Life stories are the purest form of expression
They are your interpretation of your existence
Your lens; your skewed perspective of the world
No one can take your memories from you
You can only choose to share them
I choose to collect them
Recently I came across a hurting man
Howling about lost possessions, wrapped in material mourning
Thirty years of age half his life spent in a cage
He carried the marks of his imprisonment on his neck and torso
Symbolic scribbling coupled with raised traces of injury and survival
The beauty of his anecdotal being represented
He showed me a photograph, a gorgeous girl of nine
He fought for the privilege to make her acquaintance
Her face he wore on his heart, where she dwelled
“Daddy’s Little Girl”
For thirty brief years these eyes had seen much
A walking burden, society had no vacancy nor sympathy
Money made from paving, though once upon a time
This figure provided every intoxicant imaginable
We bonded over mutual encounters with death
He narrated a story where seven men made an attempt to end him
They beat him repeatedly, punished him publicly
Like Jesus
His arm broke cleanly from a bat, but the seven hadn’t finished
They ran a van straight for this man attempting paralysis
He moved at a critical moment
This driver he later met
Alone, metallic tool of death in hand and vengeance flaring
He returned the favor, blasted the knee of the newly handicapped
Half joking, I asked if he had ever been apprehended
Half joking, he replied no and searched me for a wire
Next, he shared another instance where he should have left us
Riding a motorcycle over a hundred miles per hour
Carelessly on a quiet stretch of road, headed for fateful arbor
He ejected himself; the new bike totaled his helmet scarred
His hand shattered and held by screws like mine
In his words I saw myself
Despite his fortune at enduring such a wreckage relatively unharmed
He lamented his survival at the expense of prized possession
This criminal on the brink with Italian flag in ink
One who never learned to appreciate
Small, thin, bald and distinguished by goatee
Upset over the misplacement of a baseball cap
He made my friend aware of her beauty, assured her he was unworthy
I shook his hand and promised never to forget
Here he lies immortalized

A stroke of luck
Abyss of dust, a discus then discussed by us
Rock that formed and gas that swarmed
Trapped in circles as it warmed
Distance and diameter right
Tilt and water blessed with life
Capable of catering to creatures with its features
Atmosphere and seasons here
Travelling friend who pulls at times
Mother holds us, Mother shines
Beyond us where the giants lie
Far away and in the sky
Flaming stars shine from afar
Make us wonder what we are
Bits of sand in a desert vast
Inventing terms like future and past
Life rose gradually from the ground
From the water’s depths, then all around
A barren wasteland of desolation
Turned lush and green with vegetation
Diverse and wonderful beasts evolved
And the primitive biped kings came with them
Hunting some still hunted by others
Endless war in a circular system
But with our ambition, the way of life was broken
The divine plan and superiority of man was spoken
Passed down, retold, until everyone agreed
Taking not appreciating, progress for greed
Divisions and factions formed, civilization
Kings building nations, many generations
Men and women born in chains, into war they came to be
Universe to Earth and Adam to Me

You used to disappear for months at a time
I was too young to understand but I did anyways
You hurt me like you hurt yourself
The difference is I remember
As children we were sad and tragic misfits
Hell bent on escape of some kind
You used to try to jump out of second story windows
Enough to break eternal but not to close your mind
I found you once trembling in the kitchen
In your pocket was a handful of capsules
Ran for help and with reinforcements recommitted you
You told me I could stop you now but there would be a tomorrow
Your depression worsened and school became your nemesis
You singlehandedly proved how cruel and evil children can be to others
A victim of your instability and chemical imbalance
A social untouchable, they kicked you and you scampered under the porch
The progression across the spectrum of moods made you manic
I could handle you when you had lost hope, but you became unpredictable
Needing everyone’s help, you couldn’t bear to act alone
Always making scenes we were bashful when in crowds
I picked you up after class and you showed me your self-assigned art project
Your room was filled with them, scribbles on the walls
Poetry and carved incantations and letters
Just the way you were when you lived in the hospital
I will always remember when I was first allowed to visit
Your expression dull, eyes dead and voice hoarse but constant
Your babble was brilliant even though you spoke in tongues
Drew me equations, diagrams, promises and master plans
I keep them still and hope that you will make no replications
Reminder of the horror that goes into reparations

Today I bled the ripest magenta you’ve ever seen
Before the O2 red poisoned it
Luckily I scar in the shape of morals
I once pressed my digits to the stove on a dare
Until the rounded flesh sloped flat
Guess I’ve always learned by experience
Don’t touch hot stuff
But if you do
That’s ok
It all heals, and
You’re a little funny looking after
But
That’s it

On the eve of early rising, with curious companion
We climbed to the highest peak, to yield clearest view
This vantage point was inaccessible to the common without clearance
The stolen key allowed me to explore forbidden fruit
We stood on the platform under star studded quilt
Quietly we crossed the bridge to another realm
Peered in through the frosted window at laboratory dormant
Followed the black path laid down over rocky roof
Hidden was a narrow hallway, a strip along the ledge
The average passerby unaware and far below
Made our way up a ladder to the top of brick structure
There I found that light shines even in the ***** city

Nothing beats the moment when you discover that someone you love
Doesn’t love you back
Felt by anyone who has ever been angry with the sky
Or any man that gets attached to hired ***
Any snot-nose whose parent or puppy never looks back
Any loser who can’t unglue his gaze from a return to sender stamp
Reading an old poem can be like
Calling up an ancient girlfriend
I can’t
Believe
I wrote you
No more affection; at least the feeling is mutual
I tend to throw myself fully into things, making commitments
Passion, they call it
I feel more like a drunken hockey player bruising himself against the boards
Any love I harbor dries in silhouette of unread poetry
My words will one day hollow
As my body spirit follows
But sometimes
Ink sinks
And paper lives longer than bones
I remember everything anyone ever said to me

You are the only woman who could fill
One of my notebooks
In a run-on-sentence from cover to cover
And still demand several sequels to ever be complete
It’s like when you know a movie is your favorite
Because it doesn’t get boring after a million viewings and
Knowing every line is the best part
You bring an ironic smile to my face every time
I think of hand cramps or dead pens or insomnia pangs
Worth the stiff muscles, you hardly waste the paper
And I would rather describe the face of morning I have loved
Than propose likeness with any concept I could dream
In endless possibilities and with resources unlimited
I would never find your equal, so why bother

The pile builds, accretion of assignments a while until
Relaxing, busy work not terribly taxing but my time
All consumed, brief pause and then resume the battle
Of the usual, ramble babble prattle of the professor then I lose
A full night of sleep, toxins in each anxious beat
Of stressed heart, DNA schematics down for art
And not a rigid scheme, blackboard is bleeding on me
And now the groups are formed, locusts of ambition in a swarm
I am devoured, avoiding conflict like a coward
I see his eyes, abandoned on an island he dies
In the horizon, my face of kindness becomes wizened
Faint and feeble, I recognize my capacity for evil
To continue, make no apology for sins due no effort made
To right things, expect a well deserved strike of lightning
Very frightening, conscience panicking muscles tightening
No chance at being friends, dread the day we meet again

I am an incredibly wealthy man
I value each second, each thought and breath and beat
Well beyond any man-made measures
My brief years outweigh all currency of current economies
Interpretations can at times make me sublimate and evaporate
Occupy any two spaces as I see fit
Falling up and making fool of constant ‘c’ in practice
My sorrow has created a vast void
Which when reversed
Is towering
I am a pillar, an obelisk
Altitudinous shrine to my own embryonic ego
Somehow I will save the world
Yes, I am that naïve

In twenty circles around the sun
I have come near enough to observe
From atop a distant hill I stood watching
The city of insanity
The people moved about with apparent purpose
To and fro running errands and the like
The metropolis thriving with attractive life
Its breath forming clouds in the cold of the night
From my sentinel’s post I had limited comprehension
Of the rituals or values held inside their gates
Near enough to know the man I would be
Far enough to be drawn by mystery
I flirt with delusion behind closed doors
My mistress with a sweet whisper customized for my ears
Similarly I stroll the perimeter of these walls
A rogue on the outskirts considering integration
These gates are welcoming without invitation
Yet they lock from the inside-permanent asylum
Someday I will live amongst this community
Unaware of any world but my own

Hot to the point of dripping frustration
Walls hugging close, ignoring boundaries of comfort
I am exposed to thickened thoughts and muggy minds
I see deeper than the blind
Running rounds of labyrinths, echoing-shaking the grounds
Foundations leaking, deep wells of pensive tactics
Breaking automatic
Subject to tangled knots as a foreigner in sacred land
Watching my step
Awareness essential to survival like a savage
The lifestyle of leisure is above me
Tapping the source it runs its course
Battles the conditions of a wicked storm
Rage like eyes that seem to bleed
Thumping external threats to safety
Camouflage is comforting, but demons never sleep
Black thoughts creep into interactions
Terrible timing, embarrassing me so

We no longer acknowledge each other’s eyes
Or speak unless addressed explicitly
But our energy reaches like wild tentacles, grasping to be mutual once more
Tangles like vines or still-learning shoe strings
Strangles me but sympathizes in the final few when I get sky-face
I heard your laugh from behind your back and knew I would
Never cause it
Again
It surged through me like an electric shock, not
A finger in the outlet, more like a toaster bath
I have never found currents to be painful, just warm
Even as my limbs fell limp from voltage
Your complexion kept me calm down to my copper core
Now each indication of your amusement ****** me, emptying weary veins
Acupuncture from untrained hands, reckless medicine
I never thought you would be my nerve damage
Chronic companion, my endorphins still have your toxic taste

My happy is a sneaky state with the tendency to lie
Directly: You will feel like this tomorrow
Or by
Omission: Positive hindsight
My happy, I have found, doesn’t captain a galleon in a bottle
Or dwell in a smog cloud at the cherry tip of hand-rolled disappointment
Filling an empty room with cancerous nostalgia
It doesn’t have a neatly labeled treasure map like they make you think in school
You can’t earn it, buy it, sell it or even steal it
My happy doesn’t taste like nectar or dye my mouth blue
It isn’t linear or logical or convenient or fair
Sometimes I forget about it altogether
I hope it isn’t Haley’s comet with one chance and only that
I try not to talk about things I don’t understand
But this has been a recurring issue
So far my happy appears to burn at fourfiftyone
Mate for life, and yet
Forget its own face like a spinster in a house with broken mirrors
Elusive friend of mine, my happy and I
Have shared a wonderful affair though the rendezvous were scarce
I have learned to live without her and make meaning from her ghost
It is when every light on the surface dies that the stars and moon shine most

Though dulled and faded with age
Memories of violent encounters demand service of a scribe
The enemy ambushed the amicable, interrupting instruction
Plans were made and location changed to find a fitting field for fight
The mob moved through streets dusted with white
Settled prematurely in a small public clearing
The challenger caught my friend off guard, his temple struck
A sickening thud rang out over the posse screaming madness
My confidence waned in shock but before my thought completed
A mighty counter rocked aggressor’s jaw, knocked unconscious
Dumbfounded he slumped to his knees and made grapple for support
Thrown to a defenseless dorsal pose awaiting beating
Each strike from my friend’s boxing fists landed with force
Dynamic demolition; I could hear the snap of bone
Again and again the primal chanting of the mob
Was overpowered by noise from blunt trauma to a damaged brain
Authorities arriving cleared the crowd with their sirens
I dashed to wooded cover carrying the victor’s possessions
To my astonishment, joined by the badly bruised
The flesh of his ebony face stained sanguine with defeat
He felt his tissue for lumps as his pain set in at last
Adrenaline disappearing, ears bleeding from concussions
An infamous day to me as brutality yet unmatched
Performed for barbarous and sadistic spectators, I among them

A rational thought-from your head or mine
We balance on the fabric of time
I exist by day and disappear at night
Many wise men have been wrong before
I suggest you question the ground you walk on
And distrust the air you breathe
I’m too busy swimming in rivers of sound
My opinions fluctuate
So numerous are the discoveries of man
Our curiosity runs deep you see
Who needs love, family, friends?
When we have God and Technology
Hide your eyes, your face and mind
Be a child with your time
Man wishes to be a lion, yet
We follow the path of the cat

You melt my stress like
The first hit
Or
A solid set of pushups
An honest act of altruism
Seen or completed
(One thing I am remarkably good at without even trying is
Being kind of big so
I’ve been pushing cars out all winter, you should try it)
You interrupt my thoughts
Even when I’m telling a story and
That’s impressive
Knowing me
I’m known to create soundscapes with the echoes in my dungeon mind
Lonely compositions
Full volume but drowned out by you
Sometimes I become completely detached
To any idea I’ve had or action I’ve committed
But you bombard me with the beauty of mistakes
And the merit of being proud
Catch me slithering into my hole
Stomp on my tail and drag me into the light
You make me transparent but
I love it
To the universe, I am murky
For you
I am clean

I would wake up after never having slept
Early
And drive morning-drunken-eyed
Fast
To see the kids
Two great young boys with
Sweet hearts and
No darkness
The little one needed to be clean:
Scrubbed his skin raw, showered for hours, avoided the bare ground
Worshipped soap and wanted to be good
To the point that he sat in tears
Over his irrational fears of germs and overuse of terms
Like sorry
Fred the bully ruled his developing mind and made him
Worry
Scrub
Fear
Apologize
Repeat
Together his brother and I helped him build
Muscle, reason, confidence, eventually
Control
The more we exercised as a unit, sweating and huffing
Through endless repetitions, the more force he felt
Always doing a few extra reps to show that he cared
He told me he wanted to push Fred into
A pit of lava, using a tsunami wave
Cool
He came to terms with *****, stopped sleeping at night
With cleaning chemicals clutched consciously in his hands
Progress in learned steps, he sought to impress and emulate
The boys were great, we played board games and ran outside all summer
They were digital entertainment addicts, electronic fiends
Every day we shared a healthy lunch and stories from our schooling
I made silly noises and
They echoed healing laughter
Funny how fast children transform, their habits altering
Any positive message soaked and internalized
The obsessive behavior begging to be eased
We all got a lot tougher that summer
One boy lost weight, gained shape, and had courage manifest
One boy had many fears that one day he will put to rest
One boy was made to fall in love with his first test
The day I left the boys gave me
A cake, cards, origami
Their favorite stones
Hugs
Memories
Experience
Motivation
Stories
On the drive home I fell asleep on the highway

Today probably marks one of the final occasions
Upon which I will visit my grandfather
Long years have made him weary
A war drawn through many winters
He is deceptively small, hardly more than five feet
But like an iceberg his hidden self is vast
Travelled the world on military campaign
He does not speak of this part of his past
My family makes prompts in asking
How he crossed the Channel, entered Germany
The frontline combat that ensued
Has never escaped his conscience
At the slightest mention of the Battle of the Bulge
His face glazes over, and he is brought back
He relives instantly, right in front of me
The soldiers who died, friendly or not
I never asked if he killed anyone
And he would never tell me
The men of his time were moved to terrible actions
They returned home numb or wrapped in plastic
I cannot imagine such an experience
To be held so near my age
Spent several fortnights living in a foxhole
The bloodiest battle, taken by surprise
My father’s father like many fathers
Did what he had to do
He remains a soldier to this day
My respect is endless for the mighty

Water and death; the grand unifiers
My descent from glacier-like nimbus
To emerald elevation
Teaches me
The Mexican mountains fast-approaching
Barren, hills enveloped in mossy fondant
To think man festers in our planet’s orifices
Unable to sip the trickling life for fear of illness
Spreading death like gossip
And I, cramped in drifting craft
Soaring in the former future
Am safe
If Da Vinci could see me now
We’d have a **** good laugh
Comparing ironies

Aching veins transmit liquid life to extremities
Warm and flowing, contrasting the cold metal interior
Sensitive to the electric current containing many memories
My sense of self shattered on the wall, became inferior
Scars are carved, reactions never reach the root of issues
The cause is now unknown, minds wander when alone
I remember the breaking and discoloring of the tissue
Thought my art dead and ****** with the displacement of the bone
I hid my wounds at first and now a cross marks them boldly
Embrace my daily pain, forget my future without motion
Temperature change controls my ways private burn or cold and lonely
Two repair attempts, a weakened state can’t stop devotion
Now I feel the hardened layer hidden in me from the air
Once frail now muscled and accustomed to the feeling
When I’m overcome by troubled thoughts I stop and store them there
My place of pain becomes my place of healing