His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

It was a time of mad irreverence, of lawless bedlam
When the shackles which bound our restless souls
To the tiny wooden cells
where we worked on the arithmetic  chain gang
watched by the warden of words and numbers,
she who ruled that house of order with an iron fist and a wooden ruler
were  stuck off, and lost all hold on us

It was freedom, and it burnt hot and wild in our veins,
the heat perhaps intensified
by the sweltering oven the sun made of every inch of unshaded ground
In the feverish, mad world of summer, we were kings
We ruled, and laughed at those who would rule us
Foolish, reckless dangerous, unstoppable, crazy, free,
Young

Untamed,  shameless, we ran in droves
And the clamoring, thunderous roar of laden pickups
Music and laughter spilling out of the windows
Seats stuffed full of hormones and hedonism
Dominated every lonesome dirt road in all of Arizona
We drank and smoked and swam in a sea of uninhibited adolescence
And then it was over, and we went back to our chains.

Waiting, ever waiting
The young wait for their life to begin
Until they get old and wait to die

Waiting, ever waiting
Watch the bus pulling away,
And count the seconds as they run away towards infinity
Watch the clock pick your pocket like a vulture picks a corpse
Waste your time dreaming
Waste yourself drinking
Live your life a slave to a screen and a victim to the clock

Waiting, ever waiting
Wait your days away, and tell yourself the time will come
Watch the time come and go, through the ever revolving door
Someday, tomorrow, in a week, fooling yourself with broken promises
Until one day the hospital heart monitor delivers your final deadline

Time’s up.

I saw him in the fields as a boy
And he was smiling
Such a tender youth and full of love
For every living thing great and small

The sheep were all around him
And each he fed out of hand
One by one, smiling at his flock
With eyes full of love
And a heart ever giving


I saw him in the market square
And he was smiling
The great teacher
And all those who follow him

The people did flock to see him
And he spoke to them and told stories
He taught the masses, young and old
I saw the shepherd king
When jesus of Nazereth came to market

I saw him in his chains
Lead through the town bruised and ******
Lead by roman jailors toward death
While all around the crowd was in turmoil

He never cried out, nor begged for life
He never moaned, never complained
Even when the raised him up, and nailed him to the cross
His only words were a dying prayer
He was smiling.

The constant mental banter
    Back and forth yes or no
        Do I disappoint my love
            For a moment of instant gratification?

            Do I throw away recovery
        Three solid months
    Itchy skin and hateful thoughts
For a moment of instant gratification?

                                                               ­                                                         And I'm so full of regret
                                                                ­                                                     Because it wasn't worth it
                                                              ­                                                       And I hurt my best friend
                                                          ­                                         For a moment of instant gratification

          A moment of instant gratification
          That wasn't even gratifying
          Wasn't in the slightest, satisfying
          Harboring a moment of regret
          For something he won't forget
          But I tried in vain to justify
          The actions I couldn't dignify
          Words that trickled like thorns
          Oh how I wish I waited a minute more
          And not let their whispers win
          Screams rather, as they crawl in
          They soothed their shrieks
          And gently brushed my cheeks
          And convinced me it didn't count
          If it didn't bleed on my account  
          But he held my close and said it did
          I can't swallow it, but it's true, I backslid
          "But it didn't leave any marks to show"
          My mind screams and my heart does echo
          "I didn't bleed in the slightest my dear"
          Disappointing him is a biggest fear
          As immaturity grasps at my soul
          I have to accept my repercussions in whole
          Three months down the drain
          And causing my best friend pain
          Not a scar to show for what I've done
          But away from me, he'll never run..

He's been through this before
Writer's block
No, not that
But the feeling of it
Applied to life
As a whole

All's dank near the dream
The dream
That which we all have
Dreams of our lives
Dreams of our lies
As we abandon all good and evil
In our search for stability

What we seek
shining nameless
walking out of the world
we chase it
visualize it
black on glowing grey
the green light deferred for a grey one

It walks, then runs.

From these dreams
the witness
turns aside
constantly
throughout his life

the witness runs
the distance grows
the impossibility is perceptible
We know what is happening
We are all witnesses
yet we do not know the solution
so we watch on
the arid climate of our world scorched by our own infallibility
our race
the one we share as inhabitants of this earth
the one drawn as a cartoon image of itself
drawn in its own image
redrawn, modernized

The traveller waits on the shores of our beach
He beckons to the shadows in the distance
He calls out, warmly
like a father to his son
He calls once more
He calls no more
The traveller waits

I wish to call out to the traveller
I wish to exclaim
'disguise not your battered soul'
I wish to comfort
But I cannot
I am in the distance
My limbs will not carry me in that direction

I am in the distance
amongst a flock of martyred guns

in our digital world, a blank text box is a blank page.
we need not think about what we will write
we need not think.
yet we are human.