Both my body and my mind have been grind-
- ing away with each, and every, passing day.
I feel, as though, I oughta go to find
- some lonesome mudhole within which to lay.
I haven't replied to my girl in four days...
- and when I do: I know not what to say.
"Hey- I'm sorry that I haven't been around.
The woes, in my mind, have piled to a mound;
- it's hard for me to stand it anymore.
Yes- my mind has become, so very, sore-
- from all o' the over sighted thinking.
Yes- the heart, in this chest, it is sinking-
- when I think of the current state of Earth.
I'm more aware & clear than upon birth-
- but, I must ask: with the bitterness brought-  
- What is the worth?"

I speak not, in the dreadful dusk.

Upon questioned why, I respond,
  "It is simply not a must,"

"How will we know what's flowing
  in that rust- ed skull of yours?"

  "One thing is for sure,
    my words upon paper,
    you can trust: if you wonder-
    how, it is, that I feel. "

My voice fades off
into the dark of the night:
it's not, at all, by choice;
it, merely - away from me, takes flight:
like a blackbird singing
in the abyss of this- evening.

Oddly enough,
no grieving- has taken place.
I, simply, waved farewell-
and grabbed a pen - violently:
it's bleeding!

The ink shall bleed
one, single night:
and then to the trash,
with all my might-
I shall toss this bloodless pen!

On Tinder;
simply to see
whether, or not,
Brandy would swipe
right for me.
It, still, has yet to be..
but a man can dream.

She who summons those songbirds with ease
- will be - in each life - much too good for me;
- though, - a mean, mannish boy can dream
- bout' those eyes that shimmer an' gleam.
                                Yay!
Tis' early April - an' I've proven myself a fool
- for I'm dreaming bout' that glimmering jewel.
                               Nay!
The things I do dream : they may not ever be
- but I refuse ta' let my blind eyes know they can't see.
                                ---
So -- even still - I continue to dream
- an' stay, so ignorantly, full o' glee.
                                 ---
*I am, but, a fool.
Yay - one who'll
 - stay adoring
 - that glimmering jewel
- o' a human being.

Oh, you blast'd and blustery evening,
- how you do, indeed, leave me grieving
- a brother o' mine- a partner in crime;
- a peaceful man who ended up freezing
- such a - very - long, long time - ago.

"Careful not to crash your chariot in the snow, Giddy!
For- at -40 degrees: being stuck in a ditch isn't pretty;
- are you sure you want to leave? It's, ever, so misty
- in that deep valley just North of this ole' city:
- Eldorado. Giddy, if you go & are engulfed in snow
- then I'll wake tomorrow with woes- & feeling guilty.
Feeling guilty because I know I could've stopped you
- but you wouldn't hear my spew-  of caring concern.
So- tomorrow morning, I will learn-
- of your death.. I'm sure as heck
- that someone'll stumble upon your carriage wreck."

Aegidius' carriage crashed upon a lonely back road:
-a quiet back road that nobody has ever known,
- a quiet back road where people seldom go;
-where his horses have laid down in the snow & froze
-and he knows- that he will, likely, be the next to go.

God only knows, what hides within those snows!
If he don't end up froze, I'm sure that the crows
- would love to decompose, and dispose of, those
- fleshy bits of his- after all that's left are his ribs
- lying in the snow: torn apart by God only knows.

The Queen has received my request,
to bestow her with this peasants presence.

Oh- how I feel so very blessed:
that she has reviewed the plea's,
to embrace her in conversation,
within my maundering mind.

Oh, no! Is it what I sense?!
Is she going to ice me:
like the harshest of winds?!

Please, my dear, answer my message!
Even if just to say "God, no!"

I need assurance of the wreckage
that has just taken place.

I, merely, reckoned
I'd put it out there to consider.

Enticed by her eyes,
I release a deep, angst sigh.
Oh- my... I'm in love.

Exchanging silver quarter dollars
for caffeinated water.
Too terribly tired
to attempt to inspire
anyone.

It's beginning to feel like I'm choking-
& the situation isn't getting any better.

                                         ...

I aspire to be thought provoking
with my every written letter.

                                        ...

If you do something frequently,
you're bound to get it right-

                                       ...

                                      eventually.

                                       ...

Who knows?

                                       ...

                                     Maybe one day-

                                       I just might.

                                       ...

As for now, I'll continue to fight-
to resist the temptation of drugs
in my life.
                                     ...

Oh, but how very bright-
all the drugs make life...

It's not, at all, that I'm afraid of technology!
It's that - I fear that thee elites'll commandeer
- and in turn decide what, all, is mythology;
- they're cruel and've had their status for years.
With their satellites & their drones in the skies,
- and their nosy, little devices in all o' our pockets:
- on everything each of us do, they have eyes.
They could **** each one of us with their rockets;
- that's an incredible trust to, fully, put in
- the evil ones who have proven themselves..
Who will, and has, killed our elders and kin.
Who will, so easily, put us up on their shelves
- in the ole' books of the people that they've killed
- themselves.

Sweet Phillip, estranged brother o' mine;
what was it that drew you to a life of crime?
A half decade had came and gone-
since you hadn't reeked o' wine.

"My brother, what is wrong?"
I should've asked;
but- you hid so well behind that mask..
You hid those crying eyes-
and that, alone, led to your demise.

And now, sweet brother o' mine,
as I stand over your tomb- I realize:
there is no more time for you, - barely I,
to make new friends
or- amends with ole' ones.

We, two, have been bound to be murdered
since the, very, moment we left the womb.

It looks, as though, they got to you first,
and they left the ground blue.
Surely- it confused them
when they shot through-
your head and didn't see any red.  

What lies ahead?
How can the world be so mean?
An angel has fallen, down, dead-
unto the Muddy Waters
beneath the trees a-green.

The Death of Phillip Crowley in 20-16-
left dew in the eyes of the Faery Queen.
She will miss how his eyes did gleam
She will miss how his mind did dream.
She will miss him- and so will I.
            (sigh)

Good bye, my brother-
may we see one another,
another day..
maybe.

Oh, the envy I bestow for her city...
It should be I holding her head at night
while she dreams up something pretty.
I still remember the lights
waving through my rearview mirror
after I dropped her off at home.

I stand strong with my kin,
as a breeze, slowly, blows in.
I reminisce upon the travellers
that have been- & gone.
I remember each and every
one of their smiles & grins,
as I listen to the bird's song.
Just then is when it occured..
A sudden crack from a trunk
that has been, a hundred years,
so strong & sturd-y.
We may not be heard,
but my friends & myself
will certainly, one day, fall.
Or we'll be chopped down,
our space filled with motels.
Or, maybe, a good ole' mall.

All o' these people have become so lost-
and their peer's rights and freedoms are the cost
- of their willfully ignorant mind.
You can be as kind- as you wish
but you're still just a swimming fish
in thee elites luxurious fish tank.
I apologize if I come across as too frank.

I'll buy you a dozen rose-s,
but God only knows
that flowers could never show
how much you mean to me.

The serpents I once feared, 
have become, very, near & dear-
to me. In fact, now, upon the vaneer-
of my flesh- are their portraits portrayed-
in ink. I am slithering with the best-
of them, with my silver tongue flicking.
I begin dissecting, or picking,
like a crow disembodying
his morning meal of rancid road ****, 
away at each and every thought within.
I begin, to attempt to make such-
dark noises sound like a blissful sing-
ing.

Surely- it isn't so! 
These feelings that come, and go,
as I stumble, stagger, to and fro
from the nest where my head rest 
and my place of labor: a place where-
I attempt to be a saviour for-
 my future seed: from poverty. 
If only I were to win the lottery.

Things are often quite the blur.
Though, some days- every blue moon-
  I become so fluent with my words.
Though I feel, as though,
  I've bypassed some important detail. 
Tomorrow, I may be slow as a snail-
  or as dense as a stone on the river bank.
So, I would like to apologize, pretense-
  if I fail to stimulate your soul.
To all of you listening, Thanks.

I dreamt:
       her eyes in front mine.
       & it felt perfectly fine.  
Perfect, rather.
I'm so in love with this woman
& my thoughts are becoming
  so difficult to gather.

One thing I've learned in my getting old:
'all o' these kings & queens only want your gold.'
Should you resist, and instead,
they'll want off with your head.
It's a dreadful story so- very- old;
& violent murders are the only way they can hold-
their strict power over you.
So- what is it we do?
Do we silence ourselves;
put our opinions on high shelves
where they aren't to be spoken of?
Do we just, so easily, let the gov-
ernment & elites win this battle?
"No- nay," I say, "we must rattle-
their heads and force them to retreat!"
The citizens they looked over will lead their defeat.

I was headed on down to Chadron, Nebraska;
- for: I, dearly, needed some time away
- an' I was craving a bit o' Americana,
- so - I hit each Waffle House on the way.

As I passed through the mountains in Deadwood:
- I, seemingly, understood that manhood
- was still a couple thousand miles away
- so I threw my smoldering cigarette in the ashtray
- an' pulled into the next little, roadside cafe.

Should I never make it to Nebraska:
- look through those trees in South Dakota.
I'm certain that your eyes'll spot me;
- out on those Black Hills, in the Elm
- laced mountain tops, : tis' where I'll be
- likely.

I'm not being ghosted... (No)
I just get monthly visits from the dead.
I wasn't led on... (I know)
I just, stupidly, allow miracles to exist in my head.

We have all become very glum an' down
- an' with it - we've begun to lash out;
- thus: giving others more reasons ta' pout.
Aye - it seems that I see a lot more frowns
- as I, aimlessly, roam round' these ghost towns.
An' - in me mind : without a single doubt
- I'm aware that trouble's about ta' sprout;
- it'll roll in quick - without being announced.
Aye! I see the hard times stored for you an' me;
- Yay! - for - I have examined each of the hints.
- an' I hope you, all, find a smile in times a-blue.
Giddy's plea is that you'll stand strong as an ole' tree
- not snapping for, even, the harshest, most frigid a-winds;
-- an' know that with compassion: we'll get through.

"Art thou undecided
   upon embracing me -
   fully?
  Oh, my dearest maiden!
  My mind continues racing -
   you see?
  I cannot find myself
   on a distant voyage -
   wielding all of my supplies  
   upon this ole' wooden deck -
   if it's not the same trek -
   you wish to take.
Fair maiden,
  I'm willing to put so much at stake.
But- if a brief trip is what you seek -
  my ship will, surely, wreck & sink. "

Two brawly bald eagles
& a dozen dark crows
peck the fleshy, red meat
off a devastated deer
on the side of the road.
A bird's gotta eat.

The orange filter
fixed to my fingertips
grazed upon my lips before
falling down
             down
             down
when she shook those hips;
Lit a fire in the place..
Or maybe that was her.
She'll do whatever you prefer
until late hours.. &,
then she's gone
                         gone-
                                gone.

As the trees do sprout from the soil,
small golden hairs broke through his face.
He must become a man,
in a world so turmoil.
If there is one thing
he would ask of the human race..
it would be
if everyone could, kindly, slow their pace.
Have Some Pat-
  ience.

My orange kitten
- is ten times more free than me;
- this much I'm sure of!

They refer to me as the hermit
as I prefer staying nestled in my den
rather than exploring unknown empires.

Come sit a while in my little, wood shack;
- I'll stoke the fire up, bright an' high, for you
- an' I'll cook you a, fit for royalty, snack :
- "Aye - pine needle tea an' a rabbit stew,
- course' - only if this all sounds good ta' you!"
                               - - - -
I'll place a black wolves' hide upon your back
- to ensure your bones don't feel the brisk draft
- which blows through the small, wood wall's cracks;
- nay - woodworking was not ever my craft!
                              - - - -
So - still - the blustery breeze blows, on, in;
- but - we drink, we eat, we talk & we laugh,
- an' we lose all track o' the time that's passed.
                              - - - -
Eventually we don't notice the breeze blowing in
- for - we've become two bits o' stardust rubbing skin.
                              - - - -
T'will be this act which causes Giddy ta' grin
- an' inspire his glowing heart ta' scribble out hymns.

I wonder,
"Has anyone ever mentioned unto you:
  that your eyes shine more- vibrant-
  than a blood moon in the high,
   eastern skyline?"

A ballet of branches upon towering trees,
reaching (ever so) tall, above his head:
are mirroring his thoughts with ease
on this (ever so) dastardly dreary day.

"Oh, Creator! Come strike me dead!
I am ever so afraid, of what I wish to say:
t'whom the woman I dream of before
- and after I lie and wake in bed."

To be rejected by his dream queen
is, surely, his soul's damnation!

"Maybe-deep in my dungeon, I should stay
and get ever so high in euphoric elation-
yes! dragons in my kitchen, I should slay!
God! Do I wish to see her face?!"(Yes!)

It may be his last chance to be blessed-
by all of the beauty that she beholds:
within her body, brain and being.
He's feeling fairly stressed
because he doesn't fit most social molds-
but his wish: her and he,
t'wards the western sun, fleeing.

He's going to grab the rope of his dream
(Yes!)
and, to her, it won't seem- like much;
(No!)
what she can't see, is the rush-ed blood,
(Oh!)
so warm, circulating amidst his heart.

Oh, how this could be the start-
of a drastic change in outlook- view!

If only he had the nuts, to ask out you!

Oh, the amount of irony
- in her saying, "she loves me,"
- when within, mere, weeks
- she's speaking with, "Cory."

Enjoy his tongue within your cheeks;
- for: you won't ever see me - again.

Your love and your passion are pretend.

I'll be in the trees- waiting on the world to end.

"All of the deer upon this sphere
- fear when they hear me coming near!"
- a, very, old & fat man made clear.

"Is it the time of year- to spear
- all, us, deer on this prairie here?
Then, we must, silently, disappear
- out thee eyesight of these pseudo-plainsmen!"
- exclaimed thee wise, old deer- ever so blatant:
- attempting to commandeer the harmless herd
- but, unfortunately, some of the herd never heard
- his words. Thus- they will be pelted and the birds
- will fly from the trees as the gunpowder bursts!

Come home, my queen,
unto the place where the moonlight
attempts to outdo the beauty
of your eyes.
It will never win
  but at least it tries.
Come lavish in the paradise
I have built for the two of us:
our own little enchanted empire.

"It is here, my dear,
   right beneath your nose!
   Heaven knows I have froze-
   the last few winters:
   preparing our fortress,
   awaiting your arrival.
   --
   Will you ever arrive?"

Are you really yourself
if you're always having to ask
the addict in your head for his advice?
Can I tell you something?
You are suffice!
& you deserve more from life!

The car was relatively dark,
besides the dim green illumination
bouncing off the dash.
It reminded him of his mind,
he thought as he spark-ed
a cigarette that he knew
would **** him one day.
There's always been that
dim green illumination
in his head, no matter -
how bad things ever got.
He always remains hopeful
thinking there must be something more
to it all.
He just hopes he can maintain
his optimism.

Every sentence written will, inevitably,
eventually be forgotten-
forever and eternally- in time.

Can we, at least, all smile:
embracing the fact that 
life goes on- long- after you 
or I are gone?

Let's enjoy our little while-
in this chaotic place. 

Can we stop being so vile-
to one another over things like
religion and race?
These are such petty circumstances
to extinct your human brethren over.

Am I wrong?

Most all ancient poems will find new homes :
- rewritten in the scribblers of scribes
- who've never read them in their lives.

Strangers are the last of your problems
when you can't even seem to speak
the same language as the ones you love.

Oh, shimmering Jules!
What has happened, to your radiant glow;
and- why, dear, do you sound so sinister?

But- Jules, do you not know:
that some of thee most meaningful literature
has spawned out o' heartbreak and sorrow?

Has it not been shown: that- tis',
only, human nature to scribble scriptures
o' how we've lived beyond cloudy horizons-
and greeted each tomorrow with new wisdom
and a, truly, heartfelt smile?

  (A heartfelt smile.)
I hope to see one return to your face-
if- even- it takes a while.

Seeing you this jaded, my dear,
is causing my peace o' mind to begin fading.

I hope you begin to feel better-
and- a smile you can find in the mirror,
sometime, in this ever-changing year.

They'll stage false flag shootings
- so - that they can begin looting
- us all o' our rifles and muskets.
But - they get to keep their rockets
- and shoot missiles into our homes.
They'll leave us slingshots & stones
- and tell us that we'll all be, just, fine
- unless we should step over a line;
- and if we do, they'll send in nine
- of their Teflon-covered fine-
-st troops: who'll come in and shoot
- us all before we can grab our boots
- and wonder who broke through
- the front door.

Such a silly fool;            
fallen victim to being    
  embraced so gently.

Dry those eyes, my dear;
you must know that: ain't nobody here
- can hear your pleas with two open ears.
Has it not been proven true over the years?
Have your "friends" not left you there in tears?
It really tears me apart- No! - tears me in half:
- knowing how you've been treated from the start
- and, so often, in the past.
Yes; it, truly, does rip caverns in my heart.
Oh- how it does, indeed, shred me apart
- to see how you've been treated in the past!
I hope that the last one to do so- was just that.

Clouds-,
 like layers of paper mache
upon the outermost atmosphere-,
 block the central Sun's rays
from reaching my skin- and retinas-
here - on Earth.  

"The nest in which I rest -
  would be so much more bless - ed
 with your head nestled - next to mine,"

  I reckon - whilst transcending a 'Rest Inn,'
  -  in a deep day dream session.

T'was a rainy day with a foggy haze
- an' all o' the animals seemed to laze
- 'round their dens, nests, an' holes.
Aye - these falling drops've taken their toll!

"But- my dear...
you, clearly, cannot see- how miserable
this world is when you are not near- me."

I can sense it, you tell the lies.
"Nothing", "Just tired", "I'm fine".
I can see through your disguise.
Baby girl, open up to me.. you are mine,
& I am yours. T'whom you, I adore.
You see, you think you are hidden?
But- I see You, in your eyes.
Has someone auctioned off pain;
you must've accidentally put a bid in..
Because it seems you have won
your fair share of misery.

Purchasing Maria
from random strangers downtown;
not a name involved.

"What's my message,"
   they asked,
"Underneath all your words, masked,
   what do you want them to hear?'

"Well...

Once our atmosphere mirrors
the one upon Mars and-
there's no longer anyone left to sit
& watch the stars...
Even then, shall my heart be in civil wars
with my head.

( The bickering will extend-
      long after I'm dead )

Once we've all left this space,
I'll still remember her face.

& once we all last say 'goodbye,'
I'll still be wishing that her & I -
were once well acquainted.

So, I suppose-
That's what I wish for her to hear...
But, I haven't anything to say."

"Uhm... Okay,"
   they say.

With the cruel, cold an' blustery storm
- comes the need for humanity to find warmth.
Yay- it causes me bones ta' freeze so quick
- and crack under pressure like fallen twigs.
Nay - there'll be no hunting, nor gathering, today;
- for - we've, all, been ignored by the Suns rays
- an' this wicked wind storm looks here to stay.

Yay- a fierce an' frigid winter wind
- keeps all o' the peasants confined
- to, each, their own homes an' dens.
Or- rather - wherever they were when
- that brisk breeze began to blow
- an' the foggy sky began to snow.

I attempt to stay clear of thoughts, so, sour
- but, regardless, I find my mind devoured
- by the dark figure, cloaked in a robe o' black;
- he's taken hold o' my brain an' won't give it back.
He has a vice-like grip on the fabric of my soul;
- yay - he seems to have stolen all control.

Oh -- when the wind blows
- an' there's no one around:
- my troubled mind - she goes
- spinning right round an' around.

To find oneself relieved of any outstanding grieve,
- into the late hours of this wicked winter's eve,
- shan't be my fortune tonight - I do tru-ly believe.

This storm leaves humanity nestled in its dens
- waiting out that cold an' fierce winter wind;
- an' the fog that rolls in : it's, ever, so dense.