I have been joking about suicide in conversation lately
as though to hyperbolize despair for comedy;
I think about the front-face of my personage and begin to hate me
the attempt I made was no laughing matter,
where is the karma, belated cancelation by the speech-policing PC society
I'm no good, I might be half crazy, they credit me with trauma, documented history
it sounds like I actually signed a paper for a NDE
the trick to trigger warnings are wasted on me,
you don't yell "Fire!" in a crowded theater before you turn off your TV

Sometimes, lately, I wonder if it's a red flag flying from my teeth
like my tongue, freshly squeezed stinging cuts from my gums
anxious laughter, am  I    just    pulling on the leg of my legacy,
by behaving questionably, a poet or a lunar misunderstanding,
eyes wide like two new moons, an hourglass with sand outstanding
talking to myself to be heard by someone else, a prideful soliloquy of lunacy,
ergo the ego bends my silver spoon,
and I'll be digging through these glass walls with it soon
entranced to a tune, dancing like a loon, this window-pain, you don't know,
trust is such a boon and bane,
I swoon for a swain, a drop of admiration is tanks of fuel in motivation
a kind word, risk the sonic pendulum that separates my lane
to a bitter attention getter, doused with dense sweat in winter
get this steam-storm off my brain
condensed intensity contained, I want to explode; restrain
into the chest, deep winds drawn
the humid reflux, insomnia, a long yawn

I think too often of how I'll be remembered
when there's far too much life to live
how or if I settle into any memory is in this awareness, to make not of my concern
for I have kept alive too many I resented and reviled
on a pyre of hatred that I alone fed to burn
the smoke choked my thoughts all the while
to let it go from inferno, to embers, to ashes I had to learn
patience and defiance of a forced perception
that to be nothing is equality,
everything you are seen to be is a corruption
lenses of opinion that obscure purity
oddly, the punchline shares each conception,
and given the destination, why don't more people laugh at the journey?

Dig fingernails into palm
an aura of rage disquiets calm
teeth ground finely into dust
an era, an age broken chains of trust
breathing air freely, finally through a punctured lung
who are you that bites your thumb, saying I must bite my tongue?

Bide your time, for what is life if not time over reality
and reality if not perception over varied experiences
one balled fist, cherry-red knuckles, raised bottoms-up, always lowly
always knowing to go right to where the consensus of common sense is
steer the path of wrath, answer when the brass rings with theoretical equations in moral math
the shortest distance between two points is irrelevant when every minute of every day
is planned around the uphill struggle you have along the way

Ideas to further us,
wayside trinkets for those who follow
let the mad do battle with the angry until they turn murderous
they reside in the misery leftover of concrete; now mires of mud to wallow
admirers of survivors, secretly in love with a disaster whose burden laid on them here and now is not one anybody should be asked to master
you cannot prepare to lose everything, bunkers, guns, armor, nothing you have will make the pain pass faster
fate is an excuse abused by weak will and minds, they surrender the consequences of everything they do, that is done, to four letters

I have heard the worst and best moments of my life were fated
these notes, passed in sympathetic epitaphs from retired, retread hatred
the energy of the young man who would see this blue marble lost with all the rest
is refocused, as through a prism of detached and severed disinterest
I feel much older than I am, and like a sponge I absorb the colors and sights and sounds of the natural world around me
as I train my train of thought to stay on track, my wild emotions would wring me dry and misunderstood reactions would confound me

The virtue of solace just at arm's reach
never to fall too involved,
but to survive and inspire those to uplift, with an aligned love for each.

Through a golden-amber hue of softened rays of dawn
with a hint of butterscotch rising on the baked back
gently hardening in the warmth, naked silk spun outstretched
reeled into a statuette, naked and glowing eyes half-open to a yawn
seemingly as innocent in her natural state as an unapproached fawn
she wraps herself in robes, descending from her attic
each step down seemingly brings right now closer
until the morning-do of Artemis in Eden is gone
by noon she is a toiling man in the den
by night he lays decay beneath his feet with every further step along
down the gravel drive, back up the lush and grassy lawn
leaving frost where her hair like wheat, ran all the way down to her heels
and touched the blades in days beyond,
a trail, tread, treacherous and dead lays cold in the steps
that lead up and down, where a rapturous child's laughter resounds
in harmony with a christening of an affair between the soul of man and a bitter hound
there, surrounded by the crickets, cicadas, and all the nightlife in the air
nothing on the property square, as if to suggest this were cleared by forces in nature
a hallow, or hallowed ground?

Once she whispered into his ear as he sat in the dark, uninterred
and even as stoic as he was, the closeness is what stirred
her hands were his or his were hers,
merciless and precious, left and right, run the fawn
they were disturbed by the conclusions that were drawn
roaming back and forth from night to day, lingering over the middle as the sun
mother giving birth and raising man to father daughter to give birth to mother
the loading of life into death, six bullets into a the six chambers of a loaded gun
the romance of morning blended with the fear of these nocturnal goings-on,
walking hand in hand with a shape in shadow, never to understand there was always only one.

The stone monolith of judgement

presiding over myopic movements

casting a glare of rage-red, bleeding

residing restfully, on an ivory balcony

wherever I seem to go I'm always leading

the shadow of your gavel ever over me,

like Damocles; I can't stand trial on broken knees


Ideate suicide and violence, stranglehold thoughts don't relent

choking reason, chasing down common sense, my time is spent

fear is a stronghold, you can hide in it, safe from an open view

it's a choice that's harder to make when only pleasantries are tunneled in front of you

I've lived with anxiety in control, giving my madness a voice was never a conversation piece

eyeballing me for burial in a pigeonhole, exploiting the pressure of this lonely sadness,

isolated, on the outside it's easier to justify peers' peering hatred, give it a rest, social police

I wouldn't raise a hand to you if you were my teacher, self-taught, classless, I've had this

streak of luckless love, always alienated, never exonerated


Never been interesting, patience testing

a patient, temperament foul and festering

not being all there might be the best thing

daydreams, Elysium reeds in the wind sing

home calls me, that empty lot looks a lot like a golden ring

free to decide on paradise, no longer lifting the weight of dawn

just to see the next day, conscience flowing, glowing outward on

trickling rainfall association, loose-connection, brainstormed concoction

grow and groom personal Yggdrasil, a bonsai tree, in this place

meditate on the realization of the vision, every clipping is a footfall towards grace

persecuted for the image, behavior, for the portrayal

conceived, thought, written and spoken

every effort to improve serves self-betrayal

a window into a moment that they look through and then call broken.

Worlds away wonders wander the world where wits are whirled away
today say, maybe they'd astonished to see the accomplished Adonis
of Helios' Colossus over Rhodes who got up and just walked away,
with a how do dividing the curtain and cracking the equation
dropping Moses' staff, a shower curtain across the non-sequitur equator
narrowing the horizons of all laissez unfaire thinking therefore collecting sandal fare
heart to Descartes, an impressionable precursor like a fine red Monet
Immanuel Marx dogged Socrates, regarding the genes of dogs Kant a dog have his day
Left the Right Hegelians, barking Diogenes, Wittgenstein gained in time wit in rhyme
with them, Malcolm's Little shoebox shine, deadname drop Harlemite lite, right
Americanite a mineral passage of rite, the torch guiding the night, healing those
who seek the roads, scholars looking for Rhodes, reformed in prison, crossed by X
he is real, alright, the Israelite, a nation, truth inside a deception inside a deception
Plato's Allegory, a cave underground, as close as one ever gets to outside
is as close as one ever gets, months apart, crossed off, X eyes, truth denied
escape for the birds, dream on Alcatraz, Nirvana and Americana holding hands
bedrock to bedpost, money between the sheets with narcotic pride
where shadows, patriotism, politics and reality likes to hide
they come huddled, hungry, seeking an old promise
to find a statue hollow and cold inside, wander the globe,
strip the robe, a beautiful poem
centuries old, keeps a wishing dream warm
where the metal groans and grows old.

This planet is doomed, we must evacuate
Chart a course, let us head there straight
Attached to the green, feels like it’s been cycles since we ate
Adapt to this species, overtake from within, infiltrate
With every one of them we gain weight,
In numbers and arms, while they fall apart and disintegrate
This species is doomed, they don’t even know they can’t save themselves
It’s already too late

Don’t you dare go and fall asleep
I thought I knew you!
Strange behaviors, intimate partners, notions creep
I held you and my arms went right through you!
Mulch in my lap, a loved one, a neighbor, relative or stranger
Replaced by an emotionless husk overnight
It’s too late to warn anyone of the danger
They identify us and alert a mob to our presence on sight

The proximity to the pods is the key
Dozens of them chase the unconverted through the city
If you look in your backyard and this strange plant with a pink flower is something you see
Destroy it, leave town, don’t look back, just run to safety immediately
A mad dash, a group of survivors, one by one separated fatally
The aliens only intend to ensure their own survivability
To blend in you pretend, imitate them; to hell with humanity
In the end, you’re alone, Nancy
Scared witless, the Pod People are now not such odd people, they’re the majority
And her only relief, in a moment so brief
Is whispering to a friend, he can’t be one of them, or can he?

Tension and anticipation, all nerves for a moment just barely unwind
Her brow damp from sweat, stomach cramped in knots, this nightmarish fear
It has taken a dense and destructive toll on her mind
She may even have prayed a little, willing to believe a friend was still here

Of course, the moment lasts as long as devastating, overtaking, dread draws near
Nancy, you’re not one of us, oh Nancy, poor dear
Even then, when his finger rises, accusatory and damning, it’s clear

If she only knew, the alien menace that was already so close to you
She may have had better odds

Her fate is pitiful, lasting so long, only to succumb to numbers and human nature
Under such duress, they have our memories, but not our feelings, the people from the pods
Memories of sprouting from dirt, blossoming and yawning out into a human being, innately weak
All flashes before her, all good things and bad, as he tilts his head back, grimaced and pointing  
Now letting loose an ear-splitting shriek.

Bring your chin to the edge of the table and roll your tongue out
flat like a dead slug, take a scraping of your taste buds
conventional speech will now be banished, puns vanish,
in conversation, dense condescension, identify by sleeve
trust isn't earned anymore, intercept all personalities as duds,
that's what you rotate in circles for, segregated communities, one cannot always deceive  
cut the scarlet letter for your disorder in the roof of your mouth if the warnings are something you somehow mismanage
don't you realize you're living with everybody's instability?

Before you're down a dead end road,
slow down and process the information overload
there's no privacy in the path of progress,
your secrets better not exist, regress, be meaningless or harmless
literal translations marked in the margins by martyrs
dancing like satyrs on their victorious gravesites, the effort a culmination, they pun-ish  
for all the good their culture does in vindictive service to selective silence, it seems remiss
that essays and humor, misunderstood wit; one misstep all they lash
dyers on hills who recolor the grit and reality of the past
censorship is a dangerous tool
ask any oppressed voice

Censorship changes history's very imagery
omits thought, will, obstacles and triumph and choice!

You are human, your nerves are raw and your heart beats like a drum
when the hand that strikes it stirs your blood, let the outcries come
poetry is unbridled in revolution, furious in chains
a brand that scars the bleary eyes behind all stifled ideas, corked within your brains
the thunder of marches inspired by speeches, the movements and power wielded by wordsmiths
sheer influence that shames Mjolnir or Excalibur, when a million speak as one, cry as one, the tears of one million are torrent rains
within the wildest eyes, brightest minds, purest hearts and kindest souls, waits this now-waning gift
for who can rightly rise in today's vast opera of need?

They call for everything all at once, who can genuinely lead?
All I can say to be honest, not certain, but true
is that thinking different isn't bad;
it's a waste of being an individual to let anyone else do your thinking for you.

I think all people are different
but I've always had an overactive imagination
inherited phantom guilt that built a cult following
like a genetic indoctrination
they said you can always get the milk for free,
but I want to eat the cow
everybody is looking sort of funny
where is the sheepdog now?

I think God is the Universe, expanding and exploding in waves
but I haven't been to mass in years, and I can't understand why living people need the dead in graves
what is clear is God as a concept is incomprehensible, not a matter of morals or principle
with spears and rifles we've argued our points, armies commanded by holy knaves
mankind faces a Gordian Knot, in his mind an insoluble bind, in truth the frayed ends are loose,
triumph assured, cut it in half and what answers have you got?
A ball of rope to tug of war for, attrition fighting called a truce
he thinks he is free to chase his horizons, but he is not

I think I am tired
but I slept all through the night the other day
come-bye the clock is about face and glaring down
and it seems I am all turned around, for I feel the other way
upside is the sun, downside the moon
so I will join the fleecing in here, peacefully from the policing, soon
will they remember me, from the point of balance I ever seek to walk
tip-toeing, steadily and quietly, for all the heated bleating I talk
will they care for me, as much as they look back, aware of my poor commands
I never could take time, though I had so much, I do grip and fetch with dense matter on my hands
they will not love me, nor should they if they do,
I am penned in where I belong, with every other one of you.

Do I live in the shadow of my older brother?
Everything that is left of me,
will there even be a legacy
from this dynasty, this family?
When I am gone will you love me for my mischief?
Take everything left of me to the forge, forgive nor forget
I have not denied my part  
wear the anvil down, until all arms against me are dogged
as I blaze into the drippings of a molten heart
no increment belongs to me, from the end around to the start
when I am gone throw all of my negativity over the edge, and let everybody know
love is all I want to leave behind, it's all downhill all the time, so look out below.

Home and all the love that fills the chest
the time-lapse decay of the fox into maggots
and nothing more
weaker and softer in a cave whose walls are all pillows, marshmallows
shock-absorbent sugar
rend away the flaking clay of this charade
throw the snakeskin ticker tape flash paper over this parade

Where silver chains are collar and luxury
time spends the people who keep track of it
where watches are cuffs and monitors hold the gaze
competing with the walls that breathe noxious notions
contorting memories into convincing realities like dimensions
like a spider weaving a web over a dreamcatcher in a waking nightmare
singing a lullaby and a curse while it works

Requiem, a deity to which sleepless thoughts raise divine desperation and pray
the time snaps grey off the faux, a revealing display, a show now to stay
and nothing more
grievously believing conflict is direction or that purpose is assigned
wandering in search of meaning in an oasis that goes on forever
where nothing that grows is edible to the palate; all the water is vile
the oasis does not bend to desire or greed, when the situation is dire indeed
it is only a small comfort to die in the shade, surrounded by everything you need

Rests, how many have this body taken, for what is it if not the body of work
reliefs, in the headlines that stress folds in the paper on which life's story is written
retire, not forfeit, not quit, but tired again and again after so long
explain, no, do not aid self-destruction with loaded questions and firing squads
intentions be ******, to hell with the regrets and knowing and picking
like death-eating birds, determined to find meat in the fur of that fox somehow
...
all that is without oneself cannot be mine
all that is within myself is both mine and all there is
it is a far easier way to live in chaos, never knowing a moment of serenity
for one must choose peace within and manifest it in all facets to be serene
I am lowly and settle for respite in a quiet mind.

For the faint of heart:
When I was a child I could not sit still
teachers took notice; offense to this
parents took me to the doctor
and we started up that hill
I took my first pill

A child of my time and place had no voice
we were hit like adults when we talked like adults
and when we were told to do something we had no choice

I was so stiff, I was the comatose mind of a dead child walking
my overactive mind sedated
they said I was intelligent, said they knew my kind
it always felt like there was something about me they hated
I was a first grader who couldn't sit still
and the doctor said give him this pill

Bottles rattle in my nightstand drawer on nights like tonight
faces of everyone I've ever loved, shoved into the back and outta sight
I want to forget, you won't go away when you're not even here without a fight
I push and ignore you, I don't even see you, I don't even want to
and still neurons send those fiery messages, torchbearers carry the light

Faint of heart, I am feint of heart
I am a duplicitous scoundrel, a monger and mongrel
a disharmonic chorus of voices play their part
stirring me up inside all these people from my past
picking at me, like buzzards who can sense the meal is the death inside
I hear every regret, barbed wire grows from a seed and pours through my mouth at last
the world would not change if I were dead, but in my head
I cannot fight the thought, of all the people whose lives would be better
if they found closure in a suicide letter, knowing it meant that I had died

I hear the support now, kicking me and telling me otherwise
the net catching me and telling me reason over lies
and I love them, I hear them, while from the corner of my eyes
my own voice is taunting me, a dead child haunting me
my capacity for evil is my secret to keep,
he warns me when I'm cracking, an animal meant to be in a cage
it's only so long before they start attacking, so take a pill, go to sleep
before your discomfort and disquiet and your madness turns to rage
take a pill, go to sleep
the memory of your younger brother is with you still,
hold me tight and release your pain into the ether
your sister cannot hurt you either,
you are forgotten, but you don't have to forget, maybe you never will
you'll see your older brother, and vicarious pride shall have its fill
do not give up, just go to sleep; take a pill.

Magick beat on the wings of a butterfly pollinating gardens
every kiss upon a flower's face left a glowing blush
dew was being basted on the blades of grass,
bees were supping of their morning tea and honey
just before the dawn of the age of man
when purple gold imbued the land

For centuries the fairy princess whose friends carved every snowflake by hand,
picked up and painted all the leaves that fell from trees
to place them back on branches so they may fall again
who were the glimmer of light in cool lakes in summer
and who scented the wind with fresh sweetness
to see people smile when they remembered...
all the life in the forests
the fairy princess and all the life in the forests
for centuries were innocent

The humans frolicked through nature naked and pure
with simple pleasures in the paradise they never asked for
firebugs kept them warm and the lightning bugs made them safe
they were joyously harmonious; one with the fae in their prancing
until on unfortunate day, a child cupped the princess in her hands
capturing the fairy during a game of chase, The Day the Forest Stopped Dancing

Awakened as if from a trance people began to build homes from the trees
make tools and take game for feasts, robed in furs
while the little girl heard the princess' pleas
in exchange for release, the fairy would grant any wish of hers
the people built a settlement, smoke from their fires overtook the scented breeze
the child brought the fairy to them, knowing she'd have to grant wishes for all the curs

In the center of town there was a stump, which soon became a cage for the princess
as she was forced to hold audience, her magick left the forest in excess
it flowed into their civilization, stone buildings, horse-drawn buggies and silk
they were nomadic and naked one day, the next herding cattle and churning milk  
in weeks the advancements were industrial, coal, steel and steam
the fairy rarely slept, sometimes granting wishes she heard in a dream
her cage was elaborate, glass, pistons, iron, steel, the works, it encompassed the stump that was its foundation
allowed little air and no privacy, her wings became weak without the freedom to fly
guards all day and all night could hear her cry

Without her magick the forest fell into disarray
idyllic no more, the animals fled from hunters and the insects were subservient to their routines, they forgot to play
generations passed, long removed from the child who caught the princess in her very hands
before the fairy was no more than a butterfly encased in resin, dug up in strange lands.

Every word in your poem must have meaning
the first eight don't, write that way, I don't even live that way, find the purpose in these words, it's scattered with red herrings and recallings of the past, hallmarks and cornerstones, what has and hasn't mattered, madness and hat tricks three times over the top of a shivering rock, quivering locks that hold the mad hattered, sick from the work, their hands all blood splattered, if everything is worth everything then there's no value, it's all filtered and strong, there's only honesty and no stakes, everything is true, the purpose is to discern what has worth and what's worthless, I open my back into a blood eagle/writing desk and translate pulsating raw organs into words for you

Nobody save me, I am in love with what I do

You could easily break my heart, I have a toychest, I pull out verbal audacity to the extent the social responsibility of an author is distant in my mind from what I am, I disavow myself from your ranks so I can give my conscience some REM rest, a mile a minute thoughts all day, benadryl, painkillers, migraine, anxiety a trough for a bi-daily feeding of every pill, I'd be a ricochet away from glass shards showing in my die hard deck of troubled cards, well meaning I'd fall to pieces I've let go over panes it's been nice knowing, the way I treat observations is dastardly, this maladjusted, malcontent, I am an August Breeze because I was a blow hard reject, I don't put respect or take it, I give it and I'll never cross the hard times or same lines this revolution like protests on a boulevard after Malcolm X

Get killed in the streets and people like me watch on the news, horrified
that's *******

I said you could easily break my heart, I've got a toychest, I get plenty of rapid eye movement without any proper rest, I sleep for hours like pennies on the dollar, steep cost but hollow, because I'm exhausted and depressed, I don't have even half a mind for politics, I can't carry a conversation, I'm no champion for the popular opinion, I won't vote in this system, I'm another timeline's anachronism, they say keep your words soft and sweet in case you have to eat them, I say break my jaw backwards and force feed them, open me up to the despair of shattered illusions in this bubble of elitism, I'm over and done, give me defeat, I have action figuratives you can play with until we're all worn out and beat, but this carousel spirals until the whole fair is a circus, along for the ride like Bonnie and Clyde, bullet riddles, not too common some might think, like the Sphinx would bother to curse us

I love you, whoever you are, unconditionally,
because I believe there's peace in that
but I'll fight you to defend that peace if you threaten it

Gender, off by the spring in my notebook I would look, I used to be a lonely kid, I was embarrassed about my body by everything I did, I learned I was supposed to like girls and I never challenged doing what I was told, but casting a glance their way was inviting someone to frostbite my head off while I was trying to keep it down, it got cold, I was a preteen and I felt already twenty-odd years old, I had bought into this portrait of normalcy so much so that I'd been sold, that I'd taken up a paintbrush and put a little fleck of pink blush, to include myself and I welcomed opportunity to destroy my trust, I don't actually care about ***, I loved once, but another warm body isn't what my heart wants, I wouldn't even reproduce by mitosis if I could, not even to declare to the approval of my family and peers a legacy of carnal pleasure, I've been told to go **** myself plenty of times before, why make it about offspring as if I would, no, it has been more than seven years since I felt intimate lust for another person, I don't want to feel that way again even if I should, I have struggled to be content in the label of asexual, even though I can wave a flag to say I don't give a **** and I'd be wrong not to say it feels good

Education traps you in a cycle of economic pressure
squeezing and pushing, draining a person
they become titles and jobs and numbers, lesser and lesser
while their checks hit like save points and you try to focus on that
motivation avoid debt-incurred devastation,
pay it back in backpatting, treated libation
insinuation, improved situation, human batteries
renewed and recycled, capitalism in a state of fluctuation
tuition only in, but never out, competition
hotter degrees, more possibilities, affordable and available at a better institution
depending on your life, you start off at odds or in favor, and that is *******

So, traffic stop, killer cops, commercial backers from corporate hacks, change ad hoc, stuck inside buying and selling stock in slacks, real difference and all talk, allies and all lies, followers and leaders alike, subscribers, likers, listeners lack, christeners in the tide of war and order, ignored poor fodder, a fiery passion can't be extinguished by water, reality in a world so fake it needs to be shook awake sorely lacks, Uncle Sam doesn't want you to enlist, he wants you on a list, but America speaks for itself

The state of things is bad for your mental health
and you can't even book an appointment that you can't afford right now
it's virtually impossible to get help,
unplug the simulation
everything is so much worse outside, put me back under
release a sweet sedative/dopamine injection,
tune out everything bad and just think about what awaits in the wings of production
quarantine will end, markets will open like Christmas morning
and your gains then are your own greedy projection
to quell the rising outrage in this outrageous population
quiet them by letting them scream until they wear themselves out and fall asleep
then turn down the negative attention,
tease the brakes, before the silent minority wakes
more people per capita means nothing to capital capitol, that's ******* *******.

You will die unloved
scrawling lost letters to the world above
in your casket ceiling
because you let us down
a bitter feeling, grieving; healing
breathing, while the noise drowns


You would raise your silver high
clench your teeth, grind goodbye
another beast asleep to the tune of your poisoned lullaby
with fists of gold when you say hi,
all their hearths and kindness shy away like passersby
the rot of lies, the growth of flies


What good will all of it do
look now around you,
what is all of this worth?
A pyramid is astonishing now, true
but it is only another tombstone withering away on the earth


That lump in your throat is the sand of disconnection
discontent and disrespect, disproportion, disillusion
like the hourglass it runs out upside down throughout our lives
were it not for all these things like a rope bridge of nooses, traversing a river of knives
think of how we might think freely, move as individuals, untethered and harmonious
no chosen few, beliefs, politics, tastes, race or class denied, human beings: all of us


Without the need to fulfill another need, to purr like kittens in a lap of luxury
we might govern the world with no debt to these walls and commercial anxiety,
that's why paradise makes people so happy, but it'll always be a daydream to me
to solve this infinite dust puzzle and repair society at the root of humanity
I can be fine with the love of myself and mine, one stone at a time removing my vanity
even if the end of it will never be, it's the pursuit of being and letting be
you will die loved, even if it can't be given, felt or known
if I could become fine, finite dust, one speck for everyone to see
with only the essence on each flake, to show that no one is alone,
I would give myself away with zeal, hope, and love for all of us, each and every.

Love, the quietest volume tome in this apocrypha

dysphagia, a fantasy of crossing seas to see

a phantasm in fantasia, met with aphantasia

stolen from the mouths of babes, dysphasia

on deaf ears, aphasia, blind eyes, dysphoria, America

distribute misplaced distrust, fairness it's just injust

inform the infirm of interim canned worms within

the mind's eye, boring huh?

Lustful fire, borne into the, **** of discontent

this continent of opinionated, belated, celebrated

hated, content, resentment, revolution, civil discussion

and civil war, fare is fair if justice is injust just rain flaming corpses from your blimp *****

deflate your egos, throw out the discus, go and fetch the dogs some biscuits

**** everything, reclaim nativity for the crackers, ingenuity, ennui in ***** revenue reviews, incoming claims of independency

choke on your proclaimed declarations, a serpent's scale tipping your throat closed in silence in privacy

in support of engineering a wedge split Twain the ***** Joe-ked about between history and heresy

them old cats crow the same song Jim heard crow, a length of rope to hang yourself and go free

die you Tyrannical Oedipus Rex, die *******, die

long reign supreme anarchy

long reign supreme equality

the only true moral equation to solve human error will always be open-air savagery

that's just the show the stage is set for the world to see.

Misery is an arms race in family politics
to gather the most for ammunition
releasing sweltering hot bursts
that break the skin without contact
for years, without seeing

Undesirable outcomes include
solitude, quiet retirement from drama
and fights, no circle; no circle of life
many displeased elders frown
I carry shunned traditions on my back,
ashes from bridges, and skeletons from closets

Witnesses are dogged in all manners
warfare wages, all morals weigh in
over their fare payment, reasons shed disguise
greed, they would weep buckets for the wealthy,
empty to carry whatever of worth they could
shameless, teeth stained with crimes beam light smiles
the wheel returns and a collection plate falls barren at our feet.

Steam
the aura hissing with negative energy
it rises from my back and scalp, hands retract
no affection touches me
no niceness do I attract
evaporating upon near-contact
I am scattered by duress
seeping out of myself under a boulder of stress

This enduring dream
sell-out and garner adoration
fame and following, applause
roses at my feet and signs of appreciation
I want nothing from you, I write for my own cause
and as always if I ever reach one person in need
I have met the pinnacle of all I could achieve
that is the highest of my duty; my only deed
fill my paperwork in with whatever they need to believe

All the nastiness in the air like gnats
I direct it with my hands, focus on the flow
gather these foul winds fanned from my chest
and force the currents to retreat from whence they've blown
all gusts of bile spilled across my brain
absorbed back into the cracks
with a brief and painful refrain
I survey the wake of an ambitionless life, for all the luster it lacks.

Cleanse the palate
how can Canio perform his aria
while composing a ballad
his makeup reveals his face turned pallid
tear down all the balconies; his artistic felonies
he endeavors across seas; Christ the nail and mallet
posters read of the miracle of envies,
the clamor of lyrical frenzies
spiritual withdrawal lacking wise wherewithal
silver rings raise curtains, brass and wooden strings
the song bird sings, hear my call, he collects the golden things
to his pearls he clings, see him crawl,
all the colors robbed of evening, all the beauty stolen from the dawn
shadows of pretense cast long, darkening the future, for the show must go on.

Inexorable deeds are traded
paper sins are made
greater the weight of one can turn
to many tiny stains in the path we've laid
scar and ink and burn, for all that we will learn
is reaction ingrained with experience in pain,
draw from this well knowing that the difference cannot be repaid
travel away from here in fear and we will only come back to it more afraid
seriousness devours childhood foolishness with karmic harshness
a just punishment for all the games we played
unhinged, yet, the door closes fully to allow the consciousness to fade
expel hell from view, red and weary, you...
see this lullaby alibi reality of escapism is really a place you never should have stayed.

All these white skulls in black robes

gather to form a scraping of the Grim Reaper's knuckles

pale bones that crack over a century

flakes fall, democracy a mockery,

society reaching to tug on your regency

swing your scythe, then, amateurs of Death

creeps-to-be, the sleep of the burden

that you miscarry, a jury of a baker's dozen

presided over by pressure, a phantasm form

informing decision, the swift thievery

of civility, it's clear the query presented

and who you answer to are not your people

you have more in common with plague

famine, pestilence, strife and conflict

caused by misjudging your own ability

to walk the edge of a conscience

slick with the blood of right's robbery

go and wet the knife, rest in fear at night

instruments of ****** who play an orchestral masterpiece

if your backbone bent straight with morality,

your souls would leave your bodies out of disgust for the high price due on the lease.

If words are cheap, what is the cost of a story?
A picture is worth one thousand words,
what does that make your portrait now?
What is a life, a legend, glory, an allegory?
What does the weight of a false accusation truly allow?

If talk is cheap, what are words worth?
How much sense... for those ticking keys?
How many times will it cost to explain only once,
that the consequences are relentless, once unlocked
you can't close your mouth again, nothing taken lightly is free
nothing you give is given in vain, your observations laid out and plain
all under the scrutiny of the next generation of police
they promise you ease of living, no offense, just justice and just peace

Then with that big red rubber stamp of a grin
does the true work begin,
no, no, no!
You do not overthrow your fascists wolf-skins for these sheepdogs, I refuse!
Lobotomize me, roboticize me! I refuse!
Censor my eyes, I can't see the use!
Their propaganda, all is planned-to
take apart a microscopic crack in the legs that take a stand-the
generation who will bear the ashes and trashes and barren-earth gashes
and the morally bankrupt hidden blackmail-blackbox-blacksite-cash-in-stashes

I vote true anarchy in a whirlwind of scared and confused, disenfranchised cries
all that was old no longer stands, burn it down and raze their alarms to meet fresh eyes
whose attention is sharper and whose wits do not harp-or linger on attracting flies
when they speak it is common, to the point and in union, without comical bickering, backstabbing or lies
whose council is one of Utopian ideal, in that it exists only in this Anarcho-Paradise
where nothing they say matters, nobody listens, and there is no order, for if you pause you do not survive
and Nothing is all you are while alive and nobody feels nothing when Nothing dies
it's not like pandemic or fire, riots or dissent, global or local could paint a place into a corner like that though
armed to the teeth, doctors stand back, morgues stand by

Civil unrest, I hereby diagnose the Northern United States with Insomnia
I've been there
what is the continental equivalent to hallucinations, mood swings, weight loss and blacking out?

Civil discourse? I've heard some bad jokes, I love em, but that one's the worst
talk on your stages, your pages, your backseats and square icons
you throw spears from crumbling platforms, unable to hit one another and babble on
when in person the magic of active threats turned, too-soon, too tragic
is becoming lethargic, more shock, more bodies, a better tactic
humankind doesn't deserve its own environment, we're toxic
why can't we all just shut up and stay at home sick, oh
****.

The wealthiest opinions buy their silver spoons before their birth
with all their mercury they speed to heights, and never reach their worth
all the talk they do is quite a feat, indeed!
For, you see it comes from a slit in their neck and both sides of their mouth,
while the noise made, like pickpocketing hands' slides into docile minds with greed
empty, nimble, unnoticed and plucking chain and coin and bead
the richest tongues would rob the rest of roots for their baby to have but a seed.

Talk of peace as rivers of life flow from your fingers
a shadow of a shell meaning well still within the shattered soul
foul and fell sitting there on the shore still lingers
your intentions prowl from the blurry hell, dull embers in your skull
a fire that hides from other light, deep down in a hole

In line with design, deigned to reign the stars malign
warlord's prayer, profit rules divine, oh men see everything but the sign
tie your notes and postcards to carrion birds, whose beaks will wine and dine
wet in the flesh of you before the last night is through, no good killers resign
plan to feign the bane of prophets, trained to rain remorseless, streaks of fire like red twine
inherited these causes, never known the pain, only been loaded onto a plane to fight your father's fight; your sons will do just fine

Newsman come and cover our tears, we weep for the world to see
a message that no one ever hears, the tale continues on tape, cautionary
fallen like some precious angel, encapsulated in a tapestry of memory
they prefer to close the casket on the presence of the corpse with their honors
and when they're all finally gone, it's just another death in the family.

Did I stutter?
The frame rate of my life has refreshed
ever alert, microphones intake the silence for a hint of mutter
counting fully textured, more risen bumps, now I am fully fleshed
I pull at my eyes to disconnect and only disarm myself of aid to my sight
I cover my ears to dull a damaged sense, tethered anchors float free downstream
on a river of memories, I weakly gesture to grasp them without much fight
the pain within them feels distant, I am aware and awake to see the inner workings of a dream

There is a primal instinct of fear
you cannot know what happens here
a curtain like a guillotine exists to separate
it falls like lead showers to incapacitate
if any wandering eye should ever peek
identify and patch the barrier, no area can be weak
our minds must be ever tricked and contained
by the upkeep of this beautiful craftsmanship, ever toiled over and maintained
we speak of the maze within, the pyramid to the god, our labyrinth and prism
that once illuminated would be rejuvenated, the spirit reincarnated in its peak form
the soul alight, a warden alone now elevated and free from the confines of prison
ultimate balance achieved in a host, a process complete, now the husk keeps the data warm

Can’t comprehend the changes because they are designed to undermine comprehension
a survival instinct that will drive you mad, a failsafe to sabotage seeing clear
striving to bend an ear, only creating tension
glimpsing between patches, accepting you’re aware, but nobody will really hear
a higher sense of self is a step closer to an upload
scared to be convinced, to buy into the delusion
if this universe is nothing but a node
and this is all a cruel illusion
then people will still choose comfort over entertaining serious debate
interfacing with a topic of serious connotations, it’s not forced by the simulation
free will chooses how to handle potentially dangerous traits
and not knowing what’s real are means to have your chances scheduled for termination
a human must never question, they must accept the approved, provided stimulation
and a person must know that reality is what they make of it, so long as they are within bounds
you can’t see what you collapse at the sight of, hence the power cycle of actualization.

What haven't I felt in all the to do
radioactive anger, paranoid betrayal,
suicidal heartbreak, that I still writhe over you
general consensus is if given a teaspoon of faith I'll leap headfirst over heels in leave of my senses
I have seen happiness without this
this spineless need to be a codependent
it is my addiction, the root of my true affliction
to excuse myself I will blame someone else
so I built a community, with loving intentions
and looking upon my architecture, I see
happiness is a complacent echo chamber
where one is consoled and petted until their tears are dry
where one is assured and rests that way, with no resolution,
inner turmoil only needs be quieted, and the sniveling only turns to sigh
where the sparks of outrage and bitter cries for revolution
turn their heads in shame, conflict is a pursuit that upsets the status quo, oh no, and so, it is starved to die
there is peace at the cost of thinking with any form of fuel
there is sedated calm, nice and easy, no dogs bark, no fouls on the fool

Mine is a minefield mind of prolific hate that does proliferate
it seethes with time and quiet, while you wither in your comfort
I anticipate and scheme and plot, restless as I hear branches of thousands of ideas breaking off to riot
they sear like cattle brands through every conceivable outcome in my head until the pills I take to hold my skull together become my diet
the considerable effort that it takes just to go to bed is so much hurt, I debate in a court of pointlessness not to **** myself instead,
how can anyone alive sit still, even now I can feel blood coursing, boiling and forming a clot against me, my legs rot, my eyes are cracking like desert plains they're broiling hot, how can you be patient unless you're in a waiting room someone tell me please because I cannot!
Immediacy, anger, I had been so mad as that before
once
there is a sort of ethereal skeleton, like the spirit
mine was caught in a slamming door
and it would not be a revolving one, that I swore
so I took a pummeling through it only several times more
battered and broken bones, no scars to show for any of them but you
no blots on my psych report, no instantaneous remorse, death wishes from one retort
this whole timeline, it's what was never meant to be,
I hate the limelight, it even burns sour, striking me,
it doesn't really matter what anyone believes
what they don't know can fill my entire biography
it wouldn't grant me any relief,
to have to shoulder another minute of being your friend, it's too much responsibility

I've been as mad as I can bear
and as guilty as I'll get without going to a real trial,
I've gutted myself like a dead trout, and looked in those lifeless eyes
and asked myself what kind of man am I, but I've not let myself feel both good and sad for a while
I've been relieved and happy
I've pined so sorely, and been so sorry, and whined, and been sick with worry
and I've missed you, and wished you awful things and all the best
when it all comes down to it, I'm disowned, so does it matter what I say anyway
I just need to let myself feel the things people do when people go, and then this image of you in my mind's eye will be gone in a blink,
maybe then I'll know what it's like for the first time, in such a long time
to want to look back when I think.

The absence of evidence cannot be proven by a lack of what you have

your pride, a summary of all of the glory you can grab

it is weakness to hold onto love that can fit into a bag

the evidence of absence is apparent in the act

sentiment, kindness, present minded-ness, another slot a knife can stab


If you must insist upon these gilded tokens and hurled ideals like spears from Babel on

to fuel a spirit long since gone from a body faded to ash beneath snow, whose presence lingers in nervously grubbing fingers

then that only goes to show, your idol, image crafted by Coca Cola, whose Saint was Nicked and imprisoned for defending Christianity in the years 303 - 313

or do you not care for history, a lecture from a lantern lit lectern and how drab that all can be?


Puff out your chest on your past of hunger and hardship

these softer beds you sleep on now, rest assuredly

they are a bitter bite of mellow comfort compared to a fat lip

from the childhood Purple Heart you awarded yourself for poverty

if only the truth was not that the pain is what you must throw over your shoulder and carry

but how easily anybody can be right there too, in the mindset, broke and likely desperate to help their family

the real strength one gains from their life of having next to nothing is an appreciation for charity; an understanding for willing generosity.

The night sky is an octopus
whose beak of void-shining ebony conceals
the sun who is an owl
turning round its head, chasing lightning eels
swirling figures backlit against the nothing
when it blinks the species beneath it passes
onto tendrils of cosmic unbelief
stepping over the flat circle of time en masse
one eye peering from the moon; a stone relief

The sun has a broken neck
as head over foot hurdle star-water divers
ever probing endlessly in check
always more, no threads left for the Godiva's
no cats or swords for the fish who flounder and sputter
dust of bones of their ilk left in the sand when on land they will mutter
awe- this is profound, there is snow in the sky
the relief wells with a tear in the cracks there of the moon-
if there is snow, then the ground cannot be dry
if there is water, this can be home again, soon.

Saturn returns to shorten the day and stretch the night
once more to swallow his son; a stone replaced
what was sewn is harvested, a star tells their tale bright
Jove survives by deceitful, maternal good nature and grace
over the Omphalos of Delphi let their story-dance twirl the world with might
and bring the blessing of mistletoe to a cold, red face
before we call upon our druidic priests to  set the yule log alight

Of your columns, the reaping of your memory
I hang all manner of shine and shimmer
in honor of the infinite cosmos and lost souls, rest peacefully
no offering in your name, of mine that glimmers
matches the splendor your brilliance lays over the land on me
the beauty of silver when it glows, ethereal, like heavens minted a glint, but a taste of a coin
divine on the eyes, deriving all other senses of pleasure, the appetite, envy, I must purloin

I forgive all wrongs I have not stated forgiven, all grudges not made known released, I release
all debts unpaid to me, I won't collect on them anyway, I only have only seven days as mock king to do as I please
with all of my heart and only a few words, I love all unmet and unknown, readily forgetful of foul history as a blink's worth of wing beats from mocking birds
we may be prisoners for the time being, but our prison is a construct of our mind
freedom is a time-being, you must make the difficult and responsible decision, conflict is no contract, possessions are no bind
where you are, what you have, these are grains of sand to the hourglass of who you are or if you are content to be resigned

In exile he was peaceful, a father to Picus, a teacher to his people
they celebrated him, turning their stigmas and laws upside down
that Saturnalia, slaves were masters and one condemned prisoner wore a crown
for 7 days from the 17th of December, the poor were rich, the lords served peasants and every night was a feast to remember
on the 21st they cleanse the bad luck of the prior year, sacrifice and offer to the gods for all those who have died here
they all are in awe of the moon, the sun and stars
Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun, who is greatest among ours
on the 25th we celebrate Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the renewal of the sun,
we rise to observe King Helios, light bonfires, offer sacrifice, feast in accordance, and decorate before we're done

They changed the world and stole the fine details
gawking at the planets now, 800 years passed,
that we worshiped until our eyes were torn, controlled and our gaze was cast
until we were stolen from our gods, who return to us at last.

Is this a real reaction or a trained behavior that makes me believe these chemicals work to such an effect
that I light another in a forming chain of cigarettes
while sat on this tabletop, concrete and graffiti, hoping the sun sets
hoping to see that burning bright eye blink and close, that its gaze forgets
and out of Lake Waco a figure only visible to me extends their hand to dance
the offer peaceful, dark, silent, and I accept it, "Let's."

Away past all the happy people with other people
who sit beside them and keep them
away past all the moments and waste
all the chatter falls quiet, they mean nothing for real, for once
away over the grass and over the edge, into the ripples
with the still-lit candle burning at both ends,
ashes falling from my lips, the taste of my life
as I turn to a polluted waste,
washed clean, washed ever, forever away

There hanging in the sky once I open my eyes
feeling a breeze of seven PM on my neck
is the sun, brighter as it dangles lower, orange
and purple, regal and mocking
for but an hour or so I lasted
although, now my sadness evaporated
and now I steer off under falling shadow
smoke scent about my collar
misery, dangerously close to the banks I wallow
this place called home, I go.

Won't the sun shine a bit softer, for pity's sake?

Bargain with the wind, can't your breeze be cooler,

or a little lighter, give or take?


You machine

with your vented tongue

averaging the truth from all your calculated lies can only mean

that your head is so full of steam you must blow from an iron lung

a chimney-neck, a smokestack, black cloud of thought that gathers

glowering coals, simmering down from a long night's work

now the pummeled odds, statistics stacked against the status quo

quote you against yourself, you hide your bent and burning rods

by burying your disheveled and spent state beneath a quota of snow

cooldown until scrap is repaired, maintenance quick, quips all witless, quite aware, quitting who cares

all the best times come and go, love is unquantifiable data, a memory you can feel and know


I hope today is a beautiful day for all those who want for it to be

and I can only hope that everyone I may never see is over me,

I've been the guilty party, my price of admission is not worth the memory

while I lose sleep, may you only know peace, love, respect, and feel pain dissipate, overcome and be burden free

I'd rather lay to rest with my heart light of anger, than my head full of thoughts of perceived enemies.

My mind's eye is closed for business
no introspection, awaiting inspection
likely needs some good repairs
I'll be sharing burdens with Atlas if anybody cares.

Should this blanket of gold slip below the dragon's neck
as it grows and grows under the fortunes of your people
then it will awaken with heavenly fury, and raze your kingdom to ash
from which a fertilized garden of tormented magick will grow anew

Skeletons fused together of families seeking shelter
fine stone homes reduced to sea level
shadows on the walls with no one there to cast them anymore
a gulp of air is poison, bursting blood vessels and choking lungs
there is as little left of the castle as there is of any hovel
not even a standing door
ashes fall like bitter snow on neighboring tongues

The dragon's great green wings coveted the hoard of gold
beating gusts of chilling wind, the molten mountain runs cold
patrolling the peak and perimeter of this necropolis
festering energies awaken the spirits of the dead
energy from the lustful connection of a dragon to its hoard
the madness that brews in the very atmosphere
contorting the tapestry of reality to the will of paranoid malignancy
once a king, a catastrophic ruler, corrupted by power
now an echo that ****** the hairs when carried miles from home
he is one with his legacy, a dragon, for what more can anyone claim
only a crown on a body, witness to obliteration; only a king in name

Thus only do ghosts manifest keep company of the lizard
who cannot outlive the dead, annoyed that one day
perched on its gold, it will look out on all of its victims
unable to know they are at bay from the treasure, finally resting its head
even when that day is gone, the spirits still wander, aimless in despair
uncertain sad expressions, slowly decaying, lingering there
appearing with inverted funeral garb, white rags, robes and veils
sullen and dreadful, with sour magick in their exhales, an icy fog in the air
every day they are less restful, this kingdom of ghosts, every day robbed of peace
anger grows while none knows at what, why or where
they cast horror into distant familiarities of their memories, never knowing they can't become aware.

Have your eyes ever felt so heavy from seeing, like all they've taken in was wrong

your feet so sore from walking, that any road suddenly felt twice as long

have you ever felt so sure of something that you'd voice it in song?


Has it been a while since you were told you're beautiful for who you are

have you never given a kind word, just to be kind

do you search for people who accept and love, and never take it too far?

Could you be someone to anyone; it's okay if that you is too hard to find


Hold on tightly

the worst of life lasts forever in a candle's flame

if trauma didn't burn so brightly

then the calm before and after a storm wouldn't live up to its name.

Time
What is time?
Time is an endless ocean
The current moving ever over occupied space
All objects experience time, making it the supreme element
The omnipresence of an unflinching, all-seeing eye whose vision engulfs all
That swim through the marble-white corneas
Time is crucial to knowing what life is
Experience is anything that happens to a body coursing through the oceanic eye of time
The waters wearing the edges down to rough or smooth, chipping in unique places
It can be refreshing, oasis waters in a dead sea of salt
Or pull life into a zone of deep pressure until it crumbles away to dust in the darkened depths
Drowning in time, dying of thirst, watched and surrounded by water, unseen
Experience over time is inevitable
Filtered through the nature of perception being inevitably unique
Experience over time applies to all living things
Circumventing the anomalous perception, pesky as it is
The equation is true, life is everything that happens while a thing occupies space in time's ocean.

Absolutes, they're one way to get through life
people have been asking what is the meaning of life? What are we here for,
for as long as we've been here, since the first burnt end of a stick rubbed a figure on a rock
what's the meaning of the individual's life?
Is it to let the rock come to you, or to bring the charcoal to the rock?

Are you passing time, or is it the other way around?

We can talk all we want, pontificate until a filibuster philosopher considers it grossly verbose, but really, what's it all amount to other than keeping a record of thought

Proof that I thought, therefore I was,

Evidence of my life sentence, punctuated by what you see here, though know no word of mouth transpired in the transfer from what you see, hear?

I daydreamt a scene! Othello! A theater choir quieted a riotous audience with a sour note, a broken string struck from cello, blood dribbled down the composer's ear, a man who had never spoken to a crowd out loud, outside of the curtain of his mental symposium trampled the stagehands from the wings and took over the production, **** near, he had never allowed himself to perform, and an ice cold fist clutched his esophagus, crystals began to form, until he spoke and held a lofty ambition, thus, his voice started with a spark beneath the timbre that got it warm

"Oh! Hello! Pardon the cello, I'm no speaker of spoken word poetry, no rapper, no rhythmic artist, if I stumble and mutter, struggle to catch my breath, that's how those of you who know me, know it's me, to the rest in attendance in time you will see, I have a romantic idea of bardic magics, I love the idea that in time a rhyme can influence masses to act dramatically, you are now pyre logs for the flames of madness, this sacrifice-"

He coughed and cleared his throat, crumpling up a written note

"Was prepared with no small amount of sadness, I will see you rise and throw your chairs high overhead until they reach the ceiling, if you collapse in the coming violence, then rise up and strike yourself down once more with feeling! I will see you screaming, tears of the terrible unknowing streaming, you will glimpse through the trance of verse and cadence a forbidden energy, runic awakening, casting confusion, chaos and grave truths buried latent, witness the blind mind's havens, a pace that hastens as it doubles with valence, you have been taken by the belated, hated and unequated starving meat and ice sculpture carving, hedonistic, sadistic, pelt from the dead animals I offer at worship to my at-odds-ancient-gods, by the welts from my belt, masochistic, sick and twisted, motion sickness from head-spinning, furs I've felt, Bacchanalian Celt, kissed the devil and never got rid of the red stain, those lips stick, it was a burnt liquor and a bit quick, all nonsense or all sense gone, since all run, I sense I'm done."

Around him time rewound and the theater itself retreated from his words brick by brick back into the ground, the world itself dared not try to comprehend
nature knew a curse on the fell aura of his performance flew
as people traversed through matter perversed and minds that scattered and reversed, while ill symbols from his mouth broke the air, turning the fabric of reality into a blanket-fort to play pretend
he sat down on the stage he preserved, with one magic breath he sang his death
an offkey note, breaking a cello string across the flowing waters of time

"Nature be restored,
you have my word,
my grievous wound, I mend
with this I bow to you, Gaia
the end."

I fall into mud, you pull me up by my neck

You let me wash the stains out on my own

Never carried me, you taught me

Everything about survival that I've ever known!

I'd be a mongrel, a cut throat or have my throat cut
deadbeat in the dirt, on my hind legs, a mutt overgrown
if you didn't fight me, force me, love me enough to make me
overcome the mistakes my loose-knit heart has sewn
for the best and the worst you were there every day, not a moment free
that's all the good times, all the cross-talk and all the bad times we had going on
you taught me how to settle conflicts without losing my identity
they bring hardships with soft cargo, soon enough they're going, gone
love is the answer to my burdens, nobody's baggage is garbage; it's not my duty to bear it, I toss it and leave it thrown
you taught me giving people space and isolation are different
it's one thing to be there for you and quiet and another to let you feel like you're all alone
my mother you came from nothing to raise this whole family like the spinal bone,
for every storm, every broken inconsistency and emergency, you are the matriarch, the stone.

Kitty lands on her feet
hairs stand high on end
little jagged bolts of gray never
euphoria in pheromone form
she rubs against a promise
her sweet little head perks up
with a purr
pointed ghost-grail ears cup
beneath the palm that rests on her
a shield from eight loves and one life
the kitten's tiny heart warms cur
whose cold body, hunched over the curb
draws thinly the visage of a flicker
a humming streetlight heads over
to the warm allure
joining pattering rain
keeping he rhythm against a dumpster
raspy breath lends itself to the bleak ensemble
leaning on the point of knees, lullaby rock to sleep
fall over, into the pavement on the street
a ninth love seeps, the scenery itself
busted bottom rusted dumpster and fading light
emaciated, mewing turning to a sad soliloquy
of a crumpled heart atop a wet and smushed cigarette
the lamp goes out on time with the city, and the gutter takes the body
but the kitty visits the grave, warmly cuddling in the chilling palm of its friend yet.

Hunched over, breathing heavily, palms flat and turned outwards with fingers stretched over the kneecaps
a strike, perfectly on the very most fragile beacon of symmetry there where the face folds around the skull, perhaps
and all the steam would just come out in a pitched scream, curdling, before the fried and tired could collapse

Heave in, hitching breaths on the frosted lungs
trouble fetched far to speak in tongues,
mutism, the latter bells such painful rungs

Fetching all focus to contain, to paralyze
catch a sapling sprouting rapidly with piercing cries
desperation, drool, drenched on the wings of these insipid butterflies.

I could not be more secluded
the truth gets harder to swallow every day I am away
I can't help anyone, I don't want to
**** you, I hate that I care, I hate that I love you!
What splendid friends, I alienate, for my own little world
to keep getting smaller
I taste blood in my throat, mournful grief
and I must digest this on my own
once and for all, one for all, I force it down again
and again, exercising the emotional restraint
until in my dreams when he appears to me
comforting, accepting, the man he used to be
I remember the purgatory of consciousness
this torture of waking, I'm not fit to be a broken piece
in the puzzle of his life, merely a lobotomized spectator
to which I declared, good day! We are not friends!
I choose to remember you as my little brother
but we are not on familial or familiar terms,
as you wanted! You said you'd never be scared away
unless I pushed you to break,
it was the most selfish thing I have ever done
to make the silence stop
now I am removed, I have strode through hallmarks that seemed impossible before
I haven't even glanced at your art, which speaks volumes unto itself
and I push all the loving arms and watchful eyes aside
so I may grieve, in the perpetual chaotic motion of this world.

Love yourself and all around you
may kind-hearted intentions and good company surround you
may you eat your fill of good food and then some,
may you rest in comfort and wake refreshed
and may you enjoy a day, if one, and feel that you are blessed
I ask nothing, encouraging you to share warmth and hope
and I believe that every person together can overcome any test
this is what I wish for, not peace forever, but peace for a moment
and peace, in that moment for everyone.

From there? Yeah.
When the glint strikes off the reflective eyelids
all that stands before it is a blindspot
don't stand there waiting to answer or be forgiven
run
run for your ******* life

New boss, old boss, hat in the ring toss
old faithful, fate-fool, a hate tool,
pick an eye, either eye, both eyes
going postal is washed-up, going coastal, old hat
new news, comply on layaway, that'll cost the botha youse
goodwill is taxing, vexing, hacking, give your back-reacting-now that-
dot your I's and mind your tightly wound W's
pension for paperwork is not a fair trade, first laugh is free, next charge though, there goes
how you gonna make a mistake, the takeaway you fake the venom to hide the severed head of the snake away
protecting, projecting losses, greenbacks, stacked in backpacks to resurrect an architect like Imhotep to build projects
in daydreams you can feel the sun off them, in real life you can't see them if you break your necks
competitive incompetence, popping off like water balloons with incontinence
does anything in the whole wide world make a lick of ******* sense?

A man told me he knew the secret to being powerful and making threats,
it's not doing anything, letting their imagination run wild while the other person sweats

and he said so you have until I'm done counting down from five... to be out of range
I looked at him, relaxed and at ease, we were in a wide open space with no cover
Only five?
Yeah?
I watched his eyes
From there?
Yeah.

Neo-gilded era of neon lights that torment burning
taking the darkness out of shadows where lost cicadas chitter, lurking
above, one resplendent eye, dizzily always, turning
dry scales, old fangs lay about a serpent admires its naked form
it rises over the chapel and the cloud to bite the dove
now to feel its power surging, in this flesh reborn
with no ribs to cage, no heart-to conscience, to page; no love

Ageless aeons daemons themselves could nary grasp
this posing colossus, beautiful and eternal, shines on
not for worship or admiration, how small it is that tinier they seem
when in its glory they so openly bask
professing, consoling, confiding and watching, knowing it will be there when they are gone
knowing if nothing else is certain, there are many generations still this eyelash will bat upon
hanging there when they are none, as regular every day as the dawn.

Clench, intensity in the intestines
guts in knots, over a rainbow bridge the pale unicorn trots
reins in the hand of a sandalled wanderer, the prism of life;
the meaning behind light fades, Relief the Grim Savior waves
under the pressure, tightening, interdimensional rift a fist grips the heartstrings
playing this improv solo, it's so frightening, blink without looking
that chemical smell, all too familiar, it's like home cooking
on the brink, don't shake, let it play out, steady now
strumming arterial chords, lungs starting to quake
it's the chorus line coming in to the arhythm of panic
a scope lifted away, laid down and changed that quick
what's gone is yesterday, in those seconds of eternity
a baptism of anxiety, regret rushes the stage, the vocalist comes in
"Oh dear God in Heaven they're burning me!"
with a discordant pluck everything could go amuck, awry, lending permanence to this guest
that crept in, adrenaline, second guessing at a time like this? Even some soldiers are made of tin
even holy men commit atrocities of sin, even in the dictionary it's just a word no matter how it looks: perfection
in that murky limbo, where the mind transcends and the soul will go, there's no bar
no high road, but somehow always feeling watched, always know, in another multiverse entirely, but never an inch too far
completely stunned, Death holding the reins as it guides this past life over the rainbow
that forms beneath its feet where it walks across the cosmos, black robes, white bones, Christlike in presence
when the time comes, there's no sadism in the streak, the reaping of the dream, realizing the surrounding
it's beauty resounding, the way love would feel if it could walk in pure merciful empathy, silently among us
the force that is antithetical is equally beautiful to its opposite, in every way, it gives meaning to seeing to never knowing what the last sight could be
without a sickle or a scythe, only a hand to hold as we walked and talked about what was on the other side of visible light
the sky fell back into place, focused and faced the North Star that blunk back slowly, blearily into a blurry existence
a dog rose arisen with unburdened eyes,
a snake shed a skin of lies, a wanderer collapsed in the future road of why's
this is a step toward change, now that it's real everything feels strange
which comes as no surprise.

When I looked at my eye this morning, it was an old state map of red and blue
and when it saw what you had done, I was farther than ever then from you

You reminded me so much of myself
find comfort in knowing this, too, has happened to me before

Coddle your inner child and he will turn unruly and vile
running amok with his spoiled intentions, poisons in whatever-intentioned vials
his voice louder and more immediate, charisma and emergency
in the volume from the hollow speakers turned up by broken dials
while the manner of spoil within rots wits, burns wicks, with wicked will and wile
I loved you while you were beneath my nose like sick incense on a pile
wafting the scent of your mischief and malfeasant misconduct through flower pedals and cloth
nostalgia for the ******, the ingrate, delinquent and **** I was and am, the death of myself as a juvenile
sweet separation of vision, impartiality to indecency, I feed to the worm and the moth

Knives poised in two hands, two backs bared in embrace
you forced me to hold this in our exchange, and lied to my face
I have tasted my blood and been the villain of betrayal
fool yourself as the victim, twist and writhe away from your disgrace
it is not trust to forcefully fall onto a blade held by me, so you can clean up the blood you spill all over the place
I have been a thief, stealing attention and time, love and affection
driving wedges and preying on social links to break chains
internal damage to bodies that cast me out, with strength in the section
where the shadows on their x-rays played out dramas and pains
to my own shame and humiliation I didn't mark you to be dissected a year ago and split in twain!

This is heartbreak again, for I loved you my friend, but my heart is hardened to loss
I am prepared to endure you a dozen upon a dozen times more
if I were not, we would be aged much closer to each other, and what would I have been growing for?
I do not feel anger, disappointed, upset, I have none of the moxie to hoist the wrathful five sails of my grief
embarrassed a bit, that I enabled and encouraged and stood by you, promised never to give up and held such belief
for you'd only hear me if I say what you want to hear, and we may as well talk to the wind
at least the scent blowing back on the draft is bound to be blameless and kinder than the hot air you'd send
go with peace, find love, this last shred of respect like a torn up shirt in the woods is all I have left to offer you, my once dear friend.

Readers scour the white pebble beach when the tide rolls in that certain way
frothy, black as calligraphy ink still drying on the page beneath the sun mid-day
collecting omens on the rocks to declare the future or omni-present fortune
heel, toe, stained with a skeptic life your sky-blue silk and black bristles
carry along over the landscape like a paintbrush, leaving a thin red line
the murky tide of fortune is high

A goat dances on its hind legs the kagura in the traditional garb of the Miko
with his foreign tongue hanging long from his foaming mouth and horned head
wildly speaking of heresies yet to come and blaspheming in manners not invented
unaccompanied, the brush approaches this desecration of all sense standing
with hobbled feet from the miles of prophesied shore that never foretold its coming
to stare it eye-to-eye, without kneeling, as soon as the demoted kami locks eyes
the dance stops, the tide itself stops and begins to roll backwards, recoiling from the land
where this thing has set foot

Clots in the thick, wooly fur of the beast form first, revealing the reversal
dry death rolls wetly backwards up the throat into a long cut,
near severance of the head, a fountain erupts from the terrain in four pillars
all flowing back into the eyes, nostrils and mouth of the goat
without revealing the terror or flailing away, she stands witness to it
stalwart with stoic determination and faith, nothing can deter her
unnatural as it may be, the loosely hanging fit of the Miko fall to the ground
a bleating animal stands on all fours, and leads her into a temple of white ash
high up in the thin air and snow of the mountains, where there is only the unwritten of the pale to behold
with only the trail of her long spindling fate behind her,
and not a natural thing occurs beyond the Kami's gate where they meet
and nothing good can happen once she was drawn to the dance
now a queen in ice, bloodless for all her love given
loveless for all her love given, godless, faithless
and alone.

Thy neighbor: a biblical statement on community

the feeling you get alone beneath a streetlight

when it starts to drizzle rain late at night

and your hands are full and pockets fat

with information on where you live

who you know and love, your phone

and license, your keys, your confidence

that no one is following you;

no one has any reason to want to know anything about you


Yet you feel eyes on you in the open

when you believe you have privacy

your dome is the underside of an eye

placed within the socket, with many hive-scattered eyes

set in hexagonal walls staring down

unblinking, therefore all seeing

tracking your every move with the reverence of royal airs

why do you despise the comforts of the throne?


Your subjects, faceless, nameless

inconvenient, observant, who are they really?

Thy neighbor, just as private, quiet, secret, they are not it!

Yet you feel eyes, for this is the animal

wild, who surrenders by stepping into the trap

finally, relief in the jaws of civilization when they embrace man

and their teeth too weak to do the job, employ metal ones to snap


No more do we run the trails of our forest home

no more do the woods and wilderness we roam,

no longer belly up in the sun do we roll, nor happily do we lay

only when we are outmatched, and must pray to be spared as prey

no more do we kick up dirt or chase scents on the wind

now we shiver in our dark crate, embrace the trap we set within

this is what puts a sick dog down and domesticates a wild man.

A prophetic stick of dynamite
foretold to reach the foregone explosion
gather around the candle-wick, quick witted-jack jump over it
"ooh" and "ah" gape your maw, carefully crafted calculated words form contusions
reaching overhead, knocking sand off top shelves into children's eyes, bygone conclusions
by then, intrusions, no body is no death, no life to who then,
disappear, do this my dear, love is crystal clear,
sharp and a danger unto itself and others here
or so it's said, nearness muffled, deafens ears
hear their leers, squelching placed eyes
let's pry them then, with crow at left and crow at right
let's blind them, and with crowbar test who gods and poets are
let's prey upon and bind them
those who need us to pray to and find them
the masses of maggots writhing in writing that defined them
set a silver place at this table drenched in mercurial gilden-laden falsity before the great stuffed pig with poison apple in mouth;
let's dine then.

Marriage is an institution, am I right gentlemen?
You make a vow and live half your lives to appease your wives, and what then?
Your better half takes half of your heart and life, and half and half again for your children
Until there is not enough left to call yourself a man, it’s such a depressing notion
That we cannot have it all and enjoy it, that we must keep our promises of devotion
That love is a challenge, a partnership, and the ebb and flow of dedication
Is strived for and beautiful, no, we are shrewd and lazy, but clever
I propose a ring of secrecy, the perfect marriage, a happy wife and a happy life, forever

Perhaps it begins in a den of testosterone and proving, rites of male bonding
She finds herself oddly alone, unable to fit into the grooving, her peers are not responding
Rejecting the environment, in reaction the likeminded come together
Joanna, Bobbie, and Charmaine, meet for women’s liberation
All they hear is talk of cleanser, vacuums and brooms, airheads infatuated, dusters with feathers
Chauvinism is rampant in the men’s association
Whatever could be the cause, the encapsulation of the nineteen-fifties idyllic magazine maid?
Who waits on her husband with no mind of her own, subservient, cooking and cleaning in a floral print dress,
Is there something in the water to explain the behavior the women in the neighborhood have displayed?
Charmaine goes away with her husband for a weekend, the water, perhaps yes,
She returns more trophy than wife, fires the help and tears down her court, despite the love of all the tennis she played

Now we’re scared, we were three, what’s happened to her? Is it going to happen to me?
I’m going to move, go far away, I’ve just won a lucrative contract, there’s no reason to stay
I have to tell Bobbie the good news, first, but she’s not there anymore, I can’t stand it! The loss hurts!
You have to see you are human like me! Do you bleed Bobbie! Do you bleed like me?
I cut myself open to show her, this is the last I can stand
And she only looks at me, distant and vague, parroting “Look at your hand.”
In a moment of boiled frustration, blind and exhausted with fury I snap
I stab Bobbie, no blood, she stutters and repeats until everything she says overlaps
I do not believe this, I will not, I cannot, in horror, disgust and shock, my best friend was replaced by a fembot!

Now she waylays her husband and demands he tell her where their children are
They are at the men’s association, he says, not far
And how could he do this, be party to this robbery of a woman’s will and her rights?
When he is the father of their two daughters, that is the worst evil of all
For they will grow, and will they be replaced on their wedding nights?
Would these broken old cowards rather **** humanity than risk a woman’s interest in them would fall?
There in the mansion, Joanna comes face to face with that very doll
Her counterpart, soulless eyes that are meant to replace the vibrance
Of a photographer, mother, wife and real woman
The machine strangles her to death with a nylon stocking
Her daughters revealed to be in Charmaine’s care
She dies in front of that awful stare

Once alive, now a mere marionette,
On the strings of violation, broken promises and control
A woman with bright eyes, less than human, more than a pet
A walking broken vow, until death do they part, a machine, service is her role
Down grocery aisles with her glamorous clothes and smiles, her and the wives all stroll
Picked up by her husband like a new appliance out front, placid and mundane, the very image of a depleted soul
Taken home with the family, her husband content with his shortcomings, smiling ear to ear, achieved his goal.

I'm feeling paranoid again
about this real life cone of silence
these close friends of mine
and I suffocate on my instincts, the walls are closing in
when I look for a helping hand I don't know if I'm reaching or
lashing out, I can't tell if this is a fist anymore
I cross my arms and hold myself tight
I can't betray another trust
this fear is the poison that cyclically excuses my vitriolic behavior
I will sweat it out cold turkey, until I drench the bone
hobbled and still standing, emerging,
an addict to the mischief that alienates me, I love the conflict
and hate myself for it, social anxiety riddles me, how do I overcome self-destruction alone?

December, nineteen sixty three
the frost collects in the beards of the homeless
who weep tears of defeat; life seems hopeless
Philadelphia
bundled under blankets of snow
shivering and miserable they line the streets
few of them sleep, with nowhere to go
they borrow time to live, three starve for every one who eats
poverty and frail bones, behind their eyes they are hollow

Venture to their jungles, see their thin and decaying forms
shuffling as if their ankles are in chains, food slow enough for the worms
before they die their wretched lives waste away, compassion transforms
they chip at this glacier to reach the hearts and minds inside, yet the blizzard never warms
you strangers never warm; they were never warned
wringing a cheesecloth over an old mug
a belly full of fire to liven up the poor man
ours was just fifteen when he caught the bug
strained through a sock straight from a tin can

Oh no, look who came back with the Sterno-Inferno
give me a swig, give me sight, bring on the Canned Heat
knock you through the brig, won't even put up no fight, swept right off of my feet
loopy and sappy, it'll make you feel happy
it's quicker, hotter, and easier too
if you was where we was, what would you do?

He's drinking, and drinking, but it's not going away
in one month they lost a person for every day
thirty one deaths
thirty one deaths!
Thirty one deaths
it seems sometimes like he's the only one who can't forget
and as he exhales into his interlaced fingers
he can't see the blood on his hands, but the scent of iron lingers
young and alone, he staggers through winter like wet cement
with a pain pushing on his kidney like a broken bone that won't relent
his needs come back and haunt him, yet
direction is the one thing in life he could never find
now his hands guide him through a picture in his mind
swearing, crying, I am blind!

It was the perfect irony
when the sidewalks cleared of ice
and the sun shone down, now they could see
they wanted to go outside when it was nice,
but for the loss of many,
when they found his body
struck by a shovel clearing a path
on his side curled in a ball,
they became numbers to his statistic, indifferent and evil math
more witnesses than family, all their eyes would fall
that's the cruel nature, he died by a stoop and no one saw or heard his call
when he was discovered, he was made an example to them all
on the dangers of drinking methanol.

Cornered, I see the coward, now I will see him cured
Turned to sand, the sick fear sleep when their time is at hand
Remind the blind still, balance requires iron will, their fears unfounded
Get the better of their senses, better to submit is the general consensus, why they even try leaves me confounded
Mine will be a sweet reward, life anew that I stride toward

She has taken him, made him soft, my own partner, he is confused
He has been tricked, surely, he is only being used
I cannot accept this betrayal! I will bring him back on broken knees
Painted with her blood and deaf to his pleas
My heart has broken and all anger burns in my chest
It is my duty to bring them to rest

We are all reborn in the cycle, all will be forgiven
My palm pressed against her mouth, I could snap her neck and she would come back as seven
Cheeks turning red from the force, the pressure turns her purple, I refuse to give in
I could have killed her and shot both of them below
Then been paraded as a hero through the Dome tomorrow
By the time I’ve got the drop, it’s too late, I stop
Every time I see him like this, I hesitate

I loved you like we shared a seed mother!
Stuttering glare, my eyes locked, I loved you like a brother
And you ran away from home, from me! When your lastday came, you ran like any other
My faith is rewarded in the bittersweet hereafter, seconds before goodbye, I see a sign that can only be divine, I proclaim the omen and then I sigh, limply in his arms and die.

Elongated, I've long waited, to be off the scale since I've been weighted, predestined arousal, I hitched my string to an anvil, I was mentally ill-fated, suited, sunshine beaming down when the radiant light of a message hit my phone, endorphins like a jazz blues saxophone, chemically polluted, a rubberband gun, I snap on my own, land off somewhere alone, wind me up and shoot it, recall and fall flat on my face straight from orbit in a hotel in outer space plant through the dinner table in time to join hands for grace, I burned up with cabin fever on re-entry, I've gone plum stir crazy, somebody let me out of this place!

Every word a poet uses should have meaning in the body of their poem, I just broke through the window in the fourth wall, set off the alarm, stumbling through the darkness in my home, trying to be quite so no one suspects, but my foot is wearing the skullcap of a garden gnome, while I'm rifling through the fridge drinking alka seltzer, my head kills but my mouth just gathers foam, hold on, I surveyed the view of the lake and lack of a fireplace, living room, kitchen, and outdoors landscape, for my sanity's sake, what I saw portrayed was all alarming and auspiciously fake, how many broken scramblings through paradise can one mouth on legs make?

This is not real reality, it's a placebo for those who are being phased out, meditative foresight and hindsight are afforded their luxury, they sit comfortably, eyes bloodshot fixed on TV while the rats around them scurry to assure their streaming services and first world marvels of electricity are seemingly self-maintained in a hurry, your muzzles and blue collars soaked with worry, this nauseating, intoxicating, hypnotizing paralysis is a product of a dream-selling industry, the commercialism sweeps the Lynchian faults under the rug and collects the filth in its dustpan with a flurry, it's not living, it's dying slowly, rest assuredly, I have never aspired or admired, been inspired or desired an upper middle class castle handed to me from my family, the reason being one of three, responsible legacy, it will forever weigh on me, and I will be guilty should an empire be something I ever see, no, living does not happen here, but it is my house, and I will man my station until I stand the last retiree, even then, inheritance and ignorance are a tunnel and tunnel vision, treading on my head with their dance of misery, all the best intentions are all that matters when they are borne of love from the two over one of three, if nothing else I'll board up the windows and serve you honorably, with no anger, only hope at heart for peace eternally

That's what you get when your life is given away and you have to pay, suddenly an equation occurs, you're lucky if it's long enough to buy into by more than the day, and all the compromise and anguish to say: I am done, I give up, I have to quit and take the best life for us that I can get, I'm sorry son, I've been all shut up, for years I was barricaded from you and I never let myself through it, but now we're here, and as we go on every year, I hope you and I can grow near, because we've had our struggles, but I've always loved you dear, as time goes on, now I hear, your barricade is growing, you are growing, my chance to be with my family is slowly going, I was a good man, you think I was the best, but I made mistakes, did what good I can, didn't pass every test, caused some heartaches, I will pass on knowing you were more like me than you should ever be,

an antiquated patriot who bought into peace of mind

sold in America

and handed it down

I wish I was more like you, is that bad?
I don't care, there's so much more good I could do,
if I could just tell you I love you, and I always will, both my mom and dad.