They say you hurt
The ones you love
The most.
I wonder how true
That must be.

I can't even bear to think
Of hurting you.
Yet you give out hurt
Like its a hobby.

With all the pain
You've put me through
You must love me
More than I could ever
Love you.

Is this what the world has come to
A virtual society where friendships, thoughts, and adventures Exist
Purely on a thinking, robotic machine of this

Where Facebook has become our knew civilization
Where all our lives now seem to be lived
Well now is there really a need for this mortal bag of bones

Surely there is no reason to leave the safety of our homes

No need to search deeply for answers
Because look no further its all here
Google, Wikipedia its the know it all source of all of the worldly knowledge

No reason to verbalize our thoughts
No reason at all for that
Be quiet shut up
For this is where friendships and happiness is made

No need for therapy or psychologists
When all our inner demons and afflictions are discussed
Here within the new means of our new found reality

In all actuality
This is no good
What happened to people to people socialization

Is this machine really of use
Of the isolation and loneliness we choose

Can this life be pure and simple again
Back to when we looked for trees and the beauty within

I tell you this must make our future look bleak
If only we could extend our hands and hearts to each other
It must be virtually impossible over this fake imaginable thinking machine

Because now the old life is dead
and the new life lives on within the depths of this new profound
thinking robotic machine as that we have all come to know and love

She sat bewilder and rejected by the world
her hair dreaded clothes torn and stained with time
remains torn
she gazed at me longing
seeking shelter from the storm
the rain poured upon her shoulders
a lost soldier among the scorn
I read into her character
as if the scene were a book
and I thought of all the jackals
who must've shook and took
she sat withered like a flower in the
midst of December
I could tell if left there she'd surely die from
the weather
I was this women and she was me
together we were locked
in mystery wondering
longing
An exchange of a smile
and she was on her knees
begging for a ride a conversation
some relief
my door ajar
welcoming
inviting her into a place of warmth and understanding
motherly I consoled
she was my sister daughter love
she was everyone I ever cared about
trapt in a cardboard box
with a shake of her hand I read her palm
her troubles and despair
I spared some change a ride and empathy
hoping it was enough for her
if I could only save her I'd change her
I'd  change the world but for now
I'll fufill my mission
and allow her soul to fufill hers

Landing back at the Cleveland airport I made my way that afternoon to the airport bar for my ritualistic landing drink.I was in no hurry because I never checked bags and I was generally never in a rush.As I watched the olives dance to the bottom of the glass and slowly make their way back to the top amist all the tiny bubbles they created I was reminded of a couple of facts that were to serve me well in the coming days.The first was very simple,if someone invites you to do somthing proclaiming it to be a blast,it never is.And secondly if I witnessed a ****** and in explaining that ****** to a group of ten people stratigically placing the word **** in there several times at least half of the group would be more offended by the word **** than the actual ****** itself.That being said,at any given moment we are surrounded by people that are focused on the wrong things.

For pretty Winter

Winter is the time for snow,
Wind, and hail that make the trees blow,
The ground is covered in pure white;
Like a shower of powder making a beautiful sight!!

**~Marian~

Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art.Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want.She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.But
just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there.As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.