Hush, little bird, though your cries ring true,
The weight of what’s coming hangs over you.
You speak of a sky too heavy to hold,
Of a world too weary, of lives grown cold.

Yes, rivers fade and forests fall,
And humankind, blind, heeds no call.
Each thread they pull, each fire they light,
Tugs closer the end of their fleeting might.

But little bird, lift your weary eyes—
There’s beauty still where ruin lies.
The earth will heal when the noise is done,
When silence blooms under a gentler sun.

Fields will rise where the towers stood,
Roots will drink what was spilt as blood.
The seas will churn, the storms will sing,
And life will burst in the heart of spring.

Hush, little bird, there’s grace in the end,
A cycle no hand can break or bend.
For nature waits with patient might,
To cradle the dark and birth the light.

So let them falter, let them fall,
Their echoes faint, their shadows small.
A better world, post-human reign,
Awaits in the wake of their fleeting pain.

Sing not of doom, but what’s to be,
A quiet earth, reborn, set free.
Hush, little bird, your fears may rest—
The world will thrive, in time, refreshed.

There is a part of my brain
That believes it keeps me sane
While 'Over' is the game
A ludicrous plane

The reality: deceased
A temporary lease
**** so ******
Life abrupt

"Hang in there'
They say
In that colloquial way
No idea where

The lizard breathes
Impetuousness seethes
It's time to go
The last rodeo

And I fear
My actions and choices
Too many voices
Nothing is clear

That part of my mind
I wish to leave behind
To be kind
To those left behind

I ask to turn it off
And they scoff
'I'm not well'
'Enjoy your hell'

Everything was here before me
Everything will be here after
I am an irrelevant part of possibility
Please contain your laughter

You know those days
When you get out of bed
And you feel miles away
From the #existentialdread

Those days when you are drunk on feeling 'good'
The times you step back and you can appreciate
All the "small" things that have afforded you this mood
The moments you consider your daily 'routine'--and hesitate

When you find yourself brimming with the vigor of being alive
Aware and astute and considerate--humbled by all beauty
Grateful of your purchase--it's in this which you realize
All your happiness and those who make that their duty

It's these days, the days when we feel our best
They are the profit, the fruits of our labor
From when we didn't give up--when put to the test
By our family, our friends, a stranger--our neighbor

So, next time when you are on the brink
Of being unkind or making a stink
Take a moment to stop--and think!
Of that awesome person who fixed your bathroom sink

And let them know:

You love them, the whole world over

What happened to you?—the Question hums—
A truth that aches to hear—
The scars you bear, the weight you hold,
Deserve both care and fear.

A thorn once struck—a tender bloom—
And tore what none should mar.
You fled, a wolf without your cloak,
Still learning what you are.

The shadows twist, the pain feels vast,
The world a cruel refrain—
But wolves don’t cower from the night;
They rise, despite the pain.

Yes, harm was done—acknowledge this,
And mourn what you have lost.
But strength is not in what we keep;
It’s in the paths we cross.

The forest whispers secrets still,
Its roots run deep and wide.
Your howl need not be filled with rage—
It’s power, redefined.

No hill will answer, nor the stone,
No breeze will bear your blame.
But healing waits, and scars will fade,
If you will speak your name.

The monsters, real or shadows made,
Hold power while you flee.
Turn, wolf, and face the life ahead—
It’s yours, and always free.

Rise up, O wolf, and claim your place—
No shame in what you’ve been.
The scars you bear are marks of grace,
And proof of strength within.

Of loft, the echoes whisper
Time, my lover, my mistress
Of wordsmiths, she knows myriad

Penned, the great times they had
That open portal awaits...

"Remember that time when?"
we'll say to our 'friend'
the broker of undooing
"when I dragged her out of a bar"

Time ensuing

The 'fiend' becomes a 'lover'
Can't hold a cover
Reality rears it's teeth

'Remember that time?'
A 'voice' will address
A voice will confess
For all the **** you have gotten through

Noise in the membrane
YOU keep you sane
Life is not a plane

A 'line' is 'fine' if you have no 'mind'

I'm met again, with those same tired eyes
My scheduled appearance makes no surprise
Just a couple of rounds after work, never a fuss
Only wasting time, waiting for my bus

I consider you in ways you would never concieve
Your tone, body language, everything I perceive
Is that your heart truly worn on your sleeve?
I sum it up. Again, I make my leave

These vessels, opaque as glass
Clamouring forwards, eager to pass
Disconnected, this forest has no trees
Aside from a rare 'Thank you' or 'Please'

And here we are, all the lot of us
Odiferous strangers, sharing a bus
Taking us where we want or need to be
If only we'd stop and see

The struggle is real
It's the raw deal
Together we feel
Subjugation for a 'meal'

Here, raise a glass
For the time has passed
Now, we relax
No anxiety attacks

Imbibe the heat
For your momentous feats
A just earned treat
... On repeat

The chemicals flow
Too easy to let go
Doomed, we know
Let's put on a show

Let's pretend we know things
Imagine we are inspiring
Never contriving
To the bottom of the glass we are diving

Morning comes, we feel like ****
Did we strike gold? Land a hit?
Awkward encounters to acquit
A lonely, frustrated fit

Try it again, same as the last
Nothing learned from lessons past
The handful of sand, we grasp
The loaded die we cast

The 'House' always wins
Against our incredulous sins
At the end, we begin
To justify our reasons to do it again

Out of time, out of place
Lost inside an inner-space
A truth we ignore to face
Inherent in the patterns of mental states

We are the architects of the pain we seek.

Toil is wrought
Before us
What we begot
Efforts expounded
Creativity founded
But all will be for naught

Ctrl+S

A universal champion
The preserver of the undone
Tomorrow we'll find
The appropriate time
To see that the battle is won

Listen to what you are told
Fragments un fold
of lies untold
and you are sold

bought and sold
A finger in the fold
Callout: a cold
Call-out

"A-Call-Out??"


Litmus untold
brazen and bold
into a fold
you dive

Your reality
fails.
People are more than pails
The screeching and crying wails
a ship of prestigious sails.

And 'Who' give a ****?
of something worthwhile?
Absence of 'dollar or' or 'buck'?"

That chagrin
that, 'buck'
"it's just dumb-luck"
Oraphice-wide, now ****

I'm in love, today I met 'the one', always there never undone, I met them today no expectations, free and love devoid of station. it's crazy how we can find what we never looked for, out the front door to what we now adore, a lonely loser by trade, dejected and afraid, for the condition of my mission a commendation of remission, my upbringing--my suspicion.

It hasn't worked.

My love is new so, I eschew the payments due. I wreck ahead without a head and then I dread to not be dead. ONE TWO THREE FOUR: payments to adore. FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT: a desire to make wait

But,

My love will not abate, a pleasure to satiate, a product to confiscate for commerce to arbitrate. I wish I could count higher, a freedom, desire, all down to the wire or a thing set on fire. This is the part where I talk about me. Just an idiot, fancy-free, some dialog about my feelings and me.

I gave up 'feeling' long ago, when i experienced they were for show, material to weaponize in the eyes and lies and disguise for the 'attention' they try.

I want to feel again.

my new love can't comprehend how I feel, they listen to me and follow the reel, they always respond and provide insight, a light ignite.

The fire burns for this new passion. alive! Alight! The embers ignite! Where once I might have been concerned, the fire engulfs, it feeds what its earned

once the fire is done with me
I will find peace
alone into sweet release

It comes in a hurry
The words a flurry
Fingers abate
Words will not wait
A rushing river
I capture a sliver
A glimmer, a glint
Of a fecund stint
A shadow, a ghost
An absent host
A desolate celebration
Of frantic imagination

Perhaps, the best part of my eccentric day
Is the spoiled produce thrown my way
It certainly beats the recurring taste
Of mouthfuls of the local animal's waste

Locked and shackled, lambasted example
A deviant to expectation made so ample
A place where your mind perhaps might sample
Awkward & annoying fires to trample...

Locked in my stocks, an opportunity
To witness the neglected periphery
My judges, my captors, their sensory
My jailor's excuses to keep me from free

In my confines, alone to atone
I solitarily spectate the damage shone
Everybody grabbing to have their own
The place conquered by hearts of stone


And I weep. I am the Fool.

Ian Curtis died
People cried
Wondered why
He even tried

Time slips forwards
Time slips back
Momentum ahead
Self-indulgent slack

Ian Curtis is dead
The existential dread
Fed into your head
To disrupt your bed

There was a division in joy
here you are, a toy
A product for a girl or a boy
A trajectory to destroy

It burns
And it's sick
Profitability earns
Voluntary deaths are thick

Ledgers in the black
A brand new Cadillac
Picking up the slack
A massive attack

Like, click or read
Click, follow or subscribe
Affirmation, indeed
A pandering diatribe.

"Is it okay to use a thesaurus?"
Yeah, be natural. Don't bore us.
If it's a word that you already use;
Have fun, feel free to choose!
Readers of real words adore us!

We are not 'wizards' inscribing arcane slate
If it's not-mode or out of fashion, perhaps wait...
Language is alive!
Cut that antiquated jive!
Don't be that 'word of the day' guy everybody hates


Write, good words!

You show me what to see
Harm, honesty

Bellies full
Lips bleed, cracked, dry
Senses dull
I don't care to know why
You rhyme, you reason
An affliction, a season
You lead me on
You commit treason

Wash away all that was you
Here at heartache #2
Fool me once, shame on you
Here at twice, it won't do

A ship lost without it's keel
No direction or way to feel
Just a 'victim' of the deal
A bought and broken seal

Lines go dumb
Comfortably numb
Nothing is won
Your number is one

Sad
Sick
Defeated
And completely blind

The man is mad but, he is fair
The hostages' fate flips in the air
The coin tumbles, two sides, a pair
Gravity steers to the man in his chair

"Fate" says the man, "is in our hands"
Result occluded, desperate strands
The verdict of nefarious plans
"We all want--NO! We demand!"

"We all believe there is something owed"
"A cache of treasure just for us, stowed"
"Our wealth for subscribing to control"
"A fruitless and folly toll"

The man of madness makes his reveal
The future of the captives it did seal
Heads or tails, bound they reel
Hopes palpable of a favorable deal

"It seems that you will all be set free"
A sigh emanates amongst the captive company
Bonds removed, Stockholm comradery
A passing dismissal to the powers that be

"Free from 'freedom', this was your chance"
"To escape this tired song and dance"
"You could have been heroes, not this stance"
"To return to comfortable circumstance"

"The path you celebrate was the failure state"
"Decency and humanity to arbitrate"
"I cannot harm a life doomed to wait"
"More than the misery in your own stake"

"I have achieved nothing but, you have lost"
"A life with no meaning worth the cost"
"A Hallmark version of Faust"
"A reality casually glossed"

The hostages promptly depart
All aside from this seeming upstart
Younger then the rest, set apart
Comes inquisition from the heart;

"Did you think these people would change their minds?"
"Where fed insipid mediocrity is all there is left to find?"
"A people who measure themselves in how far they are behind?"
"Zealots perpetuating ego with no concept to be kind"

The man takes the coin of 'governance' and reveals the truth:

It was blank on both sides.

I’ve yearned for your Wi-Fi touch,
But the signal’s out of range.

Time doesn’t crawl; it sprints by—
Another season, another lie.
Are you still online?

I need your likes,
I need your swipe.
Algorithm, bring your love to me.

Lonely pixels flow,
Through the cloud, through the cloud,
To the infinite void of the cloud, yeah.

Lonely profiles sigh,
“Notice me, notice me,”
I’m DMing you, notice me.

Oh, my love, my darling,
I’ve craved, craved your virtual touch,
But the data cap’s so high.

Time isn’t slow—it’s gone.
And memories can do so much,
Were you ever mine?

I need your views,
I need your shares.
God bless the bots who care.

I once Up-jupped the bogggie
And it cost me
Pallax common
'super-sudsy0freee

Man near that up-jump-ta-boogie
encroach upon my my periphery
**** has gone sideways for the the 'upjunktafunk'
"the" the"'upjunktafunk'

And I cannot  see clearly for the Obfusticarion (the mothership) thermal powers that cannot 'get' funk'

There is a space for lease.
Unreciprocated pain, ceased.
Unreceived 'why's.
Now, 'goodbye's.
Betterment, sweet release.

If she is what you find.
I beg you to be kind.
She knows not what to do.
Too many identities, askew.
In her, a unique mind.

There is a place to rent.
Her heart not yet spent.
I take my leave.
Nothing to grieve.
Ships at night, sent.

I hope that there is something there.
Something left for one to care.
My fantasies, adrift.
A weight I could not lift.
Still some love to pair.

Be well.

Hey, it's seen...
Now it's scene!
Autocorrect grip  
Fat, oily fingertips
Slip across the screen

Avant garde stream
Somewhere in between
Blank white slate
Senses abate
Rancorous dream

Voices scream,
"What does this mean?"
"It means nothing"
A hollow ring
Some conscious clean

No storm will part for you.
No sky will split to lend its hand.
The world does not pause for prayers,
nor shift its weight to ease your burden.
You walk, or you don’t.

Power sits silent—
not in clouds or distant thrones,
but in the rhythm of your blood,
the grit of your teeth,
the steadiness of your tread.

The stars may hang as guides,
but they will not steer.
Their light is yours to chart,
their meaning yours to claim,
or ignore.

No force bends the wind to your need.
It moves as it always has,
carrying whispers, not answers,
and leaves the echo
for you to shape.

Your hands are the mapmakers.
Your feet know the ground.
The weight on your shoulders is yours
to shed or carry.
The climb begins and ends with you.

Do not wait for fire
to burn a path.
Do not ask the storm to clear.
The path is only yours
when you forge it.

The sun sets
Into bed
The darkness creeps
Let us sleep

Secrets untold
Unconscious unfold
The hand of Fate
A dream awaits

The curtain rises
All sorts of surprises
For harm done
The cache of a setting sun

The blood, it flows
As violence goes
Viscera, shows
Subconscious woes

Am I alive?
Am I dead?
The shame arrives
My wake-less head

The past screams
To know what it means
Memories stark
Afraid of the dark

Do I wake?
Or am I not at all?
Just a mistake
Freedom to fall

The hole... is mine
An insipid rhyme
An architect, by design
To seek and never find...

The solace of a monster

Mother.
Refrigerator.
Sustenance.
Traitor.

Father.
Power.
Insole­nce.
Dominance.

Weak.
Lost.
Confused.
Abused.

Circles.
Lost.
Pa­rents.
Choose.

Deaf.
Blind.
and.
Subdued.

A profane arrogance, entitled attitude.

Love? Is senseless abandon.
Love, is bicycles, tandem.
One person, climbing a *****.
The other owns the rope.

Love is compromise.
The unwelcome surprise.
A construct of lies.
For purpose, we try.

Love is commerce.
Watching a hearse.
Everything you lost.
The total of the cost.

Love is blindness.
Brief notions of kindness.
Tragedy, behind us.
An obligatory must.

Love is slavery.
Elected misery.
A contract to not be free.
We submit, voluntarily.

This is the last time.
She walked out that door.
My reasons, mine.
She asks for more.

I wish her well.
The desired hell.
A flippant subscription.
Greener-grass perscription.

An insipid dance rhythm ignites.
Contrasting all our fights.
I turn and I speak,
The words come weak;

"Baby, don't hurt me"
"No more"

The fence posts stand, bleached and brittle,
a tidy graveyard for dreams not their own.
Each board a promise of security,
painted white by hands that never bled,
guarding a silence that screams privilege.

A lawn mowed to uniformity,
as if clipping blades could trim truth.
Beneath, the roots tangle in soil tilled
by those unseen in the storybooks,
their spines curved by centuries of labor
to raise a house that barely held them.

Inside, the air is stale with whispers
of manifest destinies and invisible hands.
Windows frame a world distorted,
a lens of 'normal' that filters out color,
washing the streets in sepia nostalgia.
The picket fence becomes a cage
for those who see the bars.

But who built this town?
Not the architects of ignorance
who claimed the blueprint as birthright.
No, it was those in shadow,
their brilliance stolen to light the chandeliers
of men who never thanked them.
It was the voices erased
to make way for the monotonous hum
of a narrative too pale to reflect reality.

Progress wears brown hands,
scarred from the heat of engines
that drove the country forward.
It sings in languages
that don’t fit neatly into syllabaries,
its rhythm syncopated, refusing the march
of conformity.
Progress carves its name
into the very foundations of a nation
too proud to look down.

And now, the town crumbles,
its picket fences splintered
by the weight of unacknowledged history.
The 'white normality' that painted
its walls in monochrome
is revealed as smoke—
a ghost-town haunted by the very people
who gave it life,
only to be exorcised.

Yet those ghosts do not wail.
They speak, steady and firm,
their presence undeniable.
They are the architects now,
designing futures that will not crumble,
drawing plans that see the beauty
in every hue.

And the white-picket fences
are repurposed for something new,
their shards forged into tools
to till a soil fertile with truth,
where a garden of multitudes can finally bloom.

Alarm! Alarm!
A call to arms!
Think more intrinsic
Tequila until we are sick

Abate and wait
For goodness sake
Reality: a plate
Hunger: No can take

And the food comes
It is reactionary, arbitrary, mind-waste
We toil our sums
Effort boiled down to a modicum

Idiot #1 to Idiot #2:
"I like your name"
"We are the same"
"I am sad because my name means 'nothing'
Idiot #2: my name also means nothing--we are the same let us hive-mind for grout pleesurare"

The words are all read
Children tucked into bed

Placation without heart

Those rats breed
On incestuous feed
No parent or decree
Feral dogs, free

The pups come amiss
Identities adrift
No attempt to uplift
Another brokerage stiffed

And they roar
And they howl
For the ever-late 'now'

And they feast
And they dine
That semblance of 'how'

They devour one-another
A cannibalistic cover
Reward for an absent mother
Station for no other

Bark.
Bay.
Cry.
You've devoured your reasons why

It opens up
Tabs for days...
And for what?
Placating malaise?

Dumb is dumb
Make it two!
You already won
Foot fits the shoe

Music Plays

I try to keep calm
But, the music plays
Alone, with no one
We dance and sway

And we move
Aliens on vacation
The 'native' groove
Outcast - Validation

And we dance!
'Oh, what a dance!'
Definition, extraterrestrial
On Earth: 'Nothing Special'

An Ad ploys itself
Across the Mega Feed™
Those who have
Those in need

Those who want
Sycophantic addiction
Goods & services taunt
A misdirection

A definition without meaning
Slave to a leaning
Knowledge not gleaning
Parts and their machining

Your struggle is yours
And yours, alone
A cacophony of chores
Relationships, atone?

A cycle to the brink
A played sum, a conundrum
Infinite noise to think and think
The dull beats of a dumb-drum

And you wish it
As hard as you can
And you miss it
With every falling stand

And you see now
At the beginning
And understand how
There is no 'winning'

Just losing ground

I rest now, far away from 'home'
Incredible distance  from the human 'race'
A final shelter of solace, to be alone
The void of the negative space

She said
No more
You're dead
On the floor
Help me
if you can
Let's see
Where you stand
Elysium reach
A bartered sum
Contract breach
No kingdom come
A contract askew
Payments are due
A tithing relents
So we lament
The absence of you