What a wild and wicked web we weave,
with sticky strings encircling me,
till I’m too ******* to ever believe
that there is any other way
this reality could ever be.

Like the bulbous bias bubble I’ve built
to never have to question myself,
creating a network that echoes back
things I think are obvious facts,
while avoiding any sharp parts
that might burst the barrier I bought
with my lack of introspective thoughts.

It is a dangerous mirror that
does not reflect but accepts
all those ill-conceived ideals
that confirm the way I feel
whilst I unconsciously conceal
anything that would be good
for clearing the crap that clutters
my unfulfilled potential
to be a better human being.

I'm a porch distance
from other witnesses
trying to commit this
human wisdom
to other men.

I'm a poet
always writing,
inviting others in
to a shared understanding
but it doesn't matter
if I master
the technical skills,
if I can't relate
to what other people feel.

Then I'm still
just a second-rate hack
wearing an off-gray hat,
a Mayberry man
with two hands
on my gun belt
as I shoot myself,
whilst dumbfoundedly
wondering “how am I
going to come back
from that?”

You don't have a good grasp
on those snakes in the grass
that will bite you in the ***.

The drums of war
are brutal blistering
battering rams of
rage that repeat,
beat after beat
pulsing as we
move and bleed.

A warrior
on an obsolete
sturdy stead,
losing one
cubic inch
of his pinched
and pulled skin,
palpating atrium
disintegrating
as his flesh
loses its shading,
as humanity
starts changing
needing a new
naming
because what
comes after
is a walking
disaster.

The master of
destruction,
a transmogrification
of childlike nature
to a new monstrosity
worse than any
Stephen King
horror creature.

War defeats
and repurposes
the hope
that humans propose
as we close
one door
and then
shut the window
to stop the wind
from letting
the sweet breeze
of loving all of these
strange things
that make us
decent human being.

It’s incomputable,
yet irrefutable.
Emotions are too
numerous to name,
range from strange pain
to shame, love, hate, and apathy
then back in again reworking
and adjusting what must be
excruciating
as inner monologues are debating
between placating the dissonance raging
or succumbing to one avenue that
let’s ****** picks specific emotions,
inspires wildfires, plucks devotion
from the rose of desire.
Till, that red flower expires
blooming and falling after
consuming all the air
inside and out there.
I don' t know who cares,
but empathy adds new levels
to this confusing and bruising
black brackish brew,
that mad man-made stew.
It is stirring, creating odd paintings
and then moving onto brand new
blank canvasses.
Who could manage all of this,
especially since it is just a fraction
of all actions.

I'm not nervous,
just searching for my purpose,
knowing that the word is
possibly the closest
I'll ever get to perfect.

I want you to take me serious.
So, you must be delirious
if you're not hearing this.

I didn't plan it,
but on this planet
people take for granted
the fruits of the labors
I've planted.
Some people can't even stand it
or comprehend.
I guess it just depends
on where they're coming from.

So, you demonize
great guys,
never realized
that those lies
you've been telling,
all that **** you've been yelling
is worse than the crap crack
that the corner street
drug dealers are selling.
Such a bad buzz cuz
it's buried so deep in your veins
that it’s burning out your brain
till the point no longer matters.
Has me crying and constantly rewriting,
echoing the same **** question.
“How many times can people explain
and you still can't understand a thing?”

But, I'm still writing love, holding out
hoping that all my doubt
wasn't right and that I
can still be the light
that burns the night
breaking *** barriers,
and stopping hate carriers.

Until, my artistry
becomes art history
and I finally figure out
what the point of my existence was.

Greed is sloppy.
It doesn’t care
about the air,
water, or land
that we share,
so it makes messes,
distresses
local populations
whilst decimating
their habitats.

Greed is lazy.
It seeks swift returns,
so it doesn’t matter
if all the bridges are burned.
If the profit is turned
then shortcuts are ok
as long as it
can find a way
to not have to pay
for its own mistakes.

Greed is entitled
and when it
doesn’t get
its way
it invades,
lies, and betrays
the values it claims.

Greed is
a ravenous beast
that eats itself
right up to its eyes,
and keeps chewing
till we all die.