Ditch Digging

I look upon ***** hands
Unclean in their deeds
Of shoveling their last pit.
For all those sad little things,
For all the past pains,
There is this one grave,
Dug out in the night
To hide all the shame.

Looking mournfully back
At one man’s miserable life,
At one man’s miserable wife
Who covertly snuck away
On a night just like this.
She left to find her real love
In the darkness of the sky,
Only to sneak back home
At the dawn’s first lights,
Only to find her husband
Waiting awake patiently.

Peeking back to his job,
Of a boss who would deny
Every request for a raise,
And every pitiful plea for
Just a couple more days.
The boss who always drank,
And smoked, and yelled,
Who always made passes
At his employee’s wife,
And would call his house
In the middle of the night.

Thinking of his two
Most precious daughters,
Who were the most cute
Of all the little girls.
Those innocent fiends
Who always took their
Spoiled mother’s side,
And would make life
Miserable for their father.
The two girls that looked
More like the man’s boss,
And would barely pay
Their father mind.

As the poor man dug
With his short shovel
And his tired hands,
He thought of all his miseries,
And those who did him wrong,
And how in this 5 ft trench,
He would fix it all.
The faithful pup that turned wild,
And now tries to rip out his throat.
Of the bus driver that steals his change,
And gives him spit in return.
Of the corner shop bread baker,
That only sold him stale baguettes.
He would bury all of them,
And make again, his happy life.

The grave digger finished,
And he washed his hands,
And climbed into the hole,
And fell deeply asleep.

Rose petals fall,
One after another,
Ticking time of
Wilting flowers.

One petal for friend lost,
One petal for dead dog,
One petal for time gone,
A last for constant pain,

A wilting rose,
Has not a name,
Lost its color,
Hates lover’s game,

Flower sits pretty,
For a time it stays,
In the best vase,
A handful of days.

One petal for loss,
The other for grief,
Pink petals for lust,
Black for jealousy,

The flower is nice,
But soon fades away,
Turning dark black,
Petals piling up.

Just throw them out;
Have no more pain.
No more keepsakes,
Only memories remain.

Fading smiles and happy eyes
Of the picture from good times.
The wear of years has done its work
Upon memories and photographs.

As the color blurs
And the gloss rubs off,
So too, does the remains
Of the emotional stains.

Looking back at the past,
Through third person lens,
Remembering the stories
That took place that day.

But the corners are ripped;
The edges are torn and frayed;
The light bleached it white;
And water left sagging spots.
It’s only a piece of paper;
Wood pulp and ink in the end.

So the photo is pushed back
Into a box of others forgotten,
Just a jumbled stack of history
Rotting away in my brain.
They are still most important
But I go out to take some more.

I want everything to be still;
I want wars a thousand miles away
To stop causing explosions and children’s screams.
I want movies being filmed as I speak
To just disappear and never be made.
I want all the butterflies to die,
So they won’t cause any more hurricanes
To pull me away from the words on the page.
I want all to be silent, motionless, and calm,
So I may sit here and grow old with my book.
I will sit here reading and rereading the simple lines,
Until vines grow over me and hide me from the world,
Until time stops caring whether or not I die,
Until I turn to stone, a monument to myself,
And even then, I won’t put down the book,
Until I know the meaning behind every word.
The ones I disagree with
The ones that I love
And even the ones that make no sense at all.

Then I’ll be content,
Being forgotten by everyone
And everything

I want to go to war ;
Not for glory and valor or duty and honor,
Not for some government’s victory fantasy.
I don’t even believe in killing,
And yet I still want to.
What a sad sight it would be to the soldiers,
The trained psychopaths who grew up,
In families that took away their fear and weakness,
(Their soul and heart as well)
Who were taught from birth to hold a gun against someone’s head
And shoot.
They will look at me, and
They will laugh until the veins in their over muscled necks pop,
And then they will laugh some more, and
Say” What the hell?
Who gave a pacifist a gun?”

And I will tell the murderous
Merciless
Arrogant
Brutes
“I want to rob a bank as well.”

And they will stare at me blankly
And inquire of me “why would a ***** ever,
Ever,
Ever
want to do something dangerous?”

And I will simply give a knowing smile
And reply
“I’m jealous,
I’m tired of only being a monster
Inside my head.”

Welcome to my humble abode,
My mind, my heart, my soul,
My madhouse and my prison,
My open fields and dark caves.
Come inside and see,
Where I play out all my fantasies
From simple walks
On sunshine beaches
To chanting crowds
After great speeches.
In one room, I play dress up
With many faces of different sorts.
In another I just repeat one thing,
“I love life”
A million times a day, just to believe it.
You are welcome to wander
My labyrinth of many halls,
Where you might find
Temptation gremlins and inhibition faeries at play.
You can walk through this castle’s yard
On a winding path that never ends,
Passing the shocking sculptures and hedges,
Kept by the half mad, half blind gardener.

In fact,
If you so crazily wish,
You can spend all your time here,
Peeping in to my inner workings,
Finding wonderful things,
Devilish things,
Things that make no sense,
And things that should not exist.

But I warn you;
Don’t try to understand the order here.
Don’t try to pick up any meaning.
Don’t touch anything, don’t get involved,
Or you might get lost in here
And become another voice inside my head,
Going about the rest of your life as merely a
Whisper

The line on the sand
A scar on the flat surface
A wound from a knife

Temptingly perfect
The idealist’s barrier
Asking to be crossed

Begging to be crossed
Whispering dark promises
Of god, glory, gold

Seductively calling
“Step across my idealist
There will be reward.”

And the cry goes
Unignored by cur’ous ear
That quickly slips pass

So willingly to
Forget the line they, themselves
Drew not to be toucheded

Then they hide the line
Filling it with their morals
All to prevent shame

they draw a new line
On the morality plain
The old forgotten

This new scratch is soon
Crossed as swiftly as the last.
More soul left behind

Until there’s nothing
Just a dark spot in shadows
On the moon’s dark side

Mortality.

People fear it.
Personally,
I do not.
People despise it.
Personally,
I do not
People try to avoid it
Personally,
I accept that

No matter what
It always comes.

Mortality

It’s that party crasher
That everyone feared
Would show up
Uninvited.
It’s that proverbial snake
That you never see coming
But will always end up
Biting you.
It is that distant relative
That you don’t really like,
That winds up on
Your doorstep.

Mortality.

It is that reminder
That our time
Is limited here.
That countdown
Saying we better
Start getting productive
Before we get forgotten.
That timer that reads
Get to know your family
Get to know your friends
They might all be gone soon.
That sign that says
Road closed ahead
Detour to the beyond.

Mortality.

It happens.
End
Of
Discussions.
Either
Let it ruin your day
Or
Keep living on.

Once there was a day
A simple, plain day
With a middle,
Beginning, and end
With a tea time
A lunch time
A dinner time too
The sky was cloudless blue
And there was a bubbly breeze
As only fits a simple day
As this day was

And enjoying this day was a boy
A normal, average boy
With a large smile
Ruffled hair, and ***** face
With two good hands
A strong jaw
Ten toes as well
The boy played happily
His imagination wandered free
As only fits an average boy
As this boy was

On this day, there was a rock
A dull, boring rock
With no real shape,
Color, or value
With a hard surface
A strong mass
And good aerodynamics
A rock that flew throught the air
And shatterd glass
As only fits a thrown rock
As this rock was

This day, there was a plague
A horrendous, devastating plague
With a death toll
Of six billion
With no cure
No treatment
No vaccine
Stored safely in a vile
Until it was let free
As only fits a bioweapon
As this plague was.

Your eyes are cold
Your head is down
thinking that way
Makes Your lips frown

You stand on the
brink of the day
Tween here and gone
And now and there


What will you do
Before you're gone
Do you yet know
It's almost dawn

Where will you go
Until time's end
What will you show
To death, your friend


So please don't think
Don't think about
Eternal sleep
Fading away
For if you do
Then you shall be
Think of what
you will leave

Please think of those
who'll always care
What will they be
Without you there

So think of us
Your family
And how we changed
Your entire world

We'll pull you through
These hardened times
Into the light
Of this new day

So hold our hands
We'll hold to you
We won't let go
Until it's through

So please don't think
Don't think about
Eternal sleep
Fading away
For if you do
Then you shall be
And slip away
Before the day

Before the day

I always keep a wish list
I write what I want
And the price I’ll pay.
Be it a target for a twenty
Or love for an arm and a leg.
I’ll pay fifty for a new game
And my soul for popularity.
Music is a dollar a song.
Friendship is always priceless.
Racing suit costs me eighty
And family costs a few feuds.
The shiny new watch sells for forty
Success sells for just too much.
The only thing that’s ever free
Is the happiness that surrounds me.
All that cost is one’s own decision
To tell sadness, good riddance.

It’s 10:09 pm
On a dark Wednesday night.
I slosh through the mud
Looking for what is lost.
Looking over ever rock,
Under every edge,
Even turning up the soil.
But I can’t see what is lost
For it has long fallen out of sight
So I cry three times.
Once for my loss
Twice for my love
Trice for good measure.
But nothing ever responds
In the dead of the night.
Nothing but echoes
Over the dark glass water.
As if I’m not the only one
Out looking for what is lost.

I shiver under the force of the breeze
Quaking in hopelessness
Imagining that with the wind
Comes little piercing daggers of blame.
If you had been more diligent,
Maybe things wouldn’t slip away.
If you had been a better person
Maybe luck would smile kindly.
If you had been well mannered
Maybe I would not be searching.
None of this makes sense though.
It could’ve been anyone’s fault
Even nobody’s.
But I blame myself
Because it’s easier than
Blaming someone else

Meandering back to my home,
Hearing the cries of the little girl
And the cooing of the kind mother,
I wonder what I’m really looking for.
Is my search just for a lost pet
Or do I cry for much more than that?
I call out for every precious moment
Between you and me that’s been
Wasted.
I cry out for those missed, subtle hints
That just might have changed my whole
World.
I scream out for you, my lost loves
Where ever you might be, I remember
You.
I shout into the night.
Waiting to see everything that is gone
Coming rushing happily back home.
But nothing responds on a dark
Cold
Hopeless
Miserable
Wednesday Night.

I work five days a week
I work nearly seven hours a day
When I’m not at work
I’m working out
I’m at practice 4 days a week
I’m in transit most of the time
I have something to do every day
I've even calculated
That in my busy life
I only have an average of two hours free
Each day

But what do I do in my free time?
Nothing
Zip, zero, nada
All those hopes and dreams
Become excuses
All those aspirations
Wear away
It all becomes too much
And then what do I become...
If I am not my work
Since I’m not valiant or noble
If I am not my workout
Since I don’t have endurance or heart
Then I must be my free time
Only wasted potential.

You know,
I had plans at one point.
I had a goal for my life,
A wonderfully simple life.
Happy in its perfection
Perfect in its normality.
You were part of it.
My closest friend,
My closest lover,
My closest rival.
But now I am nothing.

I am that dried up strawberry
Stuck to the cement
When the last patron goes home
Needing to be scraped up
By the hand of god
Or fate
Ordestiny
Or whoever is stuck with the job
On that unfortunate day

I am this way because
Of all the excuses I’ve said
All the people I’ve tried to be
All the lies I’ve tried to believe
But in the end
I am this way
Because I think
this is the way
I’m meant to be.

We weren’t all meant to be heroes
In fact
Few of us will make it to pedestrian
While the rest of us
Roll around the levels of evil
To general shoe ****

And you know,
I’m not happy with where I am
But I wasn’t happy as a poster child
Being hated by you
Is just easier than
Being liked

In the garden,
Where secrets hide
Behind every tree
Where black and yellow
Knights float free
where tomatoes grow
Next to smiling children
Where birds flitter by
In the passing of years
And currents of time

In the garden
Where my safe house
Meets the outside world
Where life trudges on
Like a caterpillars crawl
Where memories are born
With the new spring birds
Where one realizes
This is what life is,
How it's all meant to be

Do you remember?
The sight of the water
Snaking between the rocks.
The sound of the birds
Chirping nature’s melody
Do you remember?
Our little world
Apart from the outside.
The movements of the moments
That felt like eternity to me.
Do you remember?
Being truly happy
In that time we shared.

Were those moments
Just figments
Of remembered fantasies?
Was there nothing there
That felt like home?
Or do you remember
Something else
Much more sinister?

After giving up on homework
I'm going to write a poem
About what I have done
And where I am
And what is my worth

Those are questions on my conscious
Right now, I don't have the time
This why I want to take
A mental photograph

I want to take a snapshot
Of the single moments
Where my mind is off
Leaving the feeling Melancholy
To sweep up.
A time where I sit and wonder
What my point is anymore.

Of the times when my Mind
Comes in from a late day
At work
And the traffic was bad
And there was no promotion
Nor bonus nor reward
For the extra work
He had put in this week.
So he plops himself on the sofa
And his on the couch
Drinking yet another can of beer

In the kitchen
His wife Conscious cries
As she puts away the candles
And stows away the meal.
A romantic meal is all she wants
Mind will not put in the work
This was not the man she loved
Not this burnt out corpse

I wonder why I keep going on
Why I keep pushing myself forward
There's nothing special about me
I'm just a normal mortal

When I look into the mirror
I see flesh and bone
And tired eyes
I see acne and scars
And razor cuts
I do not see a god,
A creature that's special.
Just a simple human
Not worth all the hype
Not worth a penny more
Than all his peers
Actually, probably
Worth a penny less

You who read this might think
Is he depressed
Sick
A whiney *****?
The answer is
At times to all

I'm merely just a
Tired
Burnt
Angsty
Teenager.
With the constant nagging thought
What have I done?
Where am I?
Am I worth all the compliments?
Am I worth all the insults?
Am I worth anything at all?
For even teens
Filled with angst
Can question themselves sometimes

So I'm filing this snapshot
Along with all my more coherent ones
Is this a good idea?
I hardly read the work.
Oh who ******* cares
This is more for me
Than for you

Opa,
It is a word,
But more of a sound,
The sound of
Thrown plates
Hitting the ground,
The sound of
God's cheer
At human accomplishment,
The sound of
Friends together
Stealing away the night.
Opa is expression,
Is happiness in life.

Opa in a name
Of an excellent resturaunt
Nestled in the land
Between dream
And reality
Where the tastes
Of the old
Blend with new
In the seamless style
Of the modern world.
Opa brings hope.

Hope is at
The doorstep
Of my doubtful heart.
Hope for redemption
In forefather's eyes.
That a connection
Can be still made
To my ancient world;
To my own blood,
Soul and flesh.
That I can
Learn to dance
In my own skin.

Opa is possibility
For my motherland
To hold on to life
By the slippery reins
And keep up
With the world,
But not lose tradition.
There is possibility
For me
To reclaim herritage;
To learn my history;
To live proudly Greek

Hoy, esta minuto
Estoy escribiendo
Una poemita
En español

Cosas pequeñas
Son mas bonitas
En un idioma
Antiquo
La gramatica
Es facil y fluye
Las palabras
Son muy bellas
Cuando las
Son habladas
En una forma
De extranjera

Esta dia es magnifico
Por lo habla me
En idioma differente
Para suertes mejores

You speak so softly
Barely a feather
In the gentle breeze.
But your word weigh
Heavily on my mind.
You need to speak up.

How could anyone tell
What exactly you mean
When you have no conviction?
Especially oblivious me?

You cannot juggle words
Like they're flaming rings
Unless you want to burn.
Words must be thrown
Like darts at a target,
Each one hitting bulls-eye

This tentative manner
Might hold your audience
In a momentary trance
But they will move on
If all you ever do is dance
Around your point.

You may ask for me,
For my support or
Indeed, my company
But if your only words
Are lost in between
You only say, please leave.

I may understand why
Your words never come,
I may understand why
You desire not to hurt,
But I don't understand why
You leave others in the dark.

Walking down the halls,
Looking at the smart ones,
The ones who couldn't give
Any less of a care.
Those are the one that
Seem much happier.

I pushed myself so,so far.
I have to say, I tried my best,
But I'm left with only doubts
And a lack of self-confidence.
"Have I gone far enough?
Will I ever leave my mark?"

I doubt,
I doubt,
Doubt extremely much.
With no sight of evidence
Just confusion
And tiredness

Walking past the classrooms,
All empty of their prisoners.
While the others are leaving,
I am still here to stay.
They are off to live their lives,
While I walk towards decay.

I see an empty spot
In the middle of it all,
Where I decide to collapse
To give up for a liitle while

I always had wondered
What it'd be like to go mad

Stweeet
Stweeet
The insects drum
And fiddle
And strum
And sing
Their organic beat
Matching time with my heart
Thump
Thump
My heart's a bass
It plucks a simple beat
But it plays loud,
For you,
The soulful passion
Of my inner soul

It's Nature's love song
The primal rave
The ancient celebration
With the lights
Of the stars
And the coolness
Of the wind
And the...
Stweeet
Thump
Stweeet
Thump
Of the lonely
Bachelors
Calling out for you,
Their sacred love

Serenading you
With lover's lullaby
Stweeeet
Stweeet
Stweet
Sweet Dreams, Dear;
From your million courtiers
Playing in the dark,
Good Night

The snow flakes fall heavily;
Icing over the barnhouse roof,
Turning the fields to cream
And the haystacks to floating cakes.
The early ice cut the land deep.
The crops and cattle will die.
Leaving nothing but icy confections.
And the farmer will only have
One withering cherry tree

A gorgeous tree
With icicle leaves
And branches like fingers
Begging for warmth.
It has the beauty of standing
When all else has fallen.
But the staunch defender
Has seen life's torments.
It's seen summers pass
With the drying of land,
And autumns come and go
With the changing of clothes.

She had been as
Fair and pure
As the cherry tree.
An innocent youth,
Radiating inner joy.
A prize not worthy
For the noblest king.
Yet she loved him so,
Making there parting
Much more dark.

She withered away
One winter's eve
And with one last breath
She whispered "my love".
The farmer bore the task
And with his own hands
Laid her to her bed
And planted the cherry tree,
A grave mark, above her head.

Three weeks pass
And the snow still falls
The fire no longer burns
Old age keeps the farmer
A prisoner in his house
And being a deperate man,
He takes up his axe
And goes into the yard

In the following spring,
A young couple in love
Journeyed by the house
Where there eyes fell upon
The grace of a cherry tree.
And beneath that the tree
Was a farmer buried in a
Soft pink funeral shroud.
Too dignified to harm
The last remaining mark
Of his lover gone.

At one point
I was on the building.
At one point
I knew where I stood.
At one point
I was happy with life.
At one point
I was not.

At one point
I went to the roof
At one point
I stood on the edge
At one point
They watched me jump
At one point
They covered my face

At one point
I looked at myself
And thought life
Wasn't worth living.
That's when I fell
And kept falling

But while I fell
I saw the faces
Of homeless men
On the streets below.
I saw the pains
Of abused children
Through passing windows.
I saw others falling
Pointless and illogical
Wastes like myself.

The last thing that I saw
Was the approaching ground
Then, I no longer sought death,
But I couldn't do anything
About not wanting to die.
I was too far gone for that.

At one point
I didn't think
About what I was
Doing on the roof
And unalterability
Of my decision.

Splat
The hand drops
Smothering the flames,
Causing them to die

For a few moments
The fire knew life.
It had energy,
The essence of power
It grew stronger and
Spread its roots

In a second
What started as
A spluttering infant
Was snubbed out.
It will neve see
What it could be.

So easy it is.
To put out a fire,
To change the future
To end the potential
With the tips of your fingers
Or the flat of your palms.

So easy it is
To end a fire
To say good night
It's time to sleep.
Shhhhhh

I sought calm seas,
The seas I knew,
Where I was born,
Waters I understand.
I charted my course
And unfurled my sails
Just in time for the storm.
To spirit me away
Into the unknown

I though I was
Prepared, a good sailor
But when the skies
Turned dark and the
Waves grew tall,
I was not ready
For my mind to
Fall to pieces,
My spirit to collapse.

I gripped the wheel
Holding on tight
As lightning struck
The deck around me.
With one last wave
The height of the mast
I was tossed away,
Carried out to seas
Yet to be charted.

Floating, drowning
Churned around
By angry swells.
The water floods
My empty lungs
And feeling unexplored
Pains unexperienced
Filled my empty mind.
I shiver in the cold.

As no one approches
To help the poor girl,
I decide to give her
Some of my time.

I extend my hand
To help her up,
But she looks at me
And slaps it away.

"How could you
Think I'd want
Anyone's help?
Does it look like
I care for it?"
She spits at me.

She dashes off,
The pedestrians
Stare at me,
Laughing with
Their insect eyes.
The faces of doubt
And of foresight
are among them.
Whispering to me
" we did warn you"

All I wanted to do
Was to extend a
Hand of kindness.
I meerly wanted
To connect to her,
And see her happy,
But all I saw
Was mistrust
Brought about by
Too many nights
Crying alone.

How unfortunate
A person can be
To see all with mistrust
What does this say
Of our world.
This, too, seems
Just plain wrong.

A little girl cries
On a busy street
In downtown New york.
She is lost, helpless,
Unable to find her way
Through the growing crowd
Of mid-day commuters.

The innocent bird has
lost her path home.
The fledgling creature
Flew through dark terrors
Seen worse than most.
That poor little girl,
She needs someone's help.

But the pedestrians pass.
The rich and the destitute
Both turn a blind eye
To the victim's struggles.
Those able to help
Pretend nothing's wrong
And no good is done.

This is a plague
Infecting all people,
A disease that will
Cause human's downfall.
How can they not see
The troubles before them?
How can they not take
Responsibility for their actions,
For the problems they've caused?
To me
This seems
Just wrong

Going through life
With no lights on.
Staring at the nebulous,
Hazy events pass by.
Waving good bye to the
Monotonous days, wasted
Time means nothing
When you sleep through it
Like looing at the world
Through smudged glasses.

I always day sleep,
Blocking out my life.
Living as if nothing ever happens
And Sometimes believing it too.
If only to cut lose the weight
Of my chronic heart pains,
The angina from the sad state
That this world is now in.

Dark clouds loom heavily
On the horizon's edge.
Gray shapes in the image
Of hopeless, lost faces
Torn apart  by harsh agony
With hatred and despair.
In the clouds are the souls
Of the ******, the doomed,
And as the sun goes out
Hidden by a myriad of troubles,
The darkness of the human soul
Throws shadows on the Earth.

But the torrential rains fall cooly,
Drowning out the chaos with
The constant rhythmic beat,
Rat-tat-tat Rat-tat-tat.
The rain washes over me
Cleaning the dirt off my face.
The showers quench the fires
And grows new life within me.
A new plant takes root,
One named experience.
Even in the shadow's gloom
Good things can sprout.

As the sun sets
And the dark things
Come out to play,
I take off my mask
And howl at the moon.

By starlight I change
From man to beast.
By moonlight I turn
My back to society
And go prowling in the black.

When the stars call
And no one is home,
I sneak into the world,
Stealing away from home
To be myself by nightfall

I want to run
And run and run,
To keep moving on,
Straight into the
Darkest places
With nothing but
A flashlight
And my goals
In my hand

As I'll sprint
Down unlit
Night highways,
I'll think one thought,
If only I would
Never come back.
If only I ran
Into something bigger.

Then I will never
Be seen from again.
I would be dust
Gathered on the side
Of the road less taken,
And my casket
Would be empty,
Just an honorary
Funeral symbol
Of the disappered

Hold your breath.

For
When you don't breathe
Your brain starts to die
Along with your troubles
Your angers
Your pains
Your fears
Your nightmares
Your failures
Your hopelessness

Your memoy
Your potential
Your family
Your friends
Your opportunity
Your wishes and dreams
Your life
And all that you are
And all that you could be
Will wither as well.
You might want to breathe
Before you lose more
Than you want.

Two black moons
Eclipse two green suns
Sending light green rays
Across sea blue skies.
Yes,
Those are my eyes

Overgrown black forest
Covers a landscape
Of sharp features,
With cold, hard angles.
Yes,
That is my face

Tall and gangly
Lost and confused.
Awkward, out of place
With the rest of the room
Sigh,
That is me

Staring at the mirror
Looking at the portrait
Of someone obviously me
But yet feels like it's not.

I can see the freshness
Stripped off of his face
As the years fly by
Traveling backwards
Through time

He is taller, darker.
Gone are his innocent eyes,
Relaced with olive brown.
Gone is his light colored hair,
Replaced with coarse black.

His very essence is power
Power at the price of blood,
He is a strong figure,
One to be respected

I see coluseum sands
Become metallic floors.
A new figure apears

He is clean shave.
He has light blond hair
And nearly translucent skin.
His eyes are steel gray,
Cold, calculating

He is a scientist
With an upturned nose
He's known to keep intelligence
Right next to arrogance.

All this
And much more
Is what I can see
When I look in the mirror,
But I can never see me,
Too ashamed, not satisfied
With being just me.

Thank you for calling
John Kaffezakis.
He is currently out,
Probably lost somewhere.
He is kinda busy
Finding his way
Right now, and
He'll likely be out,
Floating in space,
For the entirety
Of known time.
So

If you are calling
As a courtesy
Or because you feel
That you have to,
Please leave your *******
And don't call again.
He will never get back to you
With appreciation of your fallacy.

If you are calling
For guidance/slash/help,
Leave your name,
Number and issue
And John will be glad
To get back to you
As soon as possible.
Because your problems
Seem to take less effort
To solve than his own
And he likes seeing you happy.
But

If you are calling
Because you want to see him
Because you want his company,
Do not leave a message;
Get off your lousy phone;
And see him face to face.
He's out in the world
Doing the things he loves
And he happily shares that
With all his good friends

Beep

Speeding down the road
In my shiny silver corvette.
The wind blasting my face,
Only open country highway
Coming my way.
So I fiddle with the ****
On my old radio
To find something worth playing.

Crackle
A man calls out,
Deperate in his attempts
To get the attention
Of the most beautiful girl
Who's with another man...
Next!

Pop
A woman sobs loudly
Over losing her true love,
Over being left alone.
She wants the deserter back
But at what cost...
Flip!

Pssshht
A couple find each other.
They are destined to be,
To have the beautiful wedding,
To raise the perfect family,
To live the American Dream...  
Turn off!

My god
They are everywhere  
No wonder my life's  
A love song

That must be why
I want to hold someone
In my arms
In my heart
In my mind
So, so badly,
I want to find someone
That fits me
That loves me
That's THE ONE
Of course
I want someone to call me
Boyfriend
Love  
Husband

It is plastered everywhere  
All these childhood fantasies
All this innocent thinking
All this wonderful imagining.  
And I devour it all  
Because I have no reason  
To believe it's impossibe
Even though it'll be hard.

You might think I'm  
Pathetic and foolish;
You might call me silly;
You can laugh away,
But my life is a love song
And I bet yours is too.
You just haven't thought about it.
It's probably best if you try not to.

So my life is a love song.
Is it something you'd listen to?

I’m just a sinner
In the hands of
An angry god
I know.
I’m just a sinner
In the land of
Great Satan’s love
I know
I’m just a sinner
That’s all I am
And nothing else
I know.

I  tell you
I am right
But god knows
I am wrong.
I’d lie to
You all night
But secrets
Will come out.

I’m a devil man
That is what I am
I got red blood on
My criminal hands
I’m a devil man
I’m eternally ******
I don’t give a ****
Even if I rot in
Hell’s deepest pit

I have hell
On my ticket
And I’m trying
To get away

I’m just a sinner
In the hands of
An angry god
I know.
I’m just a sinner
In the land of
Great Satan’s love
I know
I’m just a sinner
That’s all I am
And nothing else
I know.

Religion’s gone
From my soul
I once believed
Those times are past
Took it to bed
And woke up alone.

Found out god
Had left me
For someone else
Turned my back
On the book
And he got ******
Tortured soul
Is all that
I have left

So why call me
A demon
I already know
You know where I
Am going
You don't have
To worry
You will be there
Soon too.

I’m just a sinner
In the hands of
An angry god
I know.
I’m just a sinner
In the land of
Great Satan’s love
I know
I’m just a sinner
That’s all I am
And nothing else
I know.

“Yes sir.” “No sir.”
“Another sir?”
The butler says
Waiting on those
Who are in power.
“Shoes off please”              
“May I take your coat?”
He is trampled upon.
Sitting in a corner,
Left to his own devices,
He cries.
No one asks the butler.
“How was your day?”
“Do you want anything?”
No one cares
About a doormat’s woes
But he cares
For theirs

A lighter side
To this?

I can’t think of one
I’m tired.
I’m worn out.
I’m saddened.
I’m nostalgic.
I’m foolish.

Okay,
I’m not myself now.
Life has been rough
And I’m a bit pessimistic
At the moment.
But I’m allowed to be,
Right?

When it comes down to it,
I know things are getting
Better and better.
When it comes down to it,
I know that we are
Doing better than most.
When it comes down to it,
I know that things are so good
That things are so hopeful
That our chances are so great,
That if they were any better,
I couldn’t stand it.

Overall,
The world is inherently good.
People are inherently good.
Things can get crazy,
But life is inherently good.

Still, even if I know that.
Even if I am an optimist
Even if I am a romantic.
Even if I am hopeful.
I can take a moment
To bathe in depression,
To be a bit grim about things,
To be “realistic”,
That other word for pessimistic.

I don’t have to always
See the lighter side.
Do I?

There could be a killer
Standing outside of
The door to your house.
As you and your husband
Sleep quite peacefully.

He could be watching
As you inhale slowly
And as your body falls
When you exhale a breath
That could be your last.

He could be standing
With a knife above you.
He could smile at the thought
Of your beating heart stopping
On the tip of his blade.

That could happen.
It is a fear that runs
Circle about your mind.
It is an outcome that
Could possibly take place
If the fates smiled at
You with sharpened fangs.

It’s doubtful
That it will though,
But you’re going to
Let it control your
Actions anyways.

You’re going to write a will
And see your family
And be with your friends.
And you will feel safe
And unafraid.

And then as you
Walk home from church
You will be mugged
And shot dead.
You fingers will
Already be cold
When the paramedics
Arrive.

All those friends
You reacquainted,
All those family
You helped out,
All your coworkers
You befriended,
Will show up
At your tragically
Beautiful funeral.

While you sip tea
In the beyond,
You will smile
And think
“Aren’t I lucky.
I was prepared
For what could happen
And that helped me
With the inevitable”

But you’ll forget
That the only
Reason
You went  to
The church
Was because
You were afraid
Of what could have,
Might have happened,
Making the could be
Into the did happen.