Kicking back against the wall
Society says it put me here, but really I needed a place to rest.
I left my mark here, like so many before me.
Feet prints on the brick, blood on the pavement.
Time talks and I'm looking at the smirks of the firing squad.
So here I post up, years before people like me were put down.
No mutt reaction, just the next breath of the confused generation.
Trying to be the best, better than what was, knowing that we're half cocked and about to lose it.
Living on a top that's about to tip.
Hands up against the wall, it was built by the generations before us.
We're adding layers and making it higher, making it thicker.
Maybe we're on a clock, tiktok says the boomer.
I see no X on the map to mark a generation meanwhile the ghosts of granddad stay silent.
Kicking back against the wall, society says it put me here, but really I needed a place a rest.

Trying to swim but I'm drowning in the shallow end
No deep water for this first timer
You set a goal and cried a river which never ended, now it's an ocean and I'm an island.
Set sail sailor
Now the ship sunk and I'm watching the waters lap higher and higher, here I sink.
I say a prayer under my breath and tip my hat to the sea before me.
She finally got the best of me.
No matter the time, no matter the work, I feel like I failed, like I let you down.
Now take to the lifeboats, I added to these turbulent waves so with the ship I go.
The waters taking me, so here I sit and with the ship I go.

Now the monks set fire to the holy texts
Let it burn as so did our souls and passions
Now the monks are drinking wine from the vineyards
Each sip sweeter than the last, each sip sweeter than the last.
Do not as we do for we've given all we have and now we watch the flames engulf it.
Now we set fire to the pages to prove that we're men of faith and not just printed sages.
Holy fire ring out the bell, child let there be one final prayer.
Set here in our old ways, watch as we let the fire take us
I say bonfire child some and join the dance.
Come and join the dance

Was it terror, oil, freedom or war
what did we **** Osama for?

Lives spent in the searing heat, bullets whizbangs and pre packaged meat, far away from home, family wondering when I'll come home.

Bodies of men and women the fighters die together under our stars and stripes fighting a war for freedom.

No this is an oil war, this is the war on terror, we won't stop til we get em dead or alive.

Was it terror, oil, freedom or war, what did we **** Osama for?

A half job done causes a whole lot of trouble later, so why waste so many lives on something we just walked away from?

Was it worth it?
Who paid the price?
Was it worth it, Uncle Sam says
"Gee, fight the fight and fly Ol' Glory"

What was the war for? Pick which reason was worth it only for us to walk away?

Blood on the streets is blood on our hands, no heroes, no winners, just bullet casing sands

What the hell did we fight for?
Did we drop our helmets at the door?
At the door?
Just like the Romans, The British, The Soviets before, now we died in the desert, just like the forces before.
Forces before.

When the sun shone high we pulled the troops and brought em back home to Yankee Doodle land, while we sacrificed the women to the Taliban. You can kiss education, hope and civil rights goodbye.

The sun has set once again so, so long Siagon and Goodbye agan Afghanistan.

Now the citizen fled to the airports trying to hitch a ride on the outside of a plane, gripping that cold metal to their chest and hoping they fall over Afghanistan, rather be dead from a fall than alive over there again.

It's a sad state of affairs when we start a war and skip out on the check, Vietnam springs to mind, so let's hang our head and give thanks to
Bush
Obama
Trump
Biden
I hope it was worth it?
Was it really ******* worth it?
I don't think so
Not at all.

Laid to Rest



Finger on the trigger, hand on the pen.
The romantic say words are stronger, sword is weaker then.
I felt like I’ve been laid to rest sleeping in my artistic grave, chipping away at stories and poems because the urge to create is back, I came from the Cali now I’m southbound and down but this desire to ****** a page got me feeling like Wes Craven- satisfy the
Rage.

Stephen King wrote that and what a tragedy it came true too many times to be fiction, may as well be taken like dictation, how many more shootings can happen during a pandemic?

It’s enough to make me sick, enough to drive me to the edge to drink, stomach sick, heartbroken, ***** in the sink.
On the brink of society based depression, aggression up, suppression up, but the pressure keeps locking me up, draining my energy so all I’ve got to do is sleep deep and hope that tomorrow we get some sanity back.

Books hardly sell, like a doomsday preacher, street sign apocalyptic prophet I stand in the town square and yell.

Bullet based precision, but I spray like an AK, the finer points I use a ballpoint ****** rifle so I can pin the point I’m making and then I throw your bloodhound comprehension off track with a reference, so I move from A to B then loop around and connect the dots, you’ve seen it before when I leave these fanfiction writers in chalk.
Chalkboard like I take em to class, call me the Professor cause I’m giving out F’s.

I feel like I’ve been laid to rest to early, but I only laid down to recharge my batteries and the years flew by without me working, I was burnt out of thought, now the gears are turning.

I wrote six books in two years, released five, then repelled three. Now I’m working on two more with plans to republish and release all of them. Plus, I fell out with friend and in love with a former stranger, I lived through the ongoing pandemic plus a freak snowstorm, now I’m back to the grind, climbing out of the grave to soldier down in the social trench, this battle is on, meanwhile you’re still stuck on title page one.

I gave you all the tools to work, told you how to sit down and motivate and self-publish, you sat around and waited for me to show up again, superman- I know when I’m needed.

A writer writes. Take notes class because once again I’ll wade through dark and deep waters to show you how again.

Mr. Masked man is back, the boogeyman of the page, the masked anti hero who writes as much as he raves, and I don’t chug whiskey anymore, now I sip and take my time to enjoy the finer things in life, but I still got these wolf teeth and a savage bite, predator of the poem, 87 skin you alive.

Headhunter, spine collector, trophy killer, broken *** writer with the addiction to fill pages with words until it reads like the dictionary drunk off punk rock and Beethoven- blurred.

Hello fellow poets and writers,
fellow thinkers, drinkers, laughers, boomers, doomers, zoomers, consumers, looters and last but not least voters.

What can be said of a year? 2020 was hell.

Even if you tried to list all of the events that happened thus far you'd still leave some out, we've had wildfires, two very near wars, a global pandemic, animals bringing disease back, massive storms, flooding, the fourth wave of naiz's, a violent head to head with police shootings, racism, food shortages, massive power outages and the shitlist goes on.

I never used to celebrate New Years because living in America it seemed pointless, it's not hard to survive a year anymore. We have all these creature comforts even despite the riots, the crash, the loss of jobs, of life, people are still somehow surviving, so I've always let New Years be for the birds but after this, I think we could all use a good laugh. A good single breath and a moment where we can just relax.

Leave your masks on, wave at your friend and just enjoy the fact that whoever is left, is still here.

Even writing this I'm not trying to be clever, this is no time for wit or sarcasm, there is no time for wordplay.

I just think right now we all need a reminder that we're ok. Somehow this will pass, this is what the world changing looks like, this is what keystone moments in history are like.

2020, a turning point in History.

Covid is far from over and politically, socially, racially, we still have a long way to go before we can rest, but there is no rest for the true believers, there is no rest for those weary of not having social justice or feeling discounted, their waking nights have become the waking world.

Adapt or die, change or get left behind. I know we won't end racism, we won't end people will still be bigots, but what we can do is reduce those numbers and leave them in the past, through proper education, time and an unrelenting show that people will be who they are and we share the world in peace or we risk repeating this hellscape we're in now.

If you've made it this far, well done.  If you've made it this far consider this a hug, a handshake, a pat on the back. Consider this as someone who also is still here, I'll never meet you but ******* if we aren't in this fight together.

You are not alone.

-Jester.

I have aggression inside me.

Have you ever wanted to watch the world burn?
I mean really burn, not some small cinders, but a real bonfire.

I'm sick of being sick, I'm tired of being tired and I'm tired of being so ******* passive.

Six months into 2020 and here are some highlights

Remember when Australia was on fire?
****** hornets?
The Russian Oil Spill in the Arctic
Several cases of police brutality resulting in murders
The Hong Kong protests both volumes
Now ******* squirrels have been found in Colorado with the Bubonic Plague.
Another strain of Swine flu was found in China that was transmutable to humans and contained traces of the former swine flu
covid-19
The covid-19 protests.
Floods in February
Part of the United States is undergoing a record heat wave
Parts of India and Africa had to deal with record swarms of locusts
The second we stopped the lockdown in the states we went right back to mass shooting
Donald Trump
Do I need to go on?

I'm tired of this high road passive nonsense.    

I know violence isn't the answer but do you want makes the lions, tigers, apes, hog and antelope gather together?

Fire.

If the conservatives, liberals, Christians, Muslims, Pagans and Satanists, Vegans and Carnivores, Karens, Kens, If the right and the left can't meet in the middle, **** em.

Let it burn.

Why do you always have to stick your nose in other people's business?

The boys shouldn't be so proud and admit that they're western fascism, ANTIFA need to become organized so they can control their message.

If they can't, **** em.

Let it burn.

I want fires as high as Heaven, I want Roger Stone behind bars and serving his full sentence and I want the names that Epstein and Maxwell have, and she better not commit death by cop.

I want people to wake up and understand we're ******* ourselves up and proving why we're the worst species.

Otherwise, Let it burn.

I'll strike the match, I'll pour the gasoline, I'll start the fire because if that will bring us together, at least we'll be united on something.

Anger is an energy and right now I'm feeling like Chernobyl at 1:22 am.

I want fire, I want ash to rain from the sky and black out the blue, give me constituency or give me the torch, you want an eternal flame? I'll let it burn for the Gods.

I have this anger in my heart, I have to act like this is all ok, because if I don't, if I voice this **** I come off as the crazy one.

Fine by me, if you want me to crazy at least call me an arsonist.

Burn baby burn, Your systems are weak, your tiktoking your life away, you're reading too many faces and it's not even a good book you chose to reread, this is the worst high school reunion disaster movie you can think of.

At this point I'm walking the line of "******* all" and "I want to see you saved"

I'm feeling like G.G. Allin and Jesus Christ had a son.

When this place burns to the ground and you're left walking through the smolders and remains don't come crying to me because I''ve done all my crying and now I just want to watch your punk *** burn.

I want to explode, I want to detonate.

Blow this joint sky high and say "******* that was fun and thanks for the memories"

I'm walking the line of classically happy and cynically depressed.
You people have exhausted me, the anti- vaxers who'd rather listen to their hearts and highschool minds compared to experts in the field, You'd rather listen to "Dave, some 52 year old neighbor" as opposed to the CDC because you don't trust them, yet you have a social media page where you bleed your heart out?

Makes sense right? You're as dense as these flat earth *****, I'd love to see you be tossed on the pile.

Hurting public discourse? Take the guillotine or bonfire, it doesn't matter to me, you're hurting the majority and further hindering the minority, add some fuel to the fire and contribute you oxygen stealing gene pool mistake.

I dream of fire, I dream of smoke, I dream of ash, cinder, smolder and choke.

Let'***** the restart button, hell is freezing over anyway but hey, global warming is a myth right?

Again, I'm not so proud of you boys, let the women make their minds up about their bodies and roles in the work force and home.

Strike a match, sing a song and get low because like 1984 the firemen and we're not just burning Milo books.

So here I end my anger, because I've gassed myself out but I'm sure tomorrow the tank will be full again, after all anger is an energy and thanks to this ******* I have a seemingly unlimited supply.

Looking back at my teenage years and my twenties sitting on the edge of thirty-three today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Standards and seals approved inked in black and signed on dotted lines, banks paid on hold and payment plan approved.

This is what the barrel of a shotgun looks like, pull the trigger and commit life, walking away now isn't an option.

We gotta grow up at sometime, so choose life and dive deep because so far what you think is living is really wasting time on a clock, the clock you've always lived by.

Ticking down as life passes by, making excuses for why you have't left a mark, mocking the would-be-elsers, realizing you may be stuck as a loser, standard approved.

Stamped, sealed, sold, delivered and paid in full.

Do what you need, do what you want, do what you feel but do something because the time spent of inaction is just wasting whatever you have, or have left.

So walking into my thirties I kick open the double wide doors to life and take a seat at the table, choosing life isn't so bad once you have lived in inaction, once you've done your tight five, you've had your fifteen minutes, once you've burned bright, it's time to focus that light and find your spot to shine somewhere.

Stop wasting away.

Ice said it best, before he had freedom of speech had a track that said it all.

Cop Killer, better than you than me.
Cop Killer **** police brutality.
Cop Killer I hear your mama screamin, **** her
Cop Killer cuz tonight we get even...

It carries on from there.

Good.

How many times are we going to have to sit through another racist cop? How many walk away with paid leave or on suspension, when was the last time any of these cops, sorry racists got locked away for 15+ years, 7 years? hell even 1?

No one is a saint, but ya know what it's getting old living in a country where we're supposed to be this mixing ***, this blending of people and races and creeds and ideas and yet still somehow the white nationalists leak their way into our law enforcement and our government.

What's worse is the common average people who support them.

Remember when we had a black guy as president?
Black man in the white house, making it shades of grey?

To this day republicans still hate it, they can't stand it.

So now we have the truly stupid sitting in his chair, fake spray tan, spreading lies, living in a cult of personality with an army of drones hanging onto every tweet.

Currently we have a leadership who deny science, who deny fact, who create their own view of what's "Real" we have a pandemic that people think is fake and some people think it's a bio-weapon, some people think bill gates is creating a vaccine to inject microchips into us, 5-G causes cancer...

we even now have rat swarms forming..

THIS IS THE DARK AGES.

America, we are not a first world country, not at all. We're Disneyland at best, we're the Hollywood Big Titted blonde *****, we're fake, plastic and cheap acting like we're high society.

We need to bring back some science, some rationality, some middle ground conversations, we need to let women choose what do to with their bodies, we need to let people marry or identify how or who they want. (providing it's not breaking any laws)

We need to get some civil discourse, some simple understanding.

Because right now George Floyd was ******* right...I can't breathe.

Dark skies and broken hearts fill my journal pages as I sit down and write a lasting letter to whoever finds it.

I'm tried. I've been fighting for so long now....fighting for food, for sanity, for money, for validation and for love.

Once more into the breach for the love of love. Battle chinked armor, bloodied hands, scared face, full blooded urban soldier.

My piano is this pen, my songbook is the journal with "Kilroy was here"

I bend down and pray to myself which is how I know God watches my back.

This is another battle, another fight, another trudge through the minefield of emotion, of work, of heart, of soul.

I'm tired of being tried, I'm tried of fighting, but we don't retire into the quiet.

Johnny get yer gun, grab the sword, find your marks.

Muscle up soldier, we have one more fight.

One more battle.

I've said before in a poem that I had one last fight in me and one more after that, and several more. As long as I can stand it seems I'm in some form of combat.

I sacrifice my body for this because it's a personal victory, or loss...at this point I can't tell the ups from the downs anymore and it's simply because I don't care to look.

It's nothing I haven't done before, nothing I haven't seen, nothing I haven't done, it's old hat to me but that doesn't make it easier, it doesn't make it something that gets easier to cope with over time.

I grab my bottle, I climb to the top of my ivory tower of self isolation and I take my throne.

It has been said that when one does something right, you won't know they've done anything at all, this is our gift and curse, this is the chain we've wrapped around our necks and hung ourselves by.

So yes, one more battle- and a million more. Alone because no one else can, or will and someone has to hold back the high hell waters.

One must sit at the gate and make sure it operates correctly, one must fight until they die from it. Until they exhaust from it. Until they burn out from it.

From the top of this tower, from the bottom of my heart, I give all I have in every fight because that's whats required, I rebuild myself because I'm just that strong, because someone has to be, because when everyone falls to pieces, some must pick themselves up and dust themselves off, wipe the blood from the mouth, pick the shrapnel out, look in the mirror and do it again.

When you've got nothing to do and you can't do anything, you do what you can because it's what's required of you. Most of the time no one asks, no one steps up because it's not needed but the void must be filled and so we fill it.

a million dead hearts left behind, so we pick up what we can and move onward. Onward into the fight.

I watch her wither away.
I watch her cough blood and wheeze for air.

I am powerless.

She goes to where olive trees grow and die, she rests where the skies are blue and flowers will spring out from her grave.

I am powerless.

I held her hand every step of the way. I made her smile and I hid the tears for when she went to sleep.

They tell me it's ok. They say sorry. They say everything you'd expect and just like you'd expect it doesn't make me miss her any less.

I saw her in the best of times, I saw her in the worst of times, I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Now I notice the lack of songbirds, I notice the lack of her. I notice my heavy heart and close my eyes wishing she'd come back. Wishing that something would fix this. Wishing I had her, wishing for things that were and can't be anymore.

I live on powerless. Powerless without her, knowing how'd she want me to be. Knowing I'm not the man she loved, too bitter, too cold and ill humored. She made me the man I was because she deserved better. The best. Now without her I want to slip away into the sleep coma and forgot everything.

Some of you survived this.

Some of you made it to the other side.

You saw your friends, your family, your loved ones and total strangers die along the way, you fought over blood, bodies and political ******* to get where we are now...for you this is a huge victory. For you this is a huge defining moment, for me...this is Tuesday.

Look I'm not demeaning or belittling whatever happened here, whatever victory no matter how big or small, you won. The scars that you can't see...those will wake you up at night, could be every night, it could be in fifty years, you'll be asleep and for no reason you'll wake up in a cold dead sweat with your heart pounding out of chest and you'll think back to this moment...that's about as poetic as this gets.

It's hard to think of this as a victory now considering what has happened and for better or worse, what's going to happen, but hey...take the W because it's not everyday you win like this.

As for me...I'm going to light this cigarette, turn up this song, close my eyes for a moment and by the time the song ends and I discard the remains of this trash smoke..I'll move on to some other group, to some other person, to some other town, city or problem...

Now I know what you think...I'm not some avenging angel, I'm not some white knight hero who comes in to save the day. In truth I'm angry, anger is an energy and rather than turn it inwards I turn it into something useful to help other people. I do this because the only other option is self destruction, now you call that unhappy, I call it motivation.

So go celebrate, go make merry because as soon as the sun comes up, the real work starts. The coming dawn brings new laws, it brings new hope, new life, it brings new chances and new freedom.

Enjoy this moment because history has seen a million moments exactly like this. So when you wake up in the pool of sweat and think back to this moment, and you think of me, you can rest easy knowing that you weren't the first and nowhere near the last of people who were willing to stand up to the fascists, it's not easy, it's not pretty and it ***** sometimes, but no one ever said victory was easy.

It's not that hard to stay in place
It's not that hard to be in one in one space.

Find your books, find your movies, find your games, at home work out routines, find your hobby, learn a skill, start to cook, start to learn a second language. find time for yourself now.

We must work to eat and eat to live, and all this is being taken care of by men and women who make a thousand more choices and who have far more pressure on them, than most of us will ever know.

Allow time to take it's time and in time it'll all work out. We live in a third world country posing as first world winners. We won't starve and if we do then it's clear we had problems from the start.

We won't go homeless, and if we do it's clear we had problems from the start.

If you have a fear of losing it all, it means that you didn't care what happens in the rest of the world, if you have a sudden fear about a virus and staying home you've never thought about Africa, You've never seen poverty and true starvation.

If living in America suddenly has you worried it's simply because you've never had faith in what you preach and now you see America isn't that great.

To all the homeless people you've suggested "just get a job" or all the times you've said "being homeless is a choice" for every time you've looked down on someone for being hungry or said that illness wasn't that bad, you now find yourself in panic.

I've no sympathy for you. As you have written off so many for where they live, as you have written off so many for the uncontrollable factors in the masses lives, I hope this virus drives you insane and maybe lessons learned will turn your conservative hate into progressive help.

These are quarantine times and with that comes the stir crazy of the truly unhinged.

All those would be social butterflies are really just wasps with pretty colors, they go so far to put themselves out there and now they cling to the fear and walls of their own homes.

No one can tell them what to do or how to live, they must spread their influence into the world, no matter the cost.

This is social suicide, mass poisoning on a misinformation trail.

You refuse to stay inside and believe that this virus is a hoax, account for the bodies then.

You seem so civil when the world is fine, you speak of end times with your shelter and food, you speak of survival of the fittest, yet now in the wake of a practice run, you run from yourselves, you cannot be detained, you will not shelter.

You are the living parasite who brings the plagues. The modern rat wears stars and bars and MAGA hats for you are the herald of pestilence.

You allowed yourself to be lead down the road by your pied piper with bullhorn in hand. You didn't know that the piper was the rat king himself, dressing as humans do to sneak among the worst of us and drag you into the sea with him.

When sanity has returned to these worried times and the calm sets in you'll have to face the fact that you are not as strong as you thought. You are not as prepared as you hoped.

When something worse then Covid-19 sweeps through the land, you'll have to look out to the world and admit that you are the sheep in wolves clothes.

The last vulture feeding off bones and blood of the remainder, the carrion carrying on.

Like a virus it swept through our towns, cities, states, boarders, nation by nation fell and as it did the buzzards ate the virus flesh.

Consumed the disease and with it so the curtain was drawn across the world.

Humans fell to their knees, we fell apart fast.

No Z day, no Mad Max, No Fallout was had, we were Walking Mad if anything, dead inside and panic buying everything we could.
Dark days and black skies, no amount of social distancing can save what is already dammed.

Panic, we did it to ourselves.

Who would have though Facebook and misinformation would have been the little embers that stoked our fear and whipped us into the frenzy state we find ourselves in now.

The Grim Reaper came calling and we named it Covid-19.

Animals fear lightning and fire and all we had to see was the smallest spark to send us running.

Cholera, Spanish Flu, Typhoid, they're laughing now from the pages of history as the dead townships look upon us and see us believe that our doors and windows will keep us safe, we're the biggest danger to ourselves, we could have stayed calm, we could have taken small simple steps to secure and remain safe.

We're nothing but dumb, wild, savage, scared little animals.

The vulture knows.

And so as the vicious street punks and the droog crews make merry in the modern cities of ultra fashion, so I dress to impress and clash in the streets.

Hammer and Brass knuckle, chains and living by the switchblade life.

Speeding lights and Burgess printed the method.

Savage young punks.

Sword duel for honor long gone out the window now, guns are for the classless, if you have a hate-on for someone, fist to fist or blade to blade, bat to bat and blood to blood. Look em the eye if you want to shed some flesh.

Bowler hats and commando boots, canes, bats, bruises and blood.

Real flash horrorshow, savage young punks, the dreams of youth wasted on the violence of wide eyed children, children of the digital era who grew up as latchkey kids, who grew up feeling isolated and had no healthy outlet for that anger.

Anger is an energy, the birth of the atomic bomb.

The homegrown domestic terrorist.

Suddenly violence seems less romantic and street gang fights for respect and turf turn to stray bullets raining down across the nation, homes and schools, churches and weddings.

We still love our violence.

Another punk writing words like there's some point.

Is this art? A rant?

It's free speech of the lowest kind, ******* in time.

Every-thing-can be a poem
if you speak
like-this; pointless.

Leslie Knope.

Art split a million times, we're James McAvoying our opinions on talent and taste.

I cut the cost and cut the cord so unmic'd and raw, since the dawn of verbalization we've used words as tools and weapons, sounds of love and panic, of joy and rage

Now we use it to fake it until enough of us make it to call it art.

Broken thrones and busted bones,
Rusted crowns and ruling out of bounds,
Kings and Queens and genocide machines.

Crest on a shield, knights with knives and knaves with stolen horses.
Blood stained lands and bodies of water littered with parts of bodies.

Time rots the empire and soon the History swallows all.

Duality,

I'm the Jekyll to my Hyde, I'm the Poet, the Prophet, the Monster and Man.

Exist in both places, bring the shadow to the show, shine a light and work behind the scenes.

Balance, I maintain the performance. Everday the lines blur, I wave my hand and a trick, I speak out of both sides of my mouth, Edward Mordrake  and Phantom of the Page, written words are my tool, they serve in action of lies and truths that would normally be spat on.

When the light shines I step up and perform, take a bow, tap the mask, a nod to you!

A joy for me is a joy for you, I play the part of victim and villain, I am actor and professional, novice level grandmaster.

A Jester of all trades, every word calculated, every action a movement of stagework.

Masked and unmasked, raw and hyding in plain sight.

I perform for you and when the lights go out, I work in shadow and orchestrate the light.

Counting to three and lights up for the stage we take, the parts we play are about to start as we say goodbye to what we knew.

End of the bad times, say hello to the good guy.

Out with the old and in with the new, I give it up the actors,

Bad luck and hard times ring out because frankly we're out of bad luck, so let's put the sad away and start up the band because we'll be here all night.

We've come in from the cold, shown up from the war and somehow survived the battle, now it's time to make merry bring cheer and high waters, good tides, we're up good time creek and you can bet we brought our paddles.

Heart leads to heartbreaks and love letter hand grenades.

Love lead me down into the mines of emotions and lost in the dark I found a shining gem I thought was priceless, turns out the only claim I staked was my future heart.

If you love something set it free and if you wanna be free then follow me, save your heart for the time being because bad things always happen in threes.

When the sky is rose and the world glows you're on top, when the sky is grey and you're walking through heartbreak ally you're in the gutter.

If you love something let it go and if it comes back then be ready for the second attack, sharks smell blood. The harder you fall, the harder your heart pumps, blood in the water and sadly you're going down the drain.

Captain goes down with the ship, good ship S.O.S

Cupid's arrow, accurate and narrow; struck me in the heart
pinned me to the ground and I wormed my way around back to my feet only to have my jaw drop as lovestuck hit me again.

Dumbstruck and punch drunk I retired to the corner for a much needed rest.

It was a three, five, ten count and just like that I was out- of love.

The horseshoe had spun round and when the relationship was over I was left with just my pride standing on the lonely high ground.

So this is a cautionary tale, playing love games feels so right it can't be wrong, until it goes wrong and you're picking up what's left.

But love is what we do, and love is what we need, so once again if I love, I love and you can bet I'll fall into it again.

Bad dreams are keeping me awake at night,
Bad T.V. replaces my nightlite

Late night; chatting my life away

T.V. and Netflix streaming tan, burned out eyes watch plots twist and turn before my eyes

Elitist thought has been co-opted by the shows we watch.

Sad news I'd rather not listen at all, politics cause too much to do.

Entertainment!

All night long.

Live from any device I want, it's another elitist opinion about another show I don't watch.

I was beat Orange is the New Black for building a House of Cards, I had to play the Game of Thrones in order to meet Dexter in his House. I went into the Office and often checked in with the department of Parks and Rec.

I was told only trust the doctors who wear Scrubs, Stranger Things have happened then living a life by characters. When I unplug from this device I get lost on the long drive while podcasts make me think higher of my mimic-self.

That's Entertainment!

That's all folks!
Curtains colse on one act plays while stage hands scramble to clear the rubble and make new debris.

That's Entertainment!

I was caught in an Infinity War of advertisements all declaring I was the right target for their product, I'm not mad I'm too tired to be mad so I just sigh and walk by defeated.

Boo-hoo for the moral stance, acting like you had any to start.

If it wasn't for the culture vampires most of you wouldn't have an opinion to be angry about or agree with.

That's Entertainment!

Crosses and prayer,
the holy man let down his hair.

Bended ***** knee, cracked hands and fear for all to see.

Holy man, say your peace then let it rest.

Holy man, say your prayers and deliver us from our sins.
Deliver us from whatever you may deliver us, a message from the beyond telling us that time spent here wasn't spent wasting on and on.

Crosses and prayers and thoughts and hopes, holy water to ******.

Count the beads on a the rosary, Sinners, aren't we all?

I am divided between the devil inside and the angel I show the world.
If both are me, am I divinely wicked or wickedly innocent?

I cast myself down and do not cover my head, for I fear no wrath of the judgement, I am who I am and I live how I live, for freedom is my first choice.

Ghost tunes, do you dance at the edge of my mind.
Haunted music I hear you before me.
And so as I fall into a troubled sleep, you are with me. My fated soundtrack to the afterlife.

Great Beethoven do you torment me so?

Master of the symphony do you choose to curse me so?

I sleep not on the edge of sanity for whenever I approach repose you come snarling back, like a demon of sound at my mind.
Gnawing at my soul, Poe- you have doomed me you blackbird, vile creature and black cats who haunt me from under floorboards.

I spend time on waking life for sleep has long since left me and now the ethereal tunes do keep me company.

For I am living for the ghosts of Master's past, and so in my fairytale life there is no resort, there is no break.
Haunt me Masters and show me your torment, allow me to steal from the ghosts of the past, the greater minds than I.

Haunted, I am.

I love you, so said the words on the letter.
He cast it into the fire and up into the air went the promise of forever.

Today a heart broke.

Today rings left hands and final vows were took.

Thrashed by the side, groom left the bride, son left his dad, mother sold the daughter

hearts left by the wayside.

Today a promise was made, a life was saved, a vow was taken.
Today a lie was spoken, a heart was woken, a fire was stoked and a the fated lovers joked of their ill future fates.

Sealed with a kiss, deceit on the lips.

We're only together so we don't have to be alone, we're only alone so we don't have to commit, we don't have to commit so we don't let ourselves down, we don't let ourselves down so we don't end up alone.

Dog eat Dog and Cat eat Cat, if Fish catch Fish, I won't none of it.

If man vs man or man vs machine, I opt out and stay sidelined for some wars aren't mean to be won.

I wonder when this will ever stop? If foodchain politics exist where do most of us go?

If politicians have armies and armies are made of men and women, where is the soul of the unit?

If it's us vs them and me vs you and survival says we both have a fifty-fifty shot why not team up and use one hundred percent?

I'm not asking for peace just saying there's a better way at home.

Connect with your neighbor because soon this will fall apart and when it does it's us vs them and wild vs man, and when nature decides that we're too much of a bother, we'll be nothing more than a blip on the map.

If it's dog eat dog and cat eat cat and if fish catch fish, I'll opt out and stay sane and safe, I'll use sage wisdom to maintain where I'm at.

Someday this will pass and someday we'll look back and laugh.
Someday we'll know this was just small bumps in the road.

Someday we'll hold hands and walk down the high roads of memory lane, and when we walk down the lowest of lows, we'll be wiser with our time.

All things pass, good, the bad, and the ugly.

We live in the wild west- but do we ever learn?

What makes a person learn? How many times do we have to get burned before we learn fire hurts, how many times must we be gored before we understand the bull has horns?

I stumble and you know, I watch you cross icy roads as you slip and slide and yet this all just another human thing.

Just another human thing, just another human being.

We grow and someday when this all behind us, we can share a laugh.

Sunrise soon, the waves break

Break my bones, break my will, break my heart
all so I can create.

I weep at raw beauty, I shed tears for artistic emotion.

I steal words form those who know better, I steal thoughts from the wiser of the world.

Vampire?

******* dry the culture vein so I can keep my pulse going.

I am mortal man and soon I sleep, into the dreams I fade and with it so do the words I weep, I write.

Suicide by fashionable choice.

Poets and prophets drama queens, for the worlds' a stage and we all take a bow.

Kings and Queens, empires fall.

Presidents and slaves, both obey.

Bite the leather and cure my sin, bite the hand that feeds for it feeds poison so we stay weak, weak under her command.

submission with a mission to control the ***** of man.

Angels of lust with demons of ****** attachment.

Leather Gimp so I am, bite the whip and pray to the ***.

Mistress Mistress, claim your prize. Tame the shrew, control your sexuality, man of clay, golem.

Man of straw, burn him
Man of stone, deface him
Man of bone, break him
Man of man, castrate him.

We are slaves.

We are granted control by the whims of others, we are others who grant us control.

Puppet rulers of control, thus the sub becomes the Master, thus the leash biter becomes the whip hand.

Kiss, I miss.

Love, I am.

The poet's journey starts and begins.

Alone and well thought, by the end spent and wasted on time that would've been better spent creating concrete thought over paper tigers.

Words on a page are as sharp as swords, provided they're seen by the right eyes to evoke the emotion.

Snake, I am.

Kiss, I miss.

Words I mine.
Emotion I craft

and yet with all this power I am nothing.

I am man, mortal and small in the grand scheme of the ticking clock.

Tick tock, and so I wade into the river, drown my sorrow.

Drown, I am.

Words in stone are set to last, words of sand are set to change, words of paper may burn, words whispered are lost to sound.

Blood, I write.

Fool, I am.

Brother O' Brother
what mess have we made now?

Time and time again we travel and watch each other unravel, yet time and time again one is there for the other, and Brother O' Brother
Family is stretched thin.

I've been down in the gutter, you've been bent out of shape.

We've been beaten out of luck, been outpaced by the younger bucks, but we're still standing, and our best hits are still landing.

So Brother O' Brother, Blood is thicker than water and wine ages with time so time and time again, we'll fail and succeed over and over again

and when it's time to settle down, the other will be watching because if no one else looks out for you, then at least you've got a brother.

Letters in the sand, for temporary messages are best left in the moment they happen.

I drew you the world and all its contents and held your hand as the sea swept it all away, you watched my work. My one and only piece.

My one and only.

For a moment I was De Vinci, I crafted the creation I created God for you, I wrote you a manifesto of love, in the sand I called on the angels of angels and to the sky one thousand white dove.

I cut my hand to add blood to the sand and sea, so you could see me in the work.

All too soon did the sea reclaim what I could not own, you held my hand and without saying a word you said all you had to.

Pretender, masked lover

Hand holder and word whisperer, sharing statements of forever.

Dancer, partner, will you hold my hand?

Lover, leaver, accuser, abuser, user.

Pretender my masked lover.
Seducer and I lose myself in the mirror you hold for me, showing me what you see, making me more than I see myself.

Sealed with a kiss, kisser, hip holder and ring bearer.

Midnight in the garden and I watch the night flowers bloom in the beauty of the moon.

Luna washes my skin and makes me shine, my heroes used to shine.
Now I shine like them.

Moonlit roses and pretty peddles, the garden.

I toss aside my worry and whims and become the stars I see above, the heroes of the silver screen and the bullet boys whose name I can't recall on the beaches of foreign sands.

Values wax and wane and and all heroes lay slain.

You spend your whole life running, person to person, event to event, job to job.

You grew old, you got wise and lost it. You had it and you watch it all go, and who is to blame?

People can say what they want, but I did it.

I t was never about money, it was never about being liked, it was never about anything- and at the very same time it was about everything.

We've got one life, one tiny ******* life, one shot, one chance, and with that we can do anything we want, why not go for broke? Why not lie, why not cheat? Why not love? run? why not work honest and hard, why not travel? Why not get ahead?

Look, this bag of bones will rot and that's it. Any part you play, any role you get cast as...what's it matter when you're dead? Get your family, get your friends, find your loved ones and when you die- however it is, wherever it is...you can say you did it.

Meaning, purpose. Those things won't just wait, they don't drop out of the sky, why not laugh, love, why not break and make rules, why not live as a lion, a king?

Why not grab everything you are, can be, will be and want to be and shake it until it cracks.

What else are you gonna do?

In a few hours the sun is going to rise, the time will keep ticking along and day to day will resume, you get this chance to write your own chapter in your own book, and it can be anything you want it to be...

So...what's it gonna be?

To the bottle I promise
Blood I take is blood I give.
Love I take is love I give.

To the futures ahead of me, I stand as a statue, to those before me, I keep the flame alive.

I raise the bottle to the bloodline and house, to the friends and loved ones, may you in heaven before the devil knows you're dead and may the road rise to meet you.

Melting masks and under dressed,
to the hall for the ball and watch as we fall.

Melting into each other, painting a picture of a picture that looks like a photograph of our life, hang it on the wall and buy some time.

Dorian gray; aren't we all?

Man's vanity will be the end, a highclass ***** house, selling our skin for cash, petty cash in our bank accounts as we ***** out for the final curtain call.

I'd rather paint myself a mockery and fall in line with the hanging tree,hang til dead like individuality.

Dress to impress like we all care, but we only care about the first impression that is so quick to flee, flirt and flee with the otherside.
Tragedy by design, beauty by-product.

I take my meds and walk the show trying my best to play the part that somebody else cast me for,
signed my name on a dotted line and I fall in place like the rest.

Starman taking off, over Venus and to Mars, I get lost up in the stars.

Command has their doubts but I have an urge, so into the black above I travel, explorer of the unknown. Countdown to history.

Looking back down to something I knew, something now far beyond my reach as I reach to the stars and go home.

Home beyond the void and here we go, Sail into dreams, sail into dust.

Stardust and red dwarf and here we go, mission control gets cut off, we're in charge now, doing what we do going home, leaving the blue behind as we head into the void, each wearing their pride on a sleeve of Red White and Blue.

Light a cigarette, final time to say goodbye, and I'm gone.

We do this everyday, we've sailed the seas and climbed mountains.
We've bloodied fields and came under cannon fire, for us this was Tuesday, but these people..this is a defining moment.

This night as they celebrate, as they cheer and mourn the dead, as they look ahead to a bright future, we sit and drink and smoke in silence, what else can be done?

Come sun rise these people will have to rebuild, they'll take ashes and dirt and make it into history, they shape their story and truth and their kids and kids of kids will hear the stories of those who bravely died for this bright new future, but for us....this is just one small note in our ledger.

So make merry while you can, drink and live as you will, because it all goes too soon.

Liberated people should be liberated, but for us- this is just a duty.

Sealed with a kiss and I love you in distress
it's bittersweet memories that make me like me even less,
You left home when I gave up and I gave up when you weren't enough.

But I'm only to blame in the dwindling fire that was our bond, your eyes started to wander which me wonder what happened to the starry eyed lovers we used to be.

When we shared a bed its cold as ice and when we look at each other we see mutual sacrifice.

Too scared to leave too weak to admit it
so we sought comfort in the beds of others,
you found yours next to your boss and I found mine next to the babysitter.

Both won't last but that's not the point, they remind us of who we were when we met each other and that's a story told through pictures of the past.

I think it's time we slit some ******* throats.

Let's bring back the democratic edge, let's take oak desk, blue suit gutless mouth pieces of outdated racism and sexism and show them how the French speak.

They don't speak for the American people, they speak for themselves.
They don't speak like me because if they did, we'd both be in favor of the guillotine.

We live in a first world country with second rate customer service and everyone walks around acting like everyone else is the problem and we deserve five stars.

I see fifty on a flag we keep letting down and they still have the ***** to claim they're doing what's best.

Let's wrap this up and wipe the floor with these husks of people, put em to the blade and let's see whose willing to die for what they believe in.

Soldiers aside because they've given enough- and keep giving, yet these same blue suit ***** would rip away their benefits and call em heroes to their face.

They say "we care about people" tell that to the homeless, the mentally ill, the immigrants who are only finding resistance.

Let's bring out the dead cart and clear out the dead wood, we have progress to make and this is slowing it down.

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. Thomas Jefferson,
How many patriots have died? We need to balance out the scales and bring in those diplomats who have forgotten the constitution.

You voted for a criminal, stand by that. It'll be easier when we wheel out the equalizer. Don't hide behind your **** mickey mouse mascot.

This is the time for the blood of tyrants and lairs, of traitors and thieves, of criminals and unethical politicians to water the trees.

You pledge to a piece of paper, retake that in front of the straight razor.

Sign in red on the dotted line, it's a blood bound contract with your life now on the line. Uphold the betterment of the country and you'll walk just like, but sell out for the party you favor or the business man you work with and the lost vote or seat will be the least of your worries.

Patriots have been paying full price for too long to keep getting ****** over, let's end political kindness for now and get mean.

You want to "talk tough", do it in front of the guillotine.

For a thousand miles I walk, I'm sure the lie flies faster.
The destruction of doubt drowned out by the sound of laughter.

For every truth told a lie is hushed elsewhere, balance the scales and prepare for the birth of rumor, for the truth is buried in the pile of gossip talk and acid spit, now it's all up in the air and turns to acid rain that burns the flora of the future.

I've been wrong before and I'll be wrong again, but I'll plant the seed of truth because hushed lies close eyes and obscure the facts from the days of our lives, news gossip force fed down the channel to the front page of media on which we suckle- the teet and milk of ideas to fit our personal narratives.

For every mile the truth walks, the lie flies faster.
In light of the facts the lie cannot hold and it's doomed to fail from its creation, it's the birth of disaster.

I'll speak and hold true the best way I know how, but all these lies and hollow words taste sweet which is why the truth is hard to swallow.

Flicker in the hearth
The light inside her eyes.

I believe humans mean well and evil actions can't survive;
So let it be, praise be, call out to the streets, overall we'd rather die with dignity than survive in defeat.

I once met a homeless man who spoke of sane things, he lost his home, lost his mind and lived on rat bone meat. He kept his optimistic outlook and spoke of future kind, that homeless man may have suffered and in the end was somehow still kind.

Dirt and mud,
I dig through the blood.

Buried bones of the unnamed artist.

Commit ******, floorboard secrets
Hidden in the walls of the house
inbetween the pages of a storyboard fairy tale life.

I shovel through the muck and mire, I sweat and bleed and hide my work.

Selfish desire.

Digging for truth, digging a hole deep to bury the secrets and with the corpses and the secrets they keep.

Look inside and you shall find what you seek,
Desire.

I shovel the dirt, cracked soil and ****** ground
Oil and gold hidden in rock and earth

Bury the bones on which I wrote a story for the ages

A human time capsule, ****** was the way only way.

Who sits before you, in this ****** white shirt.
Busted nose, black eye, possible cracked rib.

You look at me and think I've been through hell, what if I told you this was a typical Monday for me.

I wear my scars on my body to show just how much I can handle, they may as well be medals, I am not made of glass.

I am not fragile.

You want to sit around and cry and whine and ***** about the wicked world, well let me assure you, I don't care about whatever you think is wrong with you.

You hide your scars, not because they're too ugly or too deep, not because it's too painful to remember, it's because they're not real scars.

You wound yourself in the mess tent then request a purple heart, you walk on the backs of everyone else and when you cross the finish line you think you've really made something of yourself.

At best you're a hack.

So here I sit, you can yell, scream and shout
it'll do no good.

I am not glass and you are not stone.

You a phantom of power, a specter of strength.

I'm warm blooded and couldn't care less about you.

There is a cost at which my soul comes.

Inside me lurks a fire, a beast, a demon.
I was born to control, I was born to dominate the world and bend natural order to my will.

I know for most of you this seems self indulgent. I assure you, you will bend to my will.

There are those who do and those who exist and those are the only two true kinds of people.

Your childlike relationships to this land, your 'home" have left you weak, your superstitions and traditions have become antiquated, you are dreamers who are finally waking and before you- I stand

Wide eyed and well aware of the future.

I don't need you to like me, I don't need you to understand me and if I'm being honest, your support means very little to my plans.

For when I walk, I walk as God.
For when I speak, I speak as finality.

Long before me there were apes and now in my time I see cavemen, god knows what will become of society when I finally rest.

There is a cost to my will, it comes at the price of silence.
The price of blood, of guilt and shame.
I know none of it.

My will is law and my law is absolute.

I have paid in blood and flesh to have what I have, while you deal in silvers, golds, gem stones and cold hard paper cash, I deal in something far greater and more valuable.

While your wealth comes and goes I am transcend the living rock, the thousand year root, the jellyfish immortal.

In this age of men, I alone am God, for God is dead and I sit on his throne, while you sit there slack jawed, wide eyed and impressionable.

The cost of this power came at self expense and now you are left to pick up the check.

Ode to master and king.
Hail god and leader.

Our faith misplaced by shiny crowns and golden rings on hands who ring necks of the nonbelievers.

To the slave pit with them and silence the voices, for in my court there is no equal.

Ode to master and king
Hail god and leader

Granted rule and law by holy sword or divine word from the stars,
there is no equal in my land.

Where olive trees wither, so does my body.
The spirit of  fight has left me alone.

The rot from the dirt has tainted the roots and now all that grows is self doubt and pity.

Where apple and pumpkin rot in the sun, where grape and pear shrivel, there is no life left in these dead barren lands, save for I.

Save for I.

On dying tree bark I have told the tale of life before the fall and now all I can remember is after the fall having given my memory to the dying trees.

Where the soul withers away and the blood runs dry, I am the king of the rot.

Where olive trees wither I leave a sun dried wilted corpse as a reminder that life once was and shall be again- in time.

He drew a red a heart on the white wall, his world was one of love.

Painting pictures helps to remember the shape of love;
Love in hell, life and above.

I love therefor I am, without it I am shadow from light filling the void.

I drink from your lips, honey like wine.
You drink from my heart, love like herion- addicted to each other.

Pumping the core making the body move and yet so slow do we fall because without it we speed up to hit the ground.

I love and lost and I'll love and lose again, this is the circle of which I choose to spin.

He drew a black heart on a red wall to express passion and lust but all he had was anger, for in losing her he knew he'd never get her back.

He knew she was with someone better, someone bigger.

****** issues led to the break and now his heart was shattered.

She left knowing he could do better, she had a secret she didn't want to share, she had a lost a child and could never love again. She lied to leave relationships before she got too close to lose again.

She drew a blue heart on a green wall and under that she wrote a poem to the child she laid to rest.

Hearts on walls being left to fade, color and time and as foundation cracks so does art.

Love only counts when its remember by the age, for we move on from what love was to what love is.

The child had been touched, beaten, ignored, the child had been cold to the heart so the child drew a white heart on a white wall and under it the child wrote "**** it all"

Bleeding hearts turn the cycle, we spin the tales and in the we feel