We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

I won't allow you
To question me
On old, broken mirrors
And old, shattered dreams
I won't let you see me
Based solely
On what the world did to me
Through the eyes of self-pity
So to answer your questions
Yes, I'm doing just fine
With all that has happened
I found a way to survive
Not by myself though,
I can't stand here and lie
I had some extra help
Something divine

when a boy finds a girl pretty
his mass of love gains velocity
and in that moment(um) of trance
he sees a chance for romance!

when a girl finds a boy attractive
though she first plays a little evasive
can’t hide for long her cheeks’ blush
in the growing velocity of her love’s mass!

Sham wow.
we shall slaughter our cows
and swim in the blood, my pal
No more plowing for these cows
I insist now that we bathe.

Sham wee.
I have to disagree
we've been bartering and broke
alas to these cows gave us meat
See our fields, vast and free
seeds of gold will make us rich!

A sham? It's a shame.
Selling paint and pans to you my man
a **** dripping payment
wishful thinking
I wish I had a *** to **** in
Kids in their Plymouths shouting
it's pathetic
I'd pepper spray any jaded figure
if they told me they had regrets

Let them run their mouths
Kids will be kids even when they're 33
Their Plymouths breaks down every week
jaded figure my ***, flaws they experienced
By inheritance they succeed
They age like any old man swerving their needs
We will have regrets if you don't listen to me.

Listen here
all wishing of life supreme
follow the divine ruler an ye shall not crumble
pests. 33 men or 33 boys?
whilst you waste sand deciphering,
thy kingdom withers
A **** drunk man hath no memory
no manners
torn lips. I twist at the sides waiting for death
succumb to regret and I shall spare no gratitude

Don't be deluded, you're just drunk
You're still 23 living in that big oak tree
If it wasn't for me
You'll be living in the streets
Let's finish this
Or u can bury yourself deep
within your life's agony

I detect mutiny
You trip over words while you question my authority
if a tellers words match a tellers hands, then why worry?
but I feel your dishonesty
I see it in the air you breathe
I question you because I can
Because I should
**Because I am
Supreme

Under the I-20 bridge
over the Chatta-
'hoochee suits me
fine as fishin' line

- I've been retried
and found
I ain't wanted

nothing but a winter coat -
my sweet mutt Woof
- an old six string Martin
and a 'frigerator carton

for sleeping in the winter wind
when the sun don't shine -

I don't have a bone to pick
- my fingers ain't quiet as quick
and nimble on a riff - my back is stiff
- but my voice is still whiskey

smooth and my words turn
water into thunderbird - wine

retried suits me just fine
- jailhouse jeans
and salvation army boots -
refried beans and cheap cheroots
- sitting on an old truck tire
around an open fire

I've been  retried and trued
but I ain't yet retired -

somebody's got
to feed my dog -
sing some songs
- catch these fish
and start the fire -
drink a little *****

- 'neath the I-20 bridge
over the Chattahoochee

rivaaa····

r ~ 10/16/14

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

it gets old - the news
of war - no more glory

-  the dead are dying
old and young

- we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

living in our rooms
above the fray -

we turn away
like yesterday -

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

another day.

r ~ 10/17/14