Do you ever wonder why
there is a severely short supply
of truly nice guys?

I can’t believe
that you are surprised,
how you cry
about the jerks that
cheat and lie.

There was a gentleman,
a considerate human being,
who was genuinely caring,

but he learned his lesson well,
stopped daydreaming
and caring,
stopped despairing,
stopped showing up
to hear about your bad luck
with the dumb ****
dump truck
of abuse,
that you kept defending
and running back to.

The young one
who had so many
loved ones
run from
him
straight into the arms
of dangerous men
has taken all his
romantic notions and trust
and departed
with an angry and broken heart.

That is where the nice guys
have all gone.

The war is coming rising rivers of dark red blood will be spilt, stop
Innocent lives spent in the pursuit of greed, glory, and hate, stop
Machine gun turret, grenades, poison gas, planes, submarines, stop
Bullet, blades, blood, enemy-entrenched, death in the mud, stop
Children becoming men before their time dying on your dime, stop
Next war, with oh so many new ways to terminate life, stop
New technology, modern mass media telling us how to feel, stop
Building bombs to **** one another leaving behind crying mothers, stop
Bigger bomb tap that atom go out and get those yellow *******, stop
Pandora’s box opened up with bitter metal bearing baring hate, stop
Two cities decimated, burning the earth, Heaven cries black tar tears, stop
The cycle continues from war to war the tragedy never seems to end, stop
Human horror, I am begging for the love of all humanity please, stop

It may hurt to tell ourselves the truth
To seek out our imperfections
And mark them not for reproof
But for the chance to self-improve
It may sting to hear the facts
May cause our spirits to crack
But we can build our foundations back
And be better for the truth
Cause we are never better for its' lack

The revolution will not be televised,
unless it is being used to vilify,
or is being politicized
by those political guys
trying to score votes.
Any fair press will be silenced or brutalized
along with other protesters.
The leadership will be euthanized,
or demonized unless they can be
subdued quietly.

If you are under the illusion
that you can fight back physically
you must be mentally silly.
The cops got equipment
left over from the military
cause the war machine
wants to sell our government
the newest toys.

If our government has any say
they will find a way to lock away
anyone who might inspire change.
If you don’t believe me
just look and read
about Assata Shakur,
or Angela Y. Davis.

If you know or love anyone
who is out there trying to save us,
from the congressional and big business,
power hungry alliance
you better pray that they keep their defiance
just low key enough to slip the notice
of Law enforcement, or POTUS,
cause this country isn’t for us
and does not provide justice.
It is just a business that is made
to break and degrade
while the working class is enslaved.

Long neck
Not some beer bottle
But a soft waddle
As his beak
Pecks and plucks
Roots, and grassy stuff
To munch

Black eyes
With a white chin
And a face
That goes
From black
To white
And back again

Feathers folded in
Light brown
Gray and fading
Flutter nervously
When he sees me
Approaching

Beautiful, distracting
Extracting me from my
Deep reflections
And ancient sorrows

I watch web feet
Walk into that small sea
And see a water stream
Follow him
As he swims
Away

These are not the scars of a saint,
red rivulets run down my skin
like crimson tinted paint.

Scratches made in a state
of sorrow and frustration
anguish so deep
that the thought of facing
one more moment
becomes a daytime nightmare.

We steel ourselves
struggling against a beast
that will not fall,
but rages fiercer
then the fiercest forest fire
scorching all
and leaving
only one desire.

We seek the cold
or at least
a certain numbness
because there is
no softness
to our existence.

Broken
and bleeding
in the porcelain
bathtub
as red water
runs over
the edge
and we
succumb to
the eternal sleep.

I am a coward. It is my weakness, and in knowing this I should be made stronger. However, my weakness perpetuates my weakness. My meekness and desire for peace makes me **** near gutless.

         I write to love. I write to dance. I write to feel.  I write to live.

I could have sat with the gangrenous, seeing the sawing teeth shred skin to cut further in. I could have held the hand of the dying; saying soft soothing words while they were vomiting blood. I could have joined the ranks of the foreign legion, became a non-religious missionary. I bet my writing would have been improved and all my other talents better used.

As I said before I am a coward. My heart breaks easily from poetry, movies, songs, photos, and tv shows. Imagine how quickly I would crumbled faced with the real reality. If I could see the seething rage, feel the ****** stumps, clean the bandages, while listening to their horror stories how easily I would break. Worse than Humpty Dumpty with smaller bits that crack and split permanently deformed, spiritually desolated.

I can watch the wicked human show from a distance. I can immerse myself in the darkness, but there must be a quick escape. I have to have a switch to click and make the nightmares go away. If I stayed, my thought would stray to the razor blades or pill bottle ways.

         I am a coward. I am sorry. So here the naked man is with all of his cowardice. I am sorry I could not be a better less bitter superman. All and all I am so terribly sorry for my weakness.

It’s an arms race in America
Cops only stop to armor up
Bringing out their bigger guns
Not admitting but doubling down
On the violence in this town
That they created

I am Bacchus intoxicated letch of the Greek Gods reborn.
In my drunken stupor I have fallen many times;
Succumbed to the charms of Goddesses reincarnate.
From the strict slick ice queen Shiva aka an engaged Christina
Destroyer of my soul, and its inspiration at the same time
Made me feel like your lover, should’ve seen the pain coming
Never should have let you in. In one fell swoop you cut my spirit.
With a cold stares you stabbed my stubborn stone heart,
And made me bleed agony like wine from a bejeweled chalice.
Christina, of all who cut me few had touched me physically.
You were hard to overcome, my cheap and ***** maiden.
Pale flesh tarnished with your many affairs before and after me.
Within a year’s time you had severed the emotional chord,
But there were others like the goddess Discord shifting seamstress
Of light and dark, daring dangers to inflame my heart.
User, trickster I will never really miss her, and her name will not be spoken.
My affections for her were merely a passing token. What a relief
That I never loved that immoral immortal ****** thief.
Amanda oh Amanda. My idiot Athena. My warrior queen.
My military goddess. We never consummated our love
Because you never loved me. With a whisper and a line
You kept me holding on; let you go one day and the next you would phone
Came back different then when you left, like a new you grew
From Zeus’ skull more powerful, darker than before.  For you I ceased to exist.
Rend my heart to pieces and instead I wished that I was dead.
That all those feeling could be shoved aside and never again remembered.
That your apathy had been fury and in your rage I was dismembered.
Jessica my dear Demeter harvester of my strange and deranged soul.
You were the first to slake my ****** thirst, hour lost to carnal lust.
I am sorry, that I was wired wrong and your love was not enough.
You deserved more than I ever gave you and of all my loves,
You are the only one who ever loved me back, so I am sorry.
Farther back than that is my greatest love swift and strong Artemis.
Actually I hope you never read or even see this.
Holly so holy a dream. With ***** red hair and freckled flesh,
With a kind heart that I will never forget. The first friend there to inspire my love.
The first soul I adored. You never wounded me, never scarred my heart
Never used, or abused, abandoned, or confused me with mind games or forgetfulness.
I will never touch you soft skin, or make you smile, but most of all I will never forget this
Yours was the first, the strongest, the deepest, the longest river in my heart, and the highest kindness.
For that you have many eternities worth of my love. The greatest goddess of all maybe
Your were actually Aphrodite.

Short showers
of warm
summer storms,

red flowers
painted on
gray sidewalk,

pastels that melt
and run away
in thin crimson
streams,

ivory keys,
soft melodies
growing
and flowing
slowly,

see me safely
to dreams
that elevate me.

Immortality is dissolution of the self
Mind dissolving in the acid of time
Losing loved one
Losing memories
Losing passions
Changing patterns
Whiles others remain stagnant
Boredom
Mental fatigue
Cosmic defeat
Is what immortality
Will do to me

Every good witch needs a black cat
A mischievous little creature that
Makes the stereotype more fun
The kind that mouse hunts
And meows at ghosts, goblins, and ghouls
Loyal to the point of convenience
Untamed wearing sleek gleaming fur
But loving all the same
In fact it would be a shame
If everyone didn’t get at least one
Beautiful black cat in their life

We cannot get back
to the past
that we once knew
cuz that would undo
all the progress
we've made.

Life's not like
a video game.
We don't get to redo,
no replaying
going through
old levels
that we want to.

So, if it's just one shot
one life that we're given,
one moment to live in
this game we're playing.
Then it's not about winning.
It's not about losing.
It's not about gaining another day.

I won't see you after I die
but you can always stop by
and read what I write.

The baby faced moon
Chubby cheeks smiling bright
Pale white reflective skin
Is mine

That small vapor trail
Of clouds with their
Own tails to tell
and a dragon’s tongue
Is mine

The grey white and black
Frantic feral cat
Running back
To the railway track
With ruby eyes
Glowing in the headlights
Is mine

Every natural sensation
The feel of wet ground
The rainbow with its’ own
After image
Is mine

Everything I perceive
Is mine
To place paper
With pointed pen
To type it out
And edit again
And again, and again
Till in the end
It is poetry perfected
All mine

They want a professional
Serious
Uniformed
Individual
To conform
To company
Policies
Hair trimmed
Beard gone
Shirt tucked in
Socks long
Black shoes
Scripted interaction
Lacking satisfaction
Just sterile reactions
A perfect attitude
Till I am a
Twin of
The men
And women
Who work with me

The little girls are gone
Small town neighbors
Who I used to see
Stranded in flights
Of fantasy
Become mists
And twist away
Into vagaries
Vapors
Tammy
Susan
The girl
Across the road
And the names
Fade
As the days
Slip away
Childhood friends
Disappear
As childhood ends

My pen cries wax tears
dripping on the floor
from the bedroom
to the bathroom door.

While you lay sipping
sweet intoxicants
I walk, partly slipping
trying to reach your side
trying to believe the lie
that love exists somewhere.

But someone else sings for you,
while my heart bleeds the truth.

The white crow flies
laughing in the night,
“Never was and never will be
you will never ever catch me.”

Some say be patients
it takes time to measure
and debate this
racist institution
while your religious
delusions
put you right back
to the place you
started from.

The dark window pane
reflects shadows of pain
reflects the stains
that shaped my being.
Even, if I am uncertain
who he is.

Is it the violence of the past
the blows that came so fast
that shaped of our present mind?

Does time find difference
flowing awkwardly through our memory
shaping our perceptions of what is,
was, and will be?

Am I who I am because of what I’ve seen?
For each second ever changing
personality rearranging.
I stand wondering
am I a good person?

You don’t need to tempt me
I am your creature
Stallion dalliance
With subservient features
Submissive master
To the master submissive
Dismissive of other affections
All the soul I have
Is yours to steal
Drink at will
Absorbing my essence
Or discarding it as you want

It is a lonely life to live
And I would seldom recommend
To the weak of heart
But for the hopeful
I commend this struggle
Stirring younger men
To live learn and grow

Perhaps leaving family behind
In the pursuit of the mind
Paying dues with isolation and time
Finding your muse rightly used

But facing a nation racing away from
The acquisition of knowledge and wisdom
A society determined to remain blind
In Plato’s Cave slaves still obey shadows
Sniping at those such as yourself
Who struggle to expand and include
All things within and without

Till the wanderer comes home
Alone better not bitter from the journey
Open and ready to share
Hoping the world is ready to care
About such wonderful things

The wizen winds whispered
Let him go
So you can grow
Let your roots settle as they may
Or tare up the earth so
You can stray to find a new way

So slowly she seized upon the pain
Clawed at the ground
Hands bloodied and bruised
Nails push backed to the point
Of unbearable pain
She ripped her roots
Out of the earth
Ready to move on

And he came back
With just a glimmer up hope
She replanted her seed
Bent down on her knees
Begging him please
Promising she would change
Contorting herself to his demands
While he stayed the same
What a shame
She was a lovely tree
Free as the wind
And ready to be
Something better
A new butterfly
Now the butterfly dies

If she reads this
She will despise me
Say, I do not understand
I’d say that the person
Woven in to the pattern
Cannot see the design
Cannot cut fates golden line
When they do not know
How the story goes
Oh, well it’s not my hell to bare

I want you on the a side and the b side
The freaky night delights
Vinyl records skipping
To our beats
Our feet set up in the airplane position
Was it something I was missing?
No seatbelts even after we take off
Naked fury thumping
Baby makers bumping
Right over that midday slump
Oh I needed this ****** boost
To get over the mid-week ****

America has been feasting
on that Billie Holiday strange fruit
for so long,
drinking that thick red wine
straight off the long thin vine
of mankind’s suffering,
profiting from people losing their sanity,
gaining from the loss of our humanity.

Black as that sweet star sparkling night,
mothers, and fathers denied the right
to stand up and fight,

bullets to the back
as they try to enter their own houses,

bullets to the side
right in front of their children and spouses,

bullets through the heart of a child
in the middle of his imagination,

bullets through her bedroom,
no space to escape
not even some safe head room:

All that agony and desolation
to be constantly facing
violence and degradation
from the so-called authority figures
who only see another dead ******.

Blue lives, white supremacist guys,
proud boys and Neo Nazis
have grown obese.
These foul ******* beasts
have eaten the heart and soul of us
right off our bones and thrown
the rest to the scavengers back home.

Crush my last
Burnt cigarette out
Now the only the cold
cloud that comes out
Is my soft curling breath
But the trick is
I need that nic stick
To stay awake even though
I don’t even smoke
One month gone
And I come home
But before too long
I’m back on the road
I miss my friends
I miss my love
But staying put
Is never good enough

I may not be a wildcat
But I won’t break
Like that domesticated
Persian you had
I need to be free
To see the world
Even if I barely leave
Illinois’ highways and city streets

I miss my love
I miss my heart
You were the best
Or at least better part
Bleeding veins
Beating ventricle
Pumping pulse
That is musical
A pen, a pad
And a laptop to
To write this song
I sing for you
And even if
No one hears it
I’d still have to
Write this ****

I may not be a wildcat
But I won’t break
Like that domesticated
Persian you had
I need to be free
To see the world
Even if I barely leave
Illinois’ highways and city streets

A couple hundred mile
And I am wearing down
As I work security
In another town
My car is smoking
My car sounds funny
Chugs along with
A thud thud dud
Hope I make enough money
To fix my freedom ride up
I’ll see you all when I get home

I may not be a wildcat
But I won’t break
Like that domesticated
Persian you had
I need to be free
To see the world
Even if I barely leave
Illinois’ highways and city streets

Don’t you know
Even roaming hearts
Have to come home
To get some good sleep

I want what devastates me

Sugar so syrupy sweet it sickens
Red liquid slows and thickens

Black lips painted poisonous purple
With thin lines of strychnine
My fair long haired Mary
Marvelous Magdalene
And terrible Typhoid
Saint and Succubus of lusting frenzy
Draining the core of me

Morticia the Mortuary Queen
With fatal fingers that feel
My moist internal organs
Throttling my throbbing heart

Dear black orchid
Princess of the pentacles
Funerary eyes of fire
Waking Walking Death

Yes she is so bad for me
Still, I want her so deeply

The struggle is futility
Patient people play the part
Of impartiality

The wiser are restraint
Castigated for their intelligence
Castrated by their class

A classless struggle we abide
Poor children barely manage
To survive and seldom thrive
Not given access to the tools
Of excellence

But we wield the sword of obsolescence
Antiquated ideas put on the same level as
Modern machines and moral philosophies

Broad language discarded for
The disinfected nature of stupidity

Our language is censored
And free thought is crippled

Thus to succeed we must
Write to their level of understanding
So they can understand it

Which means we do not expect grandness
From the masses
That we underrate what they are capable of

The papacy’s power is palatable but detrimental
The Popes presence sends his parishioners
In to servitude as they submit to the
Sublimation of their identity

Unable to identify the truth from the lie
Unable to separate the flock from the I
I become the villain
For stating these things

So I drop names like Darwin and Thomas Paine
I wear the scarlet letter of poet and philosopher
Of Supplicant to science, Of literate romantic

I the son of Percy Bysshe Shelley
The son of Twain and Poe
The Son of Shakespeare and Baudelaire  
The son of logic and poetry
The lost ******* of peace, love, and understanding

I leave the eve of man’s ill behavior
To see the seething corps of corpses
Rise in ignorance strive for pestilence
With hopeful hate in their eye
To perpetuate the self-fulfilling prophecies
Of all types of apocalypses

But in the end it will be I that am despised
Thus if I must be hated then at least
Favor me with this tiny justice

Like Galileo, Giordano Bruno, and Copernicus
I will wear chains well earned
There is so much knowledge to be had
So learn, live, love and then learn some more

My last dance will be an inspiration
Hands to hands tightly intertwined
Music deeper than any revelation
And all done in my own time

My last meal will be very delicious
Sampling a bit of all of my favorite things
And being my last, need not be nutritious
Humming with flavor cause you know it makes me sing
My last slumber will be the deepest I’ve known
Dreams will no longer come at all
My essence thus departed receding from how I’ve grown
So there will be no me left to recall

My last conversation will never be my last
Though my bodies may fade
Becoming only an echoe in the past
My words will remain to be remade

Revisited over and over again
It may not be immortality
But it is as close as I can come my friend
Words etched in the collective unconscious
Until humanity ends

Again they strike
like sharks smelling blood
shredding the skin of night
with bullets and Van lights
burning the insides
of the innocents
who are unable
to find a safe place to hide;

But I still get to live my life
parse out a few sincere tears
for those who will never
get to go home again
for those who
I will never meet here.

These tears fade fast
and disappear
as I watch my shows
and eat my late night lunch.
I know they suffered.
I should feel more,
but time continues.
This pain is but a minor
selection on life’s menu
supplied by the internet venue;

And I am so Self-absorbed
that over half of this poem
is about me.

Weird words of working men
Collar wearing ******
Peacemakers clanging swords
Breastplates of hate
I watch us all get churched
On the ways of cruelty

I can’t stop crying
Cause love used to be
So beautiful to me
Two men holding hands
To friends kissing publicly
No shaming

Now there is violence
We break the silence
With days of silence
But it never seems
To stop the screams
And suicides
Children hang out
Flailing lifelessly
The memory haunts me
Even though it is not mine

Pale boy loves a brown boy
Sweet proclamations
Of their affections
Poetic exultations
Holding each other
As their salvation
To be loved is a wonderful thing
To be touched is a mercy

But fire burns to close
To the core of fury
Angry faces hide behind
Masks
We ask
For love
But brutality
Is their response
And now the saltine sorrow
Overflows
The ocean grows
As one more love
Is demolished
And the world becomes
A lot darker

I am so sick
of this
thick ****
that split lip
from some
dumb *****.

Macho
man
with a
quick fist
who likes to
call women
*******
and chicks
while he hits
them.

Big bad
bro boy,
confident
with no
reason to be
and I am
jealous cause he
gets more
love then me.

I’m not
looking for
****** gratification,
just deep
conversation
and a little
appreciation.

But isolation
is what I am facing
while a sub-par
sports car
*******
never goes
home alone.

Signs for shopping
pollute the night
with their gaudy lights
pointing to my next
great buy.

But in my head I hear
the poor souls say
you do not want to
come this way
cause if you see my pain
you will have to change
or face your shame.

But I hide myself
inside my house
while the tv shows
our upper class,
high rise,
high life
that I can buy.
So, I work my way
into a community
of iron gates
and golden golf carts.

But in my heart
I hear the music play
songs of sorrow
free ranged runaways,
immigrants,
refugees
longing to get
just a fraction
of what I already have.

But with enough
music, and movies
I can distract myself
quite easily
so I don’t have to see
my own inhumanity.
It’s great to be me……isn’t it?

You raise the flag of rage.
You rise to spit your hate.
I feel the venom of your pain.
Why do you spend it that way?

Please don’t make me bury my brother.
Soft dirt moved to fully cover the
dried brown ground they put us all under.
Please don’t make me bury my brother.

You’ve got loads of bullets.
You’ve got armor piercing type.
You’ve got the will to spend them
and reap their red counterfeit.

Please don’t make me bury my brother.
Soft dirt moved to fully cover the
dried brown ground they put us all under.
Please don’t make me bury my brother.

You say that you’re an American patriot.
You say you’re a cowboy soldier.
You say you want to save this country
with the blood of those who oppose you.

Please don’t make me bury my brother.
Soft dirt moved to fully cover the
dried brown ground they put us all under.
Please don’t make me bury my brother.

One day you will have to face it
all the hate and faith you misplaced it.
Bullets spray shred red rays right through it
when you finally make me do it.

Please don’t make me bury my brother
Soft dirt moved to fully cover the
dried brown ground they put us all under.
Why do I have to bury you my brother?

The night is speared
with splinters from
the brutish bore
that scarred
Atlanta's heart.
It is an over told tale
that fails to adequately
express itself.
There where she fell
feeling all
is where she lost
the only one
whom she thought
she could truly love.
Though all pursued
that swift footed muse,
sought to use,
and abuse her mighty heart,
it was my golden apple,
my forbidden fruit
of Eden's garden
filled with juicy wisdom
and sweet succulent knowledge
that won her.
Intelligence that sought to
empower her to
know that though
I long to love her
physically and passionately
my truest desire
is to see her elevated
not on a pedestal of adulation
for an ideation,
some fake iteration
but to see her truest self-exposed
and the heart of her art
allowed to bloom brighter
then that heavenly orange fire
we all call Helios.

One half of a crying moon sat in the June sky
An uncertain state of silence that I hate
A swarm of red lights from some farm device
Blink fiercely with a hive like intensity
Miles of metal fences leaning lazily
Held together by sandbag security
Could have been knocked over by a summer breeze
Unplanted fields yearning to be tilled and seeded
Punctuated by bare bones buildings and
Stark steel structures pulsing with electricity
Armies of insect swarm the tall lamp lights
Highways become rocky roads
Rocky roads ride out into dirt paths
Then circle back to the gravel covered tracks
Becoming the grey running highways
Nature and industry the strongest cycle
The strangest and straightest signifiers
Of nature’s outliers we call humanity

They got us doped up
Put the military scopes up
And shot our foreign brothers down

They got a war on crime
And Drugs
A war for riches
But poverty
Is just another casualty
The price to pay
To maintain our society

They got golden parachutes
Good pension plans
For the corporate man
But want to eliminate
What it takes
To help a single woman
Get a fair chance

They got disinformation
For the regular population
So they don’t see
The criminal activity
Of our leaders
And dissenters
Enter
The hall of infamy
The activist
Is an enemy

We become so thick
With our sick self-absorption
So quick to judge
Not empathize
Based on all those lies
At some point you got to believe
Cut the crap and face this social disease
Please tell me cause I can’t see
Where the hell
Is your humanity

This poem is for the cartoon loving kid
The one who was up at five a.m.
To walk his grandparents dogs
And be back in again before
Jumpstreet frogs
Hit the tv screen
Yes that was a real thing
Like Tiger Sharks
And Karate Cat
I miss him

This poem is for the comic book loving teen
Who hid in his artistic dreams
Longing to be a writer and a fighter
An inciter of a better society
To face off against the cruelty
Of humanity
Because it hurt like a *******
I miss him

This poem is for the bookworm
Working long John Silver ****** shifts
The suicidal ephedrine Adult
Not believing he was worth a ****
I don’t miss him

This is for the non-traditional college guy
Just trying to scrape by
On grants and loans
Staying home
Having a strange thirty year mid-life crisis
Working out was life his life
On permanent sabbatical from everything
I kind of miss him

This is for me
The culmination
Of all of these
Still trying to grow
Still trying to know
Who I am
So I can see who I will become

I hear there is fear in your mind
The deep-seated preprogrammed kind
The kind that has soften slightly over time
From the cursing and calling negros mongrels
To the stereotypical fox news type portrayal
But it is a betrayal of our human nature
The denial of the better evolved brain
It is the maiming of our society
When we regress to the repressive ways
That we sought to overcome in our younger days
Some say things will never change
But the blood to brain-dead barrier can break
The rational can take hold with old and new love
With new scientific studies of all of us
We forgot that the legions are us
The whale beneath the boat
The behemoth that works and votes
The labor force that runs this country
The union of humans striving for a better world
That is us, in every tint, gender, ****** identity
Under each layer of skin there is a piece of me
And behind every strange shadow or reflection of myself
Is someone else different but in all the ways that matter
The same

Bckkkkkk

Lightening splits the sky
Cracking the horizon like
Shards of shattering glass
Inverting and reflecting
The alternate dimensions
Severing the ties of reality

Bckkkk

White strings of energy
Sparkling and crackling
Time no longer shackling
Space no longer tethering
Nothing belonging to me

Bckkkk

I can almost feel the thundering
As the vibrating sensations
Touches my inner ear canal
It is frightening how easily
The lightening could consume me

Bckkkk

But the wonder of its thunder
The blunder of its destruction
Cutting sound and ground spitting dirt
Causing the earth to hurt
As it explodes one way or the other
And all I can really say is

Bckkk Bckkk Bckkk wooooshhhhhh

This would be cooler if it was really raining

I want to hate you
To crawl inside
My own stomach and die
While you fly
With your greedy suicide
Dissecting and erecting
Monuments to your opulence
Your eyes gleam with
Unattained wealth
You cannot help yourself
The media tells you what to want
Which block is the best block
Were you want to shop
How to stop the clock
And fear, fear, fear
And cheap beer, beer
Oh my deer
The headlight home in
On your definition of sin
But the only sin I see
Is that you believe
This is how life is supposed to be

You have a citric tongue
Acidic but tasty

You are a vacation
In mental *******

Sulphurous words
That burn me
Full of furious reactions
Such an oceanic passion
A deep blue sea
Of eyes that look into me

Your body is a nation
Barely opened borders
I flow into you
Heart heavy and tired
Poetic soul branded illegal
Desire makes me criminal
Wanting those wanton lips
Chapped from our heated kiss

Make me your facebook friend
To share your soul
In the form of digital content
Then bury me in cement
Solidifying your foundation

Building us up from lust
And a cosmic elation
With a milky way
*******

Till both of us
Return fully reformed
From the ravishing rains
Of that ****** storm

Life is like your feet. You can go around wearing shoes all day to protect yourself from rocks, glass or other things that might  hurt you, or you can go barefooted and feel the soft moist earth beneath your feet, enjoy the cold hard concrete.  Think of this as a metaphor for your heart. If you are constantly gaurding against the pain of life you miss out on alot of of the good stuff.

Evolution is like a rubber band ball
starting small and simple,
but slowly expanding,
changing while keeping
each piece that came before.

The music makes me
want to move freely,
bouncing in my seat
as I continue driving.

I sit smiling and singing
while strangers
might stare at me,
leaning oddly,
confused about how
happy I could be
to be driving
down a congested
city street.

This is not fiction,
cause my boss caught me
bobbing playfully,
he thought it was funny
that I was playing
so gleefully
while driving.

It is just this short life
requires that I smile or die,
that I force fun to come
instead having me run from
the horrors that hound me.

So, I when the mood hits,
I move and shift
in my car seat,
and dance stupidly
to the music’s beat.

Time
consumes
every bit;

Seconds sent
to poetry,
a life spent
cultivating
my humanity,
to see it
slowly recede,
values exchanged
for the pleasures
I gained.

My morality
is a tiny treasure,
a golden globe
glowing
against
the deepest
dark.

Surrounded
by the absurdity
of humanity’s
ignorance
and cruelty
all the tints
and hues of me
melt away
like snow
on a spring day.

All emotions
fade to numbness,
all goodness
goes into
nothingness.
Till, I am no more.

It is just a word,
This nameless tide
That we decide
Should give us pride
This piece of land
We portioned off
With weird
Property lines
To define
What is yours
And what is mine
Who we are
And who they are
It could have been
Called anything
The name does not
Make it distinct
Nor craft a creed
Of perfection
For the world to see
Because it is just a small piece
Of a bigger thing
With a different name

The crust barely give us enough
Brown and rocky stuff
To recall histories long removed
From where we stand

But with steady hands
Better men come working
Sifting and shifting
Through layers upon layers
Carefully dusting dear artifacts
To uncover forgotten facts

Till the dullness of ignorance cracks
Letting deep historical truths
Trickle through to me and you

What a grand thing for a human to do

Clear water and blue skies
Distorted through glass eyes
Watery distortions
In the human mind
Heavenly perceptions
Made to confine
Reality
A spectrum defined
By the untrained minds
Cloud kings and underworld gods
Flaming pools
And cumulous mansions
Madness
Made to make us accept
The status quo
To slow our roll
We are Sisyphus
Pushing a boulder
Ever upwards
Without water
Without a break
Till they steal our last breath
They say only fools believe
In what they perceive
That the spiritual
Is the factual
But Plato’s Socrate’s cave
His allegory
Fits our life
Explains it with a perfect fable

I am a deeply flawed collaborator
Looking back at the past
In old photographs
I catch a glimpse of
Someone I once loved
And my stomach churns
With an acidic burn
That crawls up my gut

She is a smiling memory
In cliché haunting me
Not dead but not who
She used to be
Fourteen years ago

I wrote her poetry
To express what she meant to me
But she had to leave
To join the military

In one of those silly vows
We promised to be together
If we were still single
When we were thirty or forty
She has probably forgotten that

The white navy hat
The uniform of black
If I could go back
I would not

But to be honest
The loves we lose
Will probably always
Haunt us
But it sure makes
For good poems

You are wounded
and when you heal
You will still feel
The pain
The scar will still
Be there
A crest upon your flesh
But you will still
Be beautiful