I'm leaning waaaay out
Over the crumbling edge
Toes teetering precariously
Perched upon the ledge

Long gaze lingering
On the nothingness below
Longing for the plunge

As I joyfully let go


Momentum surges forward
At last, here comes relief



But suddenly I stop
In suspended disbelief


Vice grip on my shoulders
Mysterious force reaches out
I'm stuck staring downward
Upon my desired route


I yearn for release
I ache to take the leap


But Insomnia won't set me free
To plummet into Sleep

just so tired
of being mired
in the endless fatigue
that works in league
with the utter exhaustion
that makes me feel lost in
the ruthless lethargy
that keeps on charging


just need some shut eye
so desperately, but I
can't catch up on rest
settled into my nest
breathing slow and deep
still can't fall asleep
counting sheep in droves
but unable to doze


instead ironically
I lay here chronically
stuck wide awake
unable to shake
the conscious mind's grip
unable to slip
into the world of dreams
escaping what seems
the waking mind's prison
as insomnia, risen
to almighty omnipotence
flexing its eminence
wards off all the threats
that maybe would let
this body start healing
and this mind stop feeling

so tired
of being mired
in the endless fatigue
that works in league
with the utter exhaustion
that makes me feel lost in
the ruthless lethargy
that keeps on charging

without end

insomnia strikes again

Suffocated by
Our pollution and greed
Our planet cries out
Please, people, take heed!
It's not too late!
There's still hope, indeed!
But please, act quickly
Here's what we need.

Engage (not judge) friends
With informative conversation

Secondly, go vote
For smart regulation

Next, please encourage
Responsible personal choice

And finally, take time
Stop and listen to earth's voice

What percentage of the time

do you lie in that bed?
     the rest a waste
          of the metal springs
                    forged by
                    factory workers
                    pouring in their
                    unpaid overtime
                    to meticulously
                    shape the steel
                    into just the right
                    comforting bounce
     a waste
          of the soft cotton cover
                    picked by
                    (slave-descended) hands
                    white fluff
                    still echoing centuries
                    of black oppression
                    spun on foreign looms
                    shipped back
                    across the seas
                    dyed, woven,
                    stretched taut
                    into just the right
                    soothing texture
     a waste
          of the foam stuffing
                    made from...
                    whatever goes into
                    foaminess...
     how many hours wasted?
     daily
     weekly


What percentage of the time

do you write with that ballpoint pen?
     the rest a waste
          of the clear plastic casing
                    melded from petroleum
                    by corporations
                    extracting black gold
                    in exchange
                    for greenhouse gases
     a waste
          of the tiny perfect sphere
                    rolling smoothly along
                    tungsten carbide surface
                    exquisitely crafted
                    for maximum efficiency
                    by man's finest machines
                    factories churning out
                    thousands by the hour
     a waste
          of the bright blue ink
                    the mysterious mixture
                    of dyes and pigments
                    and oils and surfactants
                    spilling onto the page
                    recording your
                    delicate thoughts
                    in desperate
                    existential hope
                    they won't be as oft ignored
                    as that device
                    from which they pour forth
     how many hours wasted?
     monthly
     yearly


What percentage of the time

do you sit in that reclining chair?
do you walk in those polished dress shoes?
do you eat with that bent spoon?
do you style your hair with that fine-toothed comb?
do you turn the pages of your favorite book?
do you see by lamp's light in the guest bedroom?

     how many hours
     sitting unused, wasted?
          in a life

Nothing like the open road
Unburdening life's heavy load
Unbridled freedom was bestowed
Til the day
My car got towed

two floor fans
perched side by side

one at full blast
******* in air
blowing it out
without a care
who's there
to receive

the other
half the height
black as night
silver blades silenced
unstirring
gazing into the distance
in solemn stillness
metallic meditation

three empty chairs around an empty table

sometimes filled with food
filled with people
filled with life

but now just ghosts
relics of the
(whatever came before
whatever comes after)

in the moment
nothing more than a waste of hard plastic
and glossy green paint
fossil fuels drawn from deep within the earth
so much life destroyed
so three ugly four-legged lifeless objects
can sit around a table
and share in the quiet nothingness

cat curled up asleep underneath
indifferent to the chairs' lack of conversation
indifferent to the fans' competing notions
of making the most of lifeless life
indifferent to everything
as only cats
and fans
and chairs
can be

The moon's not a crescent
It doesn't glow
It doesn't shine
It doesn't hang in the air
It doesn't show your love
Or mine

Blood moons? Not ******
Blue moons? Not blue
Super moons? Not so super
New moons? Anything but new

Superstitious? Full moons
Don't fill the earth with fright
Don't induce labor
Nor raise werewolves
In the night

No man in the moon
Hate to break it to you
Moon's mysterious myths
Mere legends
All untrue


These unscientific lyrics
Carelessly thrown around
What a load of crock!

The moon is nothing more
Than a cold empty sphere
A pale lifeless rock

And this just in
From all the moonlight lovers:
So is my soul, what a shock!

door opened
door shut, then locked
first morning urges
body greets the dawn

toilet seat up
pants unzipped
waste tube carefully aimed
flow turned on

trickling stream
becomes rushed torrent
small splashes
leave no mark

on steep polished porcelain walls
water slowly turning
clear to yellow
light to dark

liquid waste
flushed down the drain
shows signs
of dehydration

advising body
drink more water
restart the cycle
of urination

i wish she was here
by my side
at the table
in the bed
telling jokes
sharing what we've read
smiling, laughing
even complaining
sweating profusely
while sunny and raining
my daily reflections
to confide
i wish she was here
by my side

but she's gone
to help some girls
to share her joy
to change the world
she makes me hopeful
she makes me proud
she makes me happy
i'll say it loud

she's not here
she went away
she'll be back soon
i hope
i pray

i think
i knowbutdontknow
****
that hurts to think
it doesn't hurt to drink
so i'll just drink that thought away

What's it take
These days

To write a poem

That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest

Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?

Is it perhaps...
     the "creativity"
               of      varied      spacing
  or...    could it be..... the lack
                              of capitalization
               the loathsome little letters
               screaming out
                         hey, look at us!
         ... or maybe it's
               the punctuation marks,
     littered, haphazardly
          through the text
                    (whether used correctly)
               or, theyre not?!
     despite worrds mispeled
          and a grammar might is broken
   can these gimmicks increase interest
        though miswritten or misspoken?

Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
     unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
   (or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
                  Praise for which we
                  Privately, desperately
                  Pray

Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism

Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes

Well, maybe not...
     those gems are often ignored
     cast-aside, unread, even abhorred

Why?

Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
   of "the right way"
   to write
   to speak
   to act
   to live
   to (fill in the blank)

No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!

And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way

Line
After line
Of synonyms
          over
               and
                    over
                         and
                              over
                                   again

-----

What's it take
These days

To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?

But more importantly:
What's it take

To make my poem go viral?

In the past
My muse has been
Some external
Inspiration

But as of now
My muse has made
An internal
Relocation

It's always come
In bursts and spurts
Bit here, bit there
Drought then flood

But finally
The other day
It pierced my heart
Merged into blood

It's part of me
It's head and heart
Crafting wonder
From life's disarray

This muse won't leave
Won't sputter, stumble
It's deep within
It's here to stay

Blessed is she who surrenders last coin
Giving from lack rather than plenty

Blessed is he who takes inspiration
Single gift multiplied into many

Blessed are those who pass these along
Money dispersed round the earth

Blessed are those who give correct change
Insist you just pay what it's worth

So now blessed am I as I walk along
Her last coin nestled in hand

And when she looks at me with pleading eyes
I withhold, cause here begging is banned

Hola mi amiga
Let's talk 'bout what we had
The strongest bonds of friendship
Un fuerte amistad

Nothing came between us
No podían separarnos
We shared all our sueños
And hoped to alcanzarlos

Pero esa noche, it all changed
When once our lips did meet
Your touch became tan dulce
Tus palabras just as sweet

El amor exploded in our lives
Mi vida became yours
Y nuestra friendship grew still deeper
Con pasión y so much more

Y quién sabe qué hubiera pasado
Si we didn't break each other's hearts
Pero si pudiera salvar la amistad
I'd nix us 'fore the start

I'll remember our love
When I forget all else
You'll surely never fade

When all light's extinguished
Our love will still shine
Turning night to day

When everything ends
Nothing more remains
But this imprint of you and I

I'll one day rest in peace
But this love will live on
Long after the day I die

My deepest darkest wondering
Is my most profound fear
Have you forgotten me
Since I'm no longer near?

Reciprocity's expected
Recalling how you cared
This pain of remembrance
Would be lessened if it's shared

But if the worst is true
You've erased me from your mind
My fear would breed a sadness
And leave past joy behind

As for me I can't move on
I've tried to shut the door
My mind and soul return to you
And will forevermore

The pain sharp
Memories raw
Delightful joy so true
The feelings fighting in my soul
Call me back to you

As love's presence fades
To its relics I return
Reminding and rekindling
The passion that once burned

Yet

You're long gone
No going back
Time cannot reverse

All that's left
To soothe the soul
Is putting love to verse

Looks like somebody's got a case of
Something sinister, with not a trace of
That weekend high, like you just erased it
And filled up on Monday's existential dread

Nah, no way it's all just in your head
From the moment you dragged yourself out of bed
Leaving dreams behind, choosing real world instead
To face up to Monday's lack of appeal

No, I proclaim, this syndrome is real
It's something that some weeks all of us feel
As weekly the world attempts to steal
Our joy and our souls with its Mondays

if i write a million billion zillion words a day
will some sound nice?
will they work out right?
will my mind create a masterpiece some night?

or will brilliance elude me
like camoflauged prey?
can greatness be chanced upon
or do i have to beg for it?
do i have to pray?

can statistical likelihood produce
from sheer quantitative mass
some lyrical combination
to surpass mere mediocrity
rise straight to first class?

or do i gotta go back and ask
the teachers and mentors
i left in the past?

i took off too fast
ignored their words and advice
bout how to think
how to write
how to talk
how to act
how to not be enticed
by distractions in life

how to not roll the dice
when the odds are too stacked
how to work **** hard
to stay on track
how to make smart goals
if you're itching to rise
by hitchin your ride
to the business of guys
and girls with vision

that's what i was taught
what i heard
what i learned
what i forgot (then recalled)
what i once spurned
to spark my downfall

but i have returned
and rediscovered myself
remembered the others
who raised me
who made me
my parents
my brothers
all those who inspired
all those who required
daily sacrifice

to feed the fire
to push me higher
to bring on success
to make me my best
which proves to the rest
if you don't perspire
chance don't mean ****

now we gotta admit
we all need an assist
but if you want greatness
you gotta work for it

Life as poetry
Poetry as life:

A slow steady grind
Working stubbornly
Against monotony
And seizing
Those fleeting
Sparks of inspiration
Taking their wild ride
Wherever they lead
As the momentum
Carries us through
When we're back to the grind

sometimes love's just broken
you're not sure how to fix it
not sure if you should nix it

sometimes love calls out from far away
you're not sure what to do
not sure what to say

sometimes love keeps calling you back
you're not sure where to go
not sure, yes or no

sometimes love just wants you
sometimes you want love

sometimes love makes no sense
sometimes love is ordained from above
sometimes love don't feel like love

sometimes love follows me
sometimes love can last
sometimes love won't leave me alone
sometimes love won't pass

sometimes love is hug
sometimes love is kiss
sometimes love is that
sometimes love is this

sometimes love is there
sometimes love is here
sometimes love is joy
sometimes love is fear

sometimes love is fair
sometimes love is fight
sometimes love won't let you go, long into the night

sometimes love feels wrong
but love is never wrong
love is always right

Lost souls in the desert
In parched lands so dry
Raise hands in delight
As heavens open wide
Rain comes crashing down
Pouring from a heavy sky
Drenching the world
In echoing mournful cries
Of ocean's lament:

You pollute me

But why?

Do I not
Please your eyes?
Do I not also
Nurture
Provide?

I teem with life
Of infinite worth
I team with the wind
Sustain the earth

Yet you trash me
Without second thought
With countless byproducts
Of industrial rot
You don't relish my beauty
You don't savor my taste
You don't bask in my fragrance
No, you send me your waste

And still I give

As long as you live
I'll love you the same
I'll carry your boats
I'll feed you my fish
I'll send you the rain

So when the skies darken
Precipitation pours forth
Let it remind
Of how much you use me
Oh, please don't abuse me
No, please be kind
And treasure my worth

Wherever you are out there
Living your life so mindless
Of my inner agony
I hope you never find this

I hope you never see my lament
At how I dropped the ball
I hope you never see my confession
That I was the one
Who blew it all
Who threw it all away

I hope this bottle cast out to sea
Never finds you
Never floats up on your shore
Never reminds you
Of what our future held in store

Cause if it did
I would wallow in pity
I would wither in shame
I would shrivel from regret
I'd relive it the same

All over again

The pain
Would come flooding back
My heart under attack
The loneliness
Would overcome me again
As it did back then
I'd be paralyzed once more

All because you found this note
These words I wrote
With no intent to send
All my bottled up feelings
Released to the wind

I know deep down
You'll never see
This will never find you
As it floats across the sea


But -
Confession time -
I lied

Though it would destroy me
My hope rests in serendipity
And that one in a million chance
This message
Through its ocean dance
Somehow finds its way to you

And maybe even someday soon

Across this gulf
Beneath this moon

This prayer sent out o'er seven seas
Gently calls you back to me

Toss myself out of bed
Peel myself off the floor
Drag myself out of the house
Push myself to the job I hate
Force myself to face the world
Command myself to not melt into a puddle that oozes through the pores of the couch cushions to become a useless incompetent waste of my own **** self

Demand more of myself
To keep myself myself

I've witnessed a beauty
I can't describe
That speaks to my soul
As it swims through my eyes
The silent sounds
Sneak into my mind
The taste lingers on
Leaving sweetness behind
The scent creeps up
To slowly remind
Of the touch that once felt
Makes all else fade
Til only your beauty
Pure beauty remains

There's nothing else
Your beauty remains

One?
Done
Fun?
None

One


If two?
Pass through
Will do
And you?

That's two


How bout three?
Shall we see?
Bit more free
Works for me

So says three


Can we try four?
It gives us more
Not such a bore
Crack wide that door

Lead us on, four


Would we dare do five?
Tis too high to strive?
I do love this jive
Let's stop while still live

Safe with lines of five


But hear the cry of six
It tempts as time still ticks
It's not just a quick fix
But adds to this great mix

Yes, hear that call of six


Rules change as we reach seven
Words lengthen, stretch to heaven
Lines rise like bread so leavened

The changes wrought by seven


Hard as the end draws near with eight
Liked this before, now's not so great
Long lines I don't appreciate

Thanks for nothing, unruly eight


Entering the danger zone with nine
Meaning gets lost by end of the line
Despite the trouble, guess we'll be fine

Phew, we just made it through there with nine


And finally we arrive here to ten
What an intriguing journey this has been
I'm so relieved now to be at the end

So long, good night, let's sign off now with ten

"Quibbling over the minutiae of form
Is indicative of failure to grasp the spirit"
Or so my grandpa always warned
So if you're here to argue, I don't want to hear it

If our debates are merely petty
If our disagreements are trite
Let's work to keep our egos steady
And not just simply fight to be right

Alpacas aren't llamas they say
Though they won't give details away
But I've got a hunch
So I'll-pack-a lunch
Head out for field research today