Ask yourself why you doubt,
Why you fear and cast about.
You are heading the right way,
Who cares what others say?
You have no concerns to allay.

What will be will be,
All wisdoms do agree;
Like a lion and a roar,
A soldier in a war,
You will do what you are made for.

“I am not afraid; I was born to do this”,
Your actions are not remiss,
Nor for nothing,
But for everything:
A singular meaning.

Write, and do it well,
And love until your death knell.
Mind your well-being,
Bitterness is unbecoming,
The world is on the upswing.

With the taxing Heat,
The cold-blooded sun,
In my mind’s eye I see our last meet,
Right before it all was done

You had a high potential,
Was unsure of its worth,
Now connection is tangential,
With everything on earth.

Persistent follies, teachless,
Sense & sensibility, notional commodities,
Consistently speechless:
Can’t explain your own philosophies.

And what’s more,
In that wild imagination-
What do you think you’re looking for?
Self-actualization?
Positive disintegration?

You said you want to travel,
You’ll never leave anyway.
You’ll let yourself unravel,
And live from day to day.
It’s so plain to see,
Just how you will regress,
How else could it be?
Living in that excess.
And in the scorching heat
You’ll be left dried out,
I bet you’ll overheat,
Consumed by all that doubt.

You have everything to gain,
I can testify,
When you cast away disdain
And let the ego die

If we could see our destinations,
We would not trouble ourselves with the journey.

Reading in the library
With hair all aflame,
Everyone else looked the same,
But she seemed quite contrary.
I think it was Thoreau she had open,
A proper transcendentalist,
Like a lost soul missed
With some words left unspoken.  
It took just a moment to leave me in awe,
Of the sparkling flame,
Who forever in my mind will have no name,
Just someone I saw.

In a “wise passiveness“ I sit
Able to conquer any fit.
Wounded is my melancholy
When he meets his deft enemies
My Serenity, and Spirit

My tongue could never keep up with my thoughts,
And I stutter.
My thoughts could never keep up with my ambition,
And I falter.
So it just makes sense my works will forever be untitled,
And I shudder.

I died.
Old and weathered by the sun
  Knowing that my race was run
   I was not contrite,
    I knew my time was finite
     But my story was told,
      And eventually I grew old
     A kind reality,
    Hopefully awaiting me,
   I did not know what my life was to be worth
  To a new and unknown earth
Kicking and screaming
I was born.

Maybe it’s me who’s changed,
And I dread to sound
Old,
Or pretentious,
Or out of touch,
Or Like I’m trying to sound like something
I’m not,
But the world seems a bit more superficial
That’s it used to be

Locked away, in tower grey,
The crime of innocence;
And in the streets, disarray,
Observed from the distance
Of a somber penance:
A sinister interplay.

headed west
different from the rest
left behind
things on my mind
dreams to pursue
though I suppose so do you

Do not worry;
They are footnotes in our biographies

All was given to
Me and I threw it away
To spite existence

Ah, the Spiritus Mundi,
The culmination of what I have searched for,
Finally you unveil yourself to me,
And it is all worth it.
In my dreams,
The world has gone to waste,
Everyone has gone sane,
And I am the one again left behind:
No different from reality.
I no longer care for structure or for rhyme,
Or if my words mean anything to anyone
But me,
For I am finally free,
From what seems an eternity,
Of torment by confusion,
A sentence from a past life,
If you believe that sort of thing.
Like the modernists of the past,
Stream of consciousness,
I am disillusioned, and
Yes, my vision is assisted
By drink, and by drug,
A revelation unplanned,
But not unwelcome.
I can only hope my rhyme
Scheme and my structure
Parallels the nonsense
That I am seeing,
And that it makes sense to some kindred spirit
Somewhere,
And I love them.

I remember things in an order that is strange,
I can’t quite seem to arrange,
Middle, beginning, and end.
I think I’ve gone ‘round the bend.

In their beauty, an unparalleled race
From a higher, supernatural place,
Driven to hidden, underground refuge
When mans’ cynical wars the earth deluged-
Leaving only the slightest, unclear trace.

They knew no pain, nor any suffering
And the world is darker from their leaving
And we are left to pick up the pieces,
While our own ambivalence increases,
Seeking to find a singular meaning.

You may call it naive wish fulfillment,
But I will search for reconcilement.
I will upturn the soil and the roots,
Until I may procure some lasting truce
Make amends for Ill-judged revilement

And then mankind again will have a guide
Some holy beings to gift us back our pride
What a dream, to again have dignity
To direct our kind to benignity
So we may be pulled back from the wayside

It’s all very romantic, isn’t it?
That some saviors will see us fit.
It takes the blame off us,
Makes our apathy superfluous,
Proves we are not hypocrites.

But maybe we should fix our own mistakes,
Go outside and clean our own ******* lakes,
Stop hiding behind flowery language and care
Waiting for a savior when they are rare,
Before our zeal irreversibly breaks.

We are the empaths,
Others’ burdens fall unto our shoulders,
Solaced because we deal with the aftermath,
And it is our hearts that smolder.
We feel eternity,
Suffer every blow,
So they may know equanimity,
Our own desire forgo.
It is no condition to be envied,
Something no one should suffer,
Too soon it leaves you feeling empty,
And the reverse of what you once were.
Selflessness begets selfishness,
We are left hollowed out,
Left now to our self-interest,
Because for so long we went without.

Battles lost and Wars won
Capsules and Caffeine
Minds warped and souls undone
Dreaming state of being

You listen for what we now may hear
Eternal cosmic mysteries
But a cost paid too dear
Another Pyrrhic victory

Too far now
A mirror opaque
But we’ll make it back somehow
And then we will awake

It’s hard to be here
And to be sincere
When you run on caffeine
And fear
But it’s easy to be coarse
To stay indoors
When you see the whole world through
The filter of remorse

There’ll be another day
When the night is through
A time to get away
A chance to start anew

There will be another year
When the year ends
A chance to reappear
A chance to make amends

And when the world is dust
Swallowed by the sun
Apathetic atoms will not fuss
Over the fact that we are gone

‘Cause one day the Universe will die
And Everything will become undone
But human experience imply
There’ll be another one

I chant the right incantation
With a little inflection at the end,
So why can’t I ascend?
Am I doomed to this stagnation?
And the wrong spirit offend?

Do not show the world you’re hurting
It does not deserve to know
Devote yourself to the diverting
And put on a good show
Drive the knife in deeper
Let it all run out
It’s a painful procedure
But that’s what life is all about
Do not show any fear
Go ahead, make yourself a martyr
So drear, so utterly clear
There’s some beauty in self-******
Kick me while I’m down
And spit into my eye
If you want a frown,
Then do not say goodbye

A sofa for a family of four
A van out in the wild
A punk band on tour
Or eternally exiled.

Everyone has a place,
Or a kind of mission.
Whether they choose to run the race
Or live in defiant sedition

Is there a place for our song?
Somewhere within our purview?
Will I find where I belong,
And will it be with you?

This is where our course had led:
On your bed,
In my head,
Your errant thoughts were read:
Why is it we so dread
Joining ranks with deathless dead
When they their mortal cares have fled?:
These thoughts you gave to me unsaid
As our blood was shed
Beautiful, crimson red:
To new horizons tread

I want to live in an age of letters
Of horse-carriages and cobbled roads
Maybe I glorify the past too much
But nowadays it seems we’re always in a rush

Like the muscles in our fists, and in our legs,
The heart too needs to be torn apart
Again and again
So that it may rebuild itself
Stronger than the day it was before,
And like how we can lift more with our arms,
And run more with our legs,
What hurt us the day before,
Suddenly has no effect
In our heart

I had a dream I lost my voice
And could not speak to anyone
My isolation was not by choice
And of recourse I had none

When you try to fit in
But feel out of place
When you work a 9 to 5
But are tired of the race
Wanna hide away
But you leave a trace
Everything’s a game
With which you can’t keep pace
You look into a mirror
And see a hollowed face

The road to heaven
Is paved with bad intentions.

My disposition dour
My mood sour
My hopes far
My writing sub-par
My love unfulfilled
My benignity killed
My despair unrivaled
My hate unbridled
My dreams lost
My fingers crossed
Your ignorance solidified
Your blushing brides
Your taut careers
Your abundance of fears
Your loving families
Your dogmatic homilies
Your sole provision,
Your myopic vision,
Your happy world
Your credulity impearled
Lost to the material world.

I’d like to be free
I’d like to be a dove
Fly from my tree
And believe in love

I’d like to see a God
I’d like to be like the rest
Not be so odd
I’d like to be the best

I’d like to want life
I’d like to write prose
See the end of strife
I’d like to know repose

I’d like to follow through
I’d like to wave goodbye
Maybe start anew
With a different kind of I

Can’t escape yourself
Mind, a twisting labyrinth
Loops in on itself

Broken seven seals
You will never know what’s real
Spurning the surreal

Blood is thicker than water,
But blood dries and crusts up and stains
And inevitably turns a dull brown,
While water flows forever
And wipes the stains away,
And when it dries it’s only a matter of time
Until it rains again!

I don’t want to put off living
And I don’t want to put off experience
I want to have everything life can give me
Be everything I can be
And I’m real sorry you don’t know the difference
Between being alive and simply existing
Hide these thoughts behind worthless rhymes
They say a coward dies many times
So you keep your eyes straight ahead
I want to die only when I’m dead

Show the world you’re happy and revel in its enmity

I’ve been called a freak,
And I’ve been called a creep,
But all I’ve ever done is love,
And a romantic ideal seek.
I’ve been called a sinner,
And I’ve been called a drunk,
But what alternative do I have,
When all my hopes have been sunk?
I’ve been called a loner,
A pathetic person,
That my disposition,
Causes an inevitable aversion.
I’ve been told I’m repulsive,
A disgusting human being,
But I very much doubt that you,
Have seen what I have seen.
So call me what you want,
Call me what you may,
For me it doesn’t register,
All the words you have to say

“Why do you daydream
All your waking time away?”
You have nerve to ask.

Someday I’ll have a desk, with a scenic view
In nature, where modernity I can eschew.
I’ll write stories, some might even be true;
And I’ll be free, do always what I choose to:
Escape this wretched trap that benefits the few,
Finally be content, not always so blue.
If this sounds appealing, I hope you find it too.

I keep a notebook,
For when I have ideas,
Someday I’ll write them.

Everything happens for a reason,
Reasons are plentiful

Maybe I went a hair too far
And maybe should have cared a little more
Maybe I said some things I shouldn't,
But you said you loved me for my candor
I was never one to apologize
And I hate that about myself
But even so I’ll never call you back
Or collect my things from your shelf.
Just know I’ll not forget
The time we spent together apart
Talking about poetry silently
And bashing modern art.
Did you see the signs?
That I valued time most when I spent it alone?
That I love that Keats quote,
“The poet has no identity of his own.”?
For even this is a manufactured feeling
I tell a lot of lies
I never had a loved one
And I live a lot of lives.

Take a breath, we are free,
Shut our eyes, and now we see,
Forget what’s right, forget what’s wrong,
And now we dance, to an inaudible song

Ambivalence towards higher station
You have enough apportioned
And your only aspiration’s
To be a full-fledged person

Truth, what a grand prize,
Truthfully, I think truth is lies.
But I wear a stark disguise
Of being mesmerized, hypnotized
By all that people idolize,
of what the righteous advertise;
But truly I’m demoralized, unsocialized,
Thoughts practically mechanized,
Belief has been excised,
potential unrealized,
And my spirit’s been vaporized.
One benefit to being ostracized:
At least I can’t be radicalized.