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Mitchell Nov 2012
Out on the empty streets
The ringing chime of deaf echoes cries
Stumbling through the brown alleyways
All I find is trash & dirtied lies
I need someone to save me, I've got no more strength
My soul's been stretched out to its limits length

I've looked for my secret
Yet all I've found is an illuminated crescent
Shining like the son of the sun
Who's only wish is to truly belong
To the morning bluebirds song

I need a way out of here
I need passage quick
The fields are empty, the cold-blooded moon high,
And all that can be heard are the sounds of crickets
Rubbing together in the tall, thinning thicket

A fire burns as the milkman feigns
Flicking his wrists as he whips the reigns
Toward a house full of the ripe insane
The grandpa on the deck, tapping his cane

Torn between choice and necessity
I feel free at least once in this life, oh' finally!
Cry for the moon and cheer for the rising struggle
Of the corrupt waning as the stitching of fought for love
Flies to the west like a snow white dove

Old times intertwine with the new
Waves crash along the beaches shore
What she wanted she couldn't explain
But I knew deep inside she wanted more

So I shake my head back and forth
Rocking with a splintered ship that wears no obvious sail
And I press my finger's against my heated temples
Looking for a moment that is never resting
Searching for a feeling without a name
Worrying whence I find it
I'll waking in the morning still the same

Black lit sky key to the weather horizon
A fortune for you is cast in all sorts of prizes
Hotel beds creased to make as the fake I.D.
Is checked and double-checked
Making sure who at dawn will pay
Rooms dressed for stranger's bashful vices
A rose colored wish only meant to entice

Each song I hear reminds me of you
Who knew true love was so fleeting and few?
I stretch my sun dried hands as I gaze ahead
If only I'd thought straight before I was led
The road in front of me graveyard dead

The abuse I'm feeling
Still runs through me
Is the heart serious
Or is it fooling?

I stand accused
Guilty and innocent
Shackle me let me free

The end

Means all the same to me

In brotherhood men learn to spread their wings
Mixing kindness with mythic grievances
The night wakes as the dawn slowly slips to sleep
Bubbling brook, I am here, try to speak

Cornered and alone now
Each hour a witness
Of a goal never finished
And inside myself I hear a wail
Of my soul setting sail
The waves breaking as I'm speaking
To a monk of no persuasion

Every prayer with reason
Drenched in hope for salvation
Appeasing what pains are held within thee
Each hour in wait ear near to the gate
Only humbled disinterest
Tempt the hands of sought fate
Mitchell May 2011
Enough of the hard gripped madness
Enough of the glass shattering sadness
Enough are the words on the page

Form forgets itself when aroused elsewhere
There was no magic in our glare
Simple pure planned demi-god like Hate

Worms were the things that made our love fall apart
The fire wheeling magician with pockets of loose change
We were nothing but fragments in our game all the same

Off and away these words ridicule the minds that read them
Shining truth as if they were just seated at the most beautiful booth
To hear the pleasantries of the mass is being hooked like a great bass

Sin eaters like the fire eaters both with broken heaters
Earrings that swing from side to vicisous side
Good and bad too preach on ears that don't know to delete

Another misfortune in time that never stands still
Ill to the will who low and behold takes the little blue pill
There is a faint mournful morning dust on mine window sill

Panic stricken I started thinkin' of the way out of this mess
But to my surprise and of course my first instinctful guess
I turned out to be the one at the party without a dress

Corn mocks itself telling the mirror its too fat
You've killed us all and yet your so small
Granting itself permission to never again enter the mall

Fiend friend better send
All their money off and away
For the mighty bill is here to the blank end

Let by gone's be by gones
Until the bones begin to break
And there ain't a trace of the song

Notes of noting that leave nothing in my ears
I listen to them all
But hear nothing

Has the sight went away with the sighing of the day?
Am I so lost
I can't see the falling summer frost?

Cornered in the market of a fresh bakers reality
The bread has been rising
I'm afraid it won't be able to stop

Off to the ridicule to put myself though medical school
The shimmering metallic utensils
Have never laid so deathly still
Mitchell Apr 2012
Once in every
White pale moon

There is that moment of silent
Whispering with woeful *******

Too drunk for words when
She came around trying to
Read everything I owned

"I said there ain't nothing here you need
And there ain't no heart either."

"You say you know what you say, but
I see that your sight is hazy with pain."

Shaking just like
I came
In

I got something for
Everybody except my
Good uncle Bobby Jim

And that old awful woman
With the ten thousand dollar grin

Leaves melt
In the Autumn
Weather

Rain pelts
In the Spring
Like a summer ain't
Never going to begin

I been crying
Too long

I been alone
And down

There is something
Wrong with me
And I can't seem to find
Where the answer
Hides or is beneath

Silhouetted sinews waver
In the sun baked desert streets

Each bullet casing experiments
After it has fired into the heat

A tale of two lover's crossed
Shows its face once more

Though the time is modern
The heart still holds true to scorn

When was that late hour
When our love was not in debate?

In question, we see the rise and fall
Of ideas birthed and raised to a crawl

Seeing the diamond atop ye' infants head
Christening that humanities hope is not dead

Tiniest acorn who
Plants their new seed
The weather has shifted
I still trust I can believe
Mitchell May 2011
Can these streets get any darker?
I see these
Men
In their
Cars
Mammoths which move at top speeds still screaming at
Me
The sight makes a person perceive purposely what it means to be alive
Nowadays
Whether walking in these woeful streets
Is worth it at all?
Have you ever told a complete stranger
That you hated them?
I never have
I've thought it
Sure
Why not think something awful every once and a while?
Whose it gonna'
Hurt?
Only yourself youthfully yolk dancing with the egg queen
Who says that one night
You pledged your love and you'd want to be Her
Wife
But in that strife
Altogether the silver spoon reminised and knew that He missed
One of the greatest nights of pleasantries and gifts
Selfish we are these men that ride around in
Multi-colored jackets trying to be like
Jesus
All these envelope licking sons' of *******
Sooner or later the post office is gonna' get stolen
And those ego's
Are on the fast track
To get
Swollen

Yes a'
Very funny thing
Yes a'
Very very funny thing
Mitchell Nov 2017
All the weeks are rolling into one
The months, the years, the manic millennia
I'm looking out my window babe
And yet I've got nothing to say

We laid in bed all day
Hard and cold like the snow
Outside our window

What was it we sewed
As we tried to push
One another away
Last June?

Were we too taken aback
By the slivers of the alabaster
Panoramic moon?

To struck by beauty?
And unworthy?

Until there is no more time
Until there is no more wine
Until there is no one else
Pulling on my line

I'll be with you babe

I'll be with you as the fall whines,
As the winter pines.

I'll be with you as the spring
Collides with the summer shine
Falsely accusing prisoners
Forced to pray to us and us only

Never waning
Never feigning
Never blaming

Love is a lost art
Mourned only
By those who have
Forgotten it or
Have convinced

Themselves

It is merely make believe.
Mitchell Oct 2011
In between the lines
You could tell

Shakespeare danced
Religiously

Way back when

First time He
Was happy was
Probably when he
Was dead

Like the
Pilgrims or
Like those
Ocean storms

Old grave sites
Inside me

Old grave stones
Are
A' Floating

And the creak of the
Street with its
Wheezes and its
Moans

Makes me breathe
Deep inside

Takes me faster
Than it grows

As of late
A bed seems
Useless

And
People continue to
Act useful yet desperately
Cracked

Tables are
Crumbling and
The hearts have
Gone weak

Shadows are
Spreading and
My hands have
Grown bleak

Friends are now
Foreign while
Religion still
Weeps

Gods got
Glasses and
He smiles while
Laughing

Feigning:
Paranoia
Heart Break
Misery
Melancholia
Desperation
Writer's Block
Nothingness within
Nothingness
Trusting
No one
Not even
Yourself

Alone in the
Dark and you
See
Everyone's
Been there
All along

Together yet

Miles and miles

Apart
Mitchell Sep 2011
The lights has turned off
The corner store is closed
Little lady bugs have vanished
The moment has gone
Moments are mere fragments
Of an eyes sweet glance
Life is a horns cry
Across a flaming blood soaked
Battle field
I feel as if I have forgotten
How to live
Where to live
What to live for
Mine eyes seem twisted back to a place
I swear I have been to before
Could the rain keep pouring if this voice inside me
Decides to never stop
I am tired broken passing by each hour
With the sun glares stinging my back
I react like a corpse unknown to even itself
Cracks in the street are the veins on my body
Darkness knows no rhythm needs no rhythm
Holds true to itself and itself only
Lonely love loses itself over and over again
Eyes are ease dropping on death's dinner party
A meow
A cry
A bellow of mistrust
The final hurrah
Mitchell Oct 2014
Two-tone love affair
Ten a diamonds
A winning pair
River runs through my heart
And into yours
Without your love
I'd be nowhere at all
I'd be in a death crawl
Tail-spinning
Fall

Where are you
When you're
Not with me?

What can life be
But me
Missing thee?

What is two
Without it following
Three?

Life is a triangle - too many points
I'm no preacher  
I'm no God fearing man
Give me holy water and I'd drink it
He who acts first
Benefits

Lines on the walls
Paints peeling
Up down
Through and through
What's a lover gonna' do
Without their other?
What's a lover gonna' do
When they lose
Their summer?
What's a lover gonna' do
When the one they love
Has up and gone
And their forced
To find another?

Proud sister
Between clean sheets
Scent of
Chamomile tea an'
Sweet mysteries

There's blue smoke in my eyes
Exploding
Roaring
Bubble-wrapped
Surprise

Been alone
All
These years,
But who's to say
I even miss her
But me
Anymore?

I watched the wakes,
Their rise and fall.
The sun was up
In what seemed to be
A lazy crawl.

Lantern lady,
Mistress of the night:
Can you send me a letter?
Can you give me a call?
Can you stop on by and tell me that
The true know how to fight?

Another denial an'
I'm on the streets,
Passing Chinese cats adorn
Dusty window shades.

A far eye can say what was right
Or wrong,
But when two lover's drift apart
It's a splitting of the seas,
Where everything in between
Is downright and utter

Misery.

Last September,
When we came back
I made a pact
I'd take my crack
Of making what I make
Without self-consciousness, remorse,
Or loathing, but what is a man
When he tries to rid
Himself of necessary poisons.

I didn't know and I still don't.
And you know I still drink but lately
I have to hold my hand,
Still my bill for
What's good for the other
Is where my thoughts need to go
So with her I can see
The coming Winter snow.

When the voice has left,
I'll still
Have my hands.

Take my limbs, take my hair,
Take my muscles, oh' take eyes,
But as long as I got my fingers
An' two hands to reach for pride,
I'll never be silenced,
Even if
She's not near.

Don't think
I don't need her.

She's the wind through the branches,
The shells in my shoes,
The sun through the window,
Even if she acts sometimes
Like she's a wading widow.

Too many complexities in insecurities -
Too much subjective reasoning.

I'm not a man
To pin
Anything down.

All I can do is
Stay true,
Keep writing these
Prose filled

Miscue's.
Mitchell Apr 2021
It was nothing
before
It was something and
Then
You took it.

It
Being whatever and whoever
And whatever
You needed it to be.

It's April
And I'm smiling at a forgiven
Highway
Of nothing
Where
Noone's guys feel
Their own
Vibration and

**** poetry,

**** poetry,

For the lack of

That and I swore I

Signed up and

Subscribed

To nirvana's pleasure house in

Nightingale.

Could you imagine feeling young,

And

Feeling that way

Tommorow?
Mitchell Dec 2013
Painted practice forgives the forward hand
Another man stands between the broken battalions
Caution slips underneath the tattered worn rug
And the apples and oranges rest naked and smug

The horizon stands poised neath a towering shrine
Wishing for salvation in an appetite of rhyme
And because there's no forgiveness for the weak or the rubbed
The one's left over have no need for the above

A cradle crosses the abstinent dream
Forgetting the difference between falseness and what's real
Pull apart your own fears, erupt sacred insecurities
Attack the dark with lighted candle and a roaring spark

Light across the window, cloud covers the moon
Reappeared faces make me strike another tune
Between the tide and the wave, sits a cap sized ship to heavy to move
The streets today are empty and how about you?

She moved like a serpent and spoke like a child
When the store owner's saw her, they all went wild
Two pair down wide and I've driven too many miles to cry
Why on this Earth is there rule you gotta' die -

Mountains peter past the fortunate blue
Of oceans to cross to peddle or bloom
Dead flowers rest on the graves of the dead
Birds lift their wings as they search for a bed

In a home where the mother grips every mention of moan
Parries a father to weak to address his crumbling tomb
See the spiraling trapeze spin and clap in tights
Even in dreams are we as forgetful as the vanishing night
Mitchell Nov 2014
Ten fires burn
In the distance.

A man looks behind himself
Before he turns.

Nights fortitude
Mixes
With love.

We Forget.

Forefathers
Of way-senders,
Sifting through old boxes
Of tin made smiles and
Mis-matched fortunes.

A letter rests on the nightstand.
It rests near
The fountain.
We were always so far away.
Like a distant lake.
Like a mountain.

When the lights
Are turned out and the dripping
Ceases
From its
Spout,

Think of me when you are with he.
There is no other place
I'd rather be
But in-between thoughts
Of joy and
Misery.

A candle for
The
Hour.

A light for
The
Minute.

Only in the flame
Do we know
We are truly in
And living in
Time.

I've attached
Every thought I've
Had
To
Electronic
Dream Weavers.

I've got no more
Strength
To give, yet I hear
A whisper.

Another attention getter.

Another bidder.

Another hitter.

Wake for her.
Wake for you.

Wake for her
And you
Together.

Intertwined
In wine
Covered in needles of
Aged' thyme.

The grass on the field
Is
Green. No, don't
Deny it.

I'm weary of stasis.

It's a bird
Upon my shelf.

I'm out of mind.
I'm out of places.

One more time
I look at he and he
Looks at me.

We
Whistle
Through the threshold of this

Modern Day, all the while
Knowing after,

There won't

Be much left

To

Say.
Mitchell Mar 2012
Monday

Bleak unoriginal
Mondays

Where there is no
Whipped cream or cherries,
Hot chocolate sauce or
Peanut sprinkles

Only
***** wrecked trams
Absent faces &
Dreams of freedom
From hell

That is

This is

These are

The Monday Blues
Mitchell Apr 2011
Kindling burns with the red flames of transparent lust
Taking away the stars glow, sitting blind
How fast I move through these streets
These words
These blurred nonsensical sentences
How blessed I thought the world actually was
Oh
How blind I am to see the sands glimmer
But am not able
To write them down, a true winner
To encompass time passing perfectly through us all
Through the night time cafes, begging for coffee, bread, a morsel
With deprecation by the bundle on the side
Seeing light for the first time
After so many long months in dreaded shadow
There is a rainbow after the storm
And it shows a hope
That mankind has yet to see
In quite a long time
So what are we fighting for we wonder?
What are we living our days in and days out?
Towards what mean can one scream,
When they reach their inevitable end?
Deficits, war mongers, sand castles washed away to be built anew
By unborn but soon to be nubile young hands
There was always a plan
By a God that never needed to take a stand
Because He knew others would for him
In their own gun shots to the top with fire glory
With lives spent like poker chips
From a man with his sunglasses with the sun's glint
Half assed attempts with these covers pulled tight
What a night, what a night, what a night...
When the money
Is the only thing that feels right
Mitchell Feb 2019
Money
Sets us free
To another
Cage of labyrinths,
Hung with rusted chandeliers

And

Verbose
Routines of revelry
With inmates that look just
Like us, sound just like us, and when
They don't, we work harder, stab deeper, hurt

More

To get
To the next tier;
To the next go.

Money,
Money
Is and always will be
A mechanism
Of control
And of procrastination
Of the internal work
Capitalism
And
Consumerism

Doesn't want you to pay attention to.
Doesn't want you to hear about.
Doesn't want you to know.

To know is to know the know.

Yet, here I am
Wrapped in a blanket
Fearful of the
Power getting cut off
As three roars of heat purr
12 years before the end of the world

Writing to write
But also knowing to write
Is to seek that monetary

Fix

To perhaps one day write
With money's knock -

Money's interruption.

I see the dead glaze over my friends eyes
I taste the ash in their voice
As they speak of the future, as if that will be them
I hear their words
And I cry between their sips of beer or cocktail or soda
Silent desperate wisps
Of the reality of work
That is being done for that possible spot

Beneath the sun.

Where is our Sun?
Who is our God?
What security does life give
When all of man mans illusions
Are revealed as temporary alleviations
To trauma only they, I, we
Can face and solve?

My spirit is ours
And ours is I

And yet here I sit,
Underneath a warm blanket,
Gifted to me by a friend,
Alone,

At a loss to express this
To any physical action

But on the page.
Mitchell Oct 2011
Smooth like the
Seams of Marylin's
***** lines caked
In chocolate frosting that
Had been sitting in the
Sun but was cooled
By the wind coming
From the north but the
Locals swore it was from
The East

Smooth like just laid
Concrete smelling of
Sweet porcelain dolls
And sleep which comes
Only when you try to
Stay awake because you
Know how real
Death truly is

Guns take their names and
Sear them into the minds of
Men who grip them though
They know not who they shoot
As they sleep in some chicken coop

We were people once and
Our men were once men

We've changed for money is
Here and we are naked not
Dancing but obvious in all
Our greed and in all of our
Fear and degradation

At times I
Am ashamed to
Be human and to
Be man and to be
Here and to be
Everywhere and
To live within
This place I
Must call my
Land

Fighting while
Striving to
Understand the
Crying and
Prying for
A tying of
Men who are men

But do not wish
To start all over
Again

Crowns will
Melt

Wills will
Stagger

Men hold the
Dagger

Lo' the
Trigger

Is forever in
Decision
Mitchell Oct 2012
When the titles turn to grey
Each bitter ash a story untold
A breaking mold on the fray
Your a big girl all the way

But what do I need that I don't have?
Each breath a sin, each exhale a salutation
We are God's unwanted children
There on the horizon is our unholy pollution

When I knew my mind I knew myself
But the press of the matter is not there where it starts
I have a room and it is mine, but the key
Is nowhere in a place that I can rightly see

Listen to the blows of the wind without your ears
A children's scream echoes, so rightly near
Poe danced in the asylum's of madness and its prayers
But whose to say that love also doesn't Fear?

I can hear the whip of the way
The way our forefather's used to play
And of course our skin tingles as we mingle
With the one's we used to enslave

I wear the cloak of eternity
You see my eyes but lo', they are not mine
I dance beneath your very veins
And the pen is where I hold my flaming reins

I ask only for bread
I ask only for butter and
Water that tastes like the tears of mother
All others should be left by the door, unbothered.

Take me for what I am
A mule with only a man's mind
A body that one day will break,
A recognition that I - not myself - keep in repression

For the sunset keeps me amused
The tools of my own body screams
And as I watch the cream of the scheme rise
To the tip top, I inhale to make time stop

I've got my hat on, but where's my love?
I see a bed, but the sheets are made of lead
I need a road, a story untold
A life whose line will never run cold

I see where the line is supposed to end
When the words end n' you've got nothing else to send
But whose words are these if I've got nothing to lend?
My rose bushes are fine, I've got nothing in this world to tend

Each lonesome note
Across this valley of tears
Is what is just too hard to bear

A turn in the tide
Time in my own memory
Too tough to tear and throw away
A thorn I'm forced to hold near

One day I'll see clear
Why it was even there

Minutes on minutes of minute time
In pendulum we justify each step
Our heart beat is our unrest
The beat of our neighbor's walls our anxiety

There are no more blankets to cover the world
We are out of detergent to keep ourselves clean
The lines of the supermarket are too long and
Were out of cream to keep our girls rightly esteemed

I'm headed out of this place
But no time soon
As for the weather
Ask for the flapper's in the smoky ballroom
Mitchell Feb 2011
I ran through the near dead fields
Turned my face to look at the approaching sun
Saw a friend up ahead who'd taken the lead
Man, I remember how that ****** could run

He saw my eyes then glanced away
Running with hastier speed up ahead
I lurched my back, holding a minute to stay
Then pushed my corpse forward like pencil lead

Crashing gulls flicked their beaks skyward
Waves soared worriedly & quietly
I put down my pack, scanning the horizon skyward
Searching for a message that lay discretely

The God's had planned this place with no certain goal
An experiment made from the cauldrons of the unknown
A transparent figure dances with smooth dead marble
The echo of my voice becomes a fond youthful warble

Tell the cities, the farms, the outhouses, and all of nature
That the beauty that lay there is all we need
Money is nothing but a cat n' mouse in the pasture
The grinning Devil's heavy hearted plead

He reached the peak of the mountain
He sat there high & proud, taking out his fountain
Eyes meeting he stepped off, a note left, away from me forever
He was always stubborn, always so ****** clever
My
Mitchell Aug 2011
My
Last scribbled note
To the man that brought me here
I swore on the boat
My gift he would soon hear

Each minute that passes
On this cool smoldering Earth
Makes sentence harassments
Heavy with futures girth

When to speak of clouds adrift
Lovers next underneath it all
God or whom-ever's indians gift
We are born in start to fall

Not in mind but living in time
Mountains ablaze with joy
Thoughts come some not of mine
****** I bend like a child's toy

Hope for human hindrances
Hand's hastily wash away
Quick cobble step romances
Hearts eye down cuffed' obey
Mitchell May 2020
My battle
Is to make
Believe
Realities.

Now,
Though I am forgetful,

Do I see
That fiction
Will never be

True to life
Or will I it.

Do not worry.

The art of art

Lies not in the

Mirroring of but,

In the defense,
The celebration and
Vigilance to persevere
To make it so.
Mitchell Oct 2011
Wild n' picky structured
In mind and in body

Not here

Not there

No heart so big
That I can bear

Personality is a banality

We all have to live with

When the clock rings
And the pen falls
Onto white page the
Mind must begin to crawl

The wait is the worst
The ***** is there sometimes
Making matters better and
Worse

Beating hands like
One thousand and one hearts

Memories turn to flashes
Of hindsight brilliance

When I was young
I felt old

And when I grow old
I shall carry around
A plastic

Black ink gun
Mitchell Nov 2011
I have gotten accustomed
To reading some
Of these things on
Here

Sometimes I read them
And I wander off

I see some things that

Brush off like wind on a coat
Like the unnoticeable bark
The whistle of a passing train

I see others
Trying to make the word

I see how the doing is done
But not entirely
Never entirely

Each minute comes up
Passes
Something happens

A mass of tiny words inside a tiny page
Inside a tiny machine within tiny houses
On tiny streets that weave like veins
Through the entire country

All of it
Is beautifully
Profane

A nodding to ones
Striking my groin more
Than it does my mind

Half the point I thought

Half the point

And with each word comes an
Idea about themselves and
With each poem comes more
About themselves and there
Is so much about the other in
These words that a face and a body
And a skinny body or a fat body
Or a short one

Doesn't really matter

That stuff will

Just

Melt away

Like a mist rolls off of the mountains

Like the hangover dulls
Like love dulls
Like everything dulls

Praising informality and
Calling all New Form

Praising mediacore hands
For just

Giving it their best

How the mirror turns
On me

When I
Shout

With

Fingers
Mitchell Jan 2021
beer sonnets
and mis managed
bonnets

make sure
to ensure
my un-balanced

sobriety

my friends
they
say the same,
the same
old tune -

whats better than being drunk?

being dead drunk

morning for I
us; we

is a simple fact
of endurance.

ten hard-boiled eggs
and a boxing match
with an existentialist gaze

if one and one make oneself,
one can see
that the multitudes that we are
only together

is undeniable

as a boiler maker

at dawn
Mitchell Feb 2012
Faces

Millions of them
Moving meandering
Like Movies untitled undeserved

As the clouds divulge
In their own worried woes
Knives lay scattered in empty streets
Disembodied revolutions churn out stale music
Of the 1920's and 30's

Aging face
Dusty memories
Of youth spent
Running crying never thinking of
Dying

Rotations of afterthoughts
Conveyor belts of love
Rusting now
Red and brown from being
Left out
In the rain

To die here
Is to live here

To live here
Is to be born here

To be born

To be born
Is the greatest
Practical joke
Of all

A gift wrapped
In weathered red bow
Hear the harp
Fingernails plucking
Like tears atop still pale lake
From the angels
Which none can see

Low boredom
Deep pint glass
Fingered oaken table
Gentle sleep
Frightened dreams

And the smoke plumes
That leak from the clay chimneys
Of families made of
Potatoes, carp & beer
Cheer on filthy diamond
Who shines not from the sun
But from within

Clicking faces of the past
Every wrinkle reminds
The ones who have lived too long
Of the times without them

Insidious disease
Down & down with no ice
Brown & tongue tied
The lady in white presses
Her red lips together
As the piano man flicks his Bic
Under his cigarette fix

A mixed thought
Of two minds
Moves through the stem
Of my spine
And all I can come to understand
Is that these days will one day
End & End
And there's not a ******
Note or bill or money order
I can send to keep that
Blacked robed postman away
From gloved' hand

So hear ye' dear brethren
The underlining of scholars
Is naked underneath

Each poet has to take a ****
Sometime

Warring heart &
Out on the streets
Hear the beat & the creak
Of the bones
Soon to break

Oh' nodding child
Drink gripped viciously tight
Streaks of solemn pride
Bed cast in fire
The devil wears your mother's
High heels
Chuckling as he moves
For the backdoor
Tail wagging
In the dim white moonlight

Sole of the soul
Worn down & ragged
Each penny I got
Was made for you &
You only

She lays alone with
Her black hair down sighing
As I'm dying blue sky turning
Into hot florescent night

Plucked my eyebrows
And got myself a shave
All I need now is a prayer
And a soul to save
But the pay ain't worth
The pavement where the
Sounds of the hurried bustle
Of faces - all those faces -
Moves outside & inside of me

Dear Chump;
Record day of sales
Next to the furnace door
Dressed in the lace of dead queens.
We were mad to live the way we did.
Imagine if life was just one big crayon box,
How many pictures you think you and I would make?

Sin Breaking Fast -

Dearborn Draught Season IV

Where the quotes
Line-up like old milk bottles
Twinkling off tinted glass
From the hanging February sun

Noose around my
Neck since the
Day I was born

Concrete tastes fresh here
And this silence is killing me
Throw me a quarter cause'
I don't have a solution
To all these problems of mine

And there's no couch comfortable enough
Or ears wide enough either
To get me away from this rickety
Wooden boat without any oar
Or holy sail that I call life

Bitterness tastes of
Stale red wine
Floating clipped fingernails
Drift across bloodied sea
Brown crumbling wickedness

Bring me
My final cup
Of tea
Mitchell Mar 2014
See the wide fields of golden scorn
Where no man knows where he travels or goes.
Clouds are burning, the sea is too
She whispers to me, My love, is for you.

Night is too long to see the other side.
All we can do is go along for the ride.
A breaking horizon neath' a lost celestial tune
She whispers deep, My love, is for you.

Tainted silhouettes behind a rusted mirror.
Children hold out their hands, asking angels to come nearer.
You rub your eyes, so you can see you,
And when you do, she whispers, "My love, is for you."

Life is a gradual acceptance of a fate you never asked for.
A prayer becomes a whisper in this God forsaken heat.
A note to survive becomes the pride of an ego in limbo.
She whispers for me, My love, is for you.

Up on the hillside, lay planted a field of poppies.
Echoing joyous screams of  Stop it, stop it, stop it!
Take me now or take me in coup,
She whispers crying, My love, is for you.

At least the fine edge of a knife is always kissed,
Just like the other from a party who's never missed.
I tell to the other who tells me to prove,
That a tell from she sounds like, My love, is for you.

Cradle me backwards, tell me a name.
All these faces here, they all seem the same.
I'm not here for confessional, I don't fit in this pew,
She tells me coldly after, My love, is for you.

I forget the sounds we used to make
Near the railroad tracks, sipping on wine, chewing on steaks.
Your hair was so ***** then, the sky so blue,
Your eyes telling me, My love, is for you.

Riverbed of red with still tears trickle through
A breath so short, like death death was teasing you.
I got along. I saw to it. I fell too.
But I remember when you'd say, *My love, is for you.
Mitchell Feb 2019
Tangerine light of morning trails through the dusted blinds of my older brother Diego’s inherited home. Mom, Dad, they’re north in America working. Our, my sleeping arrangements weren’t ideal. Uncle Cici, a drunk who repairs shoes on the outskirts of town, was in my parent’s old room. My brother, newly initiated to a Tijuana street gang, is alone in his. On the couch, I sleep with my Milky Way designed blanket.
I hear his bedroom door slam.
Lets go, Diego orders.
Where?
Without answering, he tosses a pistol on my blanket.
This machine of death lands right on my favorite star.
Mitchell May 2011
A thing to move is a thing to die for
With so many things
A man can get confused
With wars billowing human and black smoke
While everyone else is cheerin', makin' jokes
There once seemed that there was a dream
That I was given so hence thought about
A high note of praise from somewhere else far off
A broke hope revealing itself that we ain't up to *****
Hope touches itself in the night just to continue for the morning
And it will touch itself again
Maybe thats the only way to go on
Or maybe it isn't
Who is the pencil to say?
Who is the pencil at all?
Who is the question maker that begins and ends these things
That we call life and who are we?
Critical fat menus burn in the streets
Once we all realize we are apart of the disease
With crocodile torch rockets that spin from the minds of mad
And the sane play cricket just because it is a fun game
Can it be, O' Lord, that our time has come at last
Where the mercury music of lore is now finally past
For electronica
Is the music of the machine God
And we obsess over this music but some times
I couldn't believe it any less
Moving through this time of destitution and reforms and political
Fervor
I remember, or, I tell myself, myself, myself
That we are men and women underneath stars
That we were once underneath blankets
Crying for our mommies
I tell myself this
I tell myself
I tell myself
Mitchell Sep 2021
I make it
For us
Before us
And always

One step

After us.
Mitchell Mar 2022
Poem, I think,
I made
It, I,

I made it!

You said
That was it.

You said
That would be it.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey! Where are you going around that corner with your silver studs and brown taps and absentee ballots and twist tie bracelets and police misfortunes and twister twisters and that half-sister your grandpa could only whisper through whiskey-truth-breath-starlight as we laugh through the magnetic starlight deep-cone in multi-colored snow cones obsessed with how our ankles look in filters not our own, and, disconnected, possibilities, possibilities up there -

And then
We have nothing to connect to

And then
We have nothing to believe in

And then
We have nothing but a reaction
Of a reaction
Of a
Reaction

Based on based

Chaos

Of an upside-down centrism

To only

               keep the balance.
Mitchell May 2011
A locomotive literary musk rat attack
Sitting roadside with a pocket full of lint
Just another low down stint
In a life in full pursuit
Slow and tranquil were the twinkling rays
With white hitting and streaking quite nice and naked
There were friends of mine stomping around
Vanquishing the present with ribbon touches of sore red
Upstairs the memory breaks itself on a staring mirror
Soon the words that seemed to be heard
Will just be a faint far away cliched memory
I opened the door to many places
Saw many a thing and somethings there was nothing
With the glinting forks and the good heavy whiskey
Sit stools wooden proud bar workers old deadened porkers
Blondie with a barometer measuring her liters
Never mentioning the bill she holds still
Tune of a ton pours itself over the youth and the young
Who are washed for the moment but will soon meet
The cold hard touch of the rough and tumble concrete
Where will grass burn when the fun is done?
Where will the streets crack when the back of the match
Has been pinned down and bought off?
No these were the illusions of the rearview mirror
The beat of the heart only lasts so long
Yes, only lasts oh so long
Year in and year out time stands still forever for itself
We are mere passerbuyers seeing the sights until were off to somewhere new
America you mentioned something to me at the party last night
But couldn't quite out what you wanted me to see
Now to be stuck underneath the overpass for ever last
No promises were made personally
Only
Nationally
Mitchell Jun 2014
Little bit
Of both

Tad of the
Other

Mixed like
A meal heated
And
Sloppy

I am a painting
Drawn by
Two hands

What I was before
I was
Is what I am
Now

Psychic continuity
Of identification
To keep everything
In order

We develop
To a point, then
Yield
To ourselves.

There is a wall,
A ceiling,
A boundary we
Are unwilling
To break free from
For fear
Of losing our former selves.

We can only go
So far.

The lightbulb
Only has
So
Much

Life.

The horizon is
Finite, it hath an end.

We are all
Natures selections
Until

We are not.
Mitchell Feb 2018
When
The
Night come

We sing
Songs
Of
*** and
Disaster

Ash
Wednesdays
Or whenever
God wants
It

The bass comes in
I'm present
I tell myself

She smiles
Maybe
I linger
Maybe
Near the bar

Her head enflamed
With bad ideas

And

Chocolate

Me being
The only thing she
Needs

Her being
The only thing I

See.
Mitchell May 2011
"Candice fetch the water for the daughter," screamed the old man out loud.

Quick did the fiend hastily pace away from the sand that she was playing with. The sun, hot high up above, blistered itself alone changing its mind upon these defining fine. At last she ran back with a paper box filled with whatever the man willed.

"Good girl, good girl, now stay very still."

The old man poured the trickling cool water over this little girl blue all the while dipping her head back until she could no longer feel. Was a beauty in the way her head dipped right back, the sun shining through Her magical shell. The clouds poured over cooly as if they did not want to interrupt what ever was happening which wasn't all that much.

"How do you feel my little girl Sue?"

"Oh alright, just enough water to make me feel right"

Old man dipped his hand into the sand and threw it upon the coming wind. As fast as he did the wind came and then it was all that he did. She smiled a creek bed of water fast ripples that would have toppled any church bell steeple. They sat together witnessing the pass of God's mass, listening to the river that lay in an eternal shiver.

"Soon your father will be back...alright?"

"When he gets here I'll see with a new sight."

The old man smiled miles all the while the poor father traveled through rocks which unraveled much like the mystery of the mile. They made sandwiches from the meat they met from the corner store they found along the fast moving shore. They chewed slowly so to enjoy the ticking bore.

"Stale it is"

"Hail I feel"

Soon the rocks of ice washed over these two faces that stayed steady for the love in the family is one way to stay sanely. Pebbles broke quick with the late afternoon stitch of a weather vane which broke all in their own vain.

"Home soon?"

"Not until I see the loon"

They sat there till the man arrived and when He did, it was never a time too soon.
Mitchell Dec 2012
With lines of finitude painted cream
And light
I sit alone with no one
In waiting

Stalling for what, you may ask?

A putrid letter on my lap
The misshapen form appears in front of you
A laugh out of uneasiness
Traveling to a foreign land
Hand print teller's of one dollar fortune
A mistake of love

And if I were to open up myself up completely
Would you even have the time to listen?

Who does anymore? Really listen?

The intricacies of sound entering one's ear
Has been ***** and abused

There is
So much
Noise
Now

There is very little silence to remind us
What is waiting behind
Each of our very own doors

Turn away
Run and hide
Surround oneself
With battlements
High walls
Chain mail and all

But, do remember,
That will not protect you
From every man's

Fall

Absent memories of past-lives
Float on the fornicating
River of our parent's lie's
They've seen and not told us
Perhaps they've seen nothing at all
So not to share was not their place to do so

I ask to continue the search
For faith

Not religious
Not political
Not communal
Not social games

Go forth and search for
One's own faith

Have you not seen one's own core?
Have you not felt its heat?
Have you not tasted its sweetness?
Have you not drifted your hands
Over the fine, soft and smooth pelt
Of oneself before all this noise?

It is beautiful
I am
You are
We are
Quite beautiful

And the creative act goes
From land unknown to
Known

Where criticism and form
Restrict what was once pure
Oh Purity!
Untainted by man's world
Yet sharing just a glimpse
Of what once was

Like stale breath
We breathe this round-faced
Polish muse of a memory
Churning for the hope of forgiveness
But only receiving melancholy

Even a fellowship would not take the pain away
Even the balance of the world on my fingertips
Even two hearts filled with love swearing never to leave
A bank with infinite sums with one thousand and one locks
Would not take the pain of knowing and not knowing away

A chair by the river
See it rest there
Sitting with itself

A woman crossing the street
The child running in front of her
A bus stop and a trashcan filled
To the brim with the tossed

A sight of normalcy though
The bridge that hangs above them
Reminds her of their
Deepest dread of obscurity

Our struggle against meaninglessness

But have faith they say

The creator wants to
See thee

Soon
Mitchell Oct 2013
Breath out of tune
Eyesight blurry unnamed
Trying to piece together
These days that seem the same

When I thought I had it
I really had nothing at all
My signature stands black on the page
And I think some days a man
Can only take so many hours in his cage

I hear the cars pass by my white linen'd window
With faces on the street walking to where I do not know
The sun's behind a wall of clouds that looks like snow
Wondering where the coffee is and where the doves go

I got my desk that's wide and a lady that's mine
And we got all day to sit around n' waste time
I step back, into the dust, and hear the puppies whine
As she pours me another cup of that fine wine

At dusk the jailer must feed the prisoners
Their eyes are black beans and serene
One talks of his mother
One talks of his little sister
Another talks of his broken brother
And the last says "I've only ever had my daughter"

Sun through the window
Chairs alit as if from within
God takes a seat at the bar
As the Devil behind the burner
Looks over his shoulder afar

To be ****** out of one's home
Can stir such human resentment
Forgiveness was not given to one,
So why is it given to the rest of us?

These thoughts
Do not tie me down;
I am not being sold or bought

They go through me,
They play around inside,
And when I've had enough of it,
And it enough of me,
We part ways and say goodbye.

A present stained red sits on the porch step
Fellowman trying to repay his lengthy debt
I step forward as the white robed judge cries,
"Guilty on ten degrees and don't you even try!"

A fine given and no penance emoted
Words are meant to be unshackled, spoken
"Ten dollars to the bailiff," the judge swooped in,
"After that, you can leave and begin again."

When you look into your reflection
In that big mirror in your master bedroom
And see those squinted eyes and hair a mess,
Your mouth twisted in a way you can't even guess,
Go down to Annie's or that Russian place with the terrible coffee
And think to yourself what you're really wanting

You may get an answer. You may not.
It may take a minute,
An hour,
Hell,
It may take a month or more.

But, would you rather be floating down a river
With a slight wind in your sail?
Or pass every direction sign,
To blind to see, too tired to tell.

Rock the cradle
With a gentle hand

Kiss her forehead
As much as you can

These times are running,
Don't you see?

We've got to be good to one another,
As if he were your sister and she was your brother.

The white moon breaks through crystallized stars
And I'm still sitting here listening to these rambling cars
Not anxious that anything I do is up to par
Oh' life's too long not to throw it all away and go back to the start
Mitchell Jan 2014
To tell the re-telling of a story
Calls for the scenery and the
Clouds. Another naked year hangs like
A frame without a stage, near to death
Are we whenever we think of age.

She came through the door like a fog;
Mysterious and vague. Above us,
Hung nothing but a cigarette chandelier and a
Promise that would never last.

He asked her name and she told him
Her sign. In her lie, the recipe died, one of
Treachery and despise. She looked upon
The banister and wished she'd seen her sister.

A silver spoon twisted like that of a tornado.
Too much sugar in these muffins.
At last, we've gotten the shipment of potatoes.
Careful with the cat so it doesn't lose its stuffing.

She takes her hair in her hands like a frying pan to egg's
And wrecks what she wishes without getting upset.
No name for what wish she's got over me,
No cure for what poison she's struck me with.

A nod, a wink, you know I can never think,
When you walk through that door
With your silver hair and you skirt colored pink.
Just let me think, just let me know,
Which way your headed,
Which way you're gonna' go.

Took my mantra,
Oh' you know she took my form.
When she said the rain was coming,
I didn't know
She meant a storm.

Riddled with what she expected of me.
Guilty with what she thought would be free.
Can it be that this señorita next to me
Needs only a shot of tequila and a right to marry?

But because there's no worry in a pool stick
No one ever goes to a bar and gets sick
I've made my stash and seen the golden hill
Though I feel that thought has plenty to give still

I can't ask for a lot, but I can ask for enough
Love never really ever said that much
I asked her hand and she said," Let's not touch."
She smiled, "I don't own a pair of handcuffs."

Tell me baby, please whisper your code
What do I have to do to get to know
What is important to you and cared for so?
Nothing else matters when there is nothing else to do.

I take my picket through the thicket
And I see that still silver water shed behind
That gray silver lining
We are all alone in this field of dead gold,
Unseen with the seeds that are yet sewn,
Holding on to that hold on
That never stays put, never shakes off.

Round the near corner of the front of the start,
A smile takes her heart like a bee would its ****.
I say there is nothing but the ordinary around here.
You nod, letting all the sin in to you.
Ah, the truth tears at you like a saturated wolverine and
You wish there was nothing else keeping you.

Tell me the name of the place we've been to before.
Naked branches hang on an uneven willow wallowing
Love is the only thing worth swinging for.
Together we make the world because the sound is
The way to push the rounds of the tides.
No one cares if you make it or not, for all they wish to be
Is entertained through the fray and the week to weekend.

Don't let me be so distasteful or disdainful.
Hear the music, the piano, the horn , the orchestra.
They play for you.
I take no credit for the screams of the recording dead;
There the tea lies dead like the howling skulls
Of another year that holds no tear of being forgotten.

See the hollers of the wave and all that it says.
Together we are nothing but another ray
Of sunshine shining against an infinite row of ocean.
Take my station, hold my patient, the war is so long,
And there's nothing better song and campfire.

And since there is no forgiveness when it comes to love,
I'll look upon the clouds that never move.
Oh, they are nothing but mysteries shrouded in sounds,
Built by luck, perseverance, and theatre in the round.

I cry for no one, but the ones near to me.
In their eyes they suffer,
But on their tongues, they hold a forced' plea.
I'm not lucky, I'm not safe,
I'm no one's right hand man or safety net.
The fret of the guitar is stained burned' burgundy and
On the horizon stands one man alone in
His own thoughtful misery.

Too tired to set the dawn,
He yawns,
Making his way beneath an
Apple tree.

No new beginning ever began
From nothing.
Mitchell Dec 2011
When the pages of life
Get worn burnt and torn
And when your eyes are red
And can't remember what was said
Just call on me once or twice baby
I promise to never say maybe

When haste drips like paste
From the nails of your finger tips
Don't sit and linger watching lips
For the smoke in your mind is for real
Just call on me once or twice baby
I promise I won't tell you maybe

As you make your way to my place
I'll shout out "This ain't about the race!"
And the grey clouds will turn white
No longer having to put up a fight
Call on me once or twice baby
You won't ever be hearing maybe

If you start to believe your worries
And all your friends seem in a hurry
You say, "Hello, how are you?" to strangers
And they walk on acting as if they were saner
Just call on me once or twice baby,
You won't ever hear a maybe

After the sun on you and I has set
And the fishermen have reeled in their nets
Your stomach is done n' empty
And death starts to look tempting
Call on me once or twice,
Cause you'll never hear a maybe

When the Lord throws out His designs
And the angels have sent in their papers to resign
Where heaven seems like a cheap rip off
And road signs show no way to start or stop
When the newspapers are burning
With no story to keep your mind turning
Make sure to call on me once or twice baby,
I promise never to say maybe
Mitchell Feb 2011
They told me
To clear my head
So I roamed
Down the street
I opened my metal fly
And took a leak
The head felt the same
So I whistled
I buzzed
But nothing came
I walked further down the road
Passing houses
Filled with people
With clearer heads then mine
Maybe they knew the answer?
Maybe I didn't know a ****** thing?
Maybe I was the crazed one,
Walking around by himself,
In the snow covered streets of Chicago?
Who knows?
Who cares?
What truth?
There is one thing I do know,
That thing, that fact, that thing,
Is that I'll never know.
Mitchell Nov 2014
What's wrong
With
These worries?

What's troubling
My
Mind?

Lately you know
Time ain't been feeling
Like
It's on
My side.

Got a lady
She's dressed in blue.

Got a lady
Born down on the bayou.

Got a lady
Oh'

What to do
What to do
What to do

When she's acting
This or that a way...

What's a simple man
To do?

Just the other day
I asked her to stay the night
Oh' she left quick
Oh she left
In quite
A fright

I rang her doorbell
The next day
And her father Bo' answered...
Boy'
You know I was through

He asked, What you doing round' here?
What you need?

I turned myself around and
Redefined the word speed

A week passed
Without a word
From her
My phone sat on my nightstand
As if it were dead

My days were:
Wake up
Go to work
Go home
And go to bed.

You know
Now I see
Whats been troubling my
Mixed up mind...

You know
Now I see
What's been eatin' up
All my time

You know
I think
I'll never
Let
Myself

Tumble into love

Again.
Mitchell Mar 2012
All is alone now
With the graveyards full
And the boxes of tools
Rusted and made for fools

Hastiness of the word
Pushes the mind
To create nothing
But scribble and dribble

When was there a time
In time
When death was not
Knocking at the door

And when I lay up
And let myself
Hear nothing

Never wanting
To be nothing

Admiring that dreams
Are just the steam
To take you to a place
Where you already are

Failing where love
Was supposed to be

Seeing that maybe
I was truly wrong all along

Is this doubt?
Or just
Childish
Uncertainty?

But when she presses
Her lips to mine
I know that the sweet
Taste of wine
Is not a dream but
Was just meant to be

Now I lay in the arms
Of a mind not my own
Battling towards a victory
That seems most days
Like a never ending trap

Sweet sleep
True defeat
A ****** need
One that acts
Like its own disease

But feel the naked breeze
Like a queens silken crease
All these ****** needs
Is making me think
I'm more selfish then I believe
Mitchell Jun 2018
My eyes are the shapes
Of avocado pits
Silver as a new peso
Blue as the Pacific
On the first day of summer

That's what
Madre says.

My arms are fat
Like pork *****
Plump and squishy
They're tanned like
Padre's work boots
He shines them
Every night
Con un cigarillo in
The right corner of his mouth

If madre is asleep
And I wake to ***
He's usually out there
Lit by the cornmeal porch light
The cow milk moon
The bullet-riddled sky

Ey boy, he calls out to me in a whisper
I say nothing
I just go

He picks me up
Like a small dog
Or a fat cat and
Puts me on his knee

You know we going soon? he asks me

I shake my head no, saying nothing

Beyond those hills. Over them.

He blows a thin river of smoke through his lips
The air is still
The smoke hovers there, uninterrupted

He takes his cigarillo from his mouth
Hovers it over my fresh, soft caterpillar lips

Open your mouth boy. Breathe in.

I do what I'm told.

Smoke. Fire. Burning.

I start to cough
Padre's hand is over my mouth
He laughs as he pats my back
With the palm
Of his other hand

The inside of the hand
That covers my mouth
Tastes like tobacco
Tastes like dirt
Tastes like the salts of salt
Tastes like work

You ok, he chuckles, You ok boy.

He wipes a tear from my cheek
I look into his meditative eyes
They are jagged, creased, as if
There is a silent earthquake of fear
Rumbling inside of him right there

Where we going? I ask

New home. He coughs
Jams the cigarillo back in his mouth
Gray smoke rolls over his face
He does not blink

Our new home, he says.
Mitchell Feb 2011
Unless we know
The color of the snow
We are not the men
We thought we'd known

I've been drinking
Right through the night
I've been listening
To old Newman's frights

He is a singer
With a problem with ambition
He just kept on wishing
On the fatality of finishing

But how he never does
What he wants to do
Has everything to do
With 2011's truth

Maybe were bent
Maybe we are right crooked
But tonight I feel
Like I've just been stood up

An American dream
Used to have bells and whistles
But lately I've been seeing
Harmony with burnt thistles

People walk with a limp in their step
Other's walk with a **** in their gut
They are the soldier's that won't be called upon
While the rest are left to bicker towards the sun

I'm left sitting here
Lifting pictures of a love I never knew
Someday I hope to find another
One that I won't "smother"

Wash that dirt off your face
You always looked better that way
For hazard is just a harsh and quick blizzard

Who the ****
Do you think you are?,
Some kind of
Ancient wizard?
Mitchell Jan 2013
It's Monday
And the hangover
Still lingers like
A date gone wrong

Or a fog

That won't

Burn off

My eyes are peeled toward a rising sky
Blood-orange
As the rhythms ring like bells tied tight
Into a folding solider
Shot dead running through the battlefield

Can I get it right?
This life of mine
Can I answer the question?
With this bit of time

Dreams where I danced not knowing
Who was who or where was I
Shattering a soul I never asked for
Yet feeling the weight of every hour

It was Monday last week
And I was thinking the same thing

These thoughts do not dissolve
They are not ****** away
Flushed
            Digested
                         Vomited or
                                            Disposed Of
And I watch the crow call
Perched high inside the sycamore tree
I see it, but it does not see me
Where I soon find it very hard to breathe

York leaves the page open, but the door closed
And each night I type I learn a new excuse
Caught in the west wind of a sweating hurricane
Seeing a face I do not recognize in a shattered window-pane

I swear
There is something
Inside of me

Give me time
Let me search

And if I die
If I perish before I do

Let the one's who remembered my oath know
That I attempted the possible
And that the money's in the bill-fold

It's Monday
And I'm working

Working to
Make each one
Of these

New
Mitchell Aug 2011
Checked in my bags for $6 and a worry
My mind swims as I'm feeling sorry
Smiles melt like my wicker wet hair
Summer makes for fiends that don't have a care

Wheezing through the winter and skipping through Spring
Restaurants open with figs that seem to sing
Her hair moves with a magic all her own
I'm in the corner shivering cause I can't get a bone

Outside the night is naked cold and can't be told
Any secret it hasn't heard so don't get scold
Silly for these ears to drip water at these years
Talk to me later where we can have a few beers

Nodding head against the bar room back
I remember how she eyed me checking every fact
Heels colored yellow and the eyes black and blue
Soul on the rocks talked as if she had the flu

Now with the clock bell ringing the man is pointing east
Someone's out there and it smells like a moveable feast
Round' these parts time doesn't move for just no one
People grin but they aren't really having that much fun

Stuck in the mud with a stick instead of gun
When the mind gets moving each guy better start to act tough
Neighbors pawn their wisdom onto their young
This towel is wet been lying on the bottom rung

Missed this chance as I pranced round' a ring that wasn't really mine
Spend my time pinching dimes feelin' like I'm wasting my time
Now with the aftermath of a presidency gone wrong
Everyone seems to be walkin' around like they got a small thong

Notice on the board with a face that is familiar
Peer closer and its your face looking like a killer
Grin wide with the eyes all fulla' pride
Teeth white tongue tight neck tight with snide

Bent through the neck with a familiar respect
Of the law that loses every chance that it gets
All day in a line that wasn't meant to be mine
Born into a nuthouse where the warden is the least born

Menacing meanders with their ticket books and badges
Caring for the cure as they spill their poison out like frogs
Managing their wages with crayons while crying
I mention a memory and they slap me and fry me

Truth leaks out like the ink from of a damaged pen
It stains your soul like the shriek from a morning hen
Truth streaks white like the white from a jet plane
Him smiling while dying to escape a life of the inane

Night
You were there when I slept through the first day I showed
For' I was born in the morn
Night
You are the blanket I carry
Even in the daytime
Night
The stars are my angels
For they guide me when I am naive'
Night
Night
You are with me
Even when you take my sight
Mitchell Aug 2011
Shoulder length sorrow
With burning red waves of personal hell
Clapping loud echoes scratch these ancient cave walls
Paintings of misfortune where events rhymed without stall
A foreign ministers eyes stare naked with his one and only truth

I recall a former life that
When mouthed curdled the finest milk
Reverberates with a chill that makes father
Question at His twilight hour if He has ever been here
There or at the house that He could not believe He had owned

Mentioning the heroes of my youth
Seeing the way they hold their finest truths
Relaxing knee deep in a scorched whiskey filled pool
Laying back in the sun as thoughts turn to words and words
Turn to parchment crucified by the heavy set mindless believers

But here underneath a childish roof
Holding my head wet with no chance of a bet
Watching saviors on TV giving their last chance to sell
Beckoning youthful minds to plow fields with only their hands
Catching an arm against a tree to act as if it is all according to a plan

Lost without a paddle atop no stream
Drowned within the desert above the suns beam
Careening cracked fingers sting as they touch the dried mud
The natives are getting restless as they continue to build their huts
Nigh the night sets and the sun will rise as the tide crashes as I breath and I sigh
Mitchell Jun 2011
She posed the question like a riddle
I answered with silence
She walked out of the wooden door
I answered again with silence
I walked for thirty years
I saw everything that the eyes could bear
At the end of this blank trek
I tried to win her back
At the moment of conquest I faltered
Like a lake with a pin drop of rippling water
I am not a man
I am not a man
I am not a man
To start walking the same again
Tis' a trick of time to be that lame
For comfort is for the weak as is pain
Apologetic for one's misfortunes is like tying your shoes
With no hands
The sand is wet from the Fall rain
The sun is out with the sounds of horror in the air
We are something out of dream
As well as
A nightmare
Mitchell Nov 2013
There were frames
In hell where she spun
Without a world without judgement

A teller said hello
Each number was her own
And because we had no figure
Our connections were
Null in void

She reaches out for the star
Speaking of the stars,
Praying to an egg-white indifferent moon
There I leaned
To make a drink
Without a peaceful place to think

There we met
Amongst the **** drenched shrubs
And forgotten bub's,
All sent to a war
That we weren't even meant for.

Another day
She said
Another month
She plead

We are only
The forgotten dreams
Of our
Former selves
Remembered

A prayer was ordered
And another trim was there
What a break we had
When no lover played fair

I said she was the one
And there she was far gone
Each bullet's got its gun
Every lover's on the run

I see her raise her eye
Like a new autumn sunrise
Listen to the gulls
And how the rocks collide
With the frothing tide

Tell me what you see
Give me what you feel
Accept there is no difference
Between what is truth
And what is real
Mitchell Apr 2012
There were those memories
Bleak
Shivering
Naked

Two pair
Together to
Take the
Whole game

We slept
Until noon

Rolled over
Onto
Each other

Said our "hello's"
Then
Our "goodbyes"

There was something
More in those jaded & cursed
Lips that seemed
More appealing the night before

Terrible
How the morning
Illuminates all those
Mistakes

Terrible
How vertigo strikes
Even when I'm
Sitting peacefully

Typing away
Into a florescent whiteness &
A black
Black

Shredded Czech night

I see how the greats
Must have gone mad

I see that I will never
Get done searching

That the mad
Know

Nothing ever
Ends

The wheat fields
With all
Their magic gold

Will grow
Until
The mutants burn
Every stalk
Down

The river will trickle
Until the thieves
Of this world
**** it dry

Down to
Every rock

Down to
Bare
Rubble

No end

No period

No finale

Only the
Beginning

Only the start
Of the end

If we will It
Mitchell May 2011
As of above the twilight reel flicks past oneself
To get to the books lined with dust upon our shelves
Backwards so forwards noddin Her head again
Stay sane my sister for it is just a jig in the game

Name the fame that brought you back to your home
Flipping page of book scraps relating oneself a map
Drink spilt apostrophe's with lined' red jewels
What a worry we thought we were what fools

Though the goods now are bending themselves forever
And underneath the spotted white sky
You at times still decide to stilly lie
In a bed that was made for you and I only

Brick upon stony leaking grey brick
Pushed us fast further and longer until upset sick
Foes till the bitter baited end
No letter will come, no, no letter will be sent
Mitchell May 2014
At least there was fire
In the beginning
A flame that twitched
Like a fly de-winged
Tossed onto
The kitchen floor

Now there is the tepid
Water of work
Play
Work
Living in the order
That life was organized prior for

I hear children scream
With both joy and terror
Envious of their freedom
Their ignorance
Their freedom unhinged
I poke my head out the window
And listen to what once was

5.6250 %

Take my guns
Take my money
Take my home
Take my artistry
I don't need it
Anymore than
You do

There is always a price to pay for adventure
Nothing is free in America
You learn, you pay
You live, you pay
You love, you pay

America, you always make us pay
Even when we hide under the excuse of
Poor family history
Lack of work or none at all
The eternal class system
Excuses that separates us from them
If there was ever a chance to take it back
I would

Instead of water
I am handed smoke
Listening to the drums
I reach for a memory
To see white snow;
Love-making in the June sunlight;
Bus rides with no one;
A loneliness too empty and too vast
To ever be filled up again.

Since pity doesn't fly,
I must grow wings and use
What I learned, for what?
Sit in the seats.
Listen to the words that were taught to me.
Observe my naked flailing body;
Feel something.
All the girls will be ok.
The boys, well, some of them
Won't make it past 30.
What do you think all the drugs
And ***** are for?
For forgetting,
Remembering,
Telling the future.

I put it off.
Paying for something
That dear and detrimental
Just didn't
Seem right.

I feel like I am paying
For those experiences.
I feel like I am indebted
To the puppet masters
Behind the cloth,
Their strings still attached
To my back, their backs,
Our backs.

Were we
Ever in control
At all?

Who put this pen in my hand?
What are these paper's?
Why are you smiling so broadly?
"Sign here," the face said, "Here, here, and initial
Here."
Where do these papers go after this?
"You needn't worry about that, now."

A step by step process
To get into the hands
Of people that want
In your pockets.
Can you feel the absolute?
Hands like flames and
Icicles all at the same time.

They call.
They pester.
They make sure
The lesson
Was taught right and
Accounted for.

Even when I'm dead
They'll want more.
There's always interest
On a body, on art, on experiences.
There's always money to be earned,
Lost, and
Stripped of.

America:
Take my home
Take my creativity
Take my passion
Take my money
Take my will to live
Take my and myself
I don't want any of it

Anymore.

You've made me regret
The person
I ever wanted

To be.

Hope
Has nothing to do with it.
Action
Has everything.
Even the root makes one
Want to start
Swinging.

I see you now,
Acting by reading.
Rubbing the milk and honeycomb
Words from the page
Onto your skin.

Take it in.
Take it all in.
There is so little time to act
And many
Never find their own way
Of acting.

If ever I cease to act,
I hope I am dead.

Truth of the matter,
I know I'll be dead.
We all will.
Mitchell Nov 2012
Tricks are finished
Smoke has its rings
I'm left alone on my throne
Where the Sun
Is left crying alone

I need my Love
She is with me
She asks me questions
I begin to fester
But all I need
Is her body next to mine
She laughs as I try to plead
That what I've got to give
Is something she truly needs

Now when the time comes
When she leaves me or I leave her
Let the snow melt as she curls
Into another love that is far from me or her

Where goodnight kisses are merely routine
And the scene we tried so hard to live for
Is something we wanted
But nothing we could truly give

Now, when I say that we are undone
I do not mean that we are finished
We fight through our compassion
For there is no reason to ****** treason

I excuse no use to forget the love that we are
For the passing of the stars for us
Is nothing but memories that, for us, have no use
I stay with you my love, for all eternity
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