Cold cylinder cradled back and forth,
Bubbles occasionally rise for release.
Sipping silently questioning my feet
And how they feel on hard concrete.
What I found was what I thought
I knew... I knew nothing of the sort.
Then and now I'd move my mouth;
Motions all at once violent and hollow.

How can you conveniently more fit
Me inside of you, your life
What do you expect inspector?

Granted I can't fool you for too long

Goodbye to solitude only in your presence
I say farewell to folk on most occasions
Expect rain on rainy days and sunshine
You are
Conceited in the mind yet don’t realize
How lost you can't find nor be
Found inside chocolate boxes of youth
Nor flower petals of petulance
Your eyes burn with exhaustion
and rage

Locked like a bird in your cage
So tight wrapped up coiled like
A snake ready to strike full of
Poison and venom

Medusa in Reverse

keeping warm by that old stove
kicking back shots and
always a beer in hand
we lived as if nothing could
ever matter for nothing ever
changed the same man sleeping
at six or seven having passed out
from half-a-days work
and a hard days drinking
sitting around there for warmth
some kind of something men
don't often talk about much
women there were hard to
find, not for lack of trying
they just always seemed so
out of place when they
did actually appear
extending the night was
the main concern making
the most out of the ample
time given to us
trying desperately to squeeze
out juice from every instant
with anything free at hand
retreating back to sofas
for sleep waking up with
head aches intolerable beer cans
all around going hard because
there was no where to go
debasing our minds with the nights
succulent spoils tabbed pilled or
powder madness feels like sanity
at the right moment
knowing full well it can't
be caught as it slips
through your fingers only
to be inhaled the following
friday then blown away
once again at day break
a perpetual mind ****
was the goal with actual
******* just secondary reasoning
living to forget what it
means to be alive in
this world where identity
has been distilled to mere
pages in an infinite book
that doesn't really exist
what  else to expect from
shattered youth abused mainly
by design but also by choice
you could class it all up
increase the age and ornament
add black books, black dresses
black ties champagne & chandeliers
still dormant at its core
as time passes and falls apart
the fire still there burns
even in museums at midnight
Dionysus consumes Apollo
so warm your hands for as
long as you can it
only grows more insipid
increasingly cold and bitter
both the truth and the liquor
till everything’s but a pause and black

We tweaked on/off
for hours at mischievous hotels
Sporadic neon lights flashing in/out

Missy, on nights so long
came with you sweet and short
I could never hum or retort a pretty song

Its now been long enough
princess once in Daddy's eyes
blood shot with staggered grin

In this desolate town the vault
comes tumbling down in pieces
over the unfinished heads below

While it gathers at our feet Missy,
rising ever more inch by inch
piling in places such as our present, our past

Soon to make us like statues
in the great museum of the mind
let me hold you, just one last time

We tweaked on/off
for hours at mischievous hotels
Sporadic neon lights flashing in/out

Missy, on nights so long
came with you sweet and short
I could never hum or retort a pretty song

Its now been long enough
princess once in Daddy's eyes
blood shot with staggered grin

In this desolate town the vault
comes tumbling down in pieces
over the unfinished heads below

While it gathers at our feet Missy,
rising ever more inch by inch
piling in places such as our present, our past

Soon to make us like statues
in the great museum of the mind
let me hold you, just one last time

I’ve lost my muse, I’ve lost it all
Give me some liquor and I swear I’ll stand tall
Tall enough to touch hands with God
Or at least high enough to fall
Fall from his graces,
To a place where on my knees I’ll crawl
For forgiveness in damp caves at dusk
Creeping through bile, pustules and ****
To a place somewhere said in between
Heaven and Hell, it’s there I’ll be seen

I lost yesterday
still trying to catch up to tomorrow
The presents of today yet unwrapped,
like a child I am impetuous
I can never let go the dreams
concocted amid day light hours

The wishes to be a better man...
Yet I've never found the courage
or power to do better than I am

Children are playing elegantly unaware
of the city's breadth and all it's despair
in the midst I mutter lost in life's snare

My bottle now empty
the parkground my bed
My burned out eyes collapse
as I lay back my head

I make such effort to
reconcile what was thought
yesterday in dreams written
by capricious colors and shapes
with what was handed
down to me in the reality
of the situation.  Scrambling
through madness chasing after
issues brought forth by
parents bestowing hope to what
should really be the hopeless.

Sarte taught us better
even still it appears self
determination is not enough

Not Enough.

Those words clamor through
every facet of my existence

somehow
still
not enough
still

still
not enough

                   _     _     _

"Everything’s gonna be alright",
Words I can't understand.
So I push forward without consent
To the place where the road end.

sadness how could I ever forsake
the sacred?
indeed child sometimes
we seem to forget
where we come from
on our way to where we are
our current plans for tomorrow

i never forgot

i just didn't always remember.

stigmas of the past
social tap dance transgressions
left me aghast; mouth agape
confused marinating

it never mattered,
nothing did.

that was the motto
life long LSD lessons to follow
at times not adequate
others still so hollow
make room for others
and make room for tomorrow

On the crowded streets of life (think 51st and 5th)
I never thought I'd stumble on a candied ginger rock
Out of which the most gorgeous daisy would bloom
Remember the moonbeams dancing on the river
and how the train came not far behind,
popcorn, wine, the candle still burning & Zimmerman on track 5?
Cold and warm nights spent together in the Theatre Basement
Showcasing romance, Comedy, Drama & Jazz
Sharing mysterious pleasures we thought we'd never have
Stepping in and out of reality barely touching ground
Soaking up sun on god's great handkerchief
Witnessing the transcendent beauty in your face

It's getting late, we've run out of time.
A high - too high, now coming down.
Plucking stones from a dry stream bed,
Or starlit seaside strolls post dinner.

It never seemed to be on our side...

Lingering all the while on the back burner,
On which you cooked food for the soul,
A long drive ahead and a long way to go.
I'll have no reason to light that candle.

Clinging intensely to that last embrace,
She pinches me to tell me of that

                                                   "Sunday feeling".

She's last year's model.
Scouring the sewers now
For a temporary replacement
How the times go fast.

This time, every time, nothing
Seemed to go right always -  
Always some marginal error
That grows magically in magnitude

Dare not speak of tragedies
Hidden well by silence and
Plastic drapery strategically hung
To hide how we really felt

Left unattended those veins
And arteries that once
Sweet Dopamine and Oxytocin flowed
Congeal, clog, atrophy and collapse

Shedding a carcass of love
Full of bittersweet memories
Exposed to the elements within
To be plastered over by time