It's scares me
when I talk to people
and hear how
wrapped up they
are in
meaningless *******.

Long haired California girls wear skin tight jeans with 7' inch heels  for a trip to the liquor store.
It's getting harder to tell which ones are dancing by night and spending by day.

Panhandlers and the truly insane sit outside stores they can't afford.
Asking people they don't know for help they really don't got the time or reason enough to give.  

Every soldier needs an enemy or they wouldn't be any use for any soldiers at all.
All these Cops decked out in Army grade hand me downs got me wondering "Who is their enemy?"
As I look around and only see us and them.

Latch-key kids all over this city talking on cell phones while eating $4.00 ice cream and riding a Hoverboard.
Independent little adults who see no reason to respect anyone or anything  at all.

You only see stray cats in the ghetto.

I'm against everything based on Fear.
Propaganda in this country has hit an all time high.

People don't even care about the Truth anymore.

The Truth is all I Care About.

I will make enemies and be ridiculed
while protecting the Truth.

Protecting it from all those who wish to smear their
Fear based ******* upon it.

We had some of the best talks,
some of the best laughs.

I got some of the best advice,
and we shared some things
we always considered secrets.

I forgave him and
he accepted me and all my flaws.

And I spent hours and days
there beside his death bed.

Watching as he bravely faced
the empty shadow of death.
The tears all fall in silence
as what's left of him fades
like slow clouds behind the mountain.

Leaving behind his broken vessel
for us to cry over, for us to miss.
For the caretaker to burn all away,
for my Mother to toss into the waters.

The dog won't leave the impression
he left on his bed.
The cat wonders the house
checking all the rooms.

His keys and his wallet still sit
on the counter.
The dog still won't leave his room.

I'm sitting in the kitchen but I'm not really here.
My brother hasn't said a word.
My uncle has'nt stopped drinking.
Mother keeps on crying
and there ain't a dam thing I can do.

Its my need to know
that keeps me from turning
out the lights on this forever.

The more i know
the less I feel the need
to add to the crowd.

I'm shattered like
a programmed
*** kitten or teen aged
fame slave.

I like a Moon that's
transparent and
clouds that wont
float away.

Girls on magazine
covers and Girls
in the Bar.

I like moving on the highway
and watching the flashing city lights
as I forget what it was that led me to this.

Fabricated history finds
its way into the text books.
How smart are you who
quotes the lies you've read
and argues their tales as truth.

There's never an ending to all
that we've been told.
The more I discover the
less I find was true.

Sitting in L.A traffic with no A.C
nodding in and out
of this constructed kind of reality.

Wondering about things like
where did the time go?
Where did my friends go?
Why so many lies?
How am I to convince her I've changed
when I've changed very little.

Cell phone rings and I ignore it.
A semi blast its semi horn and
pulls my chin away from my chest.

I'm tired but I don't sleep.
I have nightmares of a life without these
words.

Women all over this city,
can't go a day without seeing
one you'll never have.

Bar keeps and Cops talking about
politics and ball chasing men.
I stopped going to Bars once the
original Bar Fly had passed.

Going through the things I wrote
while up state in a prison cell .
Seems like only yesterday I was
longing for this city.
This city whose
toxic air , beautiful women
and cheap downtown ******  
together are slowly killing me.

Suicide's too easy I'd rather
sit it out and wait.

This traffic and these lipstick painted faces.
These hot summer days in October
and my poems all unsigned.

There's a secret and I know it,
our world was someone else's mine.

Scatter what's left of me
into the smog.
Burn me at death,
my only wish is to be forgotten.

Mothers smoking ***** from a bamboo pipe in the morning.
She peels bananas for breakfast with her hands that are never clean.
Father died in a rich mans mine.
Mother has found an Uncle to beat her on the weekends when the Wine runs out.
Uncle make sister touch his monster in the mornings.

The speakers of His word bring salvation and sugar cane husks for the children after class.
All the parents miss the sermon and drink early morning wine on a sunday.

In the cities and the suburbs girls chose the guys who can buy them jewels and give them children.
Security is what matters who cares how you feel.
A thousand smiles smile back as she holds the sparkling stone high for everyone to admire.

He felt safer with his sister towing buckets in the mine.
His Uncle didn't like it but the money bought more drink.
They always needed children to venture deeper in the Earth.
Slender hands and small bodies pulling Diamonds from the mines .

She secretly admired the promise on her finger as he pounded away on her ripe smelling flesh.
It takes a special kind of someone to fake it all for Gems .
Men so lonely they convince themselves it's Love ,when they really know it's Diamonds.

There's something about stones that take lifetimes to form .
A Gem so strong only the hands of a child can set them free.

   What a symbol for promise ,for Love and forever.
A stone pulled from the Earth by way of child labor and sometimes child blood.