**** up your ***
Bend over Red Rover
Send 6 inches over
Her threshold

All-season pass
Her ******* drips soy milk
Rub a dub dip
Her hygiene is poor
But the smell feeds your itch

It’s so **** gross
*******
Die DIE

Uno dos DIE
Rapism
She liked it

Her tongue ring cut your ****
You didn’t even get hard
Her ***** were droopy
Reciprocate
Propagate

Gargle her cultures
And scream
DIE, DIE

Swallow the cottage cheese
Eat your green beans
******* you stupid ****
Die

**** the babies
She has rabies
The cat licked the ***** and DIED

Curiosity killed that stupid *****
And she died
Just like she wanted

Shut up
Die
Eat breakfast
Die
Sleep
Die
Breathe
Die
Swindle her stubbly nest and
DIE

Shoot up orange juice
Put oil in your eyes
Shut up
*******
And die

“You’re a mess
Go to bed
Eat some food get some rest
Don’t you know it’s easier that way”


Clean my mess
Go to bed
Buy more food, I’m a wreck
Who the hell would know it’s so much easier this way...


There was a voice inside my head,
But I may have misheard it
I don’t know for sure
But would if I knew ears were working
I’ve been listening to the earth my ear pressed up against her surface
But lessons that I’ve learned could all be crude and oh so worthless

I walk through valleys that are only low as mountains can be high
I walk through streets without my shoes beneath the stars and lamppost lights
But the questions that I’m asking leave me searching far and wide

It’s like I dug myself a whole
and have to see how deep it goes
But it’s only six feet under
And as an aging hand may lay a rose upon my grave


This is what happens when kids have questions I guess.

I could compose sonatas with sentences, and not to brag, but unfortunately, I prefer language to music.
That which is on paper is most memorable.
So, when one smokes a joint once or twice a day, they have much too many memories to make and thus-as-well have many more to lose.

Albeit an unfortunate circumstance, memory loss comes along with the sheer amount of aptly iconized memories.
A large number of things are let go of when one embarks on the discovery of their own character and conscience.
Possibly so, a shedding of one’s misconceptions in regards to themselves, is quite-in-fact a reason to forget former things

We have the power of attitude.
We change what happens outward us by examining what is inward and embracing or changing whatever we may come to find.

We may not be God, but maybe we look like whatever God may be.

Certainly, a person who is not a slave to themselves is quite a divine sight to see.

The last place you will see god is in a stained glass window/ The sky behind it is far more beautiful

The last place you will see god is holding a sign/ The first is where real work gets done

The last place you will see god is in a monastery/ Jesus was homeless, and didn’t give a **** what building had his name on it/
Buddha left a palace and found peace under a tree after a long walk

The last place you will see god is an offering plate/ For many still have plates that are empty

The last place you will see god is in doctrine/Since doctrine only changes the mind

The last place you will see god is in an argument/ Actions speak louder than words anyway

Shamans dancing round in circles
in the corners of my thoughts
They hand me remedies for pains my past has caused
Although I look up to the holy testimony I have lost,
I have dragged it through the darkness
hoping it would soon wear off

Did you ever think we’d make it here?
Mirror mirror, bathroom wall
Who’s suicidal but doesn’t have the *****?
Past-life glass-life
Where and when?
Who’s praying to die at the age of ten?
Then unchecked baggage of parents weighs in?!

Abusive ex-alcoholic
Taking money from Mom’s empty wallet
Bankrupting his baby momma
Child support turned child-hood trauma

Fighting the deep
Chisel off that piece of mind
Find in thine keep
A piece of mind that was me
My peaceful mind is one cried into sleep

To still be alive was my last thought and option
It feels so good to blow the dust off the coffin

Johnny Appleseed.
****** us up good didn't you?

If you plant a tree in Eden
You're an angel
But Mom and Dad ate an apple
Cain got mad and killed Abel
With the *** he wears on his head

Now he runs around smoking herb and planting trees
Cain was just like you Mr. Appleseed
Two farmers tag teamed
He made a pretty good side kick

A seed from Johnny's Apples
Was a Johnny Apple's seed
That Seeded an Apple tree
So Johnny's baby Appleseeds
Could seed more apple trees
To eat off Johnny Apple's seeds

Choke on that Mother Earth

Johnny Appleseed's tree is long and hard
Ripe with juicy fruit
And we all know mankind has a sweet tooth

Knock on wood

Paul Bunyan is Jesus
Cutting down trees of life since day one
Just wait til he gets nailed and impaled on one
Meanwhile an angel with a fire sword chased a snake out of the garden
            
             Johnny
Human
             Appleseed
Nature

A field in the distance
It’s edge is in the corner of class room windows
I can see it

Windows open on an Autumn day
Cool Wind blowing in memories of Eden
Dulled by my sense of touch

Life on the edge of death
The world is in its prime
Vibrancy fills my senses
I’m awake!
I long to see God again
My body hurts for it.

I’m excited
I just might jump out this second story
And find Eden for myself

They should really put screens on these windows
They may stop a bullet
But if you forget to close them
You can’t stop me.

Thank you for this beautiful day.

How’d those spots get on the moon?
That’s where the astronauts wrestle.
Papa said Andre the giant came over to his house for fried chicken one Sunday.
Guess who got whooped?
But Papa has never been to space.
So I’m not sure how he’d do against Neil Armstrong

Gravity is tricky business
You’ll catch on when you get older
Thats why it all become less dreamy
And everything starts to sag

Green lantern came over the Sunday after.
He got a whoopin that he couldn’t have imagined
Probably why that ring doesn’t work anymore
It’s funny how imagination is a super power once you’re past 20.

Space helmets covered in chalk dust from where the kids used to play.

She used to smile for all the right reasons
But now it's not only at the irony
When another thousand pound straw is laid across her back
And another unspoken slight wipes it off her face

Her eyes used to sparkle
But that green has faded to gray
Up close you can see it
She's not the same anymore

She smiled and her whole face lit up
Now it's a faint turn at the corner of her mouth

She straightened her hair every day

Now it’s pony-tailing seven step and half-kids to school

Now it’s sitting at home
She was bullied into “place”
He’s losing his shape
And everyone is going crazy

Everyone is fading into Mom-jeans and pullover hoodies
Silent tables

This was never what eating dinner as a family was supposed to look like.

She doesn’t like cooking
But she learned **** quick.
A glance at their marriage makes her stomach turn sick

He started smoking again

Food on the table
*** in bed
She’s saving her money
And getting ready to leave

But this time...
Tailing half as many kids behind

Brick-wall lobotomies
Self inflicted
Hard Head full of rocks
Cracked into sand mixed into mortar
And The school of hard knocks
Is just you breaking yourself

Rock tumbler thoughts
Chisel questions on diamonds
But any answer is too hard for anyone to write it

Sinking sand
And rock steady
But the stone is too heavy
And it keeps rolling back down
The hill to wear it started
If you're Sisyphus it's your Hades' Tartarus
But since you're Atlas it's the whole world to you

Stalactite tears
They've been falling for a while
Tear stream Grand Canyons eroded into your cliff-stone-face

A mask of jade
Said you were okay
But now all you can do is bring
The rock-wall to your face

But if you climbed it
You'd only see the other side of the mountain
But it's better than stoning yourself
Unless you'd rather dig yourself a hole and stay well-grounded

Be mindful of the Earth benders
Cause lead mined and pistol fired
Makes a mind worse for the better
Brain benders
With bullet senders
Brain blender
bullet benders

Stick to bricks

Hay-and-straw-made bricks
You can build yourself up
From dirt and twigs
But when they try to blow it away,
You are the brick wall
That they are leaning (concussed) against
Knocked out
Stone cold

Rock on
Roll steady
Dig deep and let the moss grow
When you start to feel heavy

I see you in the block of marble
David
**** your Goliath
With a sling and riverbed stone

But don't let Medusa freeze you up
Or there will be hell, fire, and brimstone to pay
And if you win
There is a statue waiting for you

There’s a pipe from one ear to the other
It hides behind a smile
It is made of lead

Poisoning thoughtful waters
Killing the wisdom and love I have heard

In one end out the other
Empty handed and barren

Only an echo.
“Unlovable”
That is all my deaf ears can hear
**** the constant ringing

The message is lost in knowledge
What a miracle
Proven o’er and o’er

A poet with disregard for his own self
Yet writing about his inner struggle

My verses flow from inkwells
That give what even I have not received

I’m naked in my birth from ashes
To the dust I shall return
Alone, but left with room enough to write a few more words

The sounds in between things
vibrations in the middle of vibrating particles
The way America doesn’t act like all of its genes are from other countries, and killed all the natives

An entire area of intellect is the study of religion and culture
We call it social studies

The scientist calls God impossible
The Christian doesn’t study culture They keep their feet planted despite being told to go elsewhere

Politicians bank on the science of opinion
When the votes don’t mean anything
The average citizen can’t tell me how the government works
Yet you still think it’s the greatest one on earth?

People want to act like we haven’t been taught every vulgarity we know
Had to see it somewhere

Generations waging war
Trees of knowledge rejecting their own leaves
When the buds know exactly what will happen when Autumn comes around
and want it all the same

In five seconds you’ll be looking through lenses five seconds behind the current time

The clock is the victor, fate reaps the profit
And it’s all the Great Clockmaker’s tiny project

We don’t survive anymore
We **** ourselves

If Britain had a baby
And it murdered the real Americans
And it ****** Africa
And the Africans eventually got really into it...

And then everybody took a toddler trip down the stairs
Welcome to the melting ***
Crucible for change and close mindedness
A blender for the world
******* everything to it’s outdated blade
Ripping all that’s independent to pieces and slurring it together with the milk of “do whatever you want”.
What a smoothie

Welcome to the epitome of human reason
Where we race each other to death
Acceptance means compliance
We need to conform
Let me accept your self proclaimed gender
When you can’t accept the one you born in

Thoughts of God
May not always be thoughts of God
What we think of him  
isn’t always what is from him
Because killing millions of people was only allowed in the flood, Jericho, Judges, and Gomorrah

The pizza took her place in bed. It slathered itself all over her.
The pizza objectified my body.
It slid between her *******, leaving traces of red sauce and strands of hot, almost liquid cheese in the nook of her cleavage.

It slowly dripped off of her ******* as she spread its residue across her *****.
From there, the succulent, almost watery juices rolled off of her teet and onto her folded legs as she knelt there in the store window.
Everyone could see her.
But as long as those who were most enthralled came inside to purchase a pie or two, no one seemed to care.

There’s a corner of my basement
I can see it from the couch
It’s a doorway of light
Opening to a stairwell

A light is on near my bed
It’s small
A phone perhaps

I have headphones on
So It’s hard to sleep comfortably
I like to nestle my head into the crook of my arm

I stare at a worn down drop-ceiling
Those two lights are on either side of my vision
I keep waiting

I keep rolling into the cracks
I’ve had to adjust the cushions far too many times

A smile
A warmth
My eyes
I don’t want to swallow

The jar is closed
Pandora’s box of light opened while I streamed blues on Pandora
And I see the lights go static

They bend into each other in the dark
I wave my fingers in front of my face
I’ve probably killed a few brain cells here
Definitely.

Sorry Mom
I was bored and rubber cement is only 3.97

I’m drunk on a cleanse from oxygen
I’m sure my nostrils will thank me later

My brain could use an adhesive
Flexibility would bond loose ends
And repair the divisiveness

I have my hands in everything
And I can’t remember the last time I stepped in dog ****

But a hand in phylogeny is a backhand to Baptists
A hand in salvation is a slap in the face to the Darwinists I love everyday

I have a toast!
To the moment the rapture brings about our extinction my friends!

At least everyone thinks I’m stupid.
Right in the middle of the room is the right place to be
A bullseye for stone chuckers and monkey *******
A hand out for the druggies
And a jab at the churches who aren’t doing anything
A round of applause for cruel irony
And a finger turned up in a creative way to everyone who’s laughing at the episode

Vishnu would have a hay day
And I could use the extra hands.
Jesus’s are tied- I mean nailed up at the moment
But when miracles don’t happen anymore
Go read first Samuel, and you’ll see all this **** went down before

And there’s another cycle
History repeats itself
In through the nose and out through your mouth
Just keep a nostril over the jar
And don’t die

I could have any troubled girl I wanted
They’re just through a phone screen

I could have any stupid girl I wanted
I would just have to sell ****

I could have any unconscious girl I wanted
They’re just at a party lying face down *** up,
from holding too many glasses up,
I mean who could that pass up?
What else do you think a frat does?

Umm gross...

I’ll just stay at home
Which is where?

Halfway through a bottle is a warm place to be
Buds make good friends,
And trees hug back if you’re lucky
The real danger from cigarettes is a rotator cuff injury
From repetitive motions
Ignore the choking
And feed into the cancer machine

If I only had the money
A depression nap at a friend’s house is all I need

I could have any high-school girl I wanted
But now they’re too simple
Just put Chicken nuggets, Veganism, or puppies on a tinder

Or learn your anatomy
And it’s all in the strokes
One size fits them all
And it all becomes rote

I could have any relatable girl I wanted
But now it’s only for the ego
Which is cracking up as I plaster up a new soul-fixing placebo
Confidence from compliments
And I wish I was narcissistic
But just in case you missed it

My facade is splitting at the ******* seams
Dichotomy is our nature
Hitting covers off the *****
We need to chase our dreams

What will lay waste to a mind that never stops is insecurity
Not knowing your value makes it easy to get flirty
Makes you feel twice as *****
When you make someone feel the way you wish you felt inside
But then you take it back to spare them from wasting anymore time
Your brain stuck on overtime, and slow-mo rewind, and the music you listen to mixes with it and all plays back on the same ******* channel

But then you take it back to basics and start ******* around with psychedelics again
Who ever knew that pretty girls wouldn’t always be a head-trip?

I could have any normal girl I wanted
But now I just want a dark room
And silence
If only I didn’t have to open up and make out with her inside it

I could have any girl
If we just breathed in silence

I could have any girl
If my thoughts weren’t so violent
If I didn’t picture insanity
Whenever I look in a mirror and find it
Behind eyes I know have been capable of it this whole time

They have that curios ember
A white flash in a chocolate amber
With that faint ring of purple
And a pitch black center

I wish I could stick a needle in and take that silvery glint out
it’s white hot like the flash of a flint against gun powder
It just wants to make trouble
It adds bubbles to the puddles of personality
And in actuality it’s the only thing that keeps me alive when I wake up

I could have anybody
Except parents who cared, someone who understands,
And people I always made sure stay put
Like a shelf full of dolls
Like that outdoor playhouse
Like I play God

I think the problem through
I have human nature figured out
Almostly
I have myself figured out
Just a novelty
I’m incredibly cheap
Since philosophers are just writers without jobs
And jazz musicians are snobs
Former potheads are slobs
And God is still lodged in the eons of thoughts
When I wish I could take a break from this,
Part-time atheist
But I still can’t ignore he exists!

I could have any face I wanted
But I’ll just press mine up against hers until I feel better

I could have any pillow.
I still favor her sweater

I could have any romantic moment
But instead of love letters

I write poems
And I write them for me.

You hold my life in your hands
But they have holes in them Jesus!
I slipped through

My hands are paper
Turning pages
Folding up
Into shadow puppet birds
So I can fly away
Or stay afloat on this sea of wine and water
Thicker than the rivers running through the torn callouses of your healing touch

I don’t know how to swim in blood
I don’t want to get my feet wet
I don’t want you to wash them
I don’t want you to put new clothes on me
Or buy me a new outfit

Even if I’m running naked in the alleys springing off the highways where folly has dressed up
I would still feel guilty if you bought me clothes again

If blood washes dirt away
I’m still gonna come out smelling like pennies
Looking like rust
Chewing on the little pieces of iron those nails left

Still slipping through the cracks in your skin
And drifting onward until I float through the red door painted black
By the darkness I see as I watch it close behind me once again

There's a child who's youth is no longer marked by smooth skin.
He's calloused beyond recognition.
His mom can't even see the boy she once knew

She is plagued with worry
Drowning it out at the bars after work
And sobering up when a court mandate  allows her  to see her son
But that's only on every other weekend and alternating holidays.

Parenting party "a" shall receive the child for Christmas on even numbered years.
Parenting party "b" shall receive the child for Christmas on odd numbered years.

There's a child who's spine is no longer all that it used to be.
It's carried the weight of decimated families.
It's been stretched past all tensile capacity
As he's tried to pull himself together
Over and over.
Constantly being shattered, but always being able to stop the pieces from hitting the floor.

[insert jarring onomatopoeia for child abuse here]

The intensity from the hand that feeds him is no comparison to the gnashing teeth of the emotions driving it
As the hate, rage, and blindness is compiling
So is the doubt, fear, and confusion
A young child is left disillusioned
As his world is blown apart yet again
But the fibers of his spine reach out, hanging on to every glass-like shard

Refusing to let even one piece of himself go
Parenting party "a" may not love him but Jesus does
At least the Bible and his grandpa told him so

There is a child who's eyes don't sparkle
Except for each time tears refract the light of truth that's shining in
And It's blinding, searing, cauterizing the wounds
He is unwanted
He is abused
But even if that's all a result of his father's sin
He counts it as a mission failed
So the burden rests on him
If there was an easier yoke
the Bible and his grandpa left it all too hard to find

There is a child who is not care free
He has been indoctrinated as an employee
“Shut up!”
“Yes Sir.”

His stress is crushing his mental health
He can't move his feet fast enough
His resolve is crumbling to ash and dust
He's breaking
There's no faking anymore
He will never be able to do it right
So he starts looking for other doors

"Dad has a gun in the garage, I could...I should"

"No. What would Mom say?”

"I'll just run away" he says

"How far are you gonna get?
The shoes on your feet are mine!
The food on your plate is mine!
All you have is that coat your mom bought, 
that's plenty to get you through winter time!"

If only that little boy knew a way, truth, and light!

There's a child who's been in locked in a prison
It was a mold built by his father
A man who refused to listen
Just pushing his son even harder
Conform to my will!
Contort to my mold!
But that young boy is too broken to bend anymore
And he will soon be too bold
For He found the way. 
He knows deep love
He is God's son

There's a kid who is dead as of this day
His thick calloused skin lies in the ashes
His kinked spine is laying there in fragments 
His self is glass dust blowing through the plain
All of his tears still could not quench the flames
They sit upon the ash in pools stagnant
The prison stands strong as a crude accent
The child is gone but the mold for him stays

There is a man rising up from the dust
He cannot and will not fit in that mold
His back is straight and is made new again
Finally he knows the depth of God's love
Purified through fire and shining like gold
He's a new creature and now has smooth skin

Long before “inside” was invented
We were animals
Breathe, roar as one

I walk around like an old man Thanks to a bad back and mirrors

I don’t pay attention to ceilings

I don’t know millions of things

But mankind will label time and space to be productive I suppose

If Color brings context
I am blind
And don’t know what pictures are

Geometry and canvas
I can’t believe it’s not paper

Bring the tribes back with you

The cigarette I had afterwards
Felt better than every time we had *** combined

Basically,
I'd rather get cancer

If having *** was getting ******
I was drowning in it
But somehow you're okay with me ramming my **** into your skull
And this letter will be the mindfuck

Let me extrapolate
So extra!
pull those sheets off the bed late at night because you made a ******* mess again
And I don't enjoy laying in wet sheets

Because having to hold your head out of the toilet when you threw up from partying like a Highschool sophomore got old pretty ****** quick

And having to be the answer to every problem you had
trying to tell you how to fix it on your own
Was like handing you a loaded pistol, helping you aim at the target,
And then watching you shoot yourself in the foot

If sitcoms were ****** tunes
And you were still too simple to get it
That'd be my favorite ******* show

Until it bursts through the tv screen and moves all its baggage into the room where my writing desk used to be

I can't wait to beat the *** of the love child you thought we had
Shake and wake it up
Tell him the tooth fairy doesn't exist
And no matter how much **** she talks
That he will walk away with less money in the end
And all it will take is a fleshy hole to remind him of her

Your sugar daddy has a cavity
And before I replace it with a tooth wrapped up in a gold ring
I'm pulling you out
I guess you'll know what it feels like now?

Because for every time you made an excuse
I ran around in circles to
made sure you were happy
And when I got to the end of the marathon
You made me take you by the hand and walk to buy you ice cream

“Daddy” is not for grown ups
So don't act like it was serious
All you did was child's play
You wanted me to be a single father who ****** his daughter's brains out every night
And bought her toys whenever she wanted

If that was love
You were a game
And I got played

And.
it's ******* disgusting

Pull back iron curtains
Walk through walls of beads
Open the door to experience

Overzealousness is misunderstood
And you've misunderstood it if you're overzealous

Hippies, Social Justice, Radical Terrorism

Pacifists are babies and babies need pacifiers
Says a hellraiser that would rise to heaven if only he rose above

Swing the pendulum from left to right
And you'll see that whoever picked a side
Was stupid

That's why I prefer Foucaults
Take a trip around the world for once

See every face over time
Clock faces make good mirrors
If you'd like to reflect on the past

Truth hurts
Warfare and peace
Left wings and right wings never helped us fly
But everyone is high on something
They're all guaranteed altitude sickness

Parties
Races
Countries
Politics ruin culture

This world has been sawn into concrete squares
Everyone is boring and good luck changing something that's set in stone

So sweetly a conducting hand lay
Sonnets across the woods
By nature
Tis farewell

So great a tear I shed for beauty
Never seen again
But new life has begun
Divinity is left at the corners of our vision

Thanks for the drop
So Seemingly accidental
Kicked like a pebble along this gravel-road time line

I turn and glance a mirror
How introspective.

My ***** cragged shell
My thoughts tainted by my odious flesh
Mississippi catfish have seen better days

I can only swim backward if I’ve  finally seen the danger
And the warning signs come a flooding
Crawdads taught me well.

A clam diving headlong into the sludge
Detritus never felt so comforting

Sand in my eyes
Sand in my eyes
Exfoliate your corneas boy!

Rotten fruit never tasted so good
Spoiled milk and flies
A dog to its own *****

Thanks for the shock collar
The pound
The castration
Hand that feeds
How sweet and tender-hearted
You cherish your convenience

I am a cursed man
Born dead
Alive and dead once again
As time is slowly ticking

I gasp for air
Salt water
Light to relieve me of crippling water pressure
It’s too dark down here

Why is the end of the tunnel above the surface?
I can’t breathe up there

Throw me a line
Yank me away
To an abrasive serenity at the hand of a fisherman in the kitchen sink

A plastic ring will do nicely
Might as well sink and feed my brothers
Might as well think to myself
Rather than lead others

Might as well smudge my words so that no one can read what I wrote
With the needle in my side

My thorns are innate
Yet I wield them as stripes
My fillet is laid
Across the plate at the last supper

My time as a bottom feeder is through

When you get old
You do old people things

Sit around the Bible and make shadow puppets

Time
Flies faster than we can remember

We get high
And forget the rest of
Life that we’ve lived
For the worse or the better

But at least we feel good

Candy in the jar
Cigarette staining the wall paper
Vicodin on tap
And a smile knowing death is coming soon

We are ******
Til we die

So were our parents
I guess we had to be conceived somehow
we just got lucky enough to contract this S.T.D. Called life

And it’s killing us

Then we get brain-bent over
****** by reality
She is not gentle
But we need her

We take out whatever we believe in
On her
And then we **** her back
A fist in the air
As we stake a claim
To the world she showed us

Plunging our flags into her soft earth
Erecting whatever we see fit
Cramming her full of our essence

We are here!
Let me impregnate you!
Spreading our life all over the face of her globe

She stretches her canyons wider than before
After all, She has to accommodate our ego now

She swallows every inch
And as she spreads, still wider
We fall into that glowing space in between

Tectonic plates are her payback
This is her stomping ground
It’s her turn for ******
She reaches her peak at Vesuvius
Releasing all her warmth in flows of magma and heated and batted eyelashes

We have a mistress
And she knows it too well

I’ve been ******* so long it’s all I know
She taught us well
It’s only **** until you start pushing back

My own species
My planet

Let us gaze into free will
Live as the earth
And we will see we are no better than that which we despise

God doesn’t force our hand
But craves our heart
The world is the only cruelty he gave us
And the rest is still left on our shoulders as we disrobe

Train stations of thought
Ideas all meeting at once
Concepts jumping tracks
Unorthodoxy hopping empty cars
Hitchhiking onto the edge of my philosophies

Runaway trains
Head on collisions
Hypocrisy
And contradictions
What a wreck.

And when the passengers get here
They never stop moving
New positions are always hiring
Since Neurons are always firing

Conductors conducting
Railway seminars
Ted talks a lot
But the passengers leave enlightened
Sharing ideas with other train stations
Miles and miles away

So keep the trains on schedule
Keep the trains on track
Train tracks tracking
New thoughts
Through open minds

Steam will be pouring off my every word
So keep the engines  running hot
I'll be a dragon before too long
Spitting fire

But when the philosophy gets too honest
I have to stay cold
Call it a polar express-ion of thought

All aboard!
Research when I get bored
Stay awake at 4am
Listen to the gears turn in the engine room

The whistle is blowing
Ideas chugging along with enough power
To flatten the pennies I laid there
Intellectual suicide
Of misconceptualized life

Smash your two cents
That buys the ticket
Learn to travel
Learn and travel
Travel your learning

Take the train

Whenever I rub my eyes I always have hope in that one small chance that I could wake up to a new world

After the haze of smooshed eyelids, I just wake up in a hospital bed for the first time since a time I don’t remember

I’ll be that guy who always looks at the world through his window
Patiently waiting for the culture to cycle around to liking good music again

White skies are so bright
But we are all too cold to look up

Concrete tables at lunch
Sitting by yourself doesn’t keep your ears warm
There’s no one to listen to

Blank skies and little sprinkles of rain falling on a monotonous day

A candle in a dimly lit basement
Lighters and knives in a box under the bed

The flame bouncing to a rhythm of angsty 90s music

Today was pretty good
I didn’t have to deal with stupidity
Just my own
No drama

But then again, I am writing poems

I rearranged my furniture
Re-wicked the tea lights

Mom is going to like it a lot

I love one class
Like two more
Two are a joke
I’m indifferent to one
And failing another

First time for everything

I realize how much I like being alone
People are frustrating
Which is funny

The social butterfly
Got swallowed by a recluse
A guitar on his back
I hate singing at parties

My thoughts are a reality all their own
My own world is a net work  network of consciousness
And I always take the back roads

I’m hooked
a gateway drug to my mind
And thus I have the best fix I could imagine
Even though it’s my imagination

Music and pictures are on constant streams
Flowing through the brooks of bubbling contemplation
Flood my memory with things I’ve tattooed on my eyelids

Some creative force to just invent pictures I’ve never seen

A slideshow of things that have been more enticing than hours spent with others
I love people
I love to help them

So they like the advice
And I like to listen
Friends aren’t cheap

I guess everyone is a machine
And the engineers run maintenance on us at night time

You know he’s cheating on the local chef
By all the ****-prints in the icing

I love the outdoors
But I’ll be more likely to think to wish I had bigger windows
So I can see the sun come all the way up

A day in thought wasted in pane glass walls
Step right up!
The Man in a Glass box!
See all he has for the small fee of listening.


But I would rather put stones in my mailbox
Than throw them around at the portraits I’ve invited over for dinner

Are you in or out?
The stake is your soul

Play with religion
Holy fire matches
Strike it on whatever surface holds a flame
Cause someone might need to burned at the stake

Save yourself
If it saves you.
I did
And I have one foot off the boat I jumped in
Because if you put it in another
You're going to ride the current in two different directions
Sacrificing reason

So balance on the edge
Or build your own ark

Someone takes the wrong branch in the river
And they'll have a white water of a ride
And a waterfall at the finish line
Didn't know you could drown in fire?

God is a very real thing
Hell is a very real place
But use your own paddle when you row your own race

God never soul-***** anyone
So it's your choice to follow
Truth sets people free
Or it leaves them be

I'm not sure if I'm on the Battleship any more
To go out in a blaze of glory
Or is the boat just sinking?

They run out of lifeboats eventually
And in the end, you may just let go of the raft when there's plenty of room and totally give up any hope, causing one of the greatest irritations in all the world of film.

But you may have angel wings
"Jack, I Feel like I'm flying"
Or you watch as an unsinkable hope
Folds up into the same ocean
That God used to **** all but about six people and a zoo
Giving the rest burials at sea and Watery graves

But wood saves,
A few pairs of animals
Moses' staff
And some clay tablets
And at the end of their story
They're broken down into few pieces
And **** a carpenter
Who at least feed 12,000 people
And brought kegs to the wedding reception
Healing the sick
Teaching love, joy, peace, kindness and faithfulness

Something the whole world needs
But cut those false image bearing hands off the body

Gods image fits on a Sistine Chapel
Because people are afraid of him
Paint a heresy
But don't let the Pope know

I'd like to see the pedophiles get god smacked
Rapists get smit
Something of remote justice

When was slavery ever allowed to exist

Sinners get off easy and...
premaritally

But don't watch ****
Or smoke or drink
Ever
"Thou shalt surely die"

West Boro bombshells
Are gonna make for a pretty hot show
When you know they're going to Hell for what they did
For the Bible tells you so.

Just let the preacher get to that slide in his PowerPoint by next Sunday
See ya then
Pray about it?
God bless
XXOO

Because brotherly kisses were just a cultural thing
And we only like side-hugs

I found my glasses today
Under a coat of dust
At a friend’s house
A year after I lost them

I like what I see
I put them on
I feel normal again
Clark Kent would be proud

These lenses take the heat off my vision
I look like a normal guy

I feel normal
I can play video games
Talk about super heroes
And girls

And when I leave I go home to arm chairs
and arms full of charity
I should mention
I live at a friend’s house
Three squares, my own room
and a koi pond outside
It’s a hotel here

You see, I found family last month
Understanding
At a friend’s house
A week after I lost it

I didn’t know how I got there
I left Dad’s due to abuse
Mom kicked me out to refuse truth
And now they both pay each other money
As I walked down a rainy street without shoes

My friend’s family
And I’m grafted in
God should hate me
I’m a self-orphaned child
Soon to be a self-made man
I killed family
But I’m grafted in

Washington never cut down his father’s cherry tree
But I’m standing next to splinters
From the axe I didn’t swing
Should have, could have
Would have had I had half the brain I have now


Now
I feel like a normal guy
Who’s never thought about ******?
Who never had parent issues?
Who never had help when they needed it?
Who feels normal?

Tired
Eyelids crinkle only to lay flat and closed
Colored pencil eyes
Roll back into a roughly sketched head
And I can't help but blow away the eraser shaving eyelash on your cheek

Pills
Orange bottles
Snow White caps
Take a capsule to sleep

Breathing
Steady
Fleshy bags in your chest
Rising and falling
Making weird noises
Static electricity keeping your heart rate on end

Sleep
Forehead on the desk
Eraser shavings in my mouth
I spilled my prescription
And I need a smoke break

Blocking out the world
Watch where you step with eyes glazed over
Caught up inside

So what if glaze gets teary every once in a while?
Like a ceramic mug collecting condensation every time it realizes he doesn’t remember what his little buddy looks like anymore

Long hair let’s me know I’m growing from the thoughts out
Probably why the locks are so crazy

Long hair helps me block out
All the people I see everyday
I guess It’s fair since I never see you anymore

I can follow hallways
I’m lost in my ow nmazes

If I keep looking inward for a way out
My eyes will just roll back
And that works out since I’m sure I look half-dead anyway

Today I saw a picture of you in a wrong turn
It may be the right move
But you never know when you play checkers by yourself for so long
I hope you’re not playing checkers by yourself
I did That for years
And by the time I learned chess I was already getting beat
Go give Jacob a hug from me

Tearing up in class is so dramatic
And so is writing poems

I might see you on the side of Heaven where our family is together again
And was never ****** up to begin with

But for now you’re in my head with all my other thoughts
my baby sister, that’s no place for you.

You aren’t tall enough to go on that ride
But who knows how much you have grown in the time since I saw you last

I have to scroll through photos of a time I don’t like to remember
It’s my fault for not making new memories

Your smile is my favorite
You drew the short string
I’m the reason why Dad is frayed at the edges
So run with the thread
See how long it takes before he’s at the end of his rope
If he doesn’t hang himself first

I wish you could leave
Right now, he’s Dad.
I knew him as Sir.
Right now you’re too young to see it
Your mom cries herself to sleep.
She buys her own dinner at McDonald’s
While you sit down to dinner with the rest of the family

I’m not there anymore
I still know what’s going on
Your birthday is coming up, and I don’t want to miss another one
You’re so little
And 2 years out of 4 is bigger to you than it is to me

You’re the last one of the bunch
So you bet I’m worried I’ll miss it.
I’ll be 20 by the time you start kindergarten
And if your mom and Dad ever **** each other
I’ll adopt you till you’re 20

Making up for lost time means making amends with someone who never seeks forgiveness
And I don’t think Dad will ever allow me back at the table

So I’ll watch you blow out your candles over video
And put out my anger with tears
Because I don’t think I’ll be at your party this year.
I love you.
Happy birthday Breeana.

Our lives are the space in between
The war of good and evil
Darkness and light
on opposing sides
And we’re the dusk somewhere in between
The gray we see in black and white
On the static of an old tv

Here i am to be influenced
Or mislead, I decide
As I stand where the West skies meet the East
There I see my sin,
Sitting right Where God left it.

Would he even care if I took it back?
So I could make myself feel condemned again
****** if I do if I Don’t

To hell or high water where I’m just looking up if I drown
Down to Sheol in a Creole mix of vudu or hudu, and “who did You say that you are again?”
Yoo-Hoo! You who breathes out ******* stars, gains the faith of the humans just to send them out to war
It’s a double-edged sword
These lines hand-drawn, into sand, thrown up by a whale, and out onto land, down by the bay to the gates of Hell
It’s the day and the night
With Blades drawn for the fight

Where the dark meets the light once again

Here I am to be influenced
Or put under influence
Or crushed underfoot
Like the serpent I’m grinning but losing this tooth
For the healing heel of my chosen Christ
As it taps into the god’s vein of gold
I see gray,
since I live under a rock made of slate
From old chalkboards
That that were never quite cleaned all the way
Dust lining my nose, Coke lines down the road, and a chalk-outline in the gutter

Where the body you made, to break only to fix again,
died so you could give it a new one
My brain is made of metal
Metal is gray
Gray matter and static
And the cobwebs in the attic are grey
There isn’t one color
But only the black shade of gray
And a white tint of day
Could peel me away from a life of which colors to see

If I don’t decide, live a monotonous life
And stare at the eyes in the screen
I live on either side of black and white,
Where I’m only ever to be seen by the faces lacking shading to be anything more than 2-d, anything thing less than deep
They’re flat like walls, screens, phone calls, steel beam conspiracies, and white girls before a wedding, the starving living in Haiti,
they’re all ******* flat and it’s bleak

I’m having to answer to cancer, and vandals, and rebels, and low profit margins
But I’m just advancing, the random and dumb scribblings of pencil, from a self-proclaimed celestial
And lack the knowledge fit for kindergarteners

And they’re still...  GRAY!.

But if I lean towards artists
And arson for grills made of sulphur and charcoal
The fire consuming a trail of addicts and some chain-smokers
Sinners in chains left like food for the vultures

And cities made of concrete and sin are still gray!
And so is the smoke they breathe out when they burn.
And drill bits dig as they turn into the thoughts, as my brain turns to gray, the gray pickaxes of seven dwarves
as they mine for ores or nether-regions, either or.
leaving God but still believing, ashes are not black in the shadows of factory smoke-stacks
Ashes, ashes, ashes, are ******* gray.

Even the diamonds we see through, to find the dried, white **** on the other side,
Black diamond slopes for the frequent skier, stretching into to the sky, even higher
Than the Everest in your viewfinder
Which still made of gray, is covered in white,
But when **** meets the black and snowballs down the other side, all you see are grey stars as it turns out your lights.

All that we see through is fake
anything less than opaque,
all that we through is clearer
As charades disappear into mirrors
You realize the line between darkness and light
Is a great work of sculpturesque figures
Made Of gray clay
Lodged in history of the gray clouds that rained out the world
A rainbow appeared but it was gray
Because god is not the color we see
And not picking a side is a travesty

So this line I walk doesn’t exist
Blissful in my ignorance
I choose bad or divine
But cant see down the line
But if I could it’d just be ******* gray

Blue and pink twists together in the deep
Colossus is born
A spiral of beauty shrouded in a cloud of its own darkness

Ink blots were not the intention
Hide behind this natural curtain
Stay in wait where your beauty is kept to yourself

A philosophy only works if you’re all in
A religion is god’s until you’ve made it your own
Poachers are everywhere
Stay out of their boat

Cherry pickers are why the ocean is ink and oil
Fear in its blackest essence
Poisoned in its resistance

Anything on paper becomes a story
Why should we doubt if it weren’t for being scared?

Why is it so hard to look at written word as real life?
The significance was experienced in  the author’s mind

Fantasy is truly all we need
But when it is logical
We are affirmed
That there is more than what we see

Sit on a beach
Look at the stars of another planet
The depth is stacked upon itself at the horizon
White crests and
Frothy oxygen bubbles
Just like the one we live inside of

To think is to exist
So why not?

I stair up at the ceiling
My feet could be there
I just need to fall
I just need stairs

They call us desensitized for living in the real world
The depths are a part of our journey

But when you live in your head

You Indulge

I sing because I like microphones
Work because it’s better than sitting at home
Play instruments to keep my hands from getting cold

Intentions don’t matter until you do something that matters
And break even from trying to stay afloat
If you’re stagnant your heart has gone cold
Ice only touches the surface
Ice only floats

But I wish it would sink
Start from the bottom of whatever you drink
Or put your glass in the freezer
then it’s cold enough to freezer burn you into nothing worth eating

Ice is great on a hot day
But when the microphone drips a little condensation
From condensing thoughts into ice cube trays
From a condenser mic to a bath in a tub of ice
Take the heat off these words
And add water

Cain middle-fingered Abel
Why these brothers gotta fight?
Jacob groped God
And he touched his inner thigh

Jesus faced the Greeks and the Pharisee thinkers
Now we take communion and he passes over our sphincters

The Romans ****** into his hands and then they penetrated his side
He couldn’t get it up for 3 days and two nights

But now it’s free for all
And we didn’t get the chop
For being white guys with circumcised *****

Holy Spirit licked em’ all with the Pentecostal tongues
But don’t try to taste Judas,
since we know he’s well hung

Baby Jesus getting laid in a manger of a bed
John the Baptist died in prison but I hear he gave them head

God is bigger than you know
Stepping on his own snake
And when we get to Heaven,
We’ll see it on the wedding day

Cupid so confident
But cherubs are hunted with bows

An angelic Eros has taken a few arrows
And felt their warm sting for his own

Let your wings lose their feathers
So that love can be human again
Yet all the more divine

Two people on earth
Both looking up to the heavens
Rather than thinking their lover can fly

The clouds are low enough
Now they carry light from the street lamps
Glowing with hazy filaments
Touched by man

But in their unbuttoning fleece
I see the stars
And they will always be beautiful.

You’ll get to wherever you want
But you’ll be sadder than expected when you do

I can think a million miles a minute up here
But if my thoughts meet air, they’re floored

You will love the way the snow falls at that perfect angle
But hate that it had the nerve to show up halfway through March

I might wear a groove in the floor
But it’s just from routine
And being content with disliking everything

My head rolls down the crook of my arm
My mind spins backwards to where my eyes want to be
I’m staring at the ceiling now
I’m falling now

There’s wind in my ears
Everything is being hand-drawn
These pictures are day dreams

I wince at the apple in my hand
I don’t care what the first fruit was
But I know what my fruits should be
And my labor of love is cherry-picking as many watermelons as I can carry

My hair is three feet in front of my vision
And a second behind in hang-time
It’s grayer now
Pencil drawings look more like ink now
Etchings in a clay tablet

Writing messages on my ribs since I was born
You just run out of space
And there’s a fist-sized hole where my sternum should be

Closed for maintenance
Easy access
And you’re still beating it with your fists like a VCR that doesn’t work any more

You blow whispers into my ear
And your dusty words make my neck snap at the sound of static

There’s tape around my neck now
Family videotapes rewound with red
With all the conditions involved

I was the character who was out of place
And now I’m spliced into someone else’s movie

There are arms down here
They caught me?
They’re warm
I belong here

They stretch
They can hold me as I grow
They can send me off into the air like a clay pigeon

And now the picture is so far from digital
I can’t remember the last time I watched a show in the family pictures in the hall

The glass is cracked Dad
Mom, I’m not in any of these...

I take a bite of home-cooked leftovers at work.
There is a kiwi in my lunch bag
Coffee in the little cups by the machine on the counter

They see me.