A previously unconsidered side-effect of spending one’s life chasing dreams is the actual amount of distance that one acquires in the pursuit of a dream-worthy life.

Where have those miles gone?
Devoured by time, eternal in geography, forgotten by the mind.

Distance becomes an entity, no longer an expanse for the eye to traverse on whim, but a creature of breath and blood, sighing and seething, loving and leaving, daring one to cross it again.

A side-effect of dreaming, for no one dreams of who they are in the moment they are in, but off somewhere and foreign.
Waxing and waning.

I dare you to traverse my breadth again, you starry eyed and hopeless dreamer. I remember the you of your youth, you’re not you…you’ve been used up and bruised…but by whom?

What distance did this to you?


My Mistake (An ode to fear)

You’re the vast sea to the island,
You’re the full moon and the beast out in the twilight
I see you waiting
And I feel you anticipating my mistake.

Fuck these vain words, half expressions
Unconcerned with my lack of discretion
I see you there
And I feel no reason to fear you…

Was I supposed to suffer for you?

You’re the red glow of the demon
You’re the soft kill and the shot fired with no reason
I see you take aim
And I feel no pain

Was I supposed to suffer for you?
Was I born just to be martyred in your name?

My mistake.

Original Lyrics © Ry Vice, 2015

A Singular Being

Life, as seen in the fifth dimension, exists as a singular being.
It has duration as one of it’s defining attributes.
It exists continuously in a fifth-dimensional state in just the same way that our third-dimensional body parts all stay congealed and connected together in this third-dimensional space-time.
Space, Time and Dimension are all just body parts of Life.
All of Life is a singular being.


There are such things known as pages of eternity.
They are composed of multiple verses.
Some call the collection of these pages a Multiverse.
One page is known as a Universe.

Not unlike scribes upon pages of parchment,
These pages are emblazoned upon by pure, continual energy.
Continual energy, all colliding with itself.
Over and over again.

Syllable by syllable, these stanzas take form.
Line by line, the verses flow.
Verse by verse, these pages compose.
Page by page, these pages all go.

There are such things known as pages of eternity.
Each it’s own and none the same.
There are travelers upon these pages of eternity.
Each alone and without name.

Not unlike heroes and demons of antiquity,
These travelers are continually conquering and stumbling along.
Stumbling along ever-endlessly
All singing separately the very same song.

Note by note, these melodies take form
Melody by melody, these harmonies flow.
Harmony by harmony, these songs compose.
Song by song, these songs all go.

There are such beings known as travelers of eternity.
They flip through the pages with hitchhiking thumbs.
Some call these travelers Demons.
Some call these travelers Suns.

Thanks a lot!


“…If I had to say one good thing about Americans in general…it’d be that Americans have the ability to firmly grasp and thoroughly integrate into their very souls the concept of, “maintaining.”
They have maintained an inflated, audacious opinion of themselves for decades. The rest of the world is constantly forced to change, adapt, survive or die in accordance with the awesome, life-changing, fairy tale-like whims of  the United States population…somehow, they remind me of crazed-lifestyle zombies…slouched and stumbling towards the checkout lines…maintaining audacity all the way… ”

Her serpentine eyes surveyed the scene, obscene schemes like rapid-fire scenario machines ripping off schisms of panicky, rippling energy beams through the fluttering leaves of otherwise zenful, ancient Sichuan-ese* tangerine trees…

His cigarette burned down to ashes, circles of carbon spiraling out into the cosmos as he continued,

“Your hands are not as weathered as the others tend to be.
Nor your eyes…no, lovely little emeralds they are.
Perhaps you will enlighten me, Ms.,
From where does this audacity stem?”

Sarcastic cynicism-laced sentences…

Subject matter: no_white-ly_picket-ed_fences…her short-circuiting mental processes cue up some random mental images. She strains her sight in a final, fleeting and feeble attempt to envision a way out of this crazy, messed up situation…and she’s straining to do so very hastily…

On cue, she ruptured the rust from her steely tear ducts…and erupted into ironic and tearful gushes.

“…I trust that if I tell you, you’ll not attempt to bust us?”

And then she hiccuped up a 150-proof belch that staggered off drunkenly down the old and treacherous city street.

Damn that jitterbuggery!

He charged her with public-intox and illegally visiting Cheng Du without a visa…

In the backseat of the cruiser, she audaciously accused her accuser of extensive abuse to her emotional stability. Then, she fitfully faked a violent seizure.

The surgeon seized her by the arm the moment the cruiser came to a stop…the officer sighed and then he said,

“Thanks a lot.”



*I realize “Sichuanese” isn’t really a word. I mean no disrespect and am simply being playful with words. =)


I reside in the ashes of a burned down ego which once stood pridefully before the simpler modesties of the world…I dwell in a charcoal shell…peeking out…careful not to crumble the fragile exterior or to collapse with the next hearty gust of wind…falling into its influence and leaning into its quiet strength are played out in a field of imaginary realities unknown to us creatures of carbon…carbon ash and charcoal coils…I sleep in the burned down trunk of an old and waning city…dreaming of pretty and pitiful things…some try curtailling the grief of life on the wings of planes or by zoning in zenned-out reflections on the front porch swing…I think of life as determined by the rings of the trunk of any good and honest tree…circles and circles and circles…

Healthy Fear

A healthy fear of the unknown…
A sickening familiarity of the known all-too-well…
New troubles with unknown cures…
Familiar troubles with drunken slurs…
Pursue the new and leave the old…
Wisdom, love and prosperity all favor the bold.


Everything…and all at once…
A cosmic strand of potential…
Wrinkled up and writhing…
Looking ever upon itself….
You are the chosen vibration for this…
The constant moment you are always experiencing.


I am becoming awake
Resurrected as a first born sun
Cast down as a single ray dissipating
Contemplating essential lessons in this beggars play
Compromise and karma
Matters of material sway indulating
Illustrious treason to empiric decay
Vibrations, never-ceasing circles
Shaking free from the linear way
Dilapidated placated pleas to change someday
Away from me and mine
Awaken to be divine
Resonating truth in heart and mind