We are not really broken
until we are broken
       and then we mend
and break again
      until our bones
become smashed
to smithereens
mapped into tiny lines
         and cracks
with some darkness
        in between
white matter, crushed
             into jigsaw pieces,
laden with blood, with spit, with silt
until the despair
that fear releases
interacts with self-blame
           and guilt
And how they weigh upon us,
these layers of pain
like heavy blankets
on our contours, in the dark
the maze of our pasts
thick upon us
as we strive to envision
                             a spark
perhaps just a tiny glowing,
at first, a barely felt
shadow of light
a glimmer, a whisper of
           knowing,
a drive urging us on
           to fight
and all of our minerals
rub off in sparkling crystals
as we brush up
against the walls
of that ever-blackened tunnel
as we stumble
and steady the fall
feeling a subterranean rumble
a shifting of perspective
as we battle questions,
spinning thick
into the whirlpool of our yearning
into molten metals, slick
We might think we can snap
                           with the ease
of a lonely brittle star
that tomorrow
could be a tribute,
              in lacerations
to the last trace
            of who we are
but it can happen, as we
sit upon, plan the edge
              of our last breath        
                       deep, subtle beats
                        of truth rise up
                to repel the scent
          of death
and, in pulses of light
                  it drifts
bends in willowy arcs
upon our soul it trips
******* light out
from the dark
and all the sharpened hooks
that kept us chained
         to the abyss
are released as
              we break free
into heaven's rolling kiss
feeling the flutters
of a new, kind breeze upon our skin
as Life's vast impulse
courses through us
     and simply wins
and the only demise
we're mourning
is the death of
          of a dormancy,
a resistance to again
receive and give
as we embrace
those little, precious instincts
that tell us to keep on
and choose
            to live

Chaotic systems*
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams

Work ain't progress
It's a misused regress
Full of regrets
The greatest dissolution
No vision, just revisions
The mission of bureaucracy
Hypocrisy and autocratic casts
Top cats bumper weighty bonuses
Outclassed in beer bellies
Slashed in pompous waistcoats
What a waste on the coast?

I am not afraid to tell you, "I ain't a ******* robot"
I am not a machine of production and rotations
I am not afraid to tell you, "Go **** your *****"
Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous

Chaotic systems*
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams

Be an example, model the sample
Let the leader lead the leaders
Let the leader be the servant
An active weaver of the basket
To hold with the strongest straws
In rows and crows, clinging to all
A negotiator of the common people
A facilitator in times of conflict
Let the worker be dedicated
Passionate, triumphant and trial-led
But the case is, all are in it for the money

I am not afraid to tell capitalists, "Give workers their rights"
I am not a ******* charity mate! Share the faked matte!
I am not afraid to tell you, "Stick it up on your ***!"
**Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous

Shivers on skin— I walked among stars;
I walked on broken edges
I walked on broken light.

The sound of space is the mourning of a mother,
a lullaby of the past,
of all the pain it takes to become
on someone else’s demand,
and all the time it takes to disappear
by your own accord.

The night smells of burnt ash;
there are no falling wishes here,
only wicked angels.

Come, let us sleep.
It does not do to step on the dead.

I rest as a totem pole. Hand carved from a sliver of cedar, i am a collection of my elders whose reflection is my mere existence. i plant before you the 7 deadly beasts within me; mad as hell, playful as the devil.

this is me, i will not be meek, or mute, can you handle the knout?

"Make me brighter then the
sun shinning over the Pacific.
With the waters below flickering like
Diamonds in it's ocean spray.
Create my face as beautiful as the
most colorful rainbow floating through
The bluest sky's.
Keep my heart warm, but as RED as
The  Hell's fire's.
Paint my emotions that will run through
My body like the winds storms  over an Arabian desert.
Have your brush complete me with
Your warmest touch, and your favorite color.
For I am Your  canvas that you bring
TO life."

What breath in this chest I take
Take like the night at Dawn's wake
Wake as eyes must at our birth
Birth and pulse of a Heart's worth...

What shame I now must hold and own
Own as ball to chain, as flesh to bone
Bone deep to have been wrongly had
Had like used knick-knacks, paddy-whacked...

And yet, what colors made a learned soul
Soul as bright as faithful to All who's Whole
Whole of the infinite universe made absolute
Absolute to know my love blind and my hate mute

No one to speak to, no words for proof
Proof of life pursuant to heaven's roof
Roof without rooms for an emperor
Emperor, what am I but a seed to the conifer?

What am I to him, who dresses his sons in gossamer?