So it begins
Nearly a century in
Over 500,000 minutes
Of every year
Times 24 hours
Times 365

And so it ends
Nearly a century in
53-to-the-tenth smells
Tells, shells, tactile sensations
Tens of thousands of likes, dislikes

X-numerous memories
X-thousand relationships
X times X being you
X-ed.

We spend some time here.
We do some things here.
We hope we’ve been here.

Times runs out
Life re—

Starts.

I really can't hear your words
As you walk away

I CAN BE LOUD
When I can't hear you

I can be an *******
As an excitable boy

When did we skid off the tracks?
Did you hear that coming?

I miss being touched
That doesn’t happen anymore

You are full partner
To all the the button pushing

I’m tired of this twisted tango
I just want to be felt and heard

Silence comes
  from bones
that rot in the Earth
beneath a wet stone
with a carved name
   white as good teeth
in a hard jaw.

Silence is
  a homerun some kid
hit in Tennessee
in 1973 and a father
remembering the ball
  going like a bullet
deep into left center.

Silence is
  a brother grimacing
whispering your name,
through salt
  and tears on his cheeks,
one last time.

Silence, it just is...
  quiet, like pain.

Will I still be your wife in the afterlife?
Will you still stare at me and swear you care?
Will we still declare our love?
After we both know
it was my hand in the glove
that held the knife
that ended your life and stilled our love.

Someday will come for us.
Till then our blemished secrets
and tarnished dreams only lay in wait.

Our hands may now yield nothing...
But “someday” sleeps quiet
at the back of our minds.
Awaiting for enough time to elapse.

Someday can never be rushed.
It can never be summoned.
It will come when it comes
and when it does, we’d hardly notice
it’s arrival because the anticipation
and longing will be replaced by overwhelming happiness and relief.

So wait...
It will come.
Someday “someday” will be today.

Fast more fast and a faster drive
Speed not kills but saves his life
Reach quicker and deliver more
Matters only numbers of door.

Someone's son someone's heartthrob
Forgets all when ******* job
Quick quicker on quickest mode
Bike wheels burn on asphalt road.

In lanes bylanes must find address
Can't afford one small recess
A brief meeting and end of deals
Pocket bunched with paid bills.

Around moon is a haloed mist
But night is one cruel beast
Won't let him look above
Think of a poem sweet in love.

Absence is a period with a period.

Visible, not visible, and repeat,
the mighty feat
the enduring human spirit
in the faith of subsidence of pain
that the book on the table
will be picked up and read again.

It keeps us going
the strength in the sense
too real is the presence.

Then a day
the book is taken away
the loved pens an ode
of absence definite
without a period.

WHAT?

Shell shocked

Trying to be nice, bombed

I saw you feel hurt
I know I was part of that
Not sure of the how of it

You tell me to make the sky orange
I can't make the sky orange
Nothing rhymes with orange

I try to be a good man
I reject the role of bad man
I am the man I am

What you feel is yours
But I colored it
Cause it? No.

WWD at 3:41 am
In the trenches
Here to stay.

Once I was young and strong,
Consumed with compelling
desires of Horizon Lust,
traveling forth wide and far.

Time and age has intervened,
now I stand alone and wait
high above on the city gate,
Silent sentry to all of those young
lives that venture forth to explore
horizons of their own, and those
weather beat ones like me
returning to rest and remain.

Accepting as I must, that I shall
never again roam too far afield  
from my place upon the gate,
Content with a life well lived,
to languish now upon this place.

Horizon Lust is for the young.