I saw his name
And felt nothing -
What a wonderful feat!
To not have my heart plummet
Down my chest to my stomach,
And wind up on the ground in a pitiful heap!

I used to study the letters
And worry the lines,
I pondered the edges –
A victimless crime.
Rolling with their curves
Memorizing their bends;
Their small supple signs  
Stretching onwards, no end.

Yet now as I see them,
Strong, stark, and bare,
And though (as for that the passing there)
They belong now to another,
I recognize their shape,
And can still hear their rhyme,
But say now beyond all reason this season
Of torment gradually declines.

How freeing!
How liberating -
Oh god, this clean air!
It’s purer up Here – out………....………..
From behind all that doubt and despair;
Beyond darkness and fear:
A place where Stillness is born
And dawn is just breaking -
Where the daylight waits for waking
And nighttime dreams on no more.

What is this happiness?
Am I to seek out, yearn for, grasp up mere moments?
-or is it a perpetuated state of being?
One for only the rarest and most deserving?

Am I the saboteur of my own making?
Am I the weak-willed wallower
Who falls further faster farther under
Behind and beyond the rarified
Deified reality of some form of happy?

Who CARES?  Jesus, who cares!?
What is all this for anyway?!

We ****.  We fight.  We feast.  We famine.
We rage and ruin the peak of our creations
-we, in harmony, benefit from mass assimilations
While singularly sink in to oblivion.

My days keep passing
Right on by unnoticed
Unhindered in any way
By my ineffective
Inconsequential
And wholly insignificant
Dull gaze
Only moments
Those are all I see
Not the hours
Nor the days nor the
Meaningless long weeks
They never mean near as much to me
As those moments that always onwards flee.

What more is there to say?
How can I keep filling up this empty page
With the same tired words
Every single day?
Repeating always
That which has already been said;
When the words run dry
And their meaning’s dead,
I’m left with dull forms
That from this dark pen have bled
Black onto this neatly lined page –
My confusion, my sadness,
My infinite rage,
Will never be known
Or felt by another
As long as I hide
Behind these empty phrases
And worn-out, empty lines.
Go on now,
Fill up the page.
Notice how the words come now
With less and less grace.
How every single second
Spent on these lines in vain
Is ripped from my life
And can never be replaced.

Is there anything more terrifying
Than not knowing what
You‘re going to say?  

I can’t think of anything-

Do they always Say
What they mean – what they
Do you mean
Anyway? Anyhow
Oh wow my dear
You’re here – here
Nowhere with me -

We - you and me are
Have been will be
All. One. Everything.
Everywhere nowhere all
Now here, my dear.
We’re all here
All one in the same.

The same, the same, the
Circlingcurving same –
So don’t be afraid
Of not knowing
What you’re going to
Say --

Think of something –
Anything and nothing –
Dreaming beyond knowing
Your truth back to way.

Jump without leaping into
The unknown
And you’ll be the first
One to go.

There is a a time to laugh
A time to sing
A time to cry
And a time to scream
Time's unmeasured
In moments unseen
Do the best you can
In this waking dream

Towing the Line

I drag it behind me,
Push it out in front,
But it seems I’m always
Never near enough.
The past plagues my present,
I worry the future now,
All the while forgetting
The way; the why; the how
To toe the line between
The “then” and the “will be” –
To simply walk on the brink
Of the joined eternities.

The ocean glitters - hot like gold on fire in that long line -
And the restless waves crash and die
Weaving back and forth
On their lonesome tide.

Is the sea lonely?
Does it long to be on the land?
Is that why it always dies with a thunder
And a crash against the sand?
Or is it so excited
To simply be alive
That it can't contain it's emotion
In the deep belly of the dark ocean,
And needs to crash with glee
On the empty sandy beach?

When the final day songs have been sung
And the new night songs have not yet begun
The deafening silence of the twinkling twilight
Is the splendid calm before the sonorous night:
Clear now as a bell, the frogs and crickets sing –
And I feel the wonderment, the joy,
Of simply being.

Nothing - naught a thing -
Fills my festering Want Hole;
This void is a toxic warning
The same to blacken my pockmarked soul.

My sole desire seems ever
Changing shifting morphing
Into a new dream beyond waking
Remembering forsaken things forgotten -

And I keep spilling slipping sliding
Cascading ever sideways
Down the slippery ***** of my Want Hole,
So void-full
To the soul.