Did you hear?
About the kid killed on this ride?
The straps were too loose, he fell out
Hit the rails, then he died

They say his ghost haunts this place
That the ride is cursed
In darkened mirrors you can see his face
But, that's not the worst

They say every ten years
The anniversary of that night
He escapes the mirrors
To enact his right

He'll fail the ride
Another death swept aside
To bring another to his side
For truth to confide

The tragedy displaced by joy

I still remember my first.
Full name, birthday, proclivities.
After too many years, I'd rank them as one of the worst.
The early set symptoms of a manufactured disease.

I distinctly remember my last.
Relevant; circles, hoops and loops.
Wounds, bleeding. An escape, fast.
Subscribe again? I'm a would-be dupe.

And the cycle continues.
Pi without square.
A litany of 'I love you's.
But, only selfish care.

Action is the rule of the land.
Words come cheap.
You've played your hand.
In your choice, I weep.

Not for what we never had.
But, for extinguishing my hope for this place.
A desire for a world--where not everyone is bad.
For the contrary; you have closed your case.

Love, is an artificial commodity.
Santa Claus, coming down your chimney.
Fragrant noise to stifle your periphery.
Birth alone, death alone. End of story.

I am not a particularly intelligent person
But, I have a decent ability to recall
Two-years-old, situations I did worsen
Yet, I don't remember their 'fall'

One of my earliest points of memory
Almost three years old: choices just begot
My Mom's parents visit with a caravan of glee
A robot-car sent on a septic adventure for naught
ICYMI: Autobots have little warranty...

The poor chap was certainly worse for the wear
Two years on this face, I hardly recognized a trace
I am engulfed in the concept of 'care'
I begin to understand the idea of 'space'

...

We move around a lot, a different school each year
I never knew anyone, hardly myself
Mom's drinks with friends, now a lonely 12 pack of beer
Undefined desires put on the shelf

8th grade, at best. Mother's mistakes. My behest
No school. Motel efficiency. On our own.
A thirteen-year-old adoptive father at the test
A pool, limited cable TV; "make this home"

Although she shared a different paternal progeny
My half-sister should not share the same fate as me
I tried to make Mom's $5 to feed us celebratory!
But, I think she grasped the sadness. Solidarity.

...

I miss them now, although we do not speak
My mom is dead and my relationship with Molly is weak
For my failure, I fear I reek
Unable to provide the happiness they seek

...

I never learned to plan for the days ahead
I spend my time, aestheticizing myself instead
Joy supplemented by chemicals to quiet my head
A torn and tattered thread

If I had one wish:

I would hope that we all are doing better

An arbitrary hill, the worms crawl
To a vantage point to feel less small
A collection of sound-bites; "they know all"
A congregation so thick as to be a wall

Below-ground, a blind life in the dark
Subterranean legacy, light comes stark
No ocular appendages, just a warmth to lark
There are no ominous portents in which to hark

Under my boots, everyday I feel a squish
Hopes, dreams and the misguided wish
So many lines cast, not enough fish
We dine on one another's dish

And it hurts me everyday
To see #humanity in this way;
Tribalism; '**** the strays'
A self-induced fray

We are backwards
And we are wrong
Check your words
Before you sing a song

Entombed in these scripts
Are countless lists
A chain of 'wants'
Self-inflicted torture daunts

And the mind grows colder
Reiteration. Older, bolder.
Perhaps not wiser
Affection? A miser.

Grey matter glistens, clean
Wrinkle-less, pure.
Elect the means
Analytics astir

You are already dead
Bought, sold and traded
Ukulele is the dread
A modicum so faded

There's a twang of a string
It brings great reckoning
And down below
We observe the show

And know we know;
'How to think"

The speech is simple--alright, even good
The motifs are coy--effective narrative toys
Yet we pander, an incestuous neighborhood
Words for art or egotistical ploys?

I remember as a kid
This one time I hid
To see who would look
Hours I waited
I even baited
Yet the temptations never took

I sat in the dark, alone
The first time without a home
Eventually, I fell asleep
Perhaps too tired to weep

For something I never had

I grew older, I grew bolder
My heart yearning for a holder
While we are born alone
We can relate, we can atone

I sought solace in compromise
An ulterior motive in which to subscribe
Payments due, yet a place to confide
All the secrets I hoard inside

It was never a fun ride

And I am older still
Maybe not quite 'over the hill'
But, I know what I have learned--
At first; 'safety', later 'acceptance' and then 'a thrill'
Fun takes its toll. Climb up that pole. Feed that pain a pill
We **** and we pillage, orphan a village--all for what've we yearned

We are sociopaths, the lot.
We cared naught.
For the heartache we begot
'We never asked to be here"
"We are free and clear in the direction we steer"
If that is the case,
We only replicate the beast to satiate
Take a moment. Stop and think. Pause and wait.

Have you become the 'good' or the things you 'hate'?

I see her dance in the pale of the morning light

The morning is young
Colors eek out, unsung
The day hasn't quite begun

I see her
We depart

The night draws black
The curtain of day draws back
With no slack

I see her again
We depart

A wolf and an owl; this tale
Two ships set upon a moonlit sail

After years they will come
To find their maker's sum
To see;
Clouds conjoin like cumulonimbus lovers