Distance truly does make the heart grow stronger.
It’s been close to three years and still I can remember the way your arms felt  
around my waist,
pulling me closer.
I  remember how my heart skipped when you locked hands with me,
or when you laid upon my chest.
I crave for that closeness with you again.

It drives me crazy knowing that you are so far away.
I just want to cover you with my affection,
and take away the issue that burden you.
I’d give just about anything to erase the barriers that keep us away from each other.

If I weren't so weak
I’d scream those three earth shattering words for the entire world to hear.
Oh, how I want you.
Oh, how I miss you.

I don’t need all this fuckin shit.  Fuck you. Fuck elegance. Fuck arrogance. Fuck your infinitely vast reserve of information ultimately leading to information that already existed elsewhere and is already being over-looked, ignored, or forgotten by the hopelessly absorbent reader.  Fuck what you think. Fuck what you believe. You’ll end up thinking in circles, cooking up what you’ve already thought, but this time in a different flavor.  And you’ll believe the next person who makes eye contact with you for longer than 15 seconds at a time.  Fuck your pen-pals.  Update your status on a personal basis because if only 3 people care then what the fuck do you care what the other 697 believe? Fuck you all. I fucking hate you.  A bunch of snot-nosed-screaming-and-kicking-malignant-fucking-tumors spreading ignorant fucking rumors.  Fuck your fear. Fuck your fucking plague that spreads nearly as quickly and in no way as apparently as the oil in our water. Fuck oil. Fuck assurances and insurances, you’re all liable to be unreliable.  We’re all fucking lie-able and don’t waste half a second proving that. Fuck what you hear, fuck what you wear, fuck what you think is right, and especially what you find to be fair.  Fuck every part of your own body to purge the incessant urge you have to fuck every one elses’ with your ever-inflamed-self-absorbing-perversion-convulsions.  Fuck Me, Fuck You, Fuck Yourself.

you wouldnt know, unlesss you looked inside my head
past the cobwebs and the shattered  glass
you dont know what goes on inside my pretty little head

its a mess of broken thoughts
and shattered  dreams
its   my mind as you see it
but you cant because you arent me,
so let me tell you
what does the thought process look like?

arrows to the  right
arrows to the left
arrows to heaven
and
arrows to hell

arrows pointing at relationships
arrows pointing at failures
arrows pointing at responsibilities
arrows pointing at  challenges

  all these arrows
all thse  lines
all these scars within my mind
It  never stops it never ends
it  keeps  repeating
again and again

arrows  pointing up
arrows pointing down
arrows  in
and arrows out
  all these spiders  in my mind
they whisper and the cackle
they mock me and  ridicule me

I tell these spiders to stop moving
they never listen they just keep spinning
threatening my sanity
the big one  screams
the  small one  shrieks
then never stop  screaming
they never stop sceming

my mind it bleeds
my thoughts are scarred
I try to  heal them
the cuts to deep

all these arrows
all these spiders
till  writing away my own salvation
Its the only way to let it out
my pen bleeds
the spiders shreik
the arrows point
  the vioces mock
there is no end in  sight for me


JUST
SHUT
UP

  and thats what goes on inside my mind
a poem of  insecurity failure
and broken  webs
with spiders
and  arrows
and voices that mock

no end in sight
  and lets  repeat
do not ever let  me bleed
I must  survive
I  do this for you
as well as me

its incomplete
but thats okay
this poem is my mind
so let it bleed!!!

Well its three o'clock in the morning,
And I'm on the streets again.
Bought me some cigarettes,
I think I'll try and meet some new friends.

Good evening America,
I think I'll buy another round.
I've been high for three days straight,
I don't feel like coming down.

Girl, I like the way you move,
Why can't we dance all night?
You got that New Orleans thing groovin',
You must admit, it does feel right.

     But sally said, "What do you know about my love life?
     "What do you know about when I'm not around?
     "What do you know about my love life?"
     I said, "C'mon girl, what could possibly go wrong?"

Girl, you know I'm gonna live forever,
I don't care if its against the rules.
I will buy me a spaceship,
Pack it full of fools.

Look out Sally,
You better duck your pretty head.
That man ain't coming back,
I do believe that he is dead.

C'mon Sally,
Why don't we slip away.
All we need is some way
We could change the whole world some day.

Now its four o'clock in the morning,
And I'm on the streets again.
Bought me some cigarettes,
I think I'll try and meet some new friends.

Good evening America,
I think I'll buy another round.
I've been high for three days straight,
I don't feel like coming down.

Hey Girl!  Girl, hey.
Hey hey ...

- 2009

I. Antietam Near Dunker’s Church

In the background, behind a row of dead
and their silenced canon,
a small white clapboard building,
former haven for Anabaptists
forbidden to wear the uniform
of any country’s army,
is now a makeshift field hospital.

I am walking slowly toward it.
Halfway up the gentle slope
the metallic smell of blood fills the air
and I can hear the moans and cries of grief
for lost limbs.

II. In Devil’s Den

It’s not a photograph but a moment of history
stolen from a world gone horribly mad
one hot afternoon in July.

Near Devil’s Den at the foot of Little Round Top
standing by a scattering of stunned men,
I stare disbelievingly into Rock Creek
which, on this day, runs red
beside an orchard of plums.

III. A Sharpshooter’s Last Sleep

He lies still on a mattress of cool earth
as if he has fallen asleep
with one knee bent and one arm
curled above his head
the way he might have lain
at home in his own bed.

Leaves of a mulberry stir in the morning air.
The sounds of battle have faded to nothing.
If I could kneel down with my ear close to his,
I might hear his mother’s voice
calling him to morning chores before breakfast.
But she can not rouse him from this dream
which refuses to end.

The reason for the expedition had lost its meaning. Everyone was now interested in what they were seeing about them other than that for which we had originally come. The expression on all of their faces seemed to tell the story plain enough but, there was evident a certain degree of conscience which prevailed in them that appeared to override their own personal desires. This I noticed with anticipated concern for after all, if it were not for training prior to the expedition all would have been lost on reaching this point. They would have become irrational like the things they were witnessing taking place before their very eyes.
I looked at them once again and could have easily read their minds but managed to resist the temptation for if I had done so, would have fallen into the same threshold they had. It was just like walking through a dream relating to your own sub-conscious mind mingled with your conscious deep integrated personal desires and screened in your mind with harsh realism. Anyone who had experienced this before and was able to be disillusioned, as I had been, stood the chance of escaping its hypnotic hold on the mind, those who didn't were doomed.
Once in its spell they could witness everything in terms of personal desires; things that happened to them in the past and things that "would happen" to them in the future. The effect of this threshold could also be moulded into the way you wanted things to happen which was the main factor that once caught it was very difficult to get out. Without my help and understanding they would never have been able to re-materialize from a world of irrational feelings and capabilities where time and space were their servants and each one's desires their master as the Fifth Dimension.
___________________­_

"Try it out." he said
And my stomach
tangled with my brain
hunger
consumed me
but not the other
way around

we had always been
unvarnished
and mostly untouched
but then
I crept into the
basement of my
halfway thoughts
and there I wished
to hear him
one more
time

but I knew
his pale,
blue moon voice
had been lost
and I knew
the past could
only feel good once
and cigarettes couldn't
be smoked twice

I knew better
but still
   it came as such a suprise

It's been too long since a girl made me feel this way.
Made me feel so anxious,
so childish.
After a year and a half of familiarity,
of a love known upside down and backwards
like the suburb sidewalks of my youth,
I am stumbling over new ground.
I am fumbling for a new set of words,
defining new feelings,
learning the lines of a new face,
learning the depths of a new pare of eyes,
clinging to a curves and melodies of a new voice.
After the death of an ancient and sacred love
I am young again.