My mind is wed to
weird worlds
no one else can view,
fantasy realities,
and nightmare realms
that haunt me,
such terrible
terrors taunting,
like stairways
to primordial days
or ancient ages
were massive
sea monsters
raged beneath
the deep seas.

I walk through
windows to
grassy fields
that yield
fond fairytales.

In my daydreams,
I am pursuing
my own undoing
ungluing
all that held
me to myself.

Ancient pines,
as close as I
can hope to find
to the divine,
run rings around
the years I’ve found.

I am dying,
whilst trying,
intensifying
the neural firing
of my overactive
spastic synapses,
these bio electric
responses.

Tender digits
from children
who fidget,
take the rose stem
and grab it,
pricked and bleeding
while delicate petals,
fall and float away
fleeing the dying flower.

Waking or sleeping
it is all a dream to me.

They say an elephant never forgets,
but an eloquent man
is bound to regret
all the things that he
hasn’t done or seen yet.

He is not a pachyderm
standing firm
as he packs up
all the junk in his trunk
that he has earned.

There will be
a lot of baggage
that he doesn’t need
when he leaves,
so perhaps
he should step back
and drop those
old gray bags.

They are barely peanuts.
Anyways,
traveling light would be
preferable
because his past
though quite durable
is as heavy as
that massive land mammal.

There is nothing
more worthy
of noting
then meeting
and knowing
a woman
empowered.

Eyes sparkling
with passions,
stirring
conversations,
discovering
nations
of new ideas,
the poetry of
a soul
that reveals
new ways to
think and feel.

The strength
of experiences
translated
into
a brand new
pre-used
world view,
transcribed
behind eyes
that do more
than merely
entice
but enchant
and expand
what we
understand.

I am data driven,
taking in
information
all the time.

Spewing
pretty but
polluted
perspectives.

Looking for
new directions,
and mind blowing
paradigms.
Then changing them
with the changing times.

More books,
audio, paper,
digital, hard bound.

More shows,
and music
so I can use it
for my own artistic
development.

Keeping going.
No settling
or finally letting
the sediment
under the water
stop moving.

I need constant
electrical currents,
cause if I slow down
then I will have to
face the sound of my
own unsettling thoughts.

Even though, I know that a
multiplicity of alternate realities
is not a certainty but has a minor probability;
I have an affinity for infinity and eternity
with all the weird entities therein.

If time is linear
then any human error
becomes inevitable
when the time is here
and gone.

Sorrow spilt silk streams,
thin lines of pain falling.
They are like old fuzzy dreams,
tiny inklings, hints to a puzzle
that I’m not trying to solve.

A spark of a memory
which I no longer recall,
a place in my brain
I don’t visit at all,
but once in a while
a shadow creeps
from the closets that keep
little pieces, jagged edges,
sharp parts of my heart
that have been shattering
for as long as I have been
living in this cruel world.

Tears come but I disregard,
hit reset so I can restart.
After all I’ve come so far,
too many miles to be hindered
by the chains of a ghost
I don’t want to remember.

Like a frozen dead bird
that refuses to rot,
just sits under permafrost,
I hope I never thaw
because spring will bring
all the sorrows of lonely.

You go on living,
keep on working
while I am giving
all the poetry I have,
all the jokes to
make everyone laugh.

But, I suspect
that we won’t connect.

I don’t want to ask,
but why don’t you
love me like I
love you.
Please come here,
please go away.
I feel so isolated.
Please leave me be.
I am happy with
my own misery.

So, I know
where I follow
you will never go.

I want to reveal myself,
share strange stories and relate
to those who suffer the same,
even though I am doing great.

You’re inspiring and beautiful.
I am inquiring about your youthful
passions,
passing certain questions
asking about shared obsessions.
You go out into the world
and really live in it,
while I want to see life
and write brilliantly about it.

Maybe, someday you will read,
feel and see all the things
that I tried to share.
I won’t be there
and I suspect
that even if
we do connect
it will be
far too late for me
to see.

I'm shining like Stephen King,
while you’re a firestarter,
a fast furnace exploding,
growing, and blowing
up in a biggest bang
that I have ever seen.

Tell me something about it,
cause I’ve got a brief case of misery
sprinkled with just a bit of psychotic,
as violent as Carrie’s and Cujo’s rabid rage.

No regulators here in the dead zone,
just a long walk trying to get home
with more stuff that's been bothering me,

wondering if it’s time for me to take a stand,
to get my brothers and sisters to understand
there won't be any rest in the pet cemetery,
and there's no place to sleep in Salem's lot
unless you’re dying here beside me,
while I’m losing my blaze,
ending my graveyard shift workday.

I'm an outsider, tired bag of bones,
but I keep doing my roadwork,
watching that dark tower rise as I drive.
Maybe someday death will catch me if it can,
but for now, I’m a pretty fast running man.

See the highway that they painted like the grassland
on that road I roll full of desperation for elevation,
one more green mile left, but I’m getting thinner.
Mr. Mercedes will be too late to make it to dinner.

I am alone my mental cell,
the institute where Doctor Sleep
will not come. Perhaps, you'll stand by me
enjoying all the four seasons that we see
with my dark half drawing three
talismans like the Colorado Kid,
my dear Duma and strange Christine.

Though, it’s insomnia that keeps me from sleep,
with the hopeful heart of Atlantis,
I pray they finally grant me peace,
and little quiet space to read
some more works from Stephen King.

She's a protester
not a warrior
but something
so much better,
a singer song writer
a warm and brighter
lamp that keeps us
from succumbing
to the mind numbing
dullness with which
greedy men try to use
to **** our muse,
and give us the blues.

I abhor a bore
Don’t you?
I’d adore some more
Thank you.
                ljm

I got eye strain and back pain
from sitting in the chair all day,
working my life away,
clicking on keyboards and mouses,
while staring at computer screens,
and ignoring other things;

I am detached from the fact that
there is more than just me,
because everyone I see,
every single human being
has turned into pixelated images
on the monitor I’ve monitored
all day.