Getting close to escape, nearing the curb,
Sharp high heels, a statue silhouette,
She's daddies little girl, heavily insured,
Forget the pay day, "tough life regret."

She'll carry on, sit in a velvet chair,
Keep the rock solid cement stare,
Backed by societies interest air,
She'll pick up where daddy left off,
Even if he has to make it harder
If she chooses to follow here own path,
She'll be the spark, the fire starter,
On her way "nowhere," "gods own wrath."

She'll be a little princess, her training starts today,
Give them a dollar, she'll save it for a rainy day,
And the moment she "feels threatened" dad will pray,
It's just a hobby to force the jacket when she's cold,
To teach her she's got to wear pink, do as she's told.

Daddies given her everything, or she can be the one
Who holds the weight, she'll know she's been disowned,
She'll work off all of the hate-a silhouette-now all alone,
A marionette who's lost-strings-clipped-without a home.

Better off to be herself than living off of "humble pie" rich stash,
She'll be living a happy life, be herself, no strings attached...

I know I have a one track mind
I can't stop thinking of this broken love,
Wrapped up in the same stupid argument
From day one, maybe you said it means
I'm the dumbest man alive both far and near...

Or maybe it's just pointing toward my fear.

Settle this once and for all,
I get the old mirror out,
Wipe the half-smile off my face,
It was never really there in the first place,
Here I sit, neither man nor dog,
Just a person who can't like this way of life,
Whether for better or for worse,
I'm the poorest "selfish hog,"
Whatever you want me to believe
This is the end for me,
Where the road meets pavement and I
Am forced to continuously be what
Society wants me to be.

Forgive me...
I have "spoken wrong" again, been unjust with my words
Forgive me...
I have been eccentric, I haven't followed your personal ideals
Forgive me...
I am on a path to the other side, I am drinking
this "poison" down, it will be my own "undoing"
Forgive me...
Somehow these activities have been the grease
which lubricate the "devils wheels"
Forgive me...
I am underneath all "normalcy," I have seen things
that the children "should not ever see"
Forgive me...
There is a path I have tread upon that bares your mark,
I didn't see the mark before hand but "knew better"
Forgive me...
You are the one! You will show me the way, I am yours
to ****** upon all knowledge both right and wrong
Forgive me...
I will always be in your shadow, I am poor but still
I have "spoiled myself" with work that is lesser

~You will never say two simple words,
they are beyond your comprehension~

~You the "mature," "wise" old one with years of
learning and "pure" precision~

~I am always in your debt, you never need me,
I alone make the untrusted decision~

The two words you would never say are simple:

*~I'm Sorry~

On this morning the sun rises,
And I leave my new bed.
I get up and go outside and the sun is warm on my head,
Oh the warmth. There are green hills in the distance.
I go to the tree and behold the blueness of the sky
And watch the sun rise as clouds are forming.
All is still and overhead a prairie bird flies.
There is a great field of wheat beyond me.
I lie down and relax staring up into eternity,
And I am already used to this.
I look up smiling and I can really see.
I wind up staying like this for life,
And I’ll never go back,
Back to my way of life before this field of grass I lay on.
It's all a vast encounter with nature.
It teaches me to release my fears and troubles to her.
As the golden sun warms my face, all I see is you.
And as its warmth enters my chest and warms my core,
I feel you in that warmth,
Her summer's beginning.

Well, walking into well set traps...
Convince us we're all fools,
Strip us of our cares and make
Us speak only when spoken to.

A victim on every street corner
Pandering for change, the same,
It'll be another dry penniless day,
A vague charade became a silly play,
In this play men and women are cut and dry,
Straight marriage-happily ever after-American pie.

It's always been the same, this silly little game,
And when it's over we'll just pick up the pieces,
Those idiots ruined everything for us, failures,
Before we're finished we'll blame them for it all,
The messed up elections, the crime on the streets,
It's all the libtards fault!

Or is it really? Ignorance is not to far from what makes
This world one where "winners" and "losers" take
Shots at each other, finding they were wronged again
And again and again!

Kind of like in a court room "social brawl" where
Two "feuding families" wont admit they are all at
Fault, all breeding war and pain and suffering in vain.

I'm sorry
Sorry I wrote these sad poems
Sorry that it had to end this way,
Sorry you saw a part of me in pain.
Sorry I had to cry on your shoulder
And ruin your perfect day,
Sorry I told you what I really feel,
Sorry to you it seemed so unreal.
I'm sorry
Sorry this poem had to come undone,
Sorry but this isn't the only sad one,
Sorry that it seems that there aren't any better ones.

But the hardest thing I've ever had to try to accomplish
Is write a happy poem when I'm feeling glum...

Behind the lime light of your computer,
You look a little like a self absorbed fool,
Hoping to be noticed by the next place
Seeking a cyberspace money making tool.

You see the world as a toy, one for your selfish
Gain. You look for a way to make this life
A quick stop to get your ever needy way.
Your computer over your fat belly, cigarette stains.

But this is not a toy, life is a serious thing,
When we take things for granted, make people
Disposable, it's for the sheer hope that if you're "king,"
Maybe the quick fixes will help us live your costly dreams.

I don't know where we went wrong. If you look at a person wrong,
You can wind up in between his sites. The danger a gun presents.
The best thing one can do is kiss themselves goodbye.
Of course, we always find people gunning down innocents.
In the news, in media. Why not increase gun sales? Why not
Spread fear and panic around about terrorists all day?
Sure we aren't the ones here bringing all the death,
Part of the cure, not the disease. Whatever they say!

In my dreams the spirits float far and fast ahead,
Delivering all the souls of the deceased in trips,
Carried to the one abyss their bones still hide the red,
Keep the truth when they are dead, so they are torn as sticks.
These bones carry the truth till they meet one with life,
Reach the fields and the dead part all their fear
With a silence that is deft they use a hatchet or a knife,
So that none can tell that death's dark spirit is quite near.
In the meadow none can see that foot prints have been made,
They walk until dawn is come, so they all must roam.
Misty and translucent, above the earth of wet brown clay,
They shall keep walking until they've found deaths home.

Sometimes, the people who make
The best actors work at
High salary jobs, usually
Being a "too good to be true" success,
Forget about being who you are,
And you can make a whole lot,
But you lose a part of yourself
In the process...

Who cares! It was all worth it,
Hunny bunny!

Past the final hour of night
There is still just enough moonlight,
I can still see you're there for me,
Even through thick and thin,
Your repeating message is still around,
I can still playback again and again,
This is how we are all still friends,
Although we talk less you're still
Ever there for me, more than ever!
If you just buy a portrait of us together
It truly does make up for lost years,
Lost hours and lost measure...no need
To really really be together, not when
You're out there being part of the lie that
Takes every second of our time and I must be
Brainwashed that it was all in kind!
*YES you are still innocent-don't I have a choice
Now-may you please leave me alone-I believe!

Look if you don't like my poetry
That's perfectly ok,
Lord knows I'm such a failure,
And they **** anyway!

Live each day as though it were your last,
That's a good advice to take,
Too bad I'm still fixing up my past,
The miles I've got to go, all that's at stake.

Sound advice, a troubled life.

And your face, is it really you?
You see, I've met dozens in my
Life who seem legitimate friends,
But most of them all turn out the
Same, eccentric hating, self centered,
Abusive hypocrites and liars to the end.

Sound advice, a troubled life.

Why did I not take their advice?
I could make ends meet if I had a wife,
Don't know why I have to live in spite,
Did I ever say I wanted marriage in my life?*

Sound advice, a troubled life.

In this desolate place of lovers lost
I can be the one who "isn't in need,"
When there is a "way to uncover"
The ones always on the silver screen.

I can be...
A person who you can trust.
I can be...
A beautiful "devil of lies,"
I can be...
A loner who only fantasized
I can be...
A musician who makes music fly
I can be...
A playful lover with so much life.

But here they found them,
These marriages of "perfect love,"
We live in your hopeful world
We eat your "good cooking"
We sit in your expensive shade
We hear your "creative" music
We  repent for our "faults so grave"

I can be whatever I will,
But I will never be the one
Who ever had a dream that
Can ever be fulfilled...

Everyday lives begin the same, with everyday peoples dreams,
Those who know everyday seasons promise us all our needs,
Unspoken 'til they know them, as natures heart still bleeds.

Before anything we choose, we just made a fatal error,
For anyone here that knows, just had a "Vegas" marriage
And then we find our future filled with wars of terror.

Everyday lives begin with a bang, planting future seeds,
People who hear the rumors spread them before you speak,
Spoken "exactly" as they heard you, as if your words cannot be.

Before anything we choose, we just made a fatal error,
For anyone here that knows, yet another broken marriage
And then we find our future filled with wars of terror.

"You can buy happiness..."
Says the so-called "life expert,"
Families always going on big vacations
With plenty of money, this makes people "happy,"
I listen to this and other things I've read,
Telling people that there's an end of days,
For our sins someone will strike us all dead.
I for one think I've heard it said-one too many times,
They will never overcome this truth which wise men tell!
Always remember, remember well,
One mans heaven is another mans hell.

If I had a dime for every time I've been judged,
I'd be richer than a king.
If I had a penny for every time I lost my dreams,
I'd buy a diamond ring.

Love, what is it?
Is love a post card? Is love a fast food workers smile?
Is love a diamond ring? Is love being famous for miles and miles?
Is love candy on the counter? A dozen thorn-less roses?
Is love the camera for which everyone poses?
Is love owning a car and working all day?
Is love a pack of cards and a slot machine to play?

But what is it?*
Or why don't we all admit it, love is being the
Person who will stick with you even if you're gay,
Even if you have no technology, or you're only creatively gifted,
Maybe even a little eccentric, or not quite religiously inclined,
Love is what the honest heart, the birds and the bees,
What natural affection always had in mind.

Now don't get me wrong,
This whole time that I was trying to understand
What you wanted, I couldn't help but notice
That I can't make sense of it all along.
This and that, blind tales, you have my full
Undivided attention, filling my head with
Strange and odd promises, telling me that
Although it seems unreal, you could just
Let them all in. If I took your "sound" advice,
If I'm alone, I could sleep with people on the street,
Put all of my food and drink upon
The ground, drag food around, your obsession
That I should feel fine to just pick it up and eat,
To try to defy my "religious" obsession, always
Try to be the one in charge, look for opportunities
To go off and put away or slay the "baddies" at large,
Become the person of the hour, or a follower,
Get a job where I can sweep floors and wipe tables,
So that I'll really be excited for the first time doing
What I do for a living, even if I'm not really able.
Who cares if this life throws everything bad at me,
I'm ready to attack all of the things that hold me back,
Even go for the things that don't interest me, instead of
Letting them be! YES, I believe "everyone" should work,
Even if they are really lost, psychologically unwell,
Major transportation issues and other real
Problems, No matter what we've been through,
No matter the actual real life hell,
We were all brought into this world to be
JUST LIKE YOU as well!

I awoke each morning, without warning
They came from the front door,
And at night the candles were barely well lit,
They were silent and yet I couldn't
Ignore, this is...what is this?
A vile voice and angry specter
Filling my night with gloom,
Now all that was left, my empty space,
For horrors I would brace ,
I couldn't get them out of my face.
This each night they came again,
Banging cupboards while I slept,
Spinning sofas, shooting rubber bands.
They kept invading my dreams,
Upon my shoulder I saw a hand,
A reflection in a portrait of skulls,
A face of an old graying man...*
All of this and more. All of this sent me off my rocker,
I lost my nerve but couldn't settle the score,
I had no idea what they wanted. I was scared
Within inches of my life they were everywhere,
Like the scattering tiny feet of mice.
And a small little puppet twists his face up
Upon my bed, then a native over the same area
With Tomahawk ready, swinging over his head,
Huge spiders appeared upon the ceiling overhead,
And still I was somehow not aware at that,
But they drove me over the edge.
Her feet in the air while lying on the sofa, long hair,
A glaze in her eyes, hate behind the dark disguise,
It's sad to say I had no idea what I'd seen back then,
But it kept going on and on and on.
Close they always followed, they wouldn't let me be,
But I tell you for once a real haunting thing or three,
All I really know is they just wouldn't let me be free...
No matter what I know, no matter what I dream,
Every now and then something moves to scare me.
I know that it's weird and can't find proof or come close,
But all through the years it appears it was a "Gray Winged Ghost."

It is not that I do not love you
It is not that I do not respect you
It is not that I have made wrong choices
It is not that you do not matter to me
It is not that I must always be isolated
It is not my "imaginary friends" and "voices"

It is that you are way to demanding of me, I have lost a lot of
My most precious dreams, and am only running on empty.
Sorry if this isn't an excuse to you, but you're not me,
"Ones trash is another ones treasure..." or something
Silly like that, thanks to your endless hustling at this time,
*There is no telling when I'll ever be free...

Yesterday, everything was for free,
And you made everything glimmer and glow,
Brought sunshine and flowers and bows,
Without asking one thing of me at all.
Today, you stand there waiting on my $,
Watching me as though I am a criminal,
One who invaded into your sacred world
For themselves and with no rules to follow.

Now everywhere one looks it's a "buy now" sign,
Displeased that I won't give you your "moneys worth,"
Joy in the pleasure of the things that are free and fine,
So you took everything free and made it much worse,
But will impart the same old good times to those who
Are willing to part with yet more pennies and dimes.

All is vanity*

Denied, all under a veil of secrecy,
Big waves that are hidden in the
Darkness of night, still turn boats,
Capsized by the enormous vast
Presence that no one sees but still
In essence we feel we're "safer," guided
By the way of the darkest truths light.

It controls each person, to hide unique
Truths with our own vague, hidden lie,
Make sure we all know it's there,
My how we stumble upon the nail
In the dark, whilst cleaning our visible
Skins surface of debris. It's all you see,
The "devil" is that cessation of this pain,
This suffering foot that bleeds.

You turn the corner and find yourself
Unawares in the darkness of this light,
Hidden underneath your cotton enclosure,
It will lead you in "earnest," it will show you the way,
It will empty your purse of quarters, it will make
Sure the suns light can never find you in the fullness of
Natures own "un-important" borders.

Please, excuse my son, he's not old enough and
He hasn't matured yet just because of his age alone,
Excuse his inability to care about you, "getting ******,"
Excuse his "excessive" interest in girls and pleasure,
Excuse the fact that you even had to hear him speak up,
Excuse the instability in his daily life, it's his fault,
Excuse me for even bothering with him ever!*
I love to hate my son!

So many times before I sat there watching
Waiting, vegetating, it's so aggravating,
Waiting for this hell to freeze over.
I am in an ice box, I guess that's good as long
As it's inside a place I live, because then at least
I get to pace around or dream as is.

You sit there patting me on the head like I'm a stupid dog,
"There there, you'll get over your dreams. We all had to
At one point." I'm supposed to just sit here and feel golden,
This my darkest hour, the only thing I have left is that
I'm here where I can be a "pretty flower," but still I feel
I have no future with all of my dreams stolen.

I would give anything but to feel the fires of youth and life,
Now I get to be whatever else and poor as I am "free."

*One man's trash is another man's treasure, indeed...

Indeed! All is a sea of flames...*

Her will be done, her kingdom come,
On earth as it is in nature, blessed is her
Only divine beauty. Strong her motherly
Hands which hold you, in being nurtured.
If only the will of what we call love
Could see how we lose control, turn away,
From the actual truth, because we could
Have saved ourself a rainy day.
But in this chaos man will learn, he can't
Be something bigger than the earth,
He can't defend us all from loss
That has existed since the dawn of time,
Always and forever in denial of his pride.

The laughter fills the basketball court
As the swing sets chains ring and the slides are hot,
All desks are turned towards the chalkboard
The sun beating down on the cafeteria and lots,
As the pencils tap and all of the art is displayed,
Only the grass is soft enough for the shoes
Which sits by the trees and fences which fade.
Old are the backgrounds of trees and leaf and roots
Of flowers and birds and bumblebees,
Amidst cans of soda and pizza sitting on trays,
The smell so delicious wafting in the breeze,
A fantastic feast for my "merely normal" childhood days...

A million words, a million thoughts,
We've all been here writing till the end of time.
What new ones may have been brought?
It's all I can think of, did something happen?
Am I still original or am I out of line?

"Soon-to-be-victorious" you start the  song,
A dirge of memories past, till the very last.
The rhythm sounds like 'other time folk music,'
Played to an *****-like effect,
I guess you would be able to out-do my
Eccentric best.

Keep playing that well worn traditional back-days song!
You know I was here to **** you down all  along...

Live in the dark, sharpen the steel,
Play the charade, mould of grey clay,
The bump in the night fills you with fright,
Indulgence in the air? Make the "sinful" care.
Vacuum the world, the big flag unfurled,
Bump in the night,  neighbour takes flight,
Pollution in the air? No one seems to care.
Slow work to get by, free lunch for the fat guy,
Masterful touch, the poor "lazy guy's" on the crutch,
A place they can afford to stay if you think they're OK.

I sit upon my throne of a bench and drink my coffee,
All day long I play games or play the piano,
The smell of dark roasted black, strangely so sweet,
And just wait or watch the flowers and grass grow.

Just a moment, give me a second to explain my life,
Popcorn popped at the stove sits, I look like lurch,
It's just like that, things that we pay for Movie Time,
I wasn't the least bit interested in going to church.

So I ask myself where are we going from here?
Anyone else notice these rules seem quite austere?
I wonder if I'm the only one who wonders far or near
If I could get a job that matters in even 10 years?

But what does it matter, I guess this way of life's my fault,
I will just get fatter, such a noble way to excuse my waste line,
As each day grows longer, I'm just likely to somehow evolve
Into another one of those guys who is just a waste of time.

Why if I had my way-don't get me wrong-this wouldn't be,
I'd live like a wild man would, a Robinson Crusoe, oh dear me.
Why I have to feel so down all the time? Well it's all so free,
I live in the land of the free, free to become a casualty
Of corporate competition, whether I meant to be,
Wouldn't really matter, like that means anything.

And the answers always been that I'm alone with my dream,
We already "knew" you had a way out of everything,
You just happen to lack the needed ambition to leave son,
So get with it your life is none of our concern or anything.

Dear wounded, lost and powerless one, alone having "fun,"
Even in your darkest, most horrible despair,  consolations.

Some consolation...
I **** at all the things I'm BEST AT.
That's how I feel now.
Sorry to ruin everything for everyone.
I will go away now.
Please God, pray let me disappear somehow.

It's ok if you want to believe in God,
I won't stop you, all I want is a second
of your "ever-knowing time," to explain to me
how you figured out that we're all supposed
to know where we came from because of some
superstitious statement and some written signs.

I remember sitting on the auditorium
Floor, when I saw you-dark sparkling eyes,
Like a bird, looking at me, short hair,
Freckles. I remember how I felt entranced,
Like a deer startled in the middle of
A field. You know that my mind stays there
Forever lost in this memory of happenstance.

You just stared at me. We never really spoke,
When your friends asked me why I always
Followed you around even though you didn't
Like me, you sat there with pen in hand
"click click-click click" it went, there I sat
At the library table, I could dare not
Look, but I knew even near you I felt grand.

It's like you cast this spell on me, and if I could
Answer, you are my strongest inspiration,
it was enough to let you be, to observe
Your great beauty even from a distance like a star
Shining in the Capricorn constellation. I'd wait,
No matter how long, near or far. To think I would
Never share life with you? But maybe some day I will be
An innocent Virgo star shining right by where you are.

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 water-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 hiding 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...

Can't they see
That the only reason Trump has suddenly fallen in "love" with Mexico
And Christian rights is because it is getting closer to voting day?
Well you know that people are *SO dumb that they
Would go gay the "TRUMPY" way, believe anything the desperate
****** would have to say...

The question is asked again and again,
Where do we come from? Who are we?
All throughout life men and women great
And foolish have attempted to explain this,
"In a moment all will be explained,"
"If you pay more money you will be cleansed,"
"Not worshipping is the realm of the insane,"
"With these soft spoken incantations you will mend,"
So where do we come from? What is all this?
From rushing water, breath of air, no need for
Recognition, it's all miles away in some deserted
Forest, to be left for later generations to forget,
Let this be an answer, why are we here? I shall
Obtain eternal life if I just hold this vile
Closer to my heart, a work of vain art,
This isn't life, this is the illusion of life,
The answer nestled in a small cave,
The birth of a newborn bird, a ripple in a pond
From a rock that fell during an earthquake,
A vague reflection of a deer in it's surface gleam,
All of this and more, the darkness of night,
Cloaking terrors real or imagined, what is this?
Maybe one day we will know? This is how fools
Are born, clinging to this or that, a drop of water
From a vile, an answer from a simple written text
That proves it's all happened thus far. This is why
Fools are born of this, opportunists, blinded by dust,
The great way of those who gather to take advantage,
This is where the greatest numbers of fools gather.
Far away, the beautiful forest, I may not know what brought
This all to life, but I do know what is worth saving
And what only fools shall save for themselves...