight.'
Funneled future's coming, til fascists own the day, the Night.
...

the fall towards love was bright, quick.
it was your posture, shone in breadth.
that maturity, adjacent with - the wine in hand
confirms a justice to experience.
...

Lyrical material
like Atlas, it's spiritual.
It's faith that the weight
soon enough will be light.
...

Fire's been all that has passed,
so nothing can break me now.
Though only by chance I still last,
so the steel I've become won't lash out.
...

I am love.
Reaching toward antennae
of blood.
Home away from
...

It's never hurt me to believe
that I can't give up on my dreams.
Triumph on a grander scale,
with motives not so typical.
...

Causality meanders dear (near, that is.)
Though a universe to share is far (from here, that is.)
Yet, self can shatter time (fear, that is.)
And spill instant global tears (cheer, that is.)
...

Fated journey, has it been?
Or lucky moments, time and again?
So many close calls, and walks on the edge,
yet I stride on, while I ought to be dead.
...

the universe was born to die,
and on it's way, came you and i.
subjective extensions of fresh possibility,
and this one that we're living,
...

The best selling films are good versus evil,
set in a world much like our own.
The metaphors show blatant parallels,
as we relate with all of the characters shown.
...

being in forward progression, however negative, still onward.
history of the future is bleak. my science measures truth of time.
regret is not a word, but illusion of demise.
...

I remember tending to great harvests,
and praising opportunity for what it was.
I remember guessing the meaning of stars,
playing with mud and laughing.
...

My mind is a worn-out boxing glove,
and my brain cells hardly swing easy.
Though, my fists are a waste of good fighting tools,
since no war was ever fought with man's reason.
...

Amniotic atmosphere, of birth and death alike.
Sustaining unpredictable, yet ever-present life.
Nothing has quite happened here, to cause the human flaw.
Still, paranoia thrives with pride, within a cage of harmful law.
...

Personal depression
over here on my end,
it's an existential fix.
Paging from the ether
...

We call a lifetime's worth of yearning, obsession.
But who can see beyond a lifetime,
enough to say it isn't eternal love?
The moth will follow a flame into battle,
...