You'll never get to experience the depth of the still water until you're submerged.
The iceberg of the mind...
There are no mistakes, only lessons manifesting in various degrees of challenge.
Adversity is the crucible through which character is shaped.
Let my equanimity be mistaken for indifference,
as my tolerance is for acceptance.
Because the mountain piercing the heavens is actually a dormant volcano.

Sometimes I sit and wonder about the strangers who read my life.  
Do you think I’m using rhetoric?
Do you think I’m spinning webs?
Do you think it’s all words spewed from a wandering mind of fantasy?
Am I?

There are three sides to every story:
That is yours, mine, and the truth.
If I recorded every moment
and shared them all
With you
Would you see my lense as skewed?
Undoubtably it is.
Can a man really be objective?
One can try,
But there is no try
Only do or do not.

I wish I wrote fiction.
Maybe I’ll give that a try

I dip the quill of intention into a font of temptation.
I write pretty words on a blank page
To watch them all get sullied.

I draw the ink of inspiration from well of Russian toska.
I write boleros on a cluttered page
.watch ink smudge and fade.

The Muse that moves me still eludes me
And I'll chase her dragon ever more.

I dip the quill of intention into a font of temptation.
I write pretty words on a blank page
To watch them all get sullied.

Why can we not live
We survive, we get by but...
Why can’t we live?
A circle hits a square,
        Without edges.

I can’t help but ask:
Is this it?

I toss back my chemical charm and I wonder
What more is there?

Let us find out together

We wander in different directions.  

breathe

I need something, I need nothing
I need everything:
What even is that?  

Let it be anything
Let it be everything
Maybe I’ll learn to let it be

Gimme some air
Prey to god I don’t choke
I’ll cough up toxins

Keep it real
      Don’t trivialize

It’s victor’s birthday.  He’s one today
Doesn’t that sound wonderful?

I’m 26 and it’s tricky
Ain’t it simple though?

He stands there
Beer and cigarette in hand
She plays ball room music
On the upright piano
In his trailer home.
Her self drawn tattoos act as eye candy
As she waltzed in her pajamas.
Life is good sometimes
If you make it

Sitting in a communal bathroom,  three toilets, two showers,  three sinks, toilet paper rolls made only to allow one rotation's worth of single ply paper...  The condensation drips from the exposed pipes overhead.  I can overhear a club rap song played from a cell phone in adjacent stall.  Tomorrow at 5oclock am ill wake up to powdered eggs and milk, a game of chance on the age of a cup of coffee, and another 3 hour watch block.  This is how my work day begins without fail.  I'll labor or clean until lunch, tacos on Tuesday's, burgers on Wednesday,  cold cut sandwiches on Friday's,  where after I'll resume cleaning or moving objects from here to there until 4oclock. Then I'll once again rejoice in a meal.  Billy Joel said "they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone"  we'd all toast our plastic cups to that, were there anything suitable to toast with.  Bill,  I believe this is killing me.  An hour elapses and once again I race to a second 3 hour watch cycle.  The clock strikes 8:45pm and I'm free.   Free to bathe,  shave,  and climb into my middle triple bunk in an aisle of 6, to rest my weary head,  set an alarm for 5AM and repeat the process.  This is the life in which we volunteered ourselves.  Thank you for your servitude.

Serenity set camp within sanctuaries in plain sight,
Yet, sometimes, it’s hard to find.
Akin to the eyes of storms, calm amidst the chaos.
The weary traveler checks in, then leaves without a sound,
Lured away by the lull of the road.
A siren's song sang from car wrecks.
The weathered fool washed the dust off in the camp,
And roots grew in the mud.

Sapling tree of life.
All who enter will eat freely of its fruits,
Should they stay to see it bear.
The fool grows alongside the sapling,
Yet wonders still:
What dreams entranced revolutionaries, martyrs, and sleeping giants?

I'll be content in this contemporary contempt because it's only temporary.

But I'll still paint you in my memories
a vibrant monochrome.

Lost souls
Travel together
Down an empty avenue
Running
From the sunlight
To make this night last forever
But the dawn broke
Too soon
And the sharp sun
Bled me dry
Crawling on our hands and knees
I’ll see you on the other side
Then one by one the worms became butterflies

Are we fighting just to fight
Or making peace just to be lazy
Two faces of the same demon to me
On a cold black night
I look around and what do I see
The brightest stars keep shining
Through the darkness
But the dawn broke too soon
And the sharp sun
Did outshine
The last thing that she said to me
I’ll see you on the other side
Then one by one the angels learned how
to lie

Clean our ***** souls
Over a few liquor shots
We won’t remember

Let it all pour out
Drowning our stability
We won’t remember

Choke on memories
The only thing that we own
We won’t remember

But somehow we know
They will never go away
We still remember

To those who've made lucrative professions of false professions
Who pretend to portend
Imitators of prognosticators
May the light of truth burn the tongue of deceit
and eclipse proclaimed falsehoods
Lying liars low
And exalting the wisdom of silence

I'm still laying in the tryst
in the triste
in the cold of heated passion
in the shadow of eclipse

A fleeting breeze cuts sharp and free
but it's not perfumed these days.
I may never leave this place.
And there's no one here but me.

The birds sing mating songs I envy,
With their beautiful simplicity.
Someone's blocking out my light
And there's no one here but me.

Our stains adorn my sheets of leaves;
A patina to the fruitless the tree
We planted to watch grow together
And there's no one here but me.

My shadow's seeped out of my skin,
Reflecting the without within.
I knew, I Knew we'd reunite
And there's no one here but me.

In the tryst,
In the triste,
In your purgatorial absence
I can't cross the river Styx.