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Mitchell Aug 2011
King crest folded the leaves to his breast
ANOTHER TEST, ANOTHER TEST
A shared sermon for the peasants and the slaves
They call this hormones but I think their bummers

Now with the political rallies rolling like dice games
And leader and commanders breaking up their own fame
We sit around and twiddle what thumbs we have left
Why not result to a life of petty civilized theft?

There is no reason for treason unless paid off right
A smile from anyone is worth any price
Streets hiss with the white whistle of truck mist
Mind don't matter if the scissor is made of batter

Nod off if your putt off by the way the girls talk round' here
At night the howl of the moon is nothing but the clatter
Of a rusted
*****
Spoon

Cob webs made of calm cool make their way
Into my imaginations drool
A spool of silk is spilt from the hands of hounds
Devil trespassers, trust not
Their masters

Each hour has past and each our of the future is spent
We twirl like we rule but our time here in history
(Booy said this one)
Means nothing at all

Battered souls wave chipped and damaged bats
Baseball players used to smoke and be fat
The human soul in a uniform and winning
Drinking and sinning yet every night
Beginning

Fast is as fast does for the fuzz mumbles he's "numb"
Find the wife laid in pipe neck deep in a family fought strife
Therapy is broken cause' she forgot her morning coffee
Thank God the tile still knows how to do some talkin'

Help is spilt cross' the floor like milk is poured
God's know they were born into a life of nothing more
Greek speaks bout' feats and lies amore
Tell me, dear mister, lead a life of fear or a life of bore?

Hot twilight
Morning maelstrom
Love is a loser's game
Love is
A
One way
Mitchell Aug 2011
She said she would move if we would just improve
Then the sails broke and we joked as the tea spoke
Now with the water high night is nigh and were alright
Can it be that love is here and time is nowhere near?

See the flower tasting sour won't you come on over?
Tongues are tied wrists are limp my pen is broken need a stick
After this nap we'll dump the sack head off books on our backs
Were young and dead old and feared with no sign of creakin' bed

Write what nothing holds true for if you do the blue will sue
Heads will turn as you will burn on a stake made of copper n' zeal
No neither hands are feeding inspirations curse don't burst
Mother made her hand here and now there's nothing no nothin' to hear

Oh' all along ears bend and spend their lives cooly listening
Don't send your ears down the block for the clock has stopped
I listen to the tunes of buffoons who dance around like happy loons
A child tears up as he bares up another rafter of stale **** candy

At this time drinks are drinks and dames are dames and I'm still tame
I don't think myself lame or famed worded or locked up n' boarded
Nor clouds white as milk cool as silk stand on stilts dirtied felt
A smile is all one needs to feel the speed of a life worth lived
Mitchell Mar 2011
Breaking molds begging to be kept solid
Pushes my person to throw temper tantrums
High and mighty with not a lick of forgiveness
Weak in the mind on a Wednesday
Drunk in a funk on a Friday
Horizons that I thought were mine
Were never mine to begin with
They are the oceans beneath my feet
Chipping white dust of bones that bleed hallow marrow
A black sky is the only way a bird can learn how to fly
In a mystery a man dies, my father, your father, no bother
For emotion used to hit ******* my clear glass window
Now I know longer see the point in the matter
The demons are deep but not as deep as the absence of me
I am lost in the high frothiness of societies **** and its labels
Away I will not go but here I will stay
Don't ask me demeaningly to praise this and applaud that
They are, in shadows, apart of something
The praiser hates, a secret shining soon to be dead agate
Fortune fancies the one's that know how to show it off
A monster lays inside jewels, in gold, in seemingly high ego
Devil ten horns has learned how to live and be reborn
A mastery of tricks, apparitions and magic
That not even the human eye or mind is able to see
Currents spell themselves out in shrouded clouds
Misty mist
Magic that is black, blue, green, yellow and red
The color of your mother's magic ink pens
A click of water from the outside gutter
The faint dying voice of a once thought of angelic grandmother
Take the shadow away from life, shine light
For there's never enough time
I'll be making meals
As I squeal
Pinching pennies, passing time, pouring wine
Mitchell Feb 2011
Embracing solitude in the blackest night
I released a sigh that lasted eternally
While the souls that slouched on bent bench
A cigarette unlit with no lighter
Peaked their head up the south side street
But the italic using writers
With their heavy pearls around their neck
Bending their backs, spending their stacks
Listen deeply to a blue hallow echo
Of a car with no wheels
Yet still on the street
While I lay round' my bed
Oh lying alone in that lonesome tomb
I pondered the aftermath of our country's math
And lied out loud that I'd never love again
Ancient are these blues
From the hills of Colorado
To the hole in the wall
Near the edge of San Antonio
Drinking near to death
I remembered the quickness of wit
From the one born in 93'
But I read it too fast
And ran fast away
Knowing that the riddle of the machine
Is a trick just like the diamond glinting
A man whistled lustily next to the souls in wait
Saying he had to change his ways,
Strive to be different
But I heard in his pocket the jingle of change
And I knew he was going to the track
Getting ready for the day's next meat
I laughed to myself
Curious of his ways and his sins
I forgave him just like I forgive myself most of the time
Caught the tune he was whistling blue
And released my feet on the open street
Mitchell Sep 2011
So short are these lives
Which walk among us in such a hurry
I can't wait for these feet of mine
To stay true to the rules of time
How many men have died?
How many mothers cried?
How many heads have sighed?
Where else but here can we rely?
Born into a split country
A split religion
A split way of being
I am scared for the children which I wish not to have
Nor would know how to care for
Unless in the end to lie
I stare outside of myself
But am not in myself
I am somewhere else
In another place
Where the sun hits the grass catching it fast to fire
Quick to a step for the best know no test
Know no try
The intense golden face is blinding when
One stares at it for too long
He has a plan for us but then saw that we had failed
I am scared for us because we have only ourselves to get us outta' bail
Longing for peace n' longing for a steady way to be
I am traveling from my home for to roam
Is to escape how I used to be
Out with the soul that has been weighing me down
Out with the skin that only makes me cringe
Heavy heart attack that cracks
Like work men's knuckles round' 2pm
Or secretaries backs broken from 9 to 5 and gettin' fat
Books are electric while the papers are burning down
All I see is ruin yet no one is making a sound
The money has all dried up like a puddle in the sun
Buzzards are above my head
Soaring n' looks like their having fun
She crept neath' my heart and that is where she stayed
Devil woman brown in her eyes
I howled that night like a werewolf at the split egg white moon
Sizzling sanitarium salute to the working class
Angel haired hipsters crude oil the highest class
Menacing mistaken get rich scheme maelstroms
Strewn out and strung out in the newest hippest gear
Tight laced tight faced knuckles white with fear
I skip to the tune of the buffoon for my father laughed the way
Grinning madly the car swerved as his hair curled
Water wet and then the step as my bereft means nothing unless I trip
Insurance fakers unpaid bakers feeding St. Jude with a mean old attitude
I've closed my hands but my eyes are open
I've lose the way to act like I'm afraid
Death is no friend of mine but I guy that invited himself in
Took all of your whiskey
Your lemons
And whatever else
You didn't want to give
Awaiting the by ways she says "give me another smile or I'll start to cry"
Cranberry red her reds have turned you feet are now starting to burn
Corn field yellow love with my cigarette burnt love
A taint as I faint by her face not at all with a speck of grace
A tad pole like life short lived but quick frantic
Music and memories are nothing more then life's tactics
As is love, a forgetful dream, cause' once you've awoken
You never wished you'd have ever spoken
But I'm broken, as of now, I'm looking for some glue
To fix this ill perplexed Muddy Waters blues
No, not there, don't rest there little bear
I rest in the stars or the bars or my fellows boat stows
Left for dead for they said rather instead
That they meant the other harsher thing
A bring of witched woes with toes walked but never written or stocked
Forgotten stories with vanished' faces with ill traces of dead jealously
Dirt blankets strapped crazy jackets when I leave today I won't ever be back at the bay
I don't smile here and I don't grin to put it honestly my head only spins
My sight does dim my chest does start to cave my fingers ***** the softest rose reddest bush
Drink too much for nothing such and such as I am home as I am sittin' at home
Stole my last heart I stole my last heart yes I have stolen my last God forsaken heart
Lonesome no more n' worried not an ounce
I'm looking around for some girl to give me my next bounce
Fun where are you? Joy why are you not by my side?
Where is that ****** ride I paid for while I was in full stride?
Spoke to fast I clashed up against a wall of spoiled dirtied cash

I looked for snow but it had melted
My life alone without a brick of shelter
Mitchell Jun 2011
Maid you made the building shine
Like a pine burning through a fine Spring rain
Broken teeth broken shoes
What money you need to get you through?

Lay your hand to the ground
Loosen the grip to the horn which makes you proud
The blonde moves with a mystery that I can't see
Each light here makes me miss her

Heard of you through a rotted grapevine
You talked with vigor but your sheen was unseen
Tapped your heels like you had a pair
You spoke of poetry as you thought what to wear

I knew the time before you knew yourself
You packed your bags as I packed your shelves
Imagine the world without you here
That's what I did to get you outta there

The building holds words which were written
For men and women who felt that had been bitten
I saw it in the papers as I flicked away the capers
Wheezing beside me was the grim reaper weeping

Attention to the mystery privatizes the trees
To see such a thing made me question to believe
Now the concrete is trying to sneeze
But the books are clean as I guess they should be

Paint filled walls lined with 150 million dollar prizes
You got a soul? We probably got your sizes...
A shout here is not allowed so lay mellow
Cry here for the vagrants dying far down below

So strongly so hastily these triumphs spring up unrequested
All of it seems like an attempt to get bested
Come to the window to see the life not inside
Street filled wishes un-granted is the ticket to buy
Mitchell Mar 2014
A rose in the teeth of a dead dog
Rain patters on the broken windshield of a car
Ten cradles rock in unison
A read ocean bubbles like air blown into milk
Ten persuasive arguments said together
Chocolate covered strawberries aflame
A man enters a building without a name

A pink note from a shadowy man laughs, leaving
Telescope love affair from across the street
The crinkled bag contains nothing
When there is music to be heard, people will listen
How was sand formed?
A million minds with everything and nothing to say
It was a night to remember, it was a night to forget

Canned soup on the stove heats up like a grenade
Dry fingers across a smooth keyboard with paper on the side
The clock strikes 3:30 and I am alone again
Though the sun is out, I look only at the shadows the trees make
Everyone in their cars have faces like gravestones
I've never seen a frog smile
Where are the men who have walked country mile

Will I be like this forever?
A naked dancer says her name is Boston
Once, the garage was filled with smoking tremors
Instead of the store clerk being late, the customers were
Food no longer nourishes me
When I wake in the morning, I roll over, and look at my feet
Each stair of this house was made by hand

Cuticles are the cutest things to push back
Time is a flat circle
I learned that from the television
Connecting the dots sometimes gets you nothing
I accept the limitations of humankind
I do not accept the limitations the brain
Who am I to accept anything at all?

Nourish the darkness
Wash clean the light.

Massage the demons
See the angels sight.

Care for the God
Who's carefree and glee.

Is a circled cage
Never to let you free.
Mitchell Aug 2013
A rose atop the grenadine stairs
Signifies a portrait of love aflame
In memories we wish for the impossible
In life we wish to surpass reality
"Let dreams inspire life," the opportunist sighed.

When you're nice enough
No one gives you a second glance
Shrieks from down below
Make my pencil move slow
And the heart beat a double step
To a dance floor illuminated by the drunken

She nods," Another night, another life, another dollar."
Musing on this, I tip back
Seeing the slack in her black neck tie
Loosen
Revealing God's only mystery to me

Instead of five paces
Lets make it ten
I want to live longer
The sun is in just the right spot - the moon too -
To die today
"Don't you bet on no heaven boy," the preacher snickered.

"I only made one bet in my life," I said," And that
Bet was with the devil himself."

"Who won?" the crowd asked cheering.

"Who you think?" I answered back yelling.

A hush
Is more sacred
Then
Butterfly wings or
The reflection of the sun
On a moving river or
The wind through the needles
Of a young pine or even
The limp ear lobe of a naive deer

Since the seer is away on business
We will have to make do with
The good book and a bottle of whiskey

"Whiskey?!" shouted the bartender, "No one's
Ordered a whiskey water around here for YEARS!"

"I believe it," I muttered, "The only thing that suits me."

"Hombre?" he whispered, "You from around here."

"I'm from around here as much as anyone else is," I said, "We all just
Passing through."

Buzzer goes off
Ringer echoes through the hallway
Flash of light stabs through the pink window shades
A moan
From a man
Whose name is not known
Down near where
The car was parked last night

Instead of love
Give them faith
Instead of hate
Give them hope
Instead of justice
Give them free will

Reason will have to be the dagger
They **** each other with

Deep set cloud white in its sluggish passing
I knew a woman once that used to be my mother
We all change, don't we?
A number is just a number until it's a name

Take care, dear collide
Stores are emptying
And so is the bride
When the winter sets in
And the winter pass is filled
Take hold to whatever you've got
Every minute is our time
Mitchell Oct 2021
There's silence tonight,
A duo of voices
Outside
Trailing past my window.


There's a lap dog yapping
And a taxi cab screeching
To a stop
For a passenger
That won't fall out of love.

Where there's a will,
There's another will,
A will of never wanting to let go
Because maybe one day
It will get better

-

I never used to think about
How the words
Sounded
Before putting them down.

I just wrote them.

I avoid the mirror when
Asking myself,

When did presentation
Take the place of
Creation?

Even now,
They move, they sway,
My eyes swimming
In pools
Of their own self-doubt.

A house of cards
Meant to move forward,
Give point,
And explore shelves
Yet undusted,

Though a new world ranking show
Of countries and their literacy,
The United States ranks 7th.

-

Attuned to no deep thought
Does that mean
All deep thought
Is gone for good?

What happens to a man
When they stop caring?

What happens to a man
When they feel the majesty
But do not have the desire
To take it in and let it out?

What happens to a man?

What happens to any of us?

-

Perhaps I've taken something.

Perhaps the weight of the world,
"The insanity" as a friend puts it,
Has eaten up my waning purpose;

My youthful illusion
Of eternity
Through
Fabrication.

Facing mortality,
Acting as if nothingness
Is something to be
Overjoyed by,
Is a temporary jest.

True memories,
Lasting ones,
Instill themselves
On the global
Psyche
Like a cow brand.

No writer should be followed.
They should be listened to,
Not for their lives,

But their many

Deaths.

It is in their resurrection
That we dispel identity
To see that progress is multitudes,

And those too scared to die
For fear of losing themselves

Are only holding us back

For whatever tomorrow brings.
Mitchell Sep 2019
It's so late at night
And I ain't got no right
To call you to say
I love you the way I used to

Moon yellow parade
Your voice turns to gray
An' no amount of money
Is ever going to be enough
To pay
The things I did that day

This isn't any song of repentance
You know I hate to dance
This just a song to say
I see what I did when I did it
But those feelings
Then an' now
I can't ever repair

I can't ever take
Away a memory
That don't belong
To me.

Thoughts
Are just
Tricks

Telling me
I never believed
You were
The one for me.
Mitchell Jan 2012
When its not there
That worthlessness
Creeps over me

A bug

Without

Its shell

The thoughts
The pains
The anger
The life within me

Seems to have drifted
Out
My cracked window

What are these days
That leave me
Gutless and afraid?

Numb to a city
I traveled miles and
Miles to live and
Stay?

Indifferent to
Experience that
Passes me
On the way.

Chasing the muse
Of life is
Nothing to brag about

It leaves you
Alone and
Weary, shivering and
With days of
Nothingness

It

Leaves

You

When it wants to
Mitchell Jan 2012
When its not there
That worthlessness
Creeps over me

A bug

Without

Its shell

The thoughts
The pains
The anger
The life within me

Seems to have drifted
Out
My cracked window

What are these days
That leave me
Gutless and afraid?

Numb to a city
I traveled miles and
Miles to live and
Stay?

Indifferent to
Experience that
Passes me
On the way.

Chasing the muse
Of life is
Nothing to brag about

It leaves you
Alone and
Weary, shivering and
With days of
Nothingness

It

Leaves

You

When it wants to
Mitchell Aug 2011
Clear black liquid
Hits patrons eyes for the prize
Deserved unless
All of it is force fed

Night hands its hat on the chipped and naked rack
Day has made dinner though has chipped n' cracked a nail
Heroes all former stand human blood dark in their eyes
"We came here like you and we'll leave here a little more blue"

A dream of a ****** like a move without a thing to prove
To ask for forgiveness is a wish that should have been

History repeats as debts break n' are getting steep
Alone in the night I smile through my crooked stance
My girl lays alone serving drinks clutching her phone

I try to get through these hours
These minutes
This humorous humming life

I try to make laughter by a
Fire in the oven
But christmas tree is wilting
An' my smile now is tilting

Produce has melted and I've just hit a deer
Melting like a toy soldier
Underneath the eye
Of this summer breeze

Sand in the car
And I left my lady
Today today
I don't feel up to par

I don't cry though for the stars are still shining
Grandma shouts out, "Oh stop your CRYING!"

She is right oh she is right
So I go out west with a string and my faithful kite

Theory hangs on the lips of our cross eyed politicians
We hear their words as we are thinking
Of the girl with the key to her ignition
Planting rules around animals
Is like planting stones
Around flowers

Our brains our getting heavy
Our souls are getting fat
Our hats are getting wilted
As the caves are still filled with bats

I hear these words of ol' Mr. Cash
Whose singing words make people laugh
I see him standing in heaven with his beaut' Ms. Carter
Boy she could sing and move just like she had just started

Too miss such show makes me cry hang and bow
To miss such an applause makes me ruffle my brow

Notoriety for the notorious pill popping pedestrian
The man with a smile the man who walked life's mile


Hell, oh hell, who knew that you'd already laid here on Earth?
Who knew you were here from the quick start of my birth?

Life you mentioned a memory just yesterday
That you said you had forgot
I wish I'd had boughten that camera from you
Right from the very start

Forget or forgive
I am now here to stay
I hear the lonesome river banging
Hang low
A stranger is close approaching
Mitchell Mar 2011
I bet myself last night
Not to take a bite
Of a life I used to live
I couldn't believe
That all this time
My mind had been so fried
Away and left for dead
In the alley and in the bed
Instead of sauntering off into another fateful night
I stayed nowhere and rested
Bombs of babbling bums couldn't hold me
I was released into an ether
Which I did not recognize
A current of crisis fell over me
Enveloped me
And I am still not sure it has let me go
There are moments when I think back
Look back
But do not step back
Even-though I have done that in the past
There are a million ways to die in this world
I'm looking for the millionth one
Mitchell Sep 2012
Careening moonlight
You show me what I once
Thought was right
I drink now for the sake of mankind
The bullet casings reflect the
Sun as the wine in my cup
Sloshes from right to left and
My own life is not my own -
A price to pay for theft

I love you
You make me
The way I am
And I press my mind
To these keys
And realize everything and
Nothing in the end will
Be alright

In solitude
I pray to creation
Seeing that life is merely
A bottle
And when its empty
It ain't worth a ****

Tasting the stars in their
Brilliance of absence
I recollect my own upbringing
And remember my hallow mother
Singing her nightly hymns

But to begin with memories are
To step in the backgrounds of
Imaginations personal horrors, own borrows,
The lonely tunnels of a city long since dead
That instead of exhaling we try
Inhaling; pressing Death right back

I am young
I am old
I am a story
That has already
Been told

Yet I
Live on

I smile

I smell the scents
Of a world gone and
Past and taste at last

The current of the river
The wind of the crass

A life that has
Already ended

But has no ambition  

To Pass

Self held in my own vices
The upstate prices of page to brain
Makes me shutter as the gutter
Winces in its realizations of the brandishing
Blade of the horses with their war

My existence presses Her finger upon
The broken page of the unstoppable cops
Where I stop to think where then my
Life - though good - has spoiled quite abrupt

Oh to obey in sun struck love
Where the only thing that is real is above
But anything I recall I forget
A smile that says to me "not yet"

I once thought I was close
But see now
I am so far away
If asked to stay
I don't know what I'd say

Each countless pride
Has its side
Just like the ocean in Her majesty
And unseen tides

Again

I slip into a smile
A false breathe
As I take my body back
In high stealth

Asking myself
*What exactly

Is the matter?
Mitchell Sep 2012
Wheels turn bullet casings clatter
The tomb is filled with rotted corpses
Of men and women so once filled vibrant life
We are escaping from nowhere in holy light
Anxieties are shedding like Autumn leaves

Prophets of death hidden wars
Press the button easily pursuing mass death
In people there is a fear and a hate so vast
That to cast this vote takes no second thought
Destroy the shadow before the shadow takes you

Breaking former promises with stranger's a
Tale is told for the sake of the passing down of stories
People make believe that belief is stronger than the will
But to see the two as one is the mirror revolving
The lakes of the world freeze as the sun loses its heat

Separating right from the wrong
Leaving the cold wind to the North
A spreading of fables and disease
The voices of the past elude to the cracked
Fragments of the one's forgetful in the present

On the tram the naked truth of the twilight morning
Spreads her finger through the cracked glass and
The split ends of Her hair rest upon my shoulders
Lonesome eyes hang in front of me as the sirens of
Drunken mishaps droop like lightless street lamps

I taste the fresh air mixed naturally with gasoline
And nicotine and children's sweet red lollipop laughter
The disaster has not been dropped yet, but the
Streets have gone through worse before - life was much
Harder back then when no one trusted each other
Mitchell May 2012
Every practice plans for their performance
Their shining center stage light
Waves of applause that blow through the audience
Toward the ears like wind through a field of straw

Every love needs its hate
Or it would not be true love
Every hate needs its passion
Its reasons and its commitment

Much like love
Much like friendship
Much like the mechanics
Of this phenomenon of life

The clear road is frequently traveled
Where the dusty and the dark road
Bare foot prints of a lesser scale
We are all afraid of the dark sometimes

The improvisation of the art of art
Allows the hair to stand on forearms end
Eyes water when you reveal yourself
As if given a secret you'll never fully be able to tell

Far from home and away from the one's I loved
I see them in my mind as clear as this blue sky
Worn my old boots to the bitter sole
Heart is burning like a train full of fresh coal

In the place of intellectual wisdom
Burns something else that replaces all books
All reviews, all movies, and all of television
In place of modern entertainment is another reason

No, not where Achilles once tortured himself
Or Parnassus with his walking stick counting ticks
Sincere are the wishes of the one's not to be remembered
Forgotten so not to have the facts twists & dismembered

Twilight reeling my hands wash themselves in the sky
My eyes blink as I think of my lover skating on her ice rink
Each smile a second and every laugh lasting hours
When I met her I gained a new kind of everlasting power

On the hill the soldier stands
The war has ended, he's got blood on his hands
His mind is bent, dented, thinking
Dropped in the ocean diving fast and sinking

At night
We dream
As the seams
Of the world

Unravel
Split
And flee
Into the wind
Mitchell Mar 2011
Silly how the man tells the monkey
How to be
When the sound rings a mind dings
And then, once again, the mind and body are on the fringe'
Oh what a lucky laughable existence it is to be a human bein' nowadays
What a weary worrisome chore upon a forever lappin' shore
Have you heard about the one that never had any fun?
Of course you didn't.
I ain't talking to you though I'm talkin' to the one behind you
The sister with a blister in her heart that shows in her eyes
In her arms and her soul and the way she waters that tea in her bowl
What a worried lady, what a worried way to be, oh maybe I'll make her be with me
Not a worry when the weather is cold
Cause' then I'll have you right here with me
Sister mary make me some supper
I need an upper
For the morning that I'm seein' outside
There's a high storm cloud a brewin'
Way oh way up inside of my head
And there's not a way that God, the saints, or a lady bout' to faint
Is gonna make me change these evil ugly taints
An improviso' of musico
A literary magnetico
A wheeze in a breeze that is cold but brings love
Forget me, sin with me, live and be with me
Tonight take no flight
For this night
Is our night
Mitchell Mar 2011
A corner's edge bends in the twilight of the day
Morning moves its precious moments
I'm feeling alone and oh so ****** stagnant
Lingering along in a world with a dying song
I looked out my window to look again for you
A feeling inside that I believe that might make me alright
But oh the fates of the world at large
With the running rivers and the men up north in charge
Were nothing in the news unless you can sing the blues
Make an act and sell your soul for a stack
Take what you will as you write your own mother's will
And the drinks will be bubbly as you tie up your snuggie
Alone with a bone that will soon be laying rotten
New York New York you dropped me off from the wrong stork
Melting methodically I rehearse my own day
Mirrors move in unison, hearing the sounds of people being born again
A whisper from the racket, a sister tying her jacket
As God weeps tears and sneezes in His son's hair
Contrasting religion as my soul is a sizzlin'
A night spent away from myself is like forcing myself to love on the 12th
So many hours spent wishing and fishing for answers
As well as millions of days waiting to get plastered
A twisted controversy of miseries misleadings
Tells me to continue on with my own silent song
Roads will weather me and of course try to tether me
Dollar signs flash bright, but there is an end in that sight
For the night with the stars and the all night bars
Makes me wink to the one behind me, I'm already too far
Tricking myself to believe that a future is on my sleeve
Today I will be new but tomorrow I might be calling Sue'
Breathing openly about all these sorrows as I slowly rock
Could it be? Could it be? Could it be?
That I was never meant to turn out to be me?
Heckling hordes remain stiff and act bored
Oh how fast and hurried I tend to get sore
Pitching these tents on hills that are burning
And all the time I dream of what it means to truly learn
I must be crazy to riddle off these rhythms
In a place where everyone's obsessed with the years current lace
Turning literature into amateur caricatures
Highlighting my own sad life
Kicking back a line from way back when gripping the knife
And I'm trying to keep myself inside this life
No no no these words are nothing special
Eternity marries the elder in the middle of April
Not a joke is said during the morning bloom
For everyone around me is still struggling with their own tune
Flicking the tube on and I got blue on
A face that looks like mine has become one in his own time
A flick away from salvation and I'm running to escape false elation
I might be here now, but tomorrow, who knows the land?
Mitchell Jan 2013
Welcome to the first act
Observe the hanging tapestries painted
In black blood
From the lost angels of Egypt
Their wings were clipped and
Their hides tanned for your Pleasure!

Welcome to my wormy show
Where seeing is not to truly know
Cast your attention to the willow tree
Dressed in drag and the ticking time bomb
That holds the key to infinity
(we lost the key years ago)

Enter underneath and inside the meat tent
Swat away destitute buzzing flies
Stand entranced by our acrobats in fire dance
There's not a seat in the house
That cares just as much as we do

Revel in the tears of the men and women
Who got off track
And now are in a life they wish to flee
Misery lasts a lifetime
Choose what you will wisely
Watch out for bandits who smile and
Cars that go over speeds of 98

Attack not the hand that feeds you
But the feed that is given to the hand
If there is a problem, there is a solution
When the darkness envelopes you
Seek light in independence to gain your freedom
Accept everyone and yourself
Admitting defeat is swallowing the last breath
Corner stores are sometimes not constructed on corners

Act accordingly
Mitchell Dec 2020
Words passed
That I and We
Baked
Make-believe
That never said enough.

I have a dollar.
Do you want it?
Ok.

The ocean doesn't.
The wind neither.
The ocean;

There's no convincing her.

That's it.

That is all.

Let's go about our sad inevitable business.
ADP
Mitchell Jan 2019
ADP
Until I stretch,

4

For nothing
And
No one

I am nothing
But I swear
The

Putrid whisper tanked

Shaking existence

Laughs at
All that was ever
All that was
And all

That would ever be.
Mitchell Mar 2011
Took myself through the darkest streets
Just to see who I would happen to meet
I saw the rains fall on forests unknown
While out somewhere a fat man bellowed

Two ton sisters laughed as they drank through the night
I stood on a corner starin', not looking too bright
Too far are the corners of the Earth to reach at times
As well as my thoughts which float away in abyss

But oh the mystery of life un-lived, unfullfilled
I see faces in the watered mirrors of our streets
I saw nothing before but see everything now
But nothing is nothing if you don't know how to follow
the voice of oneself and a pride withheld

Too long have these times been weighing us down
and the sounds of the vines that swing like sweet wine
the torment of a sister trapped in her disaster
a father betrayed by the sins of his dead other

Torments lost in a fire crackle spit fire manic
Tossing away a heart that was given to me at midnight
Two days passed I discovered it was mine own
Even Shakespeare was a man in the time of his prime

In these years of lust, dust, and broken egg shelled eyes
I sizzle in a world that I know not much of
And perhaps, if I'm lucky, see right above

I talk to myself in the mid-morning light
Maybe to a lover, maybe to my shelves
For the night, at times, is the only friend of mine
A friend that never once asked my soul to begin

Yes a whistle holds its tone if it has lost loved
Fallen in love
Thought or ever entrusted itself to love
A crescent call to the last careening thought of you
A lover that said they'd be and retreated in call

I talked for hours
knowing inside I knew not a thing
All the while smiling at mine own hollowness

All the broken bats I never did swing
Or all the rusted clubs that made midnight maraduer's rub
Led me to a place where I was meant to be

no longer laughing
no longer singing
no more wishin' of a living
of somewhere off in time
Mitchell Apr 2018
I'm just a moving through
Though
Im
In love

With you

I got nothing
Baby

I got nothing
Darling

But
The midnight
Starling

That midnight
Darling

A Fragrance
Of
A menu's chance

At a

Real Dance
Mitchell Jan 2019
Press the tape
To record
The normalcy
Of

Our

Insanity.

Save the
Shapes, contours,
Sounds and sights
Of smells
To bring them there.

Remind them
Of what was
In man; what
Is in man; what will
Always be

In man.

There is no escaping us.

Not even in death

Can we not be.
Mitchell Nov 2020
We got there in the early afternoon
By a car low on gas and a bad back right wheel.
It was Thanksgiving, and I wrote.
My name down on the back of a Whole Foods receipt
Because I was having trouble remembering the
Double-clap and the lazy double L.

I have been trying to read more poetry.
And yet
My stanzas
Still come out like that.

The royal, we appreciate the energy.

There was my grandma's newly painted house.
There was my father, and I's grifted palm tree.
There were my uncle's five cars.
All parked on the ****-filled crack and mild sidewalk.
There was the sound of the neighborhood dogs.
All fighting for the honor of their owners
Who only really loved one-fourth of them.

I started to cry after I put the car in park.
I was terrified. This shocked her because I was one.
To only cry when I was really drunk.

"Are you really drunk?" she asked me, patting me on my back as if I was choking.

"I feel I'm saying hello and goodbye at the same time," I said.

Then I opened the door and said, of course not, not yet.

The gate was creaky, and the young black dog.
Was excited
Like they always were.
The one white one, the one my uncle got took from my neighbor,
Just stared at me with the absence of something.
That knew they wanted to love
But didn't know how to ask or even receive it.

My grandma wrapped up because of the wind.
She was all smiles as she talked about being ready to die.

Being forced to be outside in nature
Is not always pleasant, especially when the alternative
Is killing from an accidental posture.

I had two beers for the price of one.
And listened to bird sounds on Youtube.
That my uncle explained brought tropical birds:

"The really fancy ones," he explained.

Then he pointed to a dead pigeon a hawk
Had left the day before
And stripped me of my Esquire magazine perspective.
Of fancy
And recalled where the hell I came from.

For some reason,
I brought up Veterans Day.
A ripple of guilt
Snaked over the glass patio table,
Over the leek and chive stuffing,
The Pilsner beer,
The homemade cranberry sauce,
The too-thick gravy and the burnt turkey, only to land
On my uncle's ears, who said:

"Dad always told me, When I'm dead boy
You go and **** on my grave! Man like me
Needs a shower whatever way he can get!
"

I nodded as she winced, and grandma said nothing.
My dad was inside cooking as usual.
One of the dogs, the young small black one
Excitedly mounted the brain dead white one
And ****** and ****** until the black one realized
He wasn't ready for physical love.

An anecdote spilled out of my mouth
About how I traveled to Normandy and saw
Art of the boats and the men and he, my grandpa,
That drove on D-Day.

My tale fell on deaf ears.

"Yeah, I went to Dad's grave," my uncle said. "And I beheaded him and skinned him as he asked. The man had a lot of requests."

"No, he didn't," Grandma insisted. "He no do that."

"I put a new skin on him," my uncle assured her. "Ain't going to leave my man skinless."

We had bad pie and left ten minutes after.
We didn't hug, so don't ask.
As we waved goodbye, I noticed a smudge of food.
On my dad's bulbous gut.
He had been very excited about his new couch.

"It takes up the whole living room! You and your sister can sleep in every corner of the thing and not touch feet!"

I did not cry as I pulled into the street but
I wept at home
In the shower
Scrubbing away the off-chance or the possibility or the
What-if-I-did-this of that

Family-packed afternoon.
Mitchell Jun 2011
My method of living here
Is no longer fashionable
To read to write to venture
Is now seen as second class
To experience has evolved
I am man and machine
A ****-sapien 2.0
Letters pour forth from my hands
Like a pitcher filled with sand
The words worth less
Then the commodity of nothing
What is the point of the professor's polished shoe?
What are we all really trying to do?
Surviving is a middle weights goal
Transcending oh Heavy Weights Behold!
Near to death we link arms to appearent madness
We've entered the dark realm of the void and it is
Very
Very
Bleak here
To die human
Is no longer
A feasible option
Mitchell Nov 2011
Beginning in anything

Is as hard as
Ending a love

You know
Must end.

Starting out is

Quitting

The passion

Of your
Life,

But when the cards
Fell,

You knew to
Walk away;

For your own sake.

Survival has
No face

Survival only knows
One rule;

Survive.

The trait is
Ingrained in us

Planted
Within us

To not accept it
Is to not be
Human

Crest sun lit waves
Crashing down hard
They have rules but
Look like they misbehave

We are the
Same way

But wish not
To accept it

Complexities corn hole
Has more restrictions

Then any of us care
To know about it

Yet we ***** and
We moan and we
Protest and we
Toss the ****
Right back

As if we were trying
To slam dunk the stuff

There really
Was never that
Much freedom given

We are only presented
With the time we are granted

That's about

It.
Mitchell Feb 2011
Translating cuts me deep
Bleeding
Spreading on table tops translucent red
I, in haste, ask myself how to feel
But receive no response
No shake
No stir
Nothing
I am alone, with nowhere to go
So I ask again
But another voice answers
In a tongue I cannot recognize
And the energy that I had last week
Has gone away
The mystery of communication
Eludes me
So I am left observing
Seeing
Judging while breathing
TV's blare
As workers rise before five
People laugh
As windows are washed
By women with backs bent forever
Hours trickle in the eyes of every orphan
As the rules of the streets
Be it Cobble
Stone
Muddy
Or *****
Hold rules as deep as ancient wells
The first time may be the last opportunity
Because the human mind works in evil ways
The glare that may feel like wholesome stares
Is in fact ugly
And compliments that rest sweet on received' shoulders
Will soon wilt
From the lack of self-sufficient sun
I heard once
"Create nothing, for it will be judged, misconstrued and beaten to death...there is nothing one can do about that fact"
But I only listen to optimistic flares,
How about you?
Mitchell Mar 2011
Fighting for mirrored memories fast while fornicating fools swear in deep swear they've never fallen in love?
When will the world remember that love is no diamond, no word, no expensive dinner or pair shiny shoes!
What has happened to the smell of a rose, it has been dipped in stinking ****!
The voices that echo in eternity do not recall themselves serenading nakedly with Hallmark cards or memorable dunches!
There was blood in the streets, soldiers blister punching the backs of heads, and happy church goer's clutching their burning crosses in blasphemy!
Generations of the hip divine rebelling for hope on the TV sets, internet in love and met, forgetting that the moments in nature are the only true ones
Hilarity at the thought of many that think it is easy to live again!
Sad pouring mountains with rubble stained back packs lick their centimeter gashes as perplexed cooks spill oil on their $2 shoes and smile
Shame on the masters of war that pour themselves in books getting their vote, with white smiles, waving hands and blue shiny suits that Elvis wore all the better, at least the Mississippi could move and groove like a human being with a crying blues soul
Not a thing to be proud about when the sales are shot, the days are run about, and friends fiend for the next big thing
Make more, make this, make a squeal in the middle of the night and see if a soul outside hears a thing
Smile at the postman and he'll **** in your mailbox
Make an effort in a line of millions and see if the mirror smiles back in the night or the early morning
So sad and soft are the eyes that I see in my dreams unborn
First that goes, a glow glimmering in a the shine before World War II
Teach these manic's the meaning of absence of soul to see how far the world can fall
Won't be here to hear, in the back, listening to the sounds of yesteryear
Forgive no one, remember nothing, look to the stars for guidance and in due haste, due haste, DUE HASTE, for soon they may be a fog of forlorn memory
Mitchell Aug 2020
Life
Is for you

And naught

For them.
Mitchell May 2011
A thought passed through the clouds so white that hung over my head
There was nothing I could do about the lies in the sky
Or the heavy hanging that outside I saw a man in the rain
Where there were whispers ringing out in the night
There were also tears streaming down the faces of the proud
But these were the worries of a man wounded in love
And these were the haunts of a house that I never thought to bought
Twanging terrificly for all the undead world to see and hear
Roaming was the way of the world for me and only in me
Streets were a red color this morning as she lay mourning
And of course these were the words of a man unborn and unknown
But listen to the trickle of the rain outside thine window
And watch carefully the ticking of that majestic clock
Where there were many a man broken and many a woman spending tokens
With their cash cards swiping itself upstairs with large words
And these worries spelt in trouble spills unto those stairs
That I once danced up when I felt I was in the know
Course' there was a record playing while the wine was being poured
And a professional man said to me "Would you like a glass?"
I've forgotten the tune of the croon so I look to the scattered road
And a Jesabil sound rushed the stage seeking fame
Stardust rocket blasts with confetti men wearing hats
And rough and tough men selling books that litter shelves
Yes these were the sights of a man busy being unborn and sworn
Sworn in these skies that fire themselves for they are not right
But the right of the right keeps itself tight
And this construction outside this window is breaking fast
And the purring kitty is no longer belonging to the name of cat
Feast on the fear of remembrances of your former self
For those were always and seemed like much better times
But the bouncing Bob of the times were something I never quite got to know
Knowing to know there was never really anything to get to know
Knowledge that leads to the whirling machine of images
Illusions and false fancy fast formerly fattened fragrances
Titanic break through of a former self that I never did get to know
Too tough to tell what I needed to really say
So I better get on my way fast cause we all know
Were soon to be setting off to set sail
Mitchell Feb 2011
I made some money
Spent it on a honey
She threw it in my face
As she ******* the lace

Backed up
Asking nothing
Sorrow is
Regret in the morrow'

Entertain this
Love this
Befriend and
Disgrace this

She walked outta the room
I stood still not feeling the expected doom
I peaked my eyes out the blinds
Yes time was still passing fine

I didn't ask the sky for forgiveness
For dropping me in a wrong'ed place
There was nothing I could do to please this
And yet I still remember the determined face

Generations feel the urge to run
So why don't they do it?, no mind is truly numb
We are the shouts heard if we dare speak it
Or do you think young souls aren't fit as the beatniks?

I've seen alley rat races with men with old wives
Heard stories from ghosts that couldn't get a ride
Tasted meat from a street that had been hit and beat
And smelled ripe leather liquors from aged' police kickers

We are being forgotten by a time that fears time
Fast and quick we will no longer be able to flick a switch
The page will burn like the victims of Vesuvius and the rest
A man and women tested, a bid to break the best
Age
Mitchell Feb 2011
Age
Age
Is a wall
Tagged with anvils
Wishing to fall
But hanging in gravity

Fighting naked
She scratched anyone
Who got in her view
But the old guy named blue
Took her by the arm
Flying her to her rightful home

Trying harder these days
Never felt
So difficult
At times I wonder
Out loud or in silence
If I should have joined
A ******* cult
Maybe then
And only then
I'd make sense
Within the confines
Of designed order

Competition
Can be wicked
If the competitors
Sincerely care and desire
For the red ribbon
At the end of the concrete road

Forgetting daily
That you are in love
Is a bad thing to say
At the end of a night
Or at the start of the day

Prohibition never lasted
For America
And all of its glory
Is a Promised Land
As long as you pay with dollars
And are filled with
A mind full of sand

Tomorrow
If I awaken to a morn'
Old Knox's Gold will shine
Worn tough by the filthy rich

And in two days
A reader won't finish these lines
As my life diminishes while kicking
With steel tipped taps

To be young
To be old
Never made a matter
For the fun we had when we were children
Now seems like ancient memories

Whether staring into the soul of the sun
Or being held captive by Ghengis Kahn's son
If your lover happens to be holding the gun
Your done
Mitchell Nov 2013
When we were young,
We would watch the sun set,
The stars shine,
And the grasshopper's sing in rhyme.

Nothing moves the same
After we played those games;
All is soft as silk,
Sweet as milky innocence,
Saluting the king and our former selves.

Crossing over
Twenty-five to twenty-six,
Makes me think of the days
When I didn't have to pick.

We were new to each other,
Our hands weren't so chapped.
Our strings were never tight,
And we never dreamed that it'd snap.

We watched that slick water moon shaped in a crescent swoon,
As it hung outside our window crooked, white, and bent.
When I couldn't sing, I stared at you all night,
Thinking that nothing is ever all alright

The money we had,
We spent.
All we needed to do
Is make sure we had the rent.

Saving and debts owed
Was a theoretical weight
Too far away to feel and
Too boring to think about.

Take my nickels
And take my dimes
But don't you dare say
You're gonna' take any
Of my God given time.

And though I cannot recreate the past entirely,
Does not mean I can't think upon it solemnly.
What we had once we knew we could not keep,
But that gave us no anger or reason
To cling on to our old selves and weep.

They say a dream is not reality.
They say that hope is just a fanciful philosophy.
In these stepping stones that do not seem noteworthy,
Remember:

The darkest morn,
The lightest night,
Always breaks free

After

A good fight.
Mitchell Jan 2019
Make my way
Around the corner
Of the half-street

Making sure
I check my corners
Spotting eyes
Patting my shoes
Where the concrete
Lays heavier

Than usual

I think this is the place
I think this is where I'm at
But,

I'm so angry, tired, forlorn, melancholic.

In classrooms
Encircled
We debate and deconstruct
The evolution
Of our pasts

If we should
If we can
If we are ready

If we
Ever will be.

There's this beer here.
It gets me drunk
Most days and
I see it and imagine its origins;
The source

Of its trauma.

How desperate man is
To attach the spontaneous ways of nature
To religious prophecy -

A construct of man to begin with.

Just say it:

You want control.

I'll say it with you:

You want control.

Though, it is ironic
For the need to control
Stems from the impulse to project
The internal anxiety
Of they not trusting or believing

They can control themselves.

I am at a loss of my own life
Our own lives.

A collective of the gathered.

And what do germs, viruses, cures, plagues, and vaccines do
When they gather?
For what are we but good, bad, neutral, and complicit?

We timidly await to war so to soon fester.

I see the size of us
In comparison to the monster
From which

We have grown.

I can barely see us.

I can barely see us

At all.
Mitchell Sep 2021
I have to **** and
It's almost midnight
Signaling I'm still
Alive in nature with a pulse
And a make-believe

Majesty

Of majestic fortitude.

You
Keep telling me
Poetry matters

But you'd rather recite
A quote from
Housewives
Then Shakespeare, which, let's be honest,

Is the times and
We shouldn't feel bad

About our toilet bowl
Culture spinning down a drain
Ignorant
Of its circular celluloid

Catastrophe.

If I do, choose to,
I typically laugh into my cold,
Open palms
And remember

Poetry is eternity
And flesh,
And human obsoleteness
Is something

To be championed.
Mitchell May 2012
Failure
Illuminates
And plagues
Our accomplishments

"The first bullet
To **** by your head
Is the scariest,"
The general said.

"All the rest
Are just like
Old girlfriends
You might catch sight of
At the bar."

When we take our own life
Into our own hands and
Rely on the sincerity of others,

We are playing a game
More dangerous
Than Russian Roulette.

I take for granted
What I have

I dare not to see my
Many blessings

For fear of feeling
Unworthy

The walls here
Do not leak and
There are no cockroaches
Scurrying underneath
My one sheeted bed

The air I breath
Is not nuclear and
There is no
Secret Police
Pounding on my door

I am alone
To do
What I please

When I please

The only rapping
That echoes around me
Are from the hand's of
An unknown creativity

Who put
This desire
In me?

Who cursed me
To never be
Satisfied or
Free?

How long have the shackles -
Rusted and red orange in the sun -
Been strapped to my wrists and
Gripped around the bases of my ankles?

But
To abandon my irons
Would be to abandon
Myself

Leave myself
In the desert sun -
The soul begging for
Water, for food, for
Shelter from the beating flares of sunlight

Where there are questions
There are answers

Where there are answers
There is rest for some

For others
They dutifully
Choose not
To recognize

Outside my windows the
Street workers with their hammers
And their sledgehammers pound away
To the mad rhythm of this hustling city.
History has not forgotten them,
But it wants to.

History wants to forget us all.
History wants to re-write itself.
We want to write ourself to be
The divinely chosen Men of the World.

We will never be,
We will forever be human.
To reach the heavens
Would mean death.

And death
Lasts longer
Than a lifetime
Mitchell Mar 2011
A thousand and one unfinished thoughts
To the youth of my unmet America
I walk in your streets alone clouded in your night
And yet I know not where this blanket comes from
For your winter is much like
The winter chill in Moscow
Or the fierce breeze in Norway
Or at the bottom of some European subway
Taken to trenches where men used to hold each other and die
Now brought upon streets where men in freedom choose to lie
Of course these are civil pursuits
Hot air that spills from a workman's boot
Or a cleaning swiftly a brass man's flute
All job's in a world obsessed with the demanding aura of money
A long journey many take for an illusory land of honey
Demons lurk inside hallow mens wooden chests
That obsess and obsess and obsess
So as not to ever seem or act like the rest
But I am a hyprocite
A man with no eyes, no ears, no taste or smell
I preach these words that fall on ears and eyes
Which I will never whisper, shout or yell
A blowing horn in an empty room without music or dancing
Is a morgue where ghosts of emotion hang
Like a joke from a Kardashian
But a broke **** in the middle of the night from a friend that said they'd build you a mote
Is an adventure that any pleasure seeking man will turn to fiend to find
We are all the burning masses of a wishing well gone dry
Consistent in our refusal
Glorious in our rebellion
To lay ourselves meekly down
And die
Mitchell Apr 2012
All our bodies have been burnt underneath
Our twirling lightning mad lonesome sun
Someone told me the end was near but I
Laughed and said, "Our time has only just begun"

I watch the trillions of stars float in a stand still and
See that we are only them & they are only us
Each mother we know and every father we didn't
Came from a place we swear only to be dust

So in secret we lay underneath newly washed silken sheets
She wears your earrings as you wear her Jamaican rings
The music of the Cubans plays outside your dusty window
Both wondering where the money is coming from tomorrow

A shot is heard and a man's echo of a scream follows
Trampling ensues where terror rumbles in unison below
Where there was once justice reveals the lie behind chaos
Gold on the table but everyone is gone, all homeless, all undressed

Our home shows illusion as confusion spills her red wine
At a party she was not invited, where all the guests start to whine
Each fish in their ball starts to scream for more and more food
And I'm in the corner staring off to a universe that shows no mood

Where was the home I read about in the daily news?
Homes where nothing ever seemed to be blue?
The fairy tale that was carried by tiny little boats
Across a placid sea where underneath a volcano is raging

File cabinet fields laid with pristine amber glass
Making the one's you love think & step back
Hearts on their shoulders, hate inside their heart
Didn't know where I came from once we drifted apart

Now the battle with night is coming to an end
I've got no letters stamped or any envelopes to send
All the houses I knew as a child have drifted into the clouds
I see an old friend, but he goes, evaporating into the crowd
Mitchell May 2011
Sweet Loraine linked her thoughts to her soul
Picked up a pen with paper twas' all she was to know
Sitting there nice all throughout the hot night
She gripped her pen but not her soul so tight

Morning broke quick as she picked up her lids
Coffee was burnt and the baby had unbottoned her bib
Looking right down at a paper that shone gold
As if God had come down showed her what she'd already known

Grey moving monday with the streets looking bleak
Her mouthed move fast but not a thing came to speak
On the road she put her feet shoes ain't even on
Humming to herself to the grocery in a weird kind of song

Neat old ****** was the way she lived her life
Tapping away with her fingers and the tips of her toes
Baby grew up to be the president of the world
Ain't ever gonna listen to what he'll be told
Mitchell Jan 2013
I see the moon dance on the empty streetlights
That line my beaten Winter streets who pray for snow
I swear there is a straight answer to us all
But when it comes, I'll struggle not to trip and fall

Dew dim lights the path
Stars here are too shy to shine
She lays next to me promising
That what we have is not touched by time
But the broken pine and the tan bark trees
Whistle and bend in a hurried wind
Laughing every time they hear that line

Under the bridge through the thick brush
Trickling with tears the river runs in rush
The wet fog touches my dry face
Every misery I've had I've tried to replace
But the papers are stamped
And the locks are fixed on my misplaced case

Oh' there is nothing in this world
That I would rather have than you
Spring's turned backward to Winter
And Summer's gone too
What you mean to me is something new
But now you've gone
And all the color's of my life
Have turned to blue

Up on my shelf rests a bottle and a pen
The ink is out, all my cups are broken
What once was sacred, now is forsaken
This is what my mother said
I'd get for leaving town and looking

Life was not built to be fair
The structure is just to fragile
Yet we fight to walk each mile
To get to the final trial

So just to dance with you one more time
Soaring skyward with holy rolling rhyme
In a dance hall to the bartenders favorite song
You can leave after it ends
I swear to you it won't be long

"Look at the white rays that stab through those blinds,"
I tell her as she whispers to me a off-beat rhyme,
*"Look at the piano man sweating like hot apple pie.
He doesn't look like he's got much time."
Mitchell May 2011
Reservations wreck havoc on play things that believe that
Life is but a game
For there are greater powers around here
Cracks crease with an ease that seems surreal
But is very very real
Unfortunate sub-ordinates that smoke cigars as if they
Will never die
That they are immune to the illusion of man
Pages burn while buildings yearn
To take more lives slower and slower and slower
Friends were fiends before I got to them
Now they are friends who may seem fiends
Somedays
And friends of friends
Along the other ones
I'm sure they all do the same
Because thought is a wanderer which lingers
Smokes a cigarette
And flicks its ash on every corner of the brain
Making the membrane
Nothing but a litter box where felines deficate in
Corner curbed with the red lights always on
Remember when you wrote me that song?
An' right when you were about to sing
And I wished it and wished it and wished it
You said to me
"That is why I can't do in with it"
That is why you couldn't do in with it
You picked up your things
And walked on day the hall
Heart wood beating
In a crawl
I had no one
And neither
In the end
Do we all
Mitchell Jun 2011
Ill screams spread from these cracked fingers
I listen to the muse which only I can see
"I is another" He said
I is another...
Dead unicorns line my dreams
Buttons chipped allow a breathe into the seam
Alone like a snake in the brush
Enough may not be enough
I listen to the muse which I only can bear
Time lifts Her head and grins
Hard stares from you are too much to bare
Do you swear?
Therefore the laws of this world are ever changing
But the sins of man, their evils
Are constant and consistent
Be your own angel and your own demon
For there is no one else to blame
When the game is finished and the curtain falls
Don't be weary
When there is a knocking at the door
Mitchell Jun 2013
The car was running smoothly.

Rattling
Underneath me
Were waves of jades and phosphorous
Blues tickling my imagination,
Urging me to forget the day spent toiling.

Pushing memories away from myself,
A mustard stained cloud
Shouted rays of white down through my windshield.
Fluttering eyelash wings shook
Hastily over blood-shot pupils hot from a knot
Deep in my stomach, my back, my thighs.
Below me, the bridge continued to rattle.

Off over and through the tunneled vision of commerce,
Questions arose in me that I could not answer.
Answers are remedies to an illness called "Why?"
Being free to live is a very hard thing to come by
Leaves only achieve freedom for a moment:

The stem thins
The stem breaks
The leaf drifts in
Angelic joy and indifference,
Plummeting towards a destination
They know not of or care.

Lo', the leaf, soon enough,
Reaches the place
They were always destined to be

I turn into the driveway
The lights are off inside
I sit in the car a moment
And push the memories farther way

To say to do or to lean on say
Is a very dangerous game to play

People expect what they pay for
And even after that
They will, the next time, be expecting more

Our flesh has been on this Earth a long time
Being our home, we are surrounded by our own kind
I play in the mazes of unbalanced theories of truth
Cheeks bleeding with mother Theresa searching for her tooth

And here, in the pit of all this time and space
My age tells me that living is not a race
The finish line is there and has been there
For every man and woman of every age

I swallow a bitter bite of the thin cold air
Reading through the mist:

*Life is far harder when forced to care
Mitchell Oct 2012
There were so many problems
In the way the things used to be
The smoke filled rooms with the bleeding
Abuse of our tattered, angel-worn women  

What was it these men were chasing?
The high horned high tailer's of the road
Paved in mysterious majesty that brought
Jovial misery and life from every black tire streak

Responsibility thrown to the way-side
No war on worth fighting for, draft cards
Burned and piled up as high as everyone
Else was - miser's piling up for the aftermath

Love written under a new pseudonym
With red ink on black paper
Time taking however long it wants
A blank smile on the face of every broken tax-payer

America - you bleed me like a cow to slaughter
I break my bones in battle over you,
Yet you send me the bill in a 2 cent envelope
Do you see why I must flee to be free from you?

I watch from afar atop hills you have never visited
The grass here reminds me of your smell
The sun rubs up against my skin giving the same warmth you did
I would be lying if I were to say I didn't miss you

This is not a letter of me coming back
This is not a letter of wishing you luck
This is not a letter of longing for what once was
This is only a letter to my homeland

A place I lived

A place I love

I place I still have hope for
Mitchell May 2011
She yelled from the bottom of the stairs

"What the **** are you DOING!?"

My neighbor, Mr. Monroe with the mustache, ring on every finger and a parrot that talked, pressed his face to the glass to look down at her.

"What the **** are YOU looking at?"

Mr. Monroe quickly went back to his day time soap operas and corn flakes. He never left the house because he believed their was going to be a grand earthquake where everyone that was outside getting food, shopping or at the beach, would die. He told me he believed that his house was a fortress and that God or mother nature or what have you could never touch him if he just stayed holed up in his room with his corn flakes and bath robes and old Sunday newspapers.

"HEY GUY, LET'S GO!"

I gingerly stepped out of my place. I stared up at the sky which was blue spattered with white clouds that were inching slowly toward the ocean. It was a beautiful day.

"******* FINALLY. What were you DOING?"

"Just getting myself a little more ready then usual."

"WHY?"

"I'm nervous or something."

We were headed to a dinner with my parents. I was going to introduce them to Alice and wanted to make sure all my pampering was in order, my mother could always tell if I forgot to comb my hair or use deodorant, my father didn't care. I walked cooly and lightly down the stairs.

"Well you smell like a laundry mat people have been drinking and ******* in."

"Thank you baby."

I kissed her on the cheek, waved up to Mr. Monroe who had gently re-placed his face upon his living room window, and headed to my car.

---

"So what you are you gonna' say to them about me?"

"I'll tell them we have a lot of *** and like movies."

"Really?"

"I don't know. Why not?"

"Seems strange."

"Were strange."

"What if we get married and they say that at our wedding and its awkward and my parents get mad."

"I'm not thinking that far off."

"Well you ******* SHOULD!"

Alice opened the window and stared out at the ocean which passed by with blinking blue reflective lights, beach combers and sand dune cops. There were many surfers wading in the light blue water waiting for the NEXT BIG ONE. I thought it was funny how they could sit out there for so long, not doing anything, and call it some kind of religion. I liked the idea of doing nothing and it saving you, I wanted to join but I was afraid of sharks.

"Do you want to get married to me?"

"No."

"I wouldn't either."

We drove down the highway but hit a big block of heavy traffic. We were gonna be late.

---

By an instinct I acquired either by fate, magic or the hand of the GOOD LORD, I ordered a hamburger with curly fries. The waiter was a young kid fresh out of college with a messy head of hair and a slight limp stuck on his right leg, he said it came from a biking accident but the kid looked like a scrapper.

My mother was alone on the other side of the table while Alice intensely examined the menu. There were clouds in her eye not of insecurity but of determination for my mother to accept her and pull no punches, when she wanted something she got it, like me.

"To start I am so sorry about your father not being here. He didn't come home last night and I haven't heard from him all morning so I suspect he forgot and slept at the office to get an early start on this Friday morning."

"It's fine Mrs. Kindle. I just feel so BAD for you."

"No worries. It is sweet of you to say though."

"Very sweet Alice. Yeah, I'm sorry Mom. Dad's an *** like that sometimes."

"Yes he is."

The water was warm when the waiter brought it. I hadn't looked at the menu but everyone was ready to order. I was thinking about my father all holed up in his on-site construction office, sweating over blue print over blue print, re-examining every last comma, every last note until it was "perfect". He had tried to get me into the business but I always hated a path that had already been trampled and organized upon, I didn't see the point.

"So how did you guys meet?"

"We actually met at one of Joe and Abe's parties."

We actually had met at a hot bar with loud music and cheap drinks with the wind ripping men and women to pieces outside and the bar man said we looked like we would make a good couple but we had never even looked or talked to each other but because this one little bartender in this one little hot tiny bar gave us the idea that maybe, just maybe, we would be good for each other I bought Alice a drink and then, thinking it would be funny and how she hates cliches, she bought me a drink and we got very drunk within the dark heated bar with the people swinging back and forth with the loud quick hipster electronica madness that spun all around us invisible in the smoke and the liquor and the cigarette smoke and there, in that dark steamy bar, we talked and talked and talked until I got a little drunker then her and she took me home, which we laughed about in the morning after we had drank a couple glasses of wine and tried to have *** but were both to drunk to talk or have *** or even kiss for that matter, we fell asleep on top of each other's faces and both of our necks were twisted and hurting in the morning.

"We call it "Our Spontaneous Romance".

"Very funny."

"Alice, do you know what you want yet?"

Alice, keeping her eyes down on the menu not looking up for a second.

"Not quite."

My mother shifted in her seat, she was getting anxious because she wanted to eat and she was worried about my dad. He'd been "busy" with many "things" that he "didn't like to talk about" or was "too tired to talk about" and it made my mom shift and silently sigh after every conversation either about the subject or related too.

"I'm going to have the soup and the sandwich"

"Turkey sandwich and salad for me."

"Healthy."

"Have to be."

"One sec..."

"OK."

"No rush."

"Mashed potatoes and gravy and ribs, that's what I want."

"Very nice..."

"Very nice."

"Thank you."

Alice was nervous. She ate mass amounts of food when she was either nervous or in tight confined places where she needed to converse but had absolutely nothing to say, the large order was her scapegoat and she would later blame it on *******, anxiety and depression, half of which was probably my fault. Alice didn't want to meet the parents, she thought it pointless, a waste of time and pushing towards something that may not even actually happen. She believed being invisible in a phenomenal world was the only way to go through life and in some respects, I agreed with her but also, I knew deep down, she was a little crazy, as was I.

---

"Thank you for meeting Alice and I for lunch Mom."

"Not a worry at all, I'm sorry about your father."

"I'll talk to him later."

"It was very very nice meeting you, very nice."

Alice and my mother shook hands cooly and suspiciously underneath the 3 o'clock sun. They hadn't talked much at lunch and I honestly didn't know how it went at all, they spoke about their food and that was it. Perhaps they neither hated or liked each other, maybe they were simply indifferent towards each other's presence and what they meant to me at all. They smiled, Alice waved as did I as my mom drove away down the hot black top. Alice, still waving said.

"Horrible, that was just horrible."

"I thought it went right as it went, neither here nor there."

"We didn't talk about anything but the food."

"Maybe that's all there was to talk about, some people meet and have absolutely nothing to say to each other, happens more then you think."

"Sounds right must be right."

"Let's go."

We both walked to my car which was boiling hot inside, the kind of hot when you enter when one wishes they couldn't breathe. We quickly opened the window turning on the radio listening to an old blues station for a second. I but the gears in reverse and slowly backed out of the restaurant parking lot as Alice neatly put on her dark sunglasses and rubbed sun tan lotion on her face, leaving a small patch on the tip of her nose. I paused the car before entering onto the main road.

"Let's get married Alice."

"I was about to say the same thing."

I pulled onto the main road home, nearly getting in an accident with a road biker who shook their fist violently toward my gleaming fender. I lightly smiled, embarrassingly laughed to myself, merging on. We were off.
Mitchell Apr 2014
Ripped pieces
Of a world gone wrong
Torn to shreds
Of a forgotten song.

I allow no one to see
The me under myself.
I look past the horizon
With people around me crying.

Make believe a fragrance
In the ruins of purple and pink.
A sight for sore eyes shines
Like the stars in the infinite sky.

Care free and lucky,
She moves her wrists counter clockwise.
Behind her the waves crash,
Sounds of gongs with God's tears.

A prayer is heard through the wood.
No one is there to listen to it again.
A scream echoes through the school.
Nothing is ever the same twice.

Thin paper heart colored ****** and muddy.
The scholar bends his back like the crescent moon
With texts of old surrounding him in his study.
Prepare no notes. Live spontaneously. Stare into the void.

A fresh hour feeds on the ones passive.
I hear the crinkling of fingernails near my left eye.
Something moves. Someone exhales.
Somebody catches there foot on a nail.

Don't have to tell me twice.
Don't have to tell me once.
College is done. The sun is down. The streets are quiet.
Everyone makes noise, not sound.

Lather my knuckles
For the fight of the century.
Oil my eyes
For a life of peasantry.
Mitchell Jul 2014
From

Ev
er
y

N e w

Begin
Ning

Comes

A little

Heart
         Break
Mitchell Jan 2014
Umbrella green rain upset  harmless stripped
And because of thunder children snapped their fingers like jazz enthusiasts

Milk obsessed rats rant and render their own insanity
Passing three winged' angels in the street flowing serenity

Friends are best left in the mind and in the heart
But do not stray too far from them

For loneliness is a cold touch without love or hate
We are lucky to be feeling anything at all

The dead lie still
The weak do too
The strong move
The courageous seek
The other side of

The hill

Music moves underneath the fog of the sun
Near the flower garden the tourists roam free
A minds eye is a terrible thing to waste
Getting to know yourself through sleep is revealing
When is the next time for tea?

Your gibberish speaks things to me
That nothing in this world has ever done
What is the color of genius?
What is the feeling of epiphany?
Where do the dead flowers grow?

Packaged up
Sent off
Read up
The critics scoff

Growing old near the swamp the shanty town sways
Old culture rusts blood brown and neon orange
The bills are on the fridge and being cashed yesterday
Another day passes as the clock strikes 13

A friend brushes past another in a party and they smile
They do not speak for there is history there
Marking calenders for future experiences in all planning aside
There is nothing like chaos to introduce you to yourself

As I walk down the sidewalk, pass the cleaners, I see fiction
Moving under the trees, breathing the sea, I see narration
Talking to the barista, laughing lines, I see dialogue
Shakespeare penned the highest and the lowest of us all
And I think Bukowski was right there with him too

Watch a marble roll down the street
Observe each crack and the path it takes
We are very much the same way
Define your cracks, your bumps, your potholes
And see where they have taken you
See what became of you after the hard times.

This year
Apricots will writhe in the trees
Like a worm on a fishing hook.

The sea is foaming at the mouth,

And we are children
All over again.
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