Too much Too much Too much
/
Anxiety stands over me, looking down at false mistakes
/
Too much Too much Too much
/
I look up with pride in my eyes, I'm free of sin you ****
/
Too much Too much Too much
/
Subtract that value, they don't care, nor will I.
/
Too much Too much Too much

They all seem to hate me,
I feel the stares, I hear the jokes,
Is it me?
           Or them?
                         Or you?
I know I am new, and maybe that is it,
but such anxiety over something so small is new,
and old but I thought I had overcome the past.

Maybe I should ask...

Does position matter when neither place holds value,
when you're not supposed to care yet you still fall into the wrong place,
or when all others see you moving down, and so do you, but you're happy.

For now.

"Sometimes you need to ask yourself: what do I need to do to get a ******* today? Or at least soon ya know? Of course you don't want a looker, that is bad for the environment & you ( also doesn't look too good on the resume).   I have failed to find any legit strats- except maybe going into **** or a legitimate relationship. But it doesn't pay well and the other is a lot of work. What to do?"
- d.m.

Loose that inspiration,
off like a gun,

POW!!

These rounds may miss, but the recoil is the goal,
free that pent up energy, just reach flux once again.

She seems to care, is my greedy ideology,
We see through fair, its by fleeting ecology,
a balance between organisms, but how can you balance on a pinpoint with no end?

I ignore all warnings,
to fulfill the burning hole
in my chest, in my throat, in my head,
Like a net I am everywhere, yet all falls through.

I don't exactly know what it is,
I've forgotten my bug spray, but we keep walking.
Waking dreams and warnings a many
lead me forwards even with foreshadowing hell.

"Are you ---- ------?"
-  "I'm not sure" -
-         "No"       -

        ' ' N O ? ' '

What have I gotten myself into...

Across the river dances a hurricane of leaves,
flitting back and forth, through one another...

I look left to meet a feast of my closest acquaintances,
some stare as if asked the unanswerable,
others rest in this muddy gold...

Behind me lies a world of in-continuities,
alien life and the holy depths of impossibility...

A west facing path leads my mind to run off,
the wind flows between my reality, yet stops at the grass.

Too much? No, or is it? Such a greedy joy I am, a blank slate in a tub of ink, when I come out, all that's left is a memory of infinite heaven on a tiny beach.

They say to dream big but only talk small.
When did I become someone with problems?
Relationships suddenly feel like climbing a mountain just find another peak,
Money is getting tight, yet I started with none,
Time is closing in on this newborn.

The inevitable gain of value in a person
will also lead that same individuals demise.

"As is,"
"Leave it at that,"
"When I say, you do."

All of this focus on control and power,
yet those 'in' power-
are in the worst place,
the most stressed, the most feared,
a superlative disgrace,
and it all goes downhill as the end nears.
Just dont pull me down when it all starts to fall from beneath you.

"Yeah shes in the hospital"
"Dont say anything though..."

How could you say that to the only person who truly cares?
One who could always make me smile, or feel light as air,
she may not mean what you think, so pull up a chair.

Laughter and poor taste, leave all to gather, and much to waste
time, money, and all that matters,
but when you feel such joy with 'just' a friend,
"Dont say anything though...", really is just a punch to the liver.

Just a fling,
just a thing,
what shall I bring?

2 servings of joy,
a pinch of serenity,
and a bell just to ring

:)

After years of toil, and digging through the soil,
an old man may still look for purpose,
or just for that one who made him feel,
joyous emotional inspiration.
He may have shuffled his deck;

but the only card she saw was the fool,
he may be an ace of spades, or a king of hearts,
but the only card she saw was the fool.

So he will struggle, onwards to the end,
be it victory,
or history...

All Thanks!
To those near and to those far,
from the great waves with crests akin to that of a mare,
and the beaches who accept these wild forces,
with open arms of sand and debris of stories untold in unknown waters.
And as these sands of time foster hardy grasses,
These grasses shelter the seeds of tall palms,
Palms foretold to watch over the hermits in their caves,
and to guard young starlings,
whose wings float high above all.

If I could just be free
to live as want, and to sleep when I feel,
or to go wherever my mind wanders,
The adventures I would go on, and the people I would meet, would be worth more than all the money in the world...

They say I must stay but I know I'll truly be happy when I'm free.

Every poet writes about the 'Seven Deadly Sins'
But what about the eighth?

The purity of the mind may combat such primal lust,

And urges held back through temperance will fend off gluttony.

The charity of giving to others will free the soul of greed.

Any virtue will require diligence and to opt away from sloth,

But one will need patience so as not to resort in wrath.

So if kindness is abandoned all that remains will be envy,

with that keep humble, as not to foster pride.



But rarely, ever so seldom does a poet touch on hope, and how one may 'cure' despair...

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Is it...
fallen snow, frozen over a cold evening-
Amber and bronze leaves, felled by a cool autumn breeze?
Or is it simply my barky breakfast bar, leaving me wondering if others can hear me chewing...
I know my mouth is closed, I am trying to be courteous...
But can they hear it?

After the third lie I thought it was over-
but no, not one of you stopped it,
six years later it's catching up to me,
but no, I said I wouldn't care,
and now its going right through me and hitting you,
like
I
said

S E L F I S H
"All I'm trying to do is help you"
L A Z Y
"Why are you fighting me on this"
A S S H O L E
"I'm the adult, of course I'm right"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

W R O N G
"Where is your evidence"
U N S U P P O R T I V E
"I have choice but if I choose wrong, you won't help, right?"
I M M A T U R E
"Oh.. you left..."

When I catch a droplet of inspiration,
to sketch out some idea conjured of mine,
such is a spark of creation,
When compared-
creativity to reality,
this "acid free" "medium surface"
sketch paper renders ones thoughts so minuscule,
Leashed down,
like a young pup to a tree,
my ability can only bring me so far...

Hatching and shading,
Erasing false lines,
Erase Erase Erase Erase,
Swipe off that mess-
Pencil scratches against thick paper,
I sit and draw even though I should be listening,
taking notes, finishing my work,
but wait, I never finished this sketch of a lion,
that's much more important...
Isn't it?

It's 3am and I won't sleep so we went upstairs-
"Its funny that we can have a joke"
-only to discover personal possession...

Just a whisper too loud, yet the silence echoed much louder.

Waiting to put on two pairs of shoes at once,
wait that's two too many shoes...
put those back.

Sprinting down the street, only to meet a god of a tree.
Golden. Holy. Fading in and out of dreams.

Riiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

"Hello" "Hey, It's common sense, get home"
"Yeah I was trying, but I'm stuck at this stop sign..."

I simply cant find the issue,
Iv'e tried and tried, but
I can't even try to try...
This fight won't make me cry,
but maybe that's because I can't focus on it like that fly.

They said I was a messenger,
from stories I never believed in,
that came from an entire culture I never found interest.
In Hebrew I find strength in God,
the only strength I ever saw was in myself...
Is that selfish or do they expect too much of nothing?

What if birds were bees?
And singing came from the trees,
A's turned to B's, B's to C's,
C's to D's, D's to making poetry with ease.
As long as these bees-
make sure to do as they-
please,
and seize,
control of our control...

That would be the bees knees.

Week after week,
life drops the weak,
All of this strife makes us reek-
of depression, The Great Depression?
More of a depression of the Greats...
It started with Bowie, all these phonies,
mourn for something- someone they weren't around,
to witness or experience...

Mile after mile, bald tires and no gas,
Half grand car, expected to go fast?
Looking for help, but when asked all they say..

"Hot singles less than one mile from your location
                       Chat Now!!!"

I read your poem,              twice
It really got me thinking...
The structure of my thoughts has never been written down,

. . .

I would say I'm jealous but I know I can do better,
A rivalry in the making? probably not,
But a challenge for sure, as you are something rare I can learn from

. . .

We'll see...         I guess

One through Five
I sat in my seat,
the ground not yet in reach,
like a petal to the wind we flowed,
never caught on a branch or stuck in a drain--
what a simple life it was....

Six through Eight
One book report, a droplet,
so minor--yet that drop led to the fall,
a fall so great caused by one little drop,
and as one drop may fell a petal,
one drop will lead to rain...

Nine through Eleven
Gusts knock off husks
These flowers grow just to wilt,
Colors fade to guilt--pollen to silt...
While no one may see them bloom
Stalks grow so much they could fill a room...

TWELVE
The time of the season is upon us...
Nothing expected--its all about perspective,
Immense growth, deeply rooted throughout all,
so so tall but not ready to fall,
Its been a long wait but Iḿ ready.

Here say have someplace in Collegetown,
You are on with VW because yesterday you were beginning to fade.
You start down rain now after a sunny morning,
When you slow down the blinking gets worse,
That huge old green house on the corner of the shiny face of you,
You feel terror in your people on their way to Ha D es,
To go all day—in case they can’t stop,
So this is what failed...  You couldn’t avoid that crowd,
Chances are that any one of these people had quarreled with a friend,
The Impact was you... in Ithaca

"What is this?"
"What is what?"
"Why are doors up here?"
"That's fine just show me...."

"My friend has an apartment in New York City."
"Why doesn't he move?!"
"It's insane, the expenses."

"No I'm just so curious"
"No, there's nothing for you here"

"Kurt...."
"What?"
"Please...."
"Your voice is so annoying"

"It's his favorite word again."
"What have you got going on here...."
"This is a horrible one..."

This write, has me looking for more topics,
I feel the box, stuck in, inside wrong lines,
Wrong lines, right lines, why must I try to fit,
It is not fine, I am all out of time...

Words and words to make me feel so crazy,
I keep on the grind to get an idea,
Do I not get this or am I lazy?
Building this dumb poem, is this ikea?

Poems have some meter but this is top,
keys to the board, pen to this **** paper,
Trying to write just makes me want to stop,
but soon I will need an undertaker,

For if truly I must, prevail I will,
This dumb poem pattern has now been filled.

I thought I was better than this,
expected more,
a sense of superiority,
maybe i thought i had it all together,
and just didn't care enough to use that,
but no, it was all chaos,
uncontrolled chaos,
anxiety every day,
thinking of every way to move,
but frozen with no real options,
out of fear of failure,
I was always the best, and then I woke up with nothing.

What were you thinking,
sitting on the cusp of your guilt.
Why are you guilty of success?
All that shame and regret that has been built,
Shameful of what, how youv'e been blessed?
Up you look at those who you say don't matter,
serving up your deepest motives on a gold plated platter,
letting those who look and open jewel filled eyes,
observe your life and take what they find,
Don't be so naive, asking for time to breathe,
just use your mind and shut those blinds,
shut down and take control,
Let your passion soaked willpower unfurl,
like a sail after a storm, swirls and swirls,
then open up to the world,
let those colors blaze, clearing away such ancient haze.

Once that sun shines bright, pushing away selfish blight,
Let new ideas blossom, cross your T's and your I's, dot them,
Think them through, Colors red white blue, no,
Just the color of you.

Sins of our making,
Lives are for taking,
Fives for breaking,
No,
Lives more for making,
Leaves raking,
Hands and heads shaking,
Arguments remove our calm,
Disagreements drop like bombs,
Jokes drop like bonds,
Others drop songs,
And yet I drop my fondness of correctness,
and some may be specific but I'm the select-est,
picking and choosing,
who's winning and losing,
singing and soothing.
Incorrect.

Cold nosed,
Sore legs,
Desert dry throat,
And all I can think of is you...

That sense of anonymity,
Among numerous faces,
All searching for-
Things?
Acquaintances?
Or just something to do...
That chaos of complexity,
Gives some stress and anxiety,
But to some,
Can leave a calm sensation wash over their entire experience.

A one way ticket up,
the man never questioned it, then again, neither did I

Walking down the trail, grapes are raining and the pain in my stomach isn't waning, reality is collapsing all over again and all i can taste is almonds.

These boulders are spiraling out of control, but since when have I had control?
The head of the goat looks me in the eyes as the sun sets over the range,
"Man, you guys are brave", but why?
Am I on the edge?

Who the **** invented shame?
Is it some evolutionary development to prevent our "tribe" from murdering us?
Or is it just this handicap that society has placed on those who do wrong?
I mean its as old as the bible,
Yet i see it in infants who cant even read 12,000 or so pages,
By choice or not, why shouldn't we feel confident in our actions,
Shame and downcast glares have no place in this bittersweet journey of life.
Good or bad.
Right or Wrong.

When we were little, they told us to drop that bad attitude,
as if it were dropping a rock.

And after years of hearing it, I learned how to do that within a moment, and yet when I'm supposed to feel,
Sad,
     Angry,
                Worried,
                               Sorry...
I drop that rock, no matter how hard they try to keep it with me, I've always dropped it.
~
But when you're happy all the time, you forget the relief of anger, and miss the pull of sadness, and who accomplishes anything when they're worry free?

Happiness is a choice.
                                    But always consider your choices.

Disappointed? By what?
Because I won't follow you blindly?
You had plans, and I broke them,
shattered like your dreams.
Call me rebellious or independent,
a trailblazer if you will,
but all I am is me,
The plans of mine I will fulfill.
Let me be free,
let me sow these seeds,
the sprouts of success,
You will see,
What it means to be me.

I didn't know him,
but I knew who you were,
nobody expected it,
and hell I wasn't sure,
i got the news at lunch,
asking where you were,
can't even say i had a hunch,
If you need a shoulder we are all here,
don't be afraid,
throw away that fear,
the future will come,
all gay and full of cheer.

When you get caught doing something you shouldn't,
you learn,
you figure out how to do it right,
but when we succeed we blame it on luck,
on skill,
and pure justification of thrill,
so if you get lucky once, then twice, then thrice,
how will you ever learn from mistakes with no consequences...

Polished off the last of my ginger ale,
Sitting on the bleachers,
asking for rides when all I can ask for is sleep,
are you dumb, greedy, careless, or just immature?
These thanks took a lot, no sleep for two days,
I awoke a new person, with control, and a new outlook,
how those pigeons in the lot pitter patter around, chased by cars,
they have no struggle but for food,
the way the light hits your eye,
you cant tell if its truly rude,
the sun feeding from the corner,
right past that old man reading,
that silent newspaper listens from the side of my awareness...

Those little moments
Losing your thoughts in her eyes
Losing your time in her lips
Gaining more trust in no lies
There’s no value to life
Yet we assign so much meaning
Like it will all yield some greater prize
Or reward like a lost trunk in the attic
full of old toys and lost memories
All I have right now is hope and a friend

Leaves flying by,
feeling my back come to meet my sides,
leaning like Pisa,
wobbling back and forth like a new driver,
                                                         ­           brake,
                                               ­                                gas,
                                                            ­                           brake,
                                                          ­                                        gas,
CRACK!

fall to the ground,
board flies south.
song flies north,
head hits the tar,

laying in the road like a parked car.