Finally after a long winter
And the wavering weather
The weary wait is over
Walking through green grass
Moisture tickles the tips of my toes
As I take a deep breathe of air
Through the nostrils of my nose
A bird is perched upon a light pole
But its chirps seem rather frightful
They don’t sound very delightful
In the middle of conversation
I stop, I stutter, and I stammer
I’m enamored by that image
Spring is here and finally sprung
But the bird’s happiness is hung
Its like I could relate to the bird
I have been waiting patiently
For an answer important to me
While this bright and beautiful bird
Has been up there perched and enduring
Of this hypocritical weather
Waiting for a summer that wont come
As have I been long enduring
During this silent conversation
One day I feel its going one way
The next its going another
These feeling are becoming mundane
As I also wait for something
Something that probably wont come.

Rumbling thunder clashes
with ambient lightning
The cigarette smoke
gets in an argument about
who owns the sky tonight.

"Don't **** with me
I'll give you cancer!"
"Yeah? Well I'll light
your world up and
strike you to the ground,"
The storm replies.

And that was the
end of the argument.
The smoke conceded
and its soaked cigarette ****
followed the clouded stream
down the storm drain.

The last piece of straw
from the horses mouth
said its final words
The sky's batteries died
and there was no real winner.

No, not even Mother Nature
could hammer justice
into the broken gavel
She just sat and
chewed her fingernails
as the stars waved

goodbye to the Earth.

The top
is not what you think

Each step
is led by your heart

I was
told to travel light

It leaves
more room to pick up

It's not
a straight shot up, though

But more
up, down, in and out

Don't run
or you might fall down

Don't stop
or you might miss out

Get stuck
look for a new path

Patience
and you will stay on course

Shortcuts
don't have real outcomes

Long paths
will help pace your growth

The top
is not out of reach

It can
be seen when you start

We all
wish to stand atop

The top
and swim in success

But fear
the journey ahead

Don't fear
what  you don't know yet

It will
all be known one day

The top
Has a special spot

Waiting
for you to fill it.

I'm fighting two pails --
One filled with feeling of
a homeless future and
one with a far cry crow
swooping in on every worm
living in the cracks of my life.

Give me a rifle with a
cross-haired scope, locked and loaded
two painted metal pails
with the eyes of a bull
so I can shoot one
and let the other
rust with my soul.

This court found me…

Guilty

of remaining reticent
to express my desire for her
on the counts of:

Past experiences,

Fear of what
vulnerability
would lead to,

Lack of confidence

and,

An inability to
pick up signals.

I was sentenced to life in solitude.

When I wake in the morning
and rub the sunshine off my eyelids,
I think of ways--of ways
I’m going to make you smile.

Yet, everything seems—backwards,
back burners, back of the bus.
I don’t know, really, how
                     to describe it.

But It entices me, whatever
It is; It entices me.
It’s like your presence became—omnipresent
ever since I made myself
present to you.

I never thought much of it
until this year, until I took a
pleasant slap to the face,
and we haven’t even had
physical contact yet, just
brief conversations to hold me over
until then.

Everyone in this world
is beautiful in one way or another;
a beauty someone out there
will see as particularly striking.
Yours happened to strike me.
It’s a beauty I just cant ignore
yet, its all I’ve been doing
since I informed you it can’t be ignored.

To make up for it, I wake up
pretending there’s a smile waiting to happen
Because there always is, sometimes
you just have to dig deep,
and be patient, to find it.

I haven’t yet felt what
your hand feels like intertwined with mine.
but I certainly hope
I’ll at least get the chance to.

When the time is right,
when that opportune moment comes along,
maybe that chance will make
a fool of my pretending ways
and I’ll no longer need
the rising of the sun
as a reason to make you smile.

I am an ocean of bottled emotions
Trapped, lost, floating.
I am surrounded by
      wants and needs
Stress and change.
I just sit there
My mind -- the ocean
Is thinking
Who
Am
I?

They buried you high in the sky
Just a few miles outside town
I look up, yet can't see your eyes
Believing you were in the clouds
When the whole time it was a lie
You're just six feet beneath the ground

I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the street yesterday

But its been so long
I cant hardly remember
the look of your face.

It was a blessing,
but also quite frightening,
knowing you're not here.

Sometimes I wake up
in the middle of the night
drenched in my own tears

Then I remember
my brain is just tricking me
and it isn't real.

I wish it was,
because I miss the days of old
when they had appeal.

Walking on the clouds
with your toes in the sand
you wave down at us.

I dont see you, though
Eyes neglect to see your hand
and all you have touched.

Several years have passed
since I last saw what it means
to live with reason

And that reason was
to fight until the last dawn
of the spring season.

You widdled a square
you were unfairly given
into a circle.

Well, in other words,
you shaped the lives of many
who were out of shape.

So on this great day
Ill raise a tall golden glass
to the cloudy skies

Cause you never know
if you'll see the sun again
before your demise.

I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the streets yesterday.

But it wasn't you,
because seven years ago
is far from today.

My CD player starts
spinning,
songs singing,
eyes seeing.
In that moment I recede from
reality and into the page.

Elevated to new heights;
a symmetrical splash
into a new world.
A solid shore serenated
by a storm of new music.

No two beats the same—
Each with its own aura that
sings of fallen life
worth a memory
as it disappeared in smoke
to weave a story like a river.

They all glisten with
unparalleled perfection
as their story is penned
during a 45 minute decent,
freefalling to their own rhythm.

Eyes slit like a stoner,
hearing things that
never made a sound.

Dust white as sugar
looks like residue
from an eight-ball line
recently snorted off
of the Old Testament.

Alluring at the top
and somewhat appealing but,
pointed at the bottom—
which penetrates the grain
cementing self-control together.

Buzzed and bleeding through
rusted nostrils eroding
from illicit use and
spiraling out of control.

Keeping it together
strictly because a
corrosive adhesive has been
stuck to an addicted membrane.

Eventually, the adhesive
will wear off and
everything will fall apart.

I kiss the spliff as the neighbor
across the street stares out his porch windows.
He clasps his upper lip
with his left hand—
thumb and pointer finger
split like a horseshoe.
The difference in temperature
from outside and my porch
is hardly measurable.
The feathers in my jacket
fight to keep my body heat
captive beneath my MAS*H sweatshirt.
His porch must be a four-season
because he hovers over his desk
in a t-shirt with a cigarette
in his mouth.
Maybe he’s writing, or reading,
        doing homework or work work.
Whatever it may be,
it stirs a bit of jealousy in me.
I wish to be home, sitting
in the warmth of my four-season porch,
where many stories are saved.
Scrapbooks full of memories.

I’m losing my mind in this cold world,
for I lost all my blow in the snow,
so I went to Jupiter to meet with Jesus.
He told me I should go and find Zeus,
I told him that I already found him.
The look of befuddlement on his face
blended in with His beard.
I took a break to ring around the rosy,
half an hour later I had a **** nosebleed.

Everything out in space is chaotic
Where curiosity doesn’t constitute
craziness… Wait, does it?
I don’t know, my mind is racing against time.
Just as smoke dissipates out of fire,
You can’t put the pieces of Pandora’s
box back together.

Chaos and disorder came only after
the Big Bang.
But, what happens to all of us when
we stop expanding?
This everlasting expansion turns to a
controlled compression,
and we will no longer be in control
of ourselves.

We will no longer ponder the fate of
what is unknown,
but fear the fate of what we do know.
We will no longer seek to discover
what is hidden,
but settle with everything we do know
and become complacent.

While I do know I do not know
everything there is to know,
I will not float through space
without landing upon a star.

Don't have a clue.
Don't have a clue?

They live in dive bars
and take shots of
Karkov, eyes glued
to the radio
hanging in the corner
laughing with the cracked
peanut shells on the floor

They will slaughter you
with analogies likening
Moby **** to the bruised banana
they ate prior to
their last reading

They sleep in dumpster fires
and digest the
nature of rotten cheese

Under some circumstances
they play fetch with bones
thrown by big government
just to see how many
splinters get stuck in
the roof of their mouth

Proceed to shout
"don't ask about my thoughts
on politics and government
don't ask about my thoughts
on politics and government
don't ask about my thoughts
on politics and government"

They hate politics and
would rather
cry into a red wheelbarrow
glazed with gasoline
on top of Lady Liberty's torch

and let their tears
set the world ablaze.

Ripples of smoke drift across the water on this starry night
My life was lost in a coffin on the night I was pronounced dead
But what I saw wasn't what I had imagined in my head
Roaming across a ruthless prairie rampaging through the ruins
And I begin to wonder, how man lives are pressed beneath this soil?
Think about it, there are Angels all around us, wherever we walk
And what if they aren't looking down at us, but up instead
Through the soil that separates their soul from humanity
Giving us the lift we need keeping us from sinking in

The air around here isn't the same without you to breathe it with me
Like im the only one being harmed by this field of radiation
While everyone else around me is going through their routines
Uninhibited by the fact a boy is wandering the field in misery
Sometimes it takes a while to adapt to this empty feeling
But it usually comes at a price that doesn't make much sense
I go over that night in my head like you go over a budget
But instead of losing money, I lose a piece of my sanity
Because there's part of my that won't erase the picture
And I lose the need to sharpen my pencil when that happens
And the motive to keep pensively pressing the paper

You may not know it, but you're the reason I keep crying
Because tears are the catalyst of my crippled company
Yes, it's crippled, but there are still two feet to stand on
Which means there is reason to keep myself moving forward
It's like when your heart started beating, mine lost its life
I don't find that fair
It's as though I'm walking with a noose around my neck
I still think about you in the depths of my dreams
But they give me this perception trying to deceive me
Leaving me with misguided directions that mislead me

It was ****** she wrote on the night she up and left me
It must've hurt her when she found the folded note
Like she could feel the pen weave with every written sentence
Don't lie to me, I know that's how it made you feel
I wrote it knowing it would throw you back on your heels
What I didn't know was it would be the last note you ever read
Now I'm sitting here wishing you were here with me
But I lost you to the world that was more deserving than me
When you were MY world, and I would roam your fields freely
Getting lost on purpose, strictly so you would come find me.

when we should stick.
The rigid cliffs
spiraling down our spines
grind every time
we’re held together
as one.

I don’t know about
you, but we should
probably find
a way to smooth
things out.

Maybe glue ourselves
together so our
problems don’t appear
so transparent
to others.

I am a pen
Sharp, lanky, practical.
I am surrounded by
    fingers and paper,
Garbage and a desk.
I move all around
My tip -- covered in ink,
Can convey
Limitless
Powerful
Messages.

One time i spent three weeks worrying about one hour of my life.
That's 503 hours at the expense of one, and 504 hours i can't have back.

I was walking to work today
when a train got in my way.
It seemed like it was half an hour long,
Staring at car after car while caution lights flash red.
On and on and on it goes to a destination I do not know
Rumbling and rattling bed frames and window cills.

For five minutes the commotion in town is forced to slow down,
Slow down and observe the surrounding scenery
Some with low patience scream and shout while anxiously waiting
Some with a place to be call to say "I'll be late from this"
While the patient ones will sit and wait in wonder

Sometimes the train is a pain and drives the locals insane.
It doesn't stop to ask how we're doing or what's going on in our lives
It just passes through our town, uses what it needs, then leaves
                                   just like that.
Like a traveling business man, here on a two day business trip,
who hits up the local bars late at night to find a one hit quit chick.
But we dont know where that train is from
or what it's been through
or the stories it has to tell.
So who are we to get angry at it and belittle it?
What makes it right to hate on what we don't understand?
These trains all carry something we could use
            been somewhere we haven't
            seen something we've never seen
You may not realize it now,
by it you will find out later.
Each train has a unique story to tell of all it's travels
                    but hardly has time to tell them.
Graffiti covered boxcars are all we have to tell of where they've been.
So when I was stopped by that train today
I didnt see it as a nuisance, nor call it any names.
I just pondered in envy as it passed, wondering about it's untold stories, and let it continue on it's way.