Oh,
The lessons that we learn at the bottom of a bottle.
Desperately 'loving,'
Attention starved,
Clinging to closeness,
'Memories.'
Blurry drunken happenings.
Escapism at it's finest.
Take these strangers,
Call them friends and lovers.
Lace these nights,
With flings and fleeting things.
And,
Pictures you just want to earase
The next morning.
But,
If we're being more honest,
The truth is I'd rather not be.
And between you, me and the buzz we've got going,
This can be real for just tonight.
And by the time we wake up tomorrow,
Sleep will have made it feel like a dream.
That,
We can live with.
Even though, it still leaves me empty.
I'd never admit that once I'm sober.
Because by then,
That poison-honesty-serum,
Will have worn off.

need to get out

want to crawl out

I don't know how

to get out of me

I educate the ignorant,
     but am not a teacher

I spread the truth,
     but am not a preacher

I fight for my life,
     but am not a soldier

I shape my future,*
     *but am not a sculptor

Everything that you are seeing
Everything that I am being
Is the only thing I can
Fore I am, solely what I am

                  ...A man...

Can you love me
through the best
and worst of times?
They will come.
For sure

Is that a definite
with me?

To remain loyal,
To be there when
I'm moody, the weather
is bad, and the world
gone mad.

Can you love me
through the best and
worst of time?

To remain faithful even
if we stumble upon,
you won't run dumb,
afraid of our outcome,
worried we'll come undone.

But, remain strong for us.
Is that a definite?

I need to know because,
I'm the kind of woman
with a strong back,
pick up your slack,
you best believe it.
Feel that uh...

However, an indecisive
feeble minded, wobbly
type man,  can't withstand
the test of times.

So I'm giving you a choice.
It's not hard to answer.
It's either yes or no.
Can you love me through
the best and worst of times?
And remain loving....

Today,
A woman in Afghanistan walked into her bedroom.
She poured a gallon of gasoline
on herself
and lit a match.
She set herself on fire
and collapsed on the bed
burning her husbands sheets
and melting her skin to the mattress.

She was screaming
and hoping
he would smell her death long after she went up.

Paratroopers free fall,
'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl
reaching down perplexed ****** frames.
Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day.
A right brained boy with a head full of clout
miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north
to the south.
Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences
through blown speakers and an overheated circuit -
Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless
without a reason there isn't a purpose.
Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time
overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes
Open those whale blubber caked eyes
to the other side.
It's not what this has done to you
but what this has done to us.
The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus.
Never was he lost, but given more than one chance.
He, no, she, no we
were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack.
Will we cross this road again?
And pick up from where we began?
Or never turn back?
Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance
But was it worth it?
Upholding the "right and proper" stance?