“Disaster Dan” skids into the Center's
Game Room
War Room
Control Room

Fueled by a red T-shirt
proclaiming “Vince the Pizza Prince”
He flips out his cellular...

“IT ISN'T UP TO ME!"
(Where does he get all those broken remotes?)
...flips open his cell
and shouts commands

“TURN THE POWER ON!"

“YA HEARD ME!" (He is totally in control)

“Fsssss    Fssssss   Fsssssss
THE PIPES ARE ABOUT TO BLOW!”

Drives his cruiser around the pool table
Pulls alongside
Fixes me point-blank and cockeyed

“GET THESE KIDS OUTA THE BUILDING!
THERE'S A BOMB ABOUT TA GO OFF!”

An eight-year-old spins iz finger round iz ear
and points a giggle

Dan--
the kind of guy whose life peaked
at Mount Saint Helen
Does a warlock for Halloween
Carries a portable showcase of horror
prized possessions in a dishpan
He explains his treasures

“That is NOT
a plastic scorpion!”

Offended by my ignorance
shoves it in my eyes

“THIS IS A PREDATOR ALIEN, STUPID!"
“CALIFORNIA WILL NOT COME BACK!"

Dan sorta likes me
We talk horror flicks
He forbids the serious of me

"CALIFORNIA WILL FALL OFF INTO THE OCEAN!”
he hisses in a spray of spit
Walks way, laughing, delighted!
Shaking iz head

Then back in my face again (for emphasis)

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
(He is dead serious)
"THE GUY THAT CAUSED THAT HURRICANE
WAS PAUL MCCARTNEY!"

His counselor fills in my blank
“Dan likes the Beatles
That's the only thing he likes
that isn't heinous”

I do not like the feeling
of the invisible seatbelt
strapping words to my chest,
still, I'm not safe yet.

I do not like the feeling of deadline
mouth shut, closed
human heart numbing,
I think I'm becoming
sad again.

I do not like the feeling of
my mind bending to work you out,
you are eating away at my heart,
silent music of my decay,

You're my poison gas;
*I do not like the feeling of missing you.

Our world is dying
Its aches are the wars
its groans are the screams

Blame
like a thorned crown
needles my mind
sowing doubt
and guilt.

Yet, I accept my purpose...
I heed the signs
I slay the serpents
I caw the call
salvation is worth this.

I gather the worthy:
the wheat from
chaff;
those humans, now demons,
in abandonment,
laugh...
but the worthy, chins high
heads aglow
walk the path;
I tread
through endless snow.

Yet when the passage
has been met
"Was I wrong?
Am I false prophet?
Crazed all along?"

For the gate is not barred
it spits us out.
It cleanses its treasure
from our ilk
like holy drought.

Left to scour the wasteland
gnawing us with frost
We wander its wasting reaches
We're not frightened
we're lost.

Blue wind encapsulates
in the midst of this ephemeral
autumn madness,
and my hands shake
as I try to forget.

I am just a human,
small and faulted,
trying like hell to squelch
the siren songs
of these maniac thoughts
buzzing like bees
through the empty spaces
within my skull.

I am just a silent body
and grey matter processing
words and colors
that feel truer
than any cheap emotions.

Cold light illuminates
and sparks nostalgia
and I am just
two eyes
retreating
into the mist.

Instead of asking yourself: Will this matter in 5 years?
Ask yourself: Will this matter in a billion years?
NOPE.

perched above water
thinking maybe the stillness in sound will ease my buzzing mind
if only my ears were filled with the deep blue
classic, cliche,
blue like your eyes or your blankets or home bedroom floor.
blue as in summer sky, hopping into the reservoir
i want to be there again
naked, with you on my 18th birthday at the top of that rock
gearing to jump.
i am so full when i am with you