It’s been a long time since the piles in your backyard towered.
Filled up with tables and chairs,
Microwaves and dryers.
You never cry like you used to
Before the pills
When the pile was higher
And your hands weren’t as rough.
Some days I’d like to take those pills
And add them to my own pile
With the tattoos and scars
The piles and piles that grow on my back
The endless desert,
The mountain of spine.
All the places you can’t see
And all the places you choose not to see.
There was a time when I was afraid of you
Afraid of being carelessly adopted into your pile
Now I’m afraid of myself
And being buried in my own.

Somewhere along the line
it feels like I lost my poetry.

But I've always had a deep affinity of childhood curious-gaze with the light of a passing car slicing through a slumped drapery in the dead of a powerless October night
like a fumbling mouse with night-vision, glassy eyed, walk, walk, walk
run, run, run
scurry-rubber like an imperial humvee of red-carpet glamor.

Somewhere along the line
the freeze of a less-than-bourgeoise temperature never felt close to Antarctic
until the ring of a cell-phone became my national anthem
and the complacent all-eternity-and-everything-we-are-and-more reflective one-eye of a laptop became my national flag
I waived it with surrender calling to all nation states that 'I don't give a sweet ****,
entertain me.'

watching politics like sports and sports like politics I couldn't help but hear the old Native inside of me scream in suffocated final breaths so I turned up the volume to drown him out
and when I wished to return to his comforting embrace, I found he had drown to death
so all I could do was stand over his wading body in the river of my mind and lax my shoulders in defeat.

I rang the midnight church bell of 'send new message' to tell the world that didn't care
the shaman is dead.

all they said was
'finally, the shaman is dead.'
I nodded, laughed, locked the bathroom door
and cried until the river ran dry
the shamans body so far down creek I could pretend to forget he had ever existed

the ache inside became a masked anonymity with the glare of Dorian Gray
I shrugged and said, 'I could never make time anyways'
and fell right back into my sleepy routine with another cup of coffee.

I feel as if I've lost you,
Doe eyes.

The words haven't left me yet
Come back and hear what I can change
See what I can feel
Love what I can hate
Hate all that I love
Do you feel me still?
Sugar brains.

Question mark.
Something is in the way
Speak out loud
Be the light in the cloud above
The sky is grey
Lady love

Fall in between the space that they can't reach
Out of shape but in a place that I can't see
Far out of the realm of the mind at ease
Like a raging storm on your favorite beach
It's not right
The night

My morbid morning makes me mean, maybe makes me mean
Something to someone with a special something showing, shining,
Really raking in radiance really reeling in
Every eternal emotion even an excellent empty memory
May make movies, maybe make madness
Inside infinite nothingness,
Not needing, not giving
God's good graces
Though the thought
Or obstruction obtained
Needed new nightly nudges. . .

                                                . . .to make it through again.
  
The shotgun will tell you in the first eleven days
The last wave goodbye

Hello Dark One.

The Story** begins with silence and black out, a void. Not darkness. Nor anything that attempts to define nothingness, because it’s nothing. The blackness or void is only a metaphor representing nothing. Within this point, so close to simultaneous you’d think they were one in the same, a light emerges, emanating divine, pure energy and love.  Its intelligence and complexity expands and fills what was once nothing with beauty and truth. At this moment, all is whole, fast as thought, strong beyond comprehension, gentle as a whisper and furious beyond all flame. The wild spirit of happiness is real and alive! The void was never the enemy, only a point in which to be born. Duality can only exist if unification finds an enemy within itself. The enemy is reflected by the segregation and space created between divine and mortal. This space is developed by Ego.

   This entity “Ego” is the essence of self resistance, absorption, chaos, consciousness…hate. The inner antagonist rises and begins to cut and eliminate the threads attached to creation and spirit. A mirror that envelopes and contains the living spirit.  An orb caging vulnerable souls spread throughout the expansion of life and suffocating energetic flow.  The universe and it’s creatures that lost connection being virtually incapable of seeing one another ever again while the enemy exists.

   The instigation is tolerated by those who always continue the journey. The emasculation of Ego, commences as the divine resonates it’s vibration as a weapon like a solar flare, piercing the Ego. Then the inner spirit begins to open up and claw its way out. The Spirit sees that vanity is leading the despair of self pity into the heart as it remains a vessel dwelling in a false world channeling a false force. This awareness makes The Spirit lifts up, against and out of a matrix constructed within the crystal ball cage that refracts the true sun’s rays. Together, The Spirit and The Divine begin to crush Ego. Ego begins to flatten, compress and then combust. Through the flames the chord of love between The Divine and The Spirit bursts like a shooting star towards the kinship’s re-established nexus. The collision creates what was pure and full in circulation again and the expansion becomes an infinite motion harmonizing with the void in an adventure that goes on forever. When Ego tries to slither back in after a nearly insurmountable time of hiding between the gaps that contains new life, it is given no room by anything in thought, theory, in any form of existence.

It sits nearly weightless in your palm
Hold it like a bible
with the page already marked in your head that you want to share
Like that page contains the only truth that you know

The closest to a magic wand you will ever get to
The only spell your voice
Speak honest
While words are still meant for this
Your mouth a shotgun for my tracks

Now dance

Follow my lead
Pick up your phone
And call someone

Pick one

1
While you were still earth
And I was still earth
And the thought of us
Sounded like a 4 year old learning to whistle
We had no stake
Just a note in the background of breath and baby teeth
You make me so happy
Your parents ****** on the day they did
2
If you were to die in any way
I want you to know
I have already planned your eulogy
It is simple
My name is Jonathen Hal Tobias
And this empty case of skin and bone
Formerly housed
The best friend I have ever had in my life
3
Your belly is a blackened furnace
Full of soot and sawdust
It is love the way it keeps me warm
And I will leave my hands near it
The distance of a magic spell for fire
My skin
Until there is no more sawdust
Until there is no more love
Until I have to warm my hands with breath
And press them against your cold black
Do you feel that?

4
Whatever you say
Through satellite
Over airwaves

Know your voice passes through stars
And metal
And microchips
And speaker

There is tongue
And breath and lips
Your heart when you’re honest

When words were meant for this
And your mouth a shotgun for my tracks