A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

Maybe one day

everyone here-
torn
happy
broken
worried
thinking
thoughtless
angry
emotio­nal-

can get together

we bonded through the internet and the technology

but perhaps one day

we can be more than the poem we liked
a picture on the profile
or a compliment we gave

maybe one day
we can see each other face to face
and become a bit more than a mere stranger
because a poem says more than we can ever say to anyone else
it reveals your inner soul
because each comment has a thought of its own

there has to be some stigma that brought you here
depression
anorexia
loneliness
sadness
felicity

the truth is I don't know your story
but I promise I will tell you mine
when you tell me yours.

Some Asian folk revere the Tao
the way of Yang and Ying.
Others worship ancestors
and of Confucius sing.
Buddhists seek a one way trip
with no wish to return.
Hindus think we're born again
just not in Christian terms.
Some follow in the steps of Christ,
this life, their cross to bear.
Others say Carpe Diem
and just don't give a D*mm.
Islamiscists eschew alcohol
and never lunch on ham.
This place has many faiths and creeds
to suit our every mood.
The voodoo that you do so well
is with suspicion viewed.
The foodists are the latest cult-
a blight upon the land
like Joey chestnut at buffets
consuming all they can.
To them no cow is sacred
and wine just slakes their thirst
They walk among us and they breed
and I don''t know which is worse!

The internet, social networking, you, reading this, now.


It’s all about surface value, the judgment of likes and dislikes. It’s all about interests,


"Oh, you like this band?
this movie,
this painting,
this author,
this show,
this *******?"

"Oh, you’re so cool, you’re such an awesome person", obviously.

You will never know me, never know who I am, and with the way this world has shifted,
with the acceptance of this voyeurism of superficial attractions, I’m afraid neither will I.

You’ll rarely know when I’m genuine or when I’m plagiarizing, original or manufactured, real or phony.
But that’s alright, it keeps a distance, it keeps things calm, and safe, and clean.

That’s all we really want. A facade, a dream, the image of our desires, not the manifestation.
We want cold, hard, unbreakable, shiny plastic perfection.

No one wants the warm, moist, moving, ever changing mess that is life, and love, and humanity.

So stay at your computer, stay inside your factory, keep typing instead of talking,
keep pushing instead of feeling, keep staring instead of looking.

It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s now.

*circa 2009

Every day is
The same--
Cold, dry
and empty
inside.

I wouldn't wish you upon my worst enemy

because I swear you could never handle

          your
              
                   self

I was born like this

isn't it ironic
that hearts are heaviest
when they're empty?