Hot iron
Steaming tuition
Wrinkled self-esteem
Door slam in the face of
flattened suits on Mission

Curse the piety
and find another dress
shirt. Crippling anxiety
Inhale to break the stress the
pressure

Sweat stains rise and
morality falls
Break the silence on the
nightstands
Break the vows, break them
all

Look to the sky crying
Wanting pleading
Bargaining again
slowly begging to find hope
somewhere before the time
of dying

And there it was

A whisper

Not an earthquake or a
firestorm
No thunder claps
in fact

Just a whisper
Gently
in the wind it came
through

Speaking softly
speaking slowly

"I Am
With You."

Find a seat
Shift positions
Drag your feet
Buy it
Buy it
Throw it away
Eat fries
Prepare for boredom
Roll your eyes
Yell at your kids
Yell at the desk clerk
Talk about work
Read a magazine
Pretend it's interesting
**** time
And more time
And even more time

Take off
Sleep through turbulence
Land

"You are allowed
One stupid question
So use it wisely
And would you kindly raise
Your hand if you don't
Understand and then politely
Leave my room

From what I can assume
This room thins out nearly
Yearly -
For Locke's Knowledge Theory
Grows weary on your minds, and
Time and time again I see
You, straight blank and ivory
Pages wilting, crumbling
Tearing to bits and pieces
But
Then I see!
Be it rare, a stare of a colorful
Sheet, lifted, gently gliding
For no writing could hold it down
And all else folds in around
It as it gleams of wisdom!
Of originality!
BREAKING THE MOLD
OF OLD WAYS OF THINKING
CHANGING THE EARTH
AND KNOWLEDGE SINKING!
AND ILL BE THE ONE
TO SEE THIS SON OR
DAUGHTER RISE UP TO CHANGE THE ORDER!
AH-HA!"

achem

"Yes, you there on the end!"

"What am I talking about you mention?
Brilliant, sir, what a wise
Way to use your one stupid question."

A dime on the floor is dirtier
than a penny on the table
Another race that's only run
By who is young and
Who is able, and
It's hard to differentiate
Who is *******
in a stable
As all our backs are sore
And our losing legs are shameful, but

Let it not discourage thee, thou, or
You
There's a faster racer running
Passing, beating without shoes
There is no flag attached
No podium or pew
Just some blood
Some wood and ash
Running through and through

There is a sun
And it rises
And further,
The world still spins

We run around it for
Gold and prizes
But our own strength
will never win
it.

Well then
Let's hear it
But Please

Please
Don't say my eyes
Or anything else
Are like the stars

Are they ***** of hot gas -
Hydrogen and helium - exploding
in nuclear fusion reactions?
Is this to what you compare?

You blindly mold prose
To things you do not
Understand

Surely there is beauty in a star
But not the kind you mean
You are letting Nature and God
Do all the work for you

And Please
Don't compare my hair
To a river flowing-
Or my voice to a Summer's
Day

Yes I'm aware that the moon
Is glowing but
My skin being a cold rock
Face
Is without flattery

Real me in like Shakespeare's
Mistress
Not the same ten words
In a different dress

Not

Large vague concepts
Attached to my exterior

For it is only the exterior from
Which your words are forming


But your poems have a lot of Instagram likes so what do I know, really

Words and lines and
Lines and tatters
All my books and
All that matters
Lie in bottom of the
Washing bin
Burning

Well
Let's start over then
Shall we?

I was supposed to be better
This time, I don't remember
If it was May, maybe September
Either one still held regret

A lighter I did lend her
As her eyes reflect the ember
I thought I'd might befriend her
Despite the cigarettes

There we sat, in a car
Driving here, driving far
Drowning gin in different bars
Words come through in blurs

I watched the lights, she watched the stars
speeding past the other cars
metal smashed, we flew apart
the blood on the dash was hers

Through all the trials never heard
Through the fade of morning birds
Through the pain of time obscured
I still have four stone walls to write these words

This is all here
But there

A shadow on your silver
Ware

A conversation with no heat

A warm toilet
Seat

And then there's
More

We're uncomfortable so
Pour
Some
More.

You sip through your Shiraz
and spill it
on the white leather seat of
my sofa
Your laughter echoes down
the hall
the walls find it contagious
but my brain
my brain
my brain pulses with anger
bursting to the surface
of my skin
back and forth
back and forth
down the hall
I get the stain remover
and finally enter the family room
and you're not there
no one is
and neither is the stain
I remember I'm alone
wishing these things
a big
white
empty house
wishing to get angry
with meaningless
stains

and you're never there
where are you

You finally said something
to me.
There I stand
thinking
of what to say

I could say something funny
or clever
or cocky
or rude
or kind

The things cycle in my head
But too much time has passed
I have said nothing
nothing

nothing

anything would have been good
to prove I'm alive
that I am a person

but you'll only remember
me as the one with nothing
to offer

You've summed me up
In an empty nutshell

I watched your hair spin
as you walked away

I whispered a
"Goodbye"

This time
The breath in my shoulders
Was just air

Anything
I
Remember

But also the things I don't
Which actually
Weigh
Much
Much
More.

I was born
Ready.
But
I grew out of it.

On a ship
I pretend to be
peter pan, jousting
flying, planning
to never
land

Walking downtown
I pretend to be
a building
sure
that actually
reflects
my culture

In the forest
I pretend to be
a dinosaur
roar
see the meteor
but still enjoy
the scenery

I'm at a party
I pretend to be
myself.

The world is spinning
Square
The sun is searing
Stare
My heart is beating
My stomachs eating
My lungs are breathing
Air

You have my number
Call
I haven't slept at
All
I sit in a chair
I sweat and I stare
Now here is where I
Fall

Your eyes are like the stars
okay
Such crimson fabric strewn in waves
sure
I watch you dance in the night
alright
My dear, the universe is ours
not bad
Our love is a thunderstorm, you're an insideout umbrella
why not
Beauty thrills me, poetry kills me
of course
Your heart is a moon that no man's landed
could I get that one framed?
Our eyes dance, our lips take naps
yeah
Did I compare anything to stars yet?

Your fingers laced
in your blanket
I press it close, just to
know your scent
I adore
the family of gnomes
and
the jungle
of stuffed animals
parading about you
as you dance
and stretch
through countless books
of wizardry
or wonder
or Sigmund Freud's
interpretation of
dreams.
My dreams are
Quite translucent,
I dream of you.
I dream of the little things.
Your placid hands peeling
tangerines, or
swimming in a pool
of jelly beans.
I dream in memories
of us, like
the time I dropped you
on our first date
and we both sat there
laughing at how awful
and beautiful it was
on that mountain
underneath the smoggy
night sky

But here I lie
Awake
And so do you.

Make sure you write your poems
With a typewriter
on some
Archaic
Obscure
Unconventional
Peice of paper

The idea of depth
Is more important
Than what actually lies beneath

No
Fifty miles an hour
Is not fast enough
And neither are my thoughts
When you approach me
You change me

Let's adjust our mirrors

I question my identity
Around others
I was never fast in gym class
So I pass you in the fast lane
Please honk
Turn on your brights
I drove my car off a cliff
Just to write about it
The page is white

Let's switch lanes again

This pencil is writing me
It's a keyboard though
Be real
Nothing's actual
Just
Digital.

I tossed away decades
Of cassette tapes today
No one has the means to play them

My mind is a floppy disk
Outdated
Useless
A source of laughter
At me, not with

But it's still meaningful
I'm ranting
Check your blind spot

What was I...
Oh, yes!
Cars.

Cars are pretty nice
You can shift
Your identity into it

Which is fine
Just
Leave the top down

I slip on my cardboard
shoes, and slide
out of my
cardboard box
I walk
to the same corner
and hold that cardboard
sign

I watch
car after car
after car
after car

I am the master
of closed windows
and straight
awkward posture

I'm the problem
that isn't there
because you ignore it

I'm thankful for my long
nails to pick
sticky ashtray change
off the pavement

I put the change
in a small
cardboard jar
I found behind a warehouse

It's a very nice jar
it hold things together well
it is well crafted

sure

it is no glass jar
or diamond
or gold
but a jar just the same

and someone threw it
away

People sit alone
outdoors
and stare into
their phone

Let it not be mistaken
they are not losers
or weirdos
clearly they are on their
device, they are important
they are not lonely.

They have a whole world
that cares about them
in that phone
they are busy
they sit alone
but are not lonely.

I would much rather see
a person, sitting there staring
at the everything and nothing
around them

enjoying the fear
enjoying the judgement
enjoying the loneliness

But, at the same time,
here I am
sitting in this
quiet, crowded courtyard
writing this on my phone

Isn't that the role
of the 'poet'?

To observe problems
they're entangled in

To be all theory
and no action

To hope that your writing
will reach everyone else
in the world
except yourself?

I drain the cold bath
I'm in, and drain the glass
bottle in my hand
both filled with a dark liquid
I watch the last swirl of water
struggle to get through
the rusted drain

why am I in this god-awful
motel

I know why

I have addictions that drove me here
Drove her away
Drove my hands
to smack my children
Drove these tears
screaming down my face

I make a list of things to blame
and exclude myself of course
but what does it matter

What does this poem matter?
I don't actually have a family
I don't have kids
and I don't even like to drink.

I know I should have
called you back
but
for some reason
I
just

didn't.

Ask people what animal they would be
if they could be anything

more often than not they'd prefer to be some type of bird, which I heard is a sign that they feel trapped in their life and are in need of some sort of freedom

I understand it

but still find it strange in a way
with us being at the top of the chain and all
how much more capable we are of being free
and are even spared the absurd beaks

but birds can fly anywhere
and do what they actually want

I wonder who has been telling these people that they can’t

I don't know
I said I wanted to be a bear
what does that say about me?

It's about 2:30 in the morning
there you stand
a janitor
weilding your gigantic
paintbrush
in a full jumpsuit
and a bald cap.
Nobody's around.
The mophead slaps the ground
you dance with it
Swirling it all
across the checkered tile
with such grace
and such beauty!
Soak
Swash
Squeeze
Repeat.
What magnificent art
Such extraordinary
masterpieces
being created
night after night
across this marble floor!
Why,
Michaelangelo would be
turning in his grave!
A shame though,
That the paint is clear
and it dries away in about
15-20 minutes
and no one will
ever see or know
the greatest art ever created
by you,
the unknown custodian,
the master of sanitations,
the mop artist.

As I put down my phone
turn off my television
take out my headphones
close my laptop
and look up
into the distance
at the trees bending
with the wind
the clouds smashing together
in a dance with passing planes
and wild birds
in one
massive
chaotic tapestry
I'm reminded
what really matters,
and it isn't me

You complain about the heat
I fan you until
I am sweating out every
ounce of my will
for you.
You complain that it's too cold.
I strip down
to bare skin and wrap
you until you are comfortable
and the smile on
my skin is a grayish-blue.
Your malcontent has drawn
me weary
My heart's marrow
drips out slowly
to feed you
and keep us alive
But what us
can there be
once it is all dried up
to nothing but bitter air?
I guess
I'll just have to wait
and see

It's there.
Some small
inconveinent
hindrance of curiosity
You see,
at night I like to lay
flat on my back
on the cement
and stare up at the night sky.
Make fun all you want
but this nonpareil view
of the stars
holds so much possibility,
so many endless and unexplainable
things
to ignore it is an insult to mankind
and your gift of consciousness!
So there I lay
trying to do my humanity
a favor
but my head
as oblong and mishapen as it were
with that flat spot
always rolls to the side
forcing a limited view
of the city!
Pfft! There is nothing to gain
from the working of other people!
I've tried building many
prosthetics for this problem,
Once,
I molded putty to my head
to make up for this tragic flaw
but it didn't work
and it looked terribly absurd.
So I suppose
as much as I imagine the universe
to be completely perfect,
the fact that earth is a part of it
makes it flawed
(which yes, I realize that includes myself)
Furthermore
as much as I like
to think of myself as perfect,
that flat spot will always be
the earth
of my head.

Nothing seems
to be
more insulting
than to be shushed
as a deaf child
by your parents
because you are disturbing
those around you
that have the gift of
hearing.

You drive in
circles and circles and circles
in a stuffy car
constantly searching
for the best possible space.
Stopped and waiting
for person after person
who clearly find it acceptable
to walk in
the
middle
of
the
street
Gritted teeth
Fingers gripped, indenting the
cushioning of your steering wheel
You imagine your
parking angels laughing
at your ridiculous prayers
playing harps to
accompany your misery.
You felt as if you haven't
taken a breath in
quite some time
as your sweat-drenched collar
seems to be tightening.
Frustration is digging ulcers
as if you're ready to just
crash your car right
into the front of the store
and,

Finally

you just settle
for the space in the way back.
Nothing to exactly brag about
at your next dinner party.
Settling is a part of life you suppose.
The door slams and you lock it.
A few paces in
and
well,
you find yourself
surprisingly
enjoying
the long walk,
this scenic route.
You remember how nice it is
to actually be outdoors
and to see some clouds
and birds and empty
noiseless air.
You laugh a little to yourself
You slow your steps and breathe.
A car honks at you for standing
in the middle of the street.

I see your kids
running around the table
screaming
and crying
existing on some
hyperactive wavelength that
exhausted adults have
waived from their capacity.
You sat there
making an art out of tuning
them out.
Quite impressive really.
Not so much could be said
for everyone else in the room though;
the rolled eyes
or deep, hollow groans
cursing your parenting skills.
The hell with them anyway.
You sit and enjoy your tortellini
and your fifth glass of wine
no frown or smile just
the blankest face
I've ever seen in my life.
Blank as,
not so much a canvas,
for a canvas was built for
the intention of being
transformed by color.
But you,
your face is the white slate
face of an unclimbable
mountain. It is
the forgotten
empty
dusty
journal of your parents,
stuffed in an attic.
Your face doesn't ask
for pity
or ridicule,
it only asks to uphold
it's sanity amidst
all the struggles
this life has to offer.

You'll get through though,
and so will they,
Sometimes it is at
the very bottom
where people discover
their greatest strengths.

You've sworn
to live for poetry
but it is
poetry that
kills you

The homeless man begged
for change, but not the kind you
keep in your pocket

Your pithy one-liners
move nothing but mouths. But
they make good wall art

There are enough people
drowning themselves
and their loved ones
in alcohol

There are enough words
being used as cement
to bring others down
in their punctured
life raft

There are enough thoughts
constantly sinking
everything in
useless negativity
until no
positive thoughts
can breathe

There are enough
black holes in the universe,
for you to choose
to become one

Her hazel eyes stare
as she gently bites her lip.
******* beautiful.

My car broke down

Across from the mechanic's shop,
I'm bowling a perfect
zero
with the bumpers up

My shoes get stolen

Barefoot in the tire lounge,
I chip my tooth on a gumball

the dentist pulled
the wrong teeth
he said it was my fault
so I apologize

I'm late for work

My boss is yelling
about something

I zone out

I don't explain myself

I get fired

I pack my box with nothing
but static air
filled with three-and-a-half
years

No one says goodbye
No one seems to notice

Except you

You call my name

You hug me
for the first time
ever

You even asked me
to call sometime

There's nothing else
I can do
but smile

and be smitten
from your laughing
at my new gold teeth

You said
"I feel like
the Earth; heavy
and destructive,
surrounded by
infinite darkness
and nothingness,
light years from
anything beautiful"
I said to stop
being so dramatic
and then
gave you some facts
about the universe
and astronomy
an other irrelevant things.
I might have even
compared you to Newton.
I tell people
"I don't know why
she doesn't talk to me
anymore"
even though
I really do.

ants kiss my coffee
mug, coffee swims inside. I
am not a writer

cereal is glad
to be so sweet and crunchy
'til it meets the milk

leaves fall to the ground
and soak into the soil;
kids play on their graves

she could never
look
into anyone's eyes
as deeply
as passionately
as she could
look
into
her own.

We've been through
some tough times
You & I
I've been chewed
and pulled
and burned
and twisted
and covered
All my arteries
tangle up in knots
as you form
me into something
different
You try and
cut me loose
but I always come back
stronger
thicker
in your face
down your spine
so
you drown me
and tie me
and push me aside
see
I've known you
since I was
just a root
You may think that
I do not get the hint
but really
it is my life
to be so
attached
to you.

The sign clearly reads
NO SCAVENGING
I don't wanna hafta 'rest ya
Just don't let me catchya 'gain
understood?
Yes?
You mean yes, sir
That's betta
Now this here a nice community
folks here don't wanna hafta
look out they windows
and see some homeless man
diggin' through they cans
cause here in the good ol'
U-S-uhv-A
We have good laws that
make sure
People who have nothin'
don't try and take things
that other people don't want

"Dinner time!" The kids
shovel seconds, and want more.
Their trash could touch space

I asked if you had
a minute
you said sure
and you gave it
reluctantly
as it was spent
in silence.
I never
got the chance
to thank you
for the only
thing
you've ever given me.

I've come to know the
hospital well
the stale smells
the nurses names and stories
the hand sanitizer
the countless quiet
nervous
elevator rides
stuff like that
I could even write a full review
of the cafeteria food
should this hospital
have it's own newspaper.
There's been too many sad days
but I find myself laughing
as she shows off her blonde
extravagant wig
The doctors and nurses
Fall in love with her
her energy
her aura
As most people do
They laugh with her
And cry with her
And hope with her
People come in
They say
things will be fine
things will get better
My mom grows weary
She's heard this since stage two
They say
keep up the fight
But seen as a fight
Her getting sicker only implies
she is not fighting hard enough
that she is losing
nothing can **** hope quicker
but she shrugs it off
She doesn't need some
greeting card or nylon balloons
or some
half-assed healer
or some gurus blowing
smoke from burning sage
She needs authenticity
connection
meaning
She needs to be told things are awful
And probably won't get better
She needs complete vulnerability
on both ends
She needs real
Which is hard to find
in a lot of places
and faces
and words
an hour with her though
she would get it out of you
the 'you' that you didn't even know
she touched lives beyond
whatever I ever imagined capable
There are many ways
I wish to be like her
but most
is to be able to smile
as real
and transparent
as she did
when I am about to die.

I growl
I lack grace
I smell bad
I take up space
"It's just big fur!" I will declare
When everyone knows
It's fat under there

Despite these things
(and others implied)
A beautiful girl
Stands by my side
I growl
She laughs
I get close
And she pets me
Could this be a girl
That actually gets me?

I sit and wonder what she sees in me
It seems she could have any grizzly!
Because of her I can decree
There's still hope
For a bear like me

The dishes smash against
The wall
The neighbors peek through
the blinds
to try and witness the
un-normalcy
of
shouting and fighting
in a well-respected
upper-class
community.
Those neighbors are posers though
They fight too
Just silently
And over the span of
a few decades
Either way the cops show up to
better the situation.
Her hands pack her bags
As her eyes unpack their tears
I won't need a grinch this year
I've killed my own Christmas.

I would
never
consider myself
by any means
one fit for
the military
though
now and again
I still may
find myself
taking orders from
Major Depression.

You'll never know
how much it meant
that you pieced my
caterpillar
back together
piece by piece
the time
the f r u s t r a t i o n
You must have put into
each delicate detail
the thin fragments
the spontaneous glue
I never had the words
at such a young age
to express any form of gratitude
or understanding
and I barely do now
I can only say
I will never be more excited
for show-and-tell
for
the
rest
of
my
life.