I have never tried harder in my life
Just to accomplish the so-called "easy,"
This world is so full of hate and violence,
Why can't we ever believe in making things
The way that they are meant to be?

I've been doing the same things for years
I guess I still **** at "easy,"
I guess I wasted all of my years it seems,
Losing so much now, or they just want to
"Easily" overshadow you and me.

If you read it from the ******* book it's
"True," not just for you, for me for everybody,
We're all just here to waste, make our own sole filthy space,
What you believe is always "truth for everyone" and not just you.
No matter what we say or think or feel or know or do.

The past
It's always on my mind
The grassy backyard I grew up in
This and that-memories of
Halloween, rabbits, fall, you.
All the things that pass in time.
I pick up this notion that
One may recall what happened to
Them when they were a young kid.
The balloons touching the ceiling of
My pre-school, the quiet time when
We supposedly slept but never did.
Like the color yellow, how I loved it,
The '89 earthquake, being shocked by it.
Songs in Kindergarten. Art, pictures, music.
Summer camp, exploring the wild, love, light,
And wind. I remember my brother
And I playing tag as the sun went
Down in the first house I moved in.
Running along the fields in the day,
Swimming, or memories of the
Tumbleweeds performance,
Being In the play.
All of the times I would always
Watch the sun on the swing as it rose
In the morning. I remember the vast
Wheat fields, a sense of calm quiet,
As if there were no place more peaceful.
Climbing my favorite pine tree in my back yard.
But one thing I remember more than ever
Was being on a field of my own.
The sky is filled with clouds always
Floating off like they
Were from an endless world of tranquility,
This warm sun, this was and-I forever remember
It to be-my one true home.

But that is another story...

Always the flow of water-across muddy banks and
Passages into lakes filled with the essence of nature,
Pulling tides and the smell of alpine, hickory wood and
firn. Always the flow of life-ever passive, trance state,
Picking up speed it rushes, like the sound of blood rushing
Through the earths veins, towards endless vinyards and orchards,
Cascading over cliffs like sparkling mist, into ravines and it continues
On. Into the forest, into the pines and the sage brush-not thinking,
Quick to find solace in this mid-morning dew, this canopy, deer hide.
Continue to be cloaked by the grass and thistle, branches and vines,
Not stopping, ever residing in it-never looking back until reaching that
One point where it is certain that the past concrete, cement and steel,
Are but a thing of memories of tragic times to be kept so forever, never
Looking back, never to return or see them again until the very world ends.

Always the tide of stream water, endless in the universe, it's strength,
And it's endless source, that source, from which all life flows...

Playing piano, it's like I have a treasure chest,
each time I hit a note it resonates
like unto a sparkling jewel in glittering crest.
If I had a song I could write that could
reveal and unravel, your true feelings expressed,
I would play it for you in these endless depths.
Surrounded by fear, loss and by worry,
You've left me in the endless circling spin,
I'm floating in an empty abyss, no hurry.
But one day when you find me in the dark,
hopefully there is enough light from a fading
chord that will grant you one last spark.

The glistening notes continue to play out forever in
the glittering starlit skies, accompanied by natural
hues, white gold moon, eyes, and darkness in disguise.

To be here, to be out of sight,
Until dawn comes, you blacken my sky,
You know that this is just another
Sad song, a "useless poem" of pain,
Another "lie," another somber "waste of space."

Well there is "hope" at the end of my tunnel,
Or is there? I gave up on this poem and that,
It all came out sad...much like the darkened
truth of my well worn path. This is the end,
Then there might just be you (my friend?)

No such thing as the word of peace,
This is it, will I wander out into the blank,
And pretend I can make it a simple world of
Joy, because that is what makes people clap?
Sorry, but I guess I had to be sarcastic,
This mouth of mine that always must flap.

*When was there a time when my peers didn't
Always get mad? It's become a common place truth,
I have no actual friends, gone my days of
Wild care-free youth, even school wasn't as
Bad as having to somehow live with you.

A feeling, a thought, an idea,
Asking only what I must feel,
There is nothing here that's real.
This is the vague truth of my life,
Continue on like I never heal.

This is how everything always ends,
I hated to bring you down, your world,
Between the sips of a cold blue drink
On some hidden island with **** girls.

You can always live my dream,
I get the lonely stuffy room and plain meals,
Combined with the fact that they still
Aren't any consolation to how I feel.

And those who either romanticize it,
Those who won't share any space with me,
Or for those who want me to be a disgrace,
Those who want me to disappear someplace.

You're the one who brought me down,
Was it fun? Do you still get feelings of
Happy-go-lucky hate fuel watching me
Drowned? It'll end bad-when you're still around.

You'll be seeing stars for a long time.

*Just watch as the gold-white sun, moon, the very earth
Turns as bright, as colorful as the pain I feel,
In the end you'll have only days before an
End for this way of life, one that is truly unreal.