When Bablylon
conquered Jerusalem
they took everyone as slaves back Chaldea . Everyone except the
weak , the meek , and the Poet Freak .

I had
my seven bridges road

watered potholes full of river water and muddy toads

Black moccasins . . .
poison pastors
in disguise

******* on frozen popsicled lies

I had my reasons
that made the tires spin . . .
under
the southern stars
and cotton candy skies

I had my moments of love's respite
while I rearranged
the letters to the questions why

No matter how
it mattered
it doesn't anymore





I once drove
over seven bridges
on muddy roads . . .
in fog and moonlight
but I will no more

no not for you anymore

Only 7% of the world's total population of 109 to 119 billion people are alive right now .


Like the Smashing Pumpkins say , the killer in you
is the killer in me

Everyone
somehow , somewhere , someway

Is responsible for causing the death
of someone else

"You have severe arterial fibrillation . You need attention now or you may have a stroke and die ."
I said Doc , "I'm not afraid of dying . I'm afraid of living."

I was to catch her
in  the rye
Maybe maybe
say goodbye

Alex stood naked
cloaked in orange
singing shivers
in the rain

We all know
how the story goes
So it goes
So on it goes

El Bib the acronym
To be read
back and forth
from end to end

Huckleberries
the river flows
down wrong paths
Big Jim he knows

I was the phoney
in the rye
A clockwork orange
in disguise

Your life is a labyrinth . A single path of no return .

Your mind is a maze ,
it twists , dead ends
has to stop and begin
again

We were born with only time in hand
Handing out the days left to live

Question :
"What was the name of the ship that brought the Pilgrims to America ?"

1. S.S. Guppy

2. Queen's Merry

3. Love Boat

4. Satanic

5. April Showers

6. Maybe Flowers

7. Trump's Junk

I was handed
   a glass full of life
And begged to
   to partake

To drink up
   he drunk
To swallow
   and forget
the strife

Instead of
   sweet dreams
Swilling concepts
   sprung to life

The more swill
    I swallowed
The tighter
    the grasp
I would yield

The pressure
    so great
The glass shattered
    life spilled

The blood
    gushed
But it was
    a relief

Just a pain
    I could understand
Something real
    I could handle

While the interpretators are putting together
the interpolators
are extracting out

Then presage
dubulators
encliticly
compile  
their mistakes

The soothsayers
are cloud-mongers
diviners of the light
They go to bed
and rise again
like anyone who might

The sorcerers
possess broken shreds
flinging incantations
and drugs about
While the dreamers
examine the threads
of last night so they claim to find it out

So amusing
just abusive
Words are blessings
in disguise

Pierce right
through me
Words of violence
deceitfully

Vows are choking
Only to be broken
Leaving pleasures
to blame


Just like
the viloence
the silence comes
crashing down

So amusing
Just abusive
Words are blessings
in disguise

Being . . . Christian . . .

means . . .

being secure . . .

in sadness . . .

ìn pain . . .

without love . . .

beaten . . .

falsely accused . . .

lied to . . .

jailed . . .

and killed . . .

for a single
thought
in head

How much
worse then
for the rest
of the world

Winter is our reward
for the killing
of the
warmer days
For basting
in sunlight sauce
For holding
condensations
on the glasses
of the ways
Now we embrace
the cold
bare
naked in the trees
wet is their
slimy armour
dampened
by  dismay
by all
our needy greed

Bob saw the lightning
then he sat . . .
and wondered . . .
but there came no thunder

I was left to wonder
about the teaspoon
and the empty cup . . .

no tea . . . no thunder

and of course
all of my blunders
One lump or two . . .

I'll have two sweetners

I should have been writing a new poem but instead I got lost in the poetry of others . Their words compelled me to continue on .

In disgusted fall
leaves rusty and dirt brown too
Reminds me of you

Disciples , Disciples , Disciples . . .
Everyone becomes one
Everyone denies the fact
We all run around
with some kind
of a monkey on our backs
Just like all of the
Marys , Bobs and even all the Sues
we crave to belong
just like they will to do
They gather in the forest
Cutting down the trees
Decorate them in gold and silver tinsel and many colored lights
Then turn them on and worship them in their celebrations far into the night
Is it a made to form idol
of wooden dreams desired
That is tossed out back in the alleys
Or burned up in the raging fires
Man makes the idols
God made the hands that do

Word pressed being
burnt in bone
Barking words
seeking home

Irrepressible
strength of force
Heart denying
none of course

Always ,
. . . kept a fire
burning in my heart . . .

Even though
in years
we grew apart . . .

Never could
just let
it go . . . let it be . . .
so now you know

We would dance
coming
in and out of view

You'd cling
to me . . .
I'd hold
onto you

Neither one
cared or
knew better . . .
what
were  we
to do ?

(Chorus)
So we
just kept
dancing . . .
dancing . . .
dancing . . .
the night
away . . .
holding onto dreams
we made up
along the way)

(meanwhile
dancing all the
night away)

(Music) . . . .

Sometimes there was
no better way . . .
not until the sun
chases the night away

so we
kept on dancing ,
dancing . . .
until
we were out of view


(Chorus)
So now
there is
no other way

Stepping back
is impossible
you say

So I'm dreaming
I'm dancing ,  
dancing
all  
the night away

(No better way
til the sun
comes streaming in)

I'll be dancing
the night away

So I put my trust
in the hands
of man

Relied upon
the knowledge
he possessed

Testing the strength
of his flesh
I put the truth to rest


For what can grow
in the disidents
garden of desert ?

Void of living water . . .
only rock and sand and chert


Certainly not the truth
as it is claimed
raising their rights
to just desserts


Oh , the failings
of feeble man
Whose thirst is etched
on bone

Written with
diamond tipped desires
across their ******* of stone

For what
springs forth
from the wells of hearts ?

Torrents
of premeditated will

The defiling overreaching reasons
are passions fit to ****


Serpentine sin
denudes
the wicked heart

It twists its coils
around the truth ,

Bites !
then as soon arrived
it surly fast departs .


The heart
deceives the sightless mind
planting seeds of doubt

Producing moldy
grains of lies
decayed
within - without

How can one be
true of heart
when everything
falls apart

There are no women in Heaven
No moon , stars or Seven Elevens
There are no men in Heaven
No gays or lesbians
Just resurrections

Their mouths
are drooping prophets

Who've left their
salad days

Now speak in smooth
stone words

that will never
come to be

For the days
of war , famine
and pestilence

leaves one sitting
on the fence

and death
Will surely fall
to the bereft

without a course
of recompence

You stand there
as astonished

You didn't believe
the speech

When out fell the
smooth stones

of ultimate defeat

He's a feminist ****
or least
he said he wants to be
Wearing rubber latex shorts
with a matching vest  
holes cut out for his flabby breast
He has his whip
he cracks their ***
and they jump
before he blasts

The rich narcissistic aunt visited today . Dominated the conversation so no one could speak . Ate up all the candy she brought over and then stood up to leave . Then she noticed me hiding behind the chair and in a demanding tone she asked me "What are you going to grow up to be boy ?"
I emerged from behind the chair and said ,

"Disappointed !"

I found out a long time ago
The woman you want
you can't have
Now that I'm older
the women who were Killers
are now just fillers
that I don't want .

He was playing
soft shoe piano
Softly hitting
major blows
on minor keys
of sadness
His glass of scotch
and ice
sweating
on a coaster
overflows
dripping
on the floor
He was
a fountain
gushing
trickles
of gloom
He'd look up
and howl
at the
******
supermoon
The ******
of the ivory
keys
bowed
to the rapture
that captured
dissonace
on the edge
that growled
like a bear

No one listens
when you talk
in black and white
Only when
you color
the conversation
can you get them
to think twice
Black or White
they fight back
Turn to color
sweeten truth
Make it smell better
they hear only
what they want
Their minds
have become
untouchable
There is only
Silence
now
in the black
and white

And I don't know
if I can do it

once steps were so fast and secure . . .
now as hollow as the footsteps to the shadow of heels

All those beautiful colors . . . blend to white water . . . falling apogee . . . the crashing culmination of what dreamt to me

It's all situationalship ,
being in or out
down or up
in love or not
Like a metronome
we swing back and forth
from love to hate
But like a swing
is there a point
we don't enjoy the motion ?
And what is that pause ,
that force ,
when induced
makes us
turn our backs and swing back again
One must ask and answer
what becomes of us
once the motion stops
as we turn
to walk away

If mental scars
were rungs
on a ladder
It would
stretch up
into heaven

Was not this summer
the chance to gather up the grapes ?
Instead they turned their heads ,
steadfast in the folly spewing out their hate
The fall has come
and the grain rots
upon the stems of life
For the truth inside
the seed has been discarded
for the lies that leads to strife
Let them taste the bitterness
of wormwood and gall
Instead of the rejuvenation
There's winter cold recall

We Musk be from Mars
Creatures non native
to Earth who planet hop
hell bent on destruction and interplanetary war
The reason aliens look like
us is because they are us .
And guess what planet is next on the bucket list .

(What we need most
is where we look the least)


I opened up
the big blue barrel
dumped out all our past , present
and future quarrels .

(Just so we could
disagree)

♤  ♤  ♤  ♤

There was
a landslide
          of
em(bouldered) words

A tsunami
         of
emotional waves
all come
crashing down

destroying
all the
encapsulated gains

(the days ,
the months ,
the tears)

the living years ,
now come to disdain

(When you tread on danger's angst
Your words tongue
the leaks in dikes)

(When the clouds come promissing drips
. . . . . . . . . . . .
but instead
it's dust you eat)

Then ,
my lapras dear ,
it's time
to end the years

I have a basement
in my heart
where I store
the loves
of never be more
When I look around
I see
there is
lacking room

While embracing
eternity
the past
comforts me
Arm around
my shoulder
he utters
"So ìt goes , so it goes."

"An astonishing and horrible thing has been committed in the land :  The prophets prophesy falsely , And the priests rule by their own power ; And My people love to have it so , But what will you do in the end ?"
Jeremiah 5;30-31

"Daddy , what are those two ducks doing?"

"Making quackers !"

.
.
.
Are not your eyes set on the truth

Or do they seek out the illusions
made up from the images of your youth

Have you catagorized the abstract from practical truth

Or elevated your opinions
to be the irreversible truth ?

Where is the lamp that Diogenes bequeathed to you ?

Do you now stumble over the light ,
over false accusations with fingers pointing at you ?

Are they not false prophets
full of wind ?

Whose breath blows out the candles of tomorow
leaving the shadows to strut within ?

Turn the words to fire and let them consume the wooden thoughts

From the dust to the ashes

Salt poured on the lashes

Burn the truth to create

light for the righteous

Always talks you down
no religion in his frown
He's bigger than you or me
loves to see you down on knee
He's backed you into a corner
He's isolated you as a loner
Accuses you of assualt
If you protest he balks
Always your fault he says
Turns your thoughts to maze
I've said too much
Between his thumb's touch
I said too little
Calls all attempts piddle
I thought I heard you laughing
Just him slashing
It must have been a dream
or so it seemed
The beginning was the end
The remains are prayers and amens
Just the distance in your eyes
Just the mask of your disguise
The no answers to all of my whys . . .
Now I've said enough

It's 3 a.m.
Just like yesterday
dangling under the sword
of Damocles
Just wondering
Will it take a lifetime
for the thread
to break

Is HP an old folks home. Some are younger poets that are in pain and the rest are old poets that are a pain ?

This title is for no one
No it's not meant to be about you
It could be for everyone
But that would never do

I'm wide awake as the witches are
Just a mere minute now past two
I'm always awake it seems
I've nothing better to do

I saw an overweight puff ball cat ,
a tabby orange and white
It was eyeballing me
up and down out by the glow of the light

I haven't seen the moon now in so many months of May
The trees are so thick around me it's hard to even see the day

There are no gorillaz near me
But there are orangutans driving their cars
They like to pull out in front of you
They look like they spent the night in a bar

The days are getting shorter
But it feels like summer time
I know that winter is coming
I saw them stringing up Christmas signs

Why do they call it Black Friday ?
I would think white would surely do
I'd say Tim Burton was responsible but if I did I'm afraid that he just might sue

I always want a drink by starlight
But the Liquor stores are closed
During the daytime I emphaticly refuse to buy
A split personality I suppose

Well the sun should be up by now
It's a quarter after ten
Yawn oh Yawn !
It's time to turn it in

Will the sidewalks
of delimination
give up the steps
short of
the shoehorned dreams

Those deposed days
under autumn's oath
with prejury and prejudice

Not one of
if I am willing
but
one of Cain enAbeling
the complicated

The judge agreed
it was a first ,
in the first degree

I looked at mom
suspiciously
every time she
said
"eat your vegetables !"

Yes I am a living miracle because
I ain't dead yet .

Of motorcycles
and October 29th
Macon , Georgia
1971
Everything came undone
Stunned !

I love the sterile validity
The wavering insecurity
The disparity
of all its complexity

I love the strings
that make fingers bleed
Conductors
who slobber down to their knees
Epic chords that slander like a gentle breeze

What's not to love like the ghost of Mac and Beth
The accumulated end funds
that go not to the bereft
The music like vampires that have no death

Thank God for my joy
that classical dispelleth
My light it distinguisheth
The catch breath as clear as crystal ****

Out you **** spot !
You're getting in my way at HP !

I was in pursuit
of empty phantoms
and thus emptied out myself .
I became a seeker of worthlessness and became as worthless too
I was raised by the bounty of my glory days
But now I am starving through and through
And I have defiled the hands that once guided mine
A realization that only comes with the passage due to time

My ego does not lie
For my ego is the lie


I was astonished
then horribly afraid
at the total desolation
of the phantoms in my
head

one two three . . .
one two three . . .
one two three four five .

Wondering . . .
after waking . . .
in the moment
that lasts for forever .

In the darkness
In the silence
the kind
one only finds
in the calm of their personal desperation

I heard the sound
of a far off thunder
and again in my desperation
I began to wonder

one two three . . .
one two three . . .
one two three four five

.
.
Words are like keys if you choose them right .
They can open any heart or shut any mouth .
TheMindsJournal.com



I opened up . . .
dumped out the words
kicked them hard !
       CRACK !
goes a breaking rib
There is no mercy that I give
Stomped them flat
Sretched them out
Made them squeal
before I made them shout
I grabbed them naked by the throat
Squeezed so hard I made them choke
I made pain flash in their eyes
I made them pay for all their lies
Their hot fear sweated out
I was resolved without a doubt
Red blood running cold
All their soul I bought and sold
I made them wish they had never been saged
Before I made a morgue of the page

I didn't feel ten feet tall .
Actually I wasn't feeling
anything at all .

Ever had one of those incredulous moments when you don't recognize anyone at all ?

Perhaps I should go ask Alice after all ?

Maybe she's the one ten feet tall ?

Maybe I could jump down a rabbits hole .

But all I see are all eyes on me .

So paranoid !

Tis true they see what they want to see outside and not inside of me .

The home team strikes out again and loses just like last "Time" and will again

It was almost the great gig in the sky . . . the elevator out of order , the escalator broken down , leaving just the stairway . . . to the rabbit's hole .

"Whole lotta love?"
was Alice's reply .

I said ,"Any color you like ! It can be just us and them ."

She then smiled but all I could see was a cheshire's grin hanging like a cresent moon .

After all it was the dark side .