Sorry that I found out
the price of freedom
is always leaving first.

I used to be golden
now I'm covered in tar
My lungs give in when
I've traveled too far
please let me shine for
just one more moment
please let the light
reach out
so I can be gorgeous
for someone who won't know me
fill up my waters
then break through my levy
my hands are shaky
nobody can steady
these legs full of jello
all I want is a
hello old friend
hello

If you can't whistle it
it isn't a song.*
Wise words once emanating
from false teeth
and a liquorice addiction.
He took tooth picks to flick
the grit from beneath nails,
inhaled just before a snore.
One war, two dogs, three sons,
and a wife that shaved his face
when he was in a coma.
He was a little late on the draw,
always saying things out of context,
then he'd wink at me, crack a grin,
fall asleep before the conversation ended.
I like to think that he is just
snoozing away, drifted off in the middle of a talk,
and someday he'll start up with a grunt
as if nothing ever happened.

I've held on so long
that my fingers might break
under the pressure of the weight
you dropped on me
I can't shake this feeling
Like a pencil stuck in the
schoolroom ceiling, just waiting to take
the fall.

I've cried out so much
my throat might crush
I can't take the tingle
that intercepts my veins
like the warnings you gave me
straight to my brain.

I don't mind it
Shovel up another spoon full
lets get through with it
I like the taste of medicine
any
way.

I sit on the hill
seeing Martinez light up
as the sun passes behind the cusp
of Mt. Diablo
this dirt witnessed me turn old,
has stories to tell,
a well of sorrows spent and sorrows kept
it's seen the laughter
along with emptiness
my souls settles like dust
after a gust of unrest, turbulence
while the Great Plains call
my name rustling through the grass
my heritage, past lives pushing
pulling
controlling, unbeknownst to me
sitting silent with the
Bay Area
trees

I don't know how else to say this
I've waited, I'm patient, *******.
I keep my kind heart, selfless, but helpless
and loveless.
I'm tired of sleeping alone, or even just not
having cute voice mails on my phone.
Tired of putting my neck out
and getting chopped and not bit
and I know swearing is unattractive
but **** it, this is *******.
I'm a good kid, for the most part.
Never put people in harms way
don't bash on those who aren't the same.
I love people, I love them so much,
their laughs, voices, touch
so why am I laying alone again,
what is my sin!?
What the **** did I do?
Why do I mean nothing to you,
and you,
and you.

Disappearing inside a Foster's Freeze
not making a scene of it just easy,
slipping out a side door and wisked
away by a breeze.
I'm feather light
gone by the last drop of grease.

I am an intelligent being
made from star dust
my insides don't hold to
male, female
straight, gay
or any orientation
there is no combinations that defines
not human, not white
which is why I feel most at peace
while gazing at the night sky
longing to throw off this curse
of being neither here nor there,
to go back home
into the universe

Taco Bell was the only thing I ate today
thought it was going to be a good day but it turned out not so great,
I've already got a lot of **** on my plate and now I got big fat weight
to stomach
and I'm just a skinny dude, my plates heavy enough, **** it
I can barely eat half a meal when I try
I'm at my limits, and I don't know if you can see it in my eye
but I'm pretty close and it's just a feeling like
I'll never be the same again
I'll never be on top, I'll never be a president or anything important
I just feel like a ******* and figured I'd record it

in this empty house, just my ****
and I'm kinda gunna miss it, but it's business
to get my own mission
I find myself wishing
that I was more than a white kid at a sandwich shop
with no schemes, or ideas, or dreams
no revolutions on how to get my ****
on the right track
Feel's like I'm falling right back
to the same conundrum, my old problems man I thought I stumped 'ummmm,
thought moving out would solve 'em but it didn't really
it even brought new problems like bills and money
and I don't know if I can get it done cause
I'm a dumby....

I
  ran
        out
               of
                   words
or
     maybe
                  just
                          heart.

Crooked glasses dangled from the tip
of her nose, tip, tap, typing away
                    "Uh-huh, yes, spring."
One third of a paper later,
my entire life has changed.

Two days will see
my blue hair clashing
with a red and green glow
back in San Luis Obispo
a holiday bash raging inside
she'll long for me
while sipping a mix drink
watching as I blow smoke
into the night
I'll hold back a wink
keep my tongue in my throat
remembering when I hadn't been
a heart
breaker

My head of stone
won't let anyone in
these days

Sometimes I just get high
and drift away
for a couple of hours
like the coward that I am.
Then I bake a cake in my birthday suit
got out for a smoke and I'm zooted
feelings totally muted,
it's gettin' late and
I can't find a way out of this
game that I'm losing,
so,
sometimes I just get high
and drift away
for a couple of hours
like the coward that I am.

her voice is the ring of a hundred
silver bells,
rolling across the Irish Sea
passed Cork and the cliffs of Moher,
then on out over the ocean,
spanning the great divide,
till their shining reaches the East Coast,
flows over the Great Plains,
and on through the Mojave desert,
to dance around my ears,
banishing all fears.
A hundred silver bells
to ward against the whispers.

ashes from spliffs,
smoked at night to
make me water spilling
off a cliff,
waft in the breeze
that is me.
crumpled papers crunch
underneath bare feet,
deceased trees smothered
in new meanings.
empty six packs stack,
cardboard towers guarding
against attack,
old bags, newspaper ads,
a half-full coffee cup
stands tall by the entry,
waiting for commands,
sacrificed to dispel sleep,
towels lay thrown in corners
with acted malice
an attempt to practice
being callus.
this in no apartment
it is a
trash palace.

A rocky, wavy buffet
served out on the water today.
Waiting on the whales,
but their hiding,
or sleeping,
or swimming away.
In the misty distance waits Diamond Head,
looking out on us,
unassuming.
Take a dive
in the Hawaii ocean.

Drift wood fences
protected the garden
complete with iron gate
and a little man
whose whole life is to wait.
The frame, sleeping against
the fence
has an empty mind
much like mine
kept safe with ivory fences
and organic gates
envious of the Waiter
who gets to stay here forever
and
                            wait...

hacking coughs rack my body
forcing sleep to evade me
just give me some loving company
please
please
please

She said my celtic sign
was a willow tree
Tough though slight
and in touch spiritually
She was the Nutwood
swinging to and fro
but the combination
of those signs was good
it was a shame I moved away
but she doesn't know
that what's left of willow me
is nothing but a burnt out
husk and a stump to sit on
and weep.

naps turn into days
weeks, years it seems
on a shell strewn beach
trying to escape
off in the distance
an island drifting
over hung with clouds
a terrible feeling that
I must get out
climb the shale
all the way down
freezing waters sting
my doubts
stroke, stroke, stroke
away from the shore
till I drown
and awaken
reborn

Razor...sharp
grabbing cans
filled with blunt graves
on a sunset chase
until dark
Coffee and **** raiders
sharp.

In class today Luis read his story
it blew us all away
a tale about an old man
living in a LA barrio
who used to believe in change
used to march for a cause
It got everyone right in the heart
and in the hearts of all their ancestors
The story was so full of culture
that even us whities felt it
That's when it hit
when I realized why my writing
never grabs people on such a deep level
I have no culture, I'm a jumble of whiteness
too far removed from Europe to have
any trace of my forefathers
I have no customary meals
I have no language diversity
no traditions at all really
Except smoking **** in the suburbs
and snorting coke in bathrooms
it's meaningless
and the culture I think I have is stolen
appropriated
My roots have been torn out
of whatever snow covered ground
they once belonged to
I feel empty, I feel like part of nothing
and Luis' ******* writing
made me feel like part of something
that I'm really not even close to
I loved it
I hated it
I wanted to rip it to bits
I wanted to read it ten times in a row
He made me want to give up
He made me hang my head in shame
I got home and put flame
to my last short story
I'm a cultureless swine
I'm boring
I'm boring
I'm
boring

Rest easy weary hearted traveler,
you can lay your dusty shoes
at my door, hang up that beaten coat.
I'll put some water on the stove,
tea or coffee if you'd like,
I'll sleep on the couch
so you can have my bed tonight.
In the morning it's eggs, bacon,
red bell pepper and toast.
The shower will warm up quick
to rid the grit betwixt your toes.
Any who are in need of a pit stop
can call my place
a home on the road