hey little one
i see you sitting
over there
on the fringe
of society

i see behind your
smile
to the tears pooling
in the corners
of your eyes

little one...
it is ok to be
so scared
life is a big thing
to undertake

yet you have to
take a step
and join the fray

little one
sitting quiet in
the shadows
waiting for
your spotlight,
your allocated time...
your little ray of sunshine....

little one....
i see you there
waiting to be told
but you gotta
make your own stories
and create
your own fold and creases
in the game of paper
and life's origami  leases

give it time
                 give it time
i promise you, little one
                          you will find  
                                    your way

this reflexive soul- how readily
i spurn another misery. yours
sat watching from the fenceline.
and me, oh, i get mine in swathes,
and, oh, of course it's over you. i'll
never be over you. i hope this fact
crosses your mind as i dissolve out
of your everyday, everyfortnightly,
every-now-and-then, and, finally,
impresent thought patterns. some
cruel sequence. just come keep me
warm. just a little while. for once, i
won't write it out cryptic:

but you'll be warmer without me. you've no need to apologise. i
don't know what i'd do with you,
anyway. you'll never come over.

I'd pen a paragraph
or two
scribble out a
scroll
for
you
the ink pours out this pen
to produce a pretty prose
that's true
hoping
to show my view
my hopes
my dreams
the best for you
don't waste life
heed
this
be true
to you
make mistakes
keep youth's virtue
get a tattoo
in fact
get two
try that awful hairdo
keep your family
close
remember their value
be spontaneous
an impromptu trip
to a beach
or igloo
hug your mother
when
she's blue
learn Kung fu or write haikus
just continue
down your own
avenue



             I hope to be there to see
             how you grew and take
                 some credit for the
                              you
                              that
                                is
                              you

When I was eleven I came home
with a piece of paper
back then I knew
how much those five letters  
would determine how much
you were worth
and as a kid, I felt pretty
worthless
there was a time I remember
before the paper
where all I would do
was draw

Mountains fascinated me
and that’s what I drew
all the time, mountains
I drew them with snow caps-
Without snow caps
I drew trees at the foot of them
Plaster a setting sun in the distance
Made them look like teeth
And a road came from them
Leading nowhere but to you

I was eleven
When I tasted the value
Of myself
Slapped across my cheek
Like a tattoo
And the first word
To be printed on me
For everyone to see;
Failure

And they all knew that
Was true
I could never turn my mountains
Into Everests
My trees into the Amazon Basin
Or my lakes into the Atlantic
And I ran through the world;
A blank piece of paper,
All of a sudden everybody had
A reason to use a sharpie

I’ll never be able
To make my mountains
Into Himalayas

And I can never stop them from
Using their Sharpies,
After a while your skin color
Doesn’t matter anymore
What they see on you is a story
And they can tell me what they think
But they’ve never seen my back
The things that I’ve carved on to the
surface of my spine
She feels them sometimes when we
have ***
trying to figure out where the period
ends.

This is more than a goodbye
more than a placeholder, or
a to be continued, this is a farewell
to everything both good and bad

This is all my fears, every last tear
placed on a platter, and I am forced to consume them
one by one, until I'm reminded
that nothing good lasts forever and everybody leaves

This is more than a death, more than a
resurrection, I know now the loneliness
Jesus felt in that tomb, but this emptiness I feel
is going to last a lot longer than 3 days

I will rise, slowly, dusting off
the remnants of a less-than heart
never to be the same again
too many tears have been shed, but

*I'll see you next lifetime

I miss you like cigarettes
I miss you like cake.

Once there was a boy
Who became a cog when he entered the big machine
When he started to slow down and creak
They medicated him to keep him going
When he graduated with a Bachelor's he became a gear
And when he began to crack from the pressure
He considering protesting, but didn't because that's what it meant to be an adult
So when he finally snapped, people were surprised they hadn't seen the signs
And he spent three months in a white room
When he was released he sat on a stoop silently
No one knew whether he ever left it or slept or ate
Because no one noticed him
Except film students who would use him in time elapsing shots
So when he stepped in front of a bus one day
Only Jesus was there to stop him
And then he died anyway.

Oh yes, I have seen birds in a herd and cows in flocks
And painted the picture just using a sock
Oh
Oh
Oh
Such art is I and not for lesser beings
I see fish, yes fish swimming through the sky
Oh swim fish swim
Such inspiring words from I BUT
words wasted
Oh but but
My brain is going to implode
Such a loss to the world of art
To many beans for breakfast
Oh the ****...The royal artistic ****
Oh oh why are I so misunderstood?
For artistic vision is food
My beret worn with such flair and grace
A halo yes for I am godly
Placed on this earth for your desire
To bring art to your godless souls
Oh you, you artless peasants

Bow your worthless heads in my presence