Once, I broke through,
into a world view
of stranger colors
and proportions;

A place
where a cold
winterhold
held up
with bright
white
blinding lights
searing
and impeding
occasionally blocked
what I was seeing.

Where yellow banners,
and other
strange standards
stand *****
then collapse
losing their
regal effect.

Where parades of green
shades shimmering,
sway to
their own
rhythm,
the art of
growing
and living.

Where purple flecks,
blue floating
bits of paper
dance and waver
in the wind.

I embrace
this strange place,
but in the end
will go out the same
way I came in.

I wasn’t expecting the perfecting of empathy,
just hoping that we could learn how to be
generally, a little gentler with our humanity;

But what I am watching is beyond crossing
the borders of insanity, the lines in the sand we see
are so far behind us it isn’t even a memory,
more like some mystical fairytale,
a lie that we tell to ourselves
to believe we were once decent people.

None of this is appropriate or adequate,
but if you take a generation and add a bit
you might start a bad of habit of thinking up
a way to remix this acid trip in which we exist,
cause this hallucinogenic fix has had the opposite effect,
instead of expanding it has caused a loss of intellect.

So, the warrior goes on, while the poet is gone,
the killer is strong, but the dreamer is wrong.
Up is down, back is forward marching on toward
a black bitter beastly legend we named lord,
history imbued with the blood of love
on the tip of a poorly formed sword,
as the slant of the blade reflects and distorts
the value of life lived, given, and sacrificed
to all of those ridiculously profitable lies.

Picture me now
in a black limousine
driving along and dancing to
the American dream.

You can come to
if that’s what you
want to do.

Life is an animated affair,
with all those important
people who hang around here,
businessmen and politicians
lawyers and lobbyist,
accountants and tacticians
who all work to improve
your social position.

Isn’t it such a grand parade,
of people who help you create
the perfect perception
of who other people are expecting
in the worst games of charades.

Stiff as a board because you have to be perfect
endless hours of ambition and you have to work it,
but there is no delaying getting those dividends,
no time for playing. Bills all need paying.

What’s the point of living in capitalism
if you are working till the end to win?

I may never be
a mainstream
attraction,
marvelous
man of steel
and heroic action,
or a midnight
web swinging
theme song singing
warrior bringing
hope back in.

I know I am not
the villain laughing
at human suffering,
never bothering
to try and solve
anything.

I hope I’m not adding
anything bad
and perhaps
putting back
a little good in
this human equation.

Maybe, I am
over explaining
struggling without
really saying
anything.

I’m pretty much
a middling,
poet spewing
verses that
are not doing
much of anything
but falsely inflating
my tiny ego.

This poet is not divine,
but some may find
the lyrical mind
omnipresent.

All bodies in
conversation
are a manifestation
of his unconscious.

First person,
second person,
or third person
narrator,

in the world
of words
the poet is
the greatest creator.

Not magical,
though it feels
that way sometimes.

Not perfect
that is why
lines fly
but sometimes
even angels
stumble in the sky.

Working verses,
fixing impressions,
twisting perspectives
while being introspective.

It is all a part
of the art
and creative process.

Say goodnight
to that psychopathic
narcistic guy.

You all used to say
you were about to make
America great.

So, say goodbye
to that uncouth
wanna cause
a violent coup
dipstick dude
who many of you
were following
through to
treason.

Must be a
hard pill to swallow
cause you haven’t taken
the medicine
of getting rid of him
and accepting
the election.

Such a bad *******
for the fool who
won’t move on
fast enough.
Instead, he is
getting everyone
riled up
and stealing money.

It’s not even funny,
how he hurt so many.
It’s a cold chilly January
as he tries to dismember
that capitol with his fans.
Then throws them
under the bus.

This is how he uses
and abuses his stooges,
just ask Mike Pence.

So, forth hence
say farewell
to the ne’er-do-well.
He might not be
going to hell,
but if we are lucky,
he will be going to jail.

A sickly-sweet sea of brown tea,
and soft caramel treats
were placed before me
in my candied dreams.

A dark pool
of oil slick
black goo
inched ever closer
smelling ever grosser,

As ninja turtles
hopped over hurdles,
and captian Kirk
acted like a ****,
in the final frontier
a spot where I thought
it would be clear
that we could be better.

My body was bruised
as browns spots oozed
blood and ****,
but someone chased me,
so I pushed softly
and walls became doors
to a restaurant I used to
work at. I was
actually late for my shift,
and I had already missed
my favorite college classes.

My car was invisible
as I drove in it,
and when I woke from
my nap of merely one minute
it was gone.

Senseless, I watched this
all from different angles.
If this was supposed  
some sort of story
it was incoherent,
and I couldn’t rearrange it
into a workable plot.

Dreams are so weird.