There’s no heart left to break
There’s no home for the bank to take
There’s no food but scraps that I ate
I lost my rights the American way

Corners cut, I avoid main streets
can’t believe in your deity
Life is hard as the cold concrete
Where I rest my head to fall asleep

I had a life I had a love
I had a family but now they’re gone
There's no one left who knew me then
Only dream scenes that see
Right through to the death of me

You put me down you call me ***
But I was just passing life from
Childhood to the end of this bad one

Depression is so brutal.
It is not a French poodle.
There is nothing cute about it.

Lovely light hearted Layla,
my lyrical inspiration,
the source of my hopeful heart
and tear felt frustration.

I want to ride the night,
to stand by your side,
and hold your hand
as we cross this land.

I’ve heard the tears
other broken hearted lovers cry,
and seen nothing,
but the blackness of the otherside.

Oh, treasured friend of mine
is there something there
behind your eyes
that I might find,
perhaps a slight spark
lit in your heart
that parallels mine.

Layla, I long to hold you by the hearth,
hot and ***** loving affection
that burns against the dark
of the cold winter woods.

Layla, you are my wild one,
in whom I trust
but I doubt that my love
will ever touch
the summit of your desirous affections.

With a few lights of potential love
hope cracks my steely exterior.
My guard drops.

I dream of folded fingers
wrapped around my neck,
Of gently caressing her skin,
Of poetry and passion.

I try to restrain hope
to a reasonable buzz
because I know there is no love
and I am always right.

Truth sours hope’s dreams,
curdling them in my stomach
reminding me
there will be
no happy ending for me.

So like a good little soldier boy
I march on
tapping my drum
and writing these
sad love songs.

I need the night
The lack of light
Let’s me focus
The quiet
Let’s me focus
Engaging
The inner me
The inner beauty
People have yet to see
I need the night
Because it lets me be
Free

It is black, empty of color gazing deep into it
I see nothing, a void of sorrow and hopelessness
Helpless to face the onslaught
I struggled to stack it, one day upon another
Patting it down and compressing it
Till pounds became tons
I store it up like coal in cement structures
The center of the silo cracks in a circle
Part particles part wave of dark water
One moment breaks the building
And all that I am is consume by
Depression’s horror.

A glass complexion,
distorted reflection
filled with new
shades and hues
of my personal truth.

Silent stares in contemplation
as I stand facing this tense face
that I know so well.

My body smokes itself
as the mirror fogs up,
with the hot water still running
on the other side
of the wet flower shower curtain

I sit back
letting myself be
submerged in salt rich water.

I let my dead weight
pull me under completely
as I listen deeply
to my heartbeat.

Soft drops of water
pitter patter above me
raining down gently
from my shower
like a white noise
generator.

Barely a minute until
I emerge,
sitting still
as my tense muscles
become more relaxed
then they were before
this wonderful bath.

Her feline eyes
are slender slits
of baleful irises
staring with
the ravenous ache
of a predator
ready to take
that which sustains
and entertains.

There is the sound of
bones snapping
acting like
two soldiers cracking
sword against sword
with such a fierce resistance.
It is almost painful
but after
the tension passes,
though I know
it is probably
not healthy
for me
I still crack
my joints
gleefully.

Grey waters wear
Sun strained ripples
With one hippo head
Less than halfway
Out to a greet the new day
Till the purple sunset
Suffering from a slight
Foggy haze
Loses the day and sets
Far far away

No labels
And you are afraid
Uncertain how
You should react today

A person can’t simply be
Because you are uncomfortable
If you can’t call them
He, or she
Black, Asian, or white
American or foreign

Must have some social cues
To give certain social clues
So you can perform
Some standard dance
Instead just treating people
Like human beings.

Do you recall
the black dot
dark spot
fevered body
burning
sun hot
getting dizzy
and cold
feeling
a hundred years old.
Till, you fought off
this severe
chest cold congestion
that might have been
pneumonia.

I got a multi colored lite brite like memory
that comes and goes slipping pass my past
tripping me up until I switch memory lanes
from fast and slow
letting go then going back
picking a field of lemon and strawberry details.
Till, I can partially recall who I used to be.

It must be nice
in your neon colored
smooth four wheeled
driving life,
that law and order
kind of world
you exist in;
But I lived in
an age of uncertainty.
Authority to me
was unpredictably
violent.
I was the *******
bent over to be
busted by
belts, pots, brushes,
brooms, mops,
ping pong paddles,
and any other
implements
that could be scavenged.
So, you can have
your invisible pervert
who sits and observes us
from up above
to judge,
but for me and anyone
who has felt the lashes
or seen loved ones
abused by those in power
we’ll take the truth of now
not your rose-tinted glasses
of an overarching order
in the universe
driven by loving father figure.

Stand silent stand still
Don’t think and don’t feel
Don’t fidget at all
And you will get paid
Security shift ****
At this bank

I am a terrible human being. **** storming, anger machine that spits hateful things in poetry.
My memory is a landfill, of abuses, and poorly remembered happier times. I struggle to find the truth behind my anger, sadness, and regret. Is it what I remember, forget, or can’t forget that has ****** me up? Her face causes the familiar rage to rise. Voice spewing lies, or what I think is lies. I spent most of my life trying to figure out how it was my fault. I am still trying to figure how it might be my fault. Hyper kid, tired and lonely mother, the formula does not mix. I cannot calculate the value of her violence minus what I did to deserve it. Did I earn it? People aren’t all bad? I can remember going to the movies a couple of times, traveling and listening to music, holidays and presents, but in the present all that is shaded. I am jaded by being locked in an unlocked room, cut off in solitary confinement, because she got busted for the violence. I remember how she had to know what I told the counselor. So I stopped telling them anything.
A smart man knows that human memory is not perfect, so I keep trying to figure out how I deserved to get hit, why I deserved to be isolated, verbally degraded. Part of it had to be my fault, cause people just don’t lash out. I struggle to find out what it was all about because I am scared. If I can’t figure out the reason, if there was no good reason, could I become her?

I drive at night
and my eyes find
dark water that reflects
and stretches
carnival lights
beyond their normal
lines.

There was pain and self-destruction
a medicated nightmare of misunderstandings
doctors demanding that I be sedated
because they hated
my child hyperactivity
my playful disposition
and questioning nature
my poor nutrition
and the affects of a mother’s violent behavior
so at eighteen they put me on Paxil
drugged me up and I didn’t sleep
for almost a whole week
which made me suicidal
lessened the chance of
my overall survival
I spent a week in a hospital
a month or two in a group home.
Then less than ten year later
they gave my brother
the same medicine
and those drugs
nearly did him in
they sent him
to the same hospital
not ever asking if
the prescription
caused this ****

Oh, the spiral descends.
Empty eyes watch
as the stairs drop
into a circle that bends
swirling in an
infinite depression.

Soft thuds fill the air
as numerous feet follow down
chased by their own
bone chilling sound,

and while they move forward
the darkness envelopes all.
Waves of light retreat
as the children of man
come here to fall.

Stone statue
A monument
To a man who never was
Perfect pose
Perfecting an idea
Of a beautiful patriotic dream

I write
a little life
littered with
the broken bits
of split
and distorted
reflections
I recorded
and reported
as reality.

It is the sounds
of ivory keys
hammering strings
that I use to sooth
my tired self to sleep
or to keep
jarring noises
from waking me.

You are beautiful my dear,
and if it is not clear I fear
given less distance
between us
I would let you lie to me.

I would let you
string sweet syllables
of seduction,

till my mind’s reductions
causes me to collapse
like a black hole
devouring everything
that is us
and letting nothing
ever escape.

You may drink
To obscure your pain
Play videos games
Chat on Facebook
Immerse yourself
In other social media
Watch movies, TV
And YouTube videos
Chasing novelty

Going after
That consumer high
From the merchandise
You buy

But in time
The silence will find you
And the anguish you were blind to
Will consume you to

Till, the pharmaceutical companies own you
Because you have to
Take so many anti-depressants
Just to get through
One more day

You are not blazing a new trail.
You just failed to notice
that you had doubled back
on old trampled grass
that others had treaded
before you ever headed
in that revolutionary direction.

I see the tree
shading me
while I play
gleefully
indulging
innocent instincts.
I climb
forgetting
the lessons of
time, gravity,
and most importantly
the fact that I am not
as spry as I used to be.

Rough wheels run circles
Around a static background
Passing the same horizon
Over and over again
Like some old cartoon
Driving in place
As he races to his next stop
To live unload his next drop
Early bird waiting hours plus
Hoping they can fit him in
So he can hit the road again
Before his electronic log
Locks him down for the day
He brings his paperwork
And waits
He pulls his tandem back
Then waits
Drops his trailer in the door
And waits
Rest stop gas station shower
On the road
Smoke stacks cough up
Black clouds
Yellow lines
Become yellow blurs
Another load down
Another pick up
The road rides him roughly
Home beckons him on
Fifteen hundred miles
To his own bed
Coffee break and **** stop
To clear his head
And the sunset runs seventy miles
An hour
While he pushes seventy-five
Two million miles down
Two million more to end his life

I want an after dinner poem
Because they are so delicious
A poem on a pillow
And one after I do the dishes

I want a poem for breakfast
Cause they are so mentally nutritious

But most of all
I want you in my poetry
Because you are the best
Poem I could read

Form in figure fitting perfectly
Moving and talking to me
You are poetry in motion
You are artistry in thought
You are the queen of my desire
Because you make my poems
Shockingly hot

So write me a love poem
A poem of love lost
A poem of philosophy
Of such sweet sophistry
And what you have gained
And all that it cost

Give me a biographical picture
Or a nature walk

I want a poem
That is the truth of you
And in exchange
I will give you the poetry of names
And call you humanity

The heartbreak is there.
As we move on
loved ones disappear.
Still, we sing them alive in songs.

Everyone we know
will surely die
and in this simple verse
I sit and cry

I’d like to
thank god
for selectively
supporting
a specific
sports team
while
other human beings
are still existing
in unnecessary suffering.

I’d like to
thank god
for letting me
be so wealthy
while a world
of women, men,
and children
are still starving.

I’d like to
thank god
for my sleep
and for being our shepherd
cause we are sheep.
Thank god,
bah bah bah
bah bah bah.

People retreat
further and further
into religions,
politics,
consumerism,
or chemicals
to avoid
confronting
painful truths.

It was an obsession,
illegal possession
of the love drug connection
driving her into
criminal intent.

She assumed by his promises
she owned him
all affection shown him
all ****** gratification
grinding deep into
her chemical brain.

But then came
that chemical pain
rejection
subtraction
from the satisfaction
of knowing with certainty.

Possessing little sanity
she drove metal nails
up and down
the red paint
of his ford truck.

Empowered by passion
she pushed past him
pounding until the
pulpy flesh
of his favorite pet
plastered her nail bat.

It went farther than that.
With a gun to his back
she pierced his heart.
The pumping stopped.
Then she put the barrel
up to her head,
pulled the triggered.
Until, she too was dead;
finally, free from
her obsession.

Reality splinters
into fractured avenues
of lightening
of unknown variables.
The future fills with flowers
and burns with the fear
spawned from the dawn of
uncertainty and endless possibilities.

As usual I lay the groundwork
Fix the broken stitches
Wipe away the sick skin
That burns and twitches
Clearing saltine tears

Being there for all my friends
From the beginning
To bend then send in
All that hard loving

Finding that I am forgotten
Diaphanous specter
And in gratitude
My better angels

Forget me to
It’s nothing new

The lights should not twinkle
or shimmer like they are reflecting
from a swimming pool.
My eyes should not water
but they still do
when I remember you.

One cool long trip,
when I had to put
these waxy things
in my ears to swim;
One long ago time
with water in my nose
that strange wet
and awkward sneeze.

These are only tiny fractals
fractions of a memory
minus depth
and color quality.

One has only to open their eye and look above than close there eyes and look within to see what a strange and wonderful universe we live in.

You birth is an invitation
Few received from quintillion plus
Possible people
A gift to exist
A choice given
The variables
A ticket to the freak show
Or to the joy ride
Of expanding life
And human consciousness
It was not stamped for approval
Nor is it dependent on the permission
From those in power
Who required you
To live by their patterns
Why would you
When you can build a better loom

The tv is blaring
with the
big bad wolf scaring
three little pigs,
who manage to
get the jump
on him,
making me grin
when they win.

I see
other cartoon figures
get hit with
a TNT blast
if that was me
I wouldn’t come back.

All the ducks in a row
like Donald and Scrooge,
even got a black duck
who is a daffy dude.

All the laughter
is great,
this passionate pleasure
made frame by frame
eases my pain,
and remind me
how funny
****** up
**** can be.

You
dear humanity
have robbed me
of my sanity,
stealing my solace
and left a disease
of emptiness,
but I will
have my peace
when I leave,
when I am deceased.

Sleep deprivation,
extreme caffeination,
and frequent urination
to the point of dehydration,
what a dangerous
work combination.

It is not completely destructive
But a deep dulling
I want to ask for help
I want someone to love me
But I cannot speak
I am muted in my pain
Because my pain does not matter

I love the creative insights
drawn from long hours
of stillness.
I would live there
but for the dread of boredom
and deep dark revelations.

The folds of
burnt black metal
pinch his skin,
breaking the flesh
that slips within
tiny gaps.

The knight gasps
as pain explodes
and trickles of blood
start to flow.

To this
his page says,
your forgot your
aketon.

The newly knighted fool
stares and drools,
stuttering “what?”
and the page replies
your underpadding.

Is there wisdom
to be unraveled
in the words
that she wrote,

perspectives
of a watercolor world
that I did not know,

We break like waves on a rock
Slamming again and again
Then running away
Rejoining the trillions
Of water molecules
Then restarting the race
Separately moving together
Crashing and returning
The rock erodes
As we come and go
Go and come
Shattered stones
Become wet sand
As we break like waves on a rock

I got a fascination
with the frequency
of my urination
in relation
to the caffeination
of my beverages.

A flag is not a holy relic. I pledge allegiance to the human cause for all my brothers and sister living or lost, for every person in every nation. Nk matter what flag you live under I pledge my love, and respect. My allegiance is not for strange abstract symbols or old patrotic ideals. A flag is not nation and a nation is not automaticly rightoues. No one dies for a flag. They die becuase no one could find a better solution.

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

This bipolar late winter weather
is so confusing that the birds
return as quickly as the flowers
that try to bloom early.

The sun merges with the horizon.
Until, orange rays give way
to light blue.
Then that hue
gives into a darker view.

At night the lamplights
wear rainbow halos
that signify
the function of
my tired eyes.

While all other trees
are bereft of leaves
the conifers confer
their prickly beauty upon me;
Scratching my skin
only as fiercely
as I press in
to their personal space.

Always moving forward
and off at an awkward angle
I pursue the white light
half of the moon
that makes a Cheshire grin.
The high school windows
across the street
reflect strange distortions
back at me
as I walk the parking lot
watching the darker shade
within my shadow.
I slink up onto
the sidewalk
that is a gray portrait
of its pock marked past.

At last, I come in from the outside
losing what’s left of the bright night
and nature’s musical life.
I walk the sterile colorless corridors
that cut and cross to nowhere,
while my spirit yearns
to return to
the outside world I was
just describing for you.

I’m glad that someone finally got through to you,
that you are listening to someone who
says the same exact thing that I always do,
and now you’ve got this can-do attitude,
so everything is going to be better.

However, I am a little annoyed
that you managed to avoid
hearing anything that I had to say,
when I was trying convinced you
of those truths that you now believe in.