Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America. 
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only 
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night. 

This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a 
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."

Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me 
Searching for smoke. 
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.

(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")

"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern. 
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was 
Forced to settle."

Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or 
Are we, justly, doomed to be 
More juvenile?

Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)

"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain. 
You've simply been 
Overlooking the barkeep.

(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)

The thing about the life you've had
Is that there's no edit button
So think twice and act once

The the whiskey bottle is empty, and my mind races like formula 1 race cars, The feeling of darkness takes over like a cloud over the dreadful sky during this scary day in time, Its hard to believe i cause fear among the people in my life that care the most, When i look back at the decisions ive made i have more regrets than i have hope, I cant move on because the demon of addiction is on my back like a monkey, and it dosent go away unless i take a drink, and suddenly i black out into carelessness and everthing becomes fine in the turn of a dime im the still my own worst enemy on this road to forgetting the contract i signed with addiction, the devils best petition, but now im delusional in this hell while im also on a mission, And sobriety is the goal of my life, and my head needs surgery cause the screws are loose and im depressed with a bottle of whiskey laying down hopeless in my own kitchen,

A sadder shadow follows me,
Than what I allow the world to see
Like a clown behind red nose and smile
Beneath make-up crying all the while,

The bell-curve will not toll for me
For in a world filled with jealousy
I’m right of center, near the top
But that doesn’t help the pain to stop.

More rainy days, more sleepless nights
And as I age, I cease to fight
Yet the battle I could never win
Still rages on, promoting sin.

My children are my legacy
I wonder what they’ve learned from me
Will they laugh at all the world’s jokes?
Or cry each time their eye is poked?

Will they push ahead and fight through tears?
Or drown pain with cigarettes and beers?
Will they go on fighting, not give up
Drink champagne from a victor’s cup?

Or settle in a comfy place
Content with life, choose not to race
Will a sadder shadow follow them as well?
What did they learn from me – only time will tell.
Phil Lindsey 7/8/15

The sweetest sound that touch the ear,
can lift the soul and calm your fear.
A soft guitar or soulful scale,
the lilting song of nightingales.

A sad love song or baby’s cry,
can bring you joy or tear the eye.
The beat of drum, a shriek of glee,
or grand and stirring symphony.

But the sweetest sound that I can hear,
the one that sounds most true,
is when I say I love you,
and you say I love you too.

I have always loved rains. The drizzle. The storm. The chilly air

Tonight it's a drizzle. I smile at the forlorn skies. And I'm reminded of the cold nights and your warm hugs and your kiss that burnt my cheek. And how the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof has always lulled me to sleep. How I wake up to your good morning the next day, and how your I miss you was my cup of coffee.

But today was different. This morning it's a storm. It rained so much I woke up to a soaked pillow. It rained so much I can't look at the skies to smile. So it grinned to me with the cold air, that you are mine no more and you weren't mine at all. And then I realized, maybe I don't like rains afterall.

In reality
I could not
keep him,
so instead
I wrote him
into every line
and weaved him
into every story
so that
he and I
could live
forever.

to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.

to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.

to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.