One day, I took a vacation
Tired of the suffering
Stress
And hysteria
So, I traveled across the world
To a country, filled with hopes
Upon arriving, I saw:
Suffering
Stress
And hysteria...
...
I no longer take vacations
For the view was good
But the atmosphere, a façade.

Intense enjoyment
Blocks out reality
After years of such
Here we are now.

When I was a boy
I wanted to be a cowboy
Holding fate in my hands
Alongside a revolver
Filled with instruments of destruction
But now, I am no longer a boy
For the only way to be a cowboy
Is to be a boy
And never grow up.

To **** the past
Is to never learn from it
How can we **** the past
When our future is already dying?

Growing old
Growing up
To notice the difference, say "shut up"
Then witness the path
They have embraced

Remaining static
Leads to stagnation
Remaining overactive
Leads to burnout
With all things in life
Balance avoids decay
Turning stagnation
Into administration

My friends
Think of death as not an omen
Perceive it as what it truly is:
Natural
Change can bring terror
Sometimes, laughter
But death is change with no transparent effect
It is like all change
Why do we fear it?
Because we can not control it.
But, is that so bad?

The dreary weather
Pounding against the windows
Entirely impractical-
The windows I have: entirely imaginary
My train is due to come
A stowaway, I am.
The only soother for my wayward will

The most dangerous person
Doesn't wield a gun
Brandish a sword
Or **** back his fists
But someone who displays
Excitement, mixed with nostalgia
On one hand, a turnaround
On another hand, a catastrophe

The ignorant
Want to live forever
The public
Want to keep living
The wise
Never wanted to live

Down below
Entrenched in a trench
Of barnacles, sea cucumbers
Denizens of moist seas
Lies a single figure
In the form of a statue
The symbol of a man, looking toward the sky
Hopeful expression, rusted by nature
An idealist at rock bottom, lying to himself, in wake

Members of death
A deathbed loses its sting
Once death takes over
Maybe, you sought not for death
But for rest
Yet, you still seek death
For once your rest ends, frantic life remains
Permanent rest, sweet in nature
But once it take hold, a bitter center

If I became
The king of the universe
Would I care for those who reside in it?
All power, all in my palm
Able to reset everything, to dust...
...
If I had a family
Would I care for them?
If I had a son...
Would I want him to live?
If I had a loved one...
Would I care for their single ounce of affection?
If I had anyone...
Would they care about me?
Can I have a typical life...
If I know the reality of it?

Stars, planets, asteroids, comets
All know their place
So, why am I the stranger...
Amidst a crowd of friendly faces?

I honor the beach
Yet abhor the heat
Could it be, personal preference?
Or no longer, enjoying warmth?

A creator
Must have a drive
An optimistic outlook, one who strives:

To change
To evolve
To fix

But much like fire
A creator can create, or effectively destroy

No matter the delusion
There will be those who

Die for it
Sacrifice for it
Hope for it

We all have delusions
Some are aware of them
Others never correct them
Above all else:
The ancient art of trickery
Ceases to end, bitter, like chicory

Radiant, cool eyes
Freezing surfaces
With a single glance
Petrification, at an instant
The desire to bond, constant
Not possible, mutant

The child--
Believes in extremes
The adolescent--
Changes on a whim
The adult--
Understands the truth
The senior--
Has neither time nor energy to change it

If only they communed
With one another

Ruination comes not from exterior forces
But interior quarrels

A man with a grey wardrobe
Found himself in a void
Neverending
Ever-present
In front of his person, a mirror appeared
An image manifested, a child appeared
He knew what this was, so the truth appeared:
"When I was a child, I had time, but no resources."
His reflection appeared in the mirror
"As an adult, I have resources, but no time."
A photo of an old man in a living room appeared
"When I become an elder, I will have wisdom, but no one to teach."
A photo of an extensive graveyard appeared
"When I pass, I will have a legacy, but no one to remember it."

Dancing in the street
The unkempt, unruly man
His personal parade, of song and dance
Does his music
Sound like ours?

The man woke up
Looked toward his reflection
In his vision
Was a human, with a beetle's head
His wife of several weeks
Unleashed a gasp
"Why has this happened?"
The man replied
"I have become Insecta, my true self, a pest."

I could change it
But I am one man
A group could change it
But they would be silenced
A generation could change it
But they are part of the system
Humanity could change it
But they are unaware of the problems
Someone could change it
But do they exist?

You are deranged
I am sane
The correct camp is mine
...
Right?
Unless we have fought in vain
Millions dead, inflicting pain
For an idea.
Yet, our idea is correct...
Right?

Rolling sunlight waves
Drifting toward the coast, me
Stay, I will return

Grim reaper's howl
Spares no one
Yet when the reaper comes
It is always a shock

Always a brawler
Could have become a scholar
An impatient imp

Searching for
Alien hominoids
When they are already here:
In the sea
In the sky
Within us deep inside
Even people like us
Seem so foreign
Martians exist down here
Can't understand them? Must be aliens.
Can't reason with them? Must be aliens.
Can't control them? Must be aliens.
All those who oppose with poor prose must be labelled so
Not my rule, but it still remains

Skyscrapers
Towering above our heads
Reaching out to the sky
Trying to touch the sun
As the ones below
Live knowing they cannot

Hubris wrecks buildings
So one day, they will fall
For none can scrape the sky
Without breaking their foundation

Idealism, the evolution of optimism
Idealists need to remain cautious
So their wings
Do not burn

Talk is cheap
For upper echelon jobs
Talking is a paycheck

Compassion for one
Compassion for none
Give it to someone
Before they all turn and run

As I get older
World gets colder
All I can muster, crocodile tears
Numb to the cries
How can I harmonize when tragedy is normalized?

Victim of the cortex
Home of the addicted
Behavior overtaken
Turned into a lifestyle

Children are not a medicine
Bring one alive to drive the bloodline
Not to cope, think before acting
Care for one, don't use one

For you
Now...
For who?

Homeless, without a "home"
Yet, the earth is our home
Love to take care of our "homes"
But not our home

Black man
White man
Asian man
Hispanic man
Love to point out the race
While discarding the man

Looking out
At the vast universe
Not for analysis, for answers

Silence:
An absence of sound
Still conveys plenty

A comedian
Upon the stage
Prancing and dancing
Acting deranged
Yet once the audience departs
They sit alone
Hoping their fans heard the message
They were trying to impart

Wish there were times
Where we talked about real things
Not about bed covers
Or if we had a hypothetical brother
Should be asking about
Why we think in black and white
How do we sleep at night?
Why must we wake up and fight?
All those other things?
Distracting the masses from our galactic plight.

Save the planet
Save the trees
Save the ocean
Yet...
We have yet to save ourselves
Acknowledge our fragile nature
When we cannot accept our own nature
How can we save anything?

Information can be bought
Sold
Twisted
Forged
Knowledge is now
A hot commodity
An object, waiting to be bought

The world, merely what we perceive
Could be small as a yard
Or big like Gallipoli

You have not lived
Until the best memories
Become part of history

Consulting a calender
Not for the date
But to see when the days will end

Home of security doors
None can be hurt
But none are invited either

Is it me?
Or, is it just me?
Struggling garbage
Something broke inside
It is different each time
Tough times rot the core
Never able to weather the storm

Under the mouth
Under the muscles of his eyes
Take him not for granted
He may look like us
But surprises come when least expected

Truth
Distorted by the perceiver
People fight to prove theirs
Reminders of how primal we are