I feel like I have been writing the same poems over and over. I would welcome a writing prompt from anyone.

Who's to blame
for the fact that
this world is gone insane?
Is it run by the inane?
I need to ascertain
if they have an *** for brain
or are they snorting aspartame
like it's *******?

I break my pattern
and reduce the restriction
of obsessive attention
to a particular
schedule or behavior,
because if I want to
I can do it now or later,
take the time to savor
the flavor of the moment
because I own it
and not the other way around.

This type of freedom is profound,
and easy to achieve
even though it frequently eludes.
Obsessions frequently intrude rudely
and take more time than
I care to admit to.

The world may be
very close to ending
or not,
but my life is all
that I really got,
so I will greedily
hoard my individuality
and liberty to see and perceive
that strings that seem to direct me
and sever them immediately.

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 hear the train stutter
as it vibrates the whole block.
A conductor runs
those rusted cars
roughly across the tracks.
From the bank
I can see each car
with their random tags
from artists
all over this land.

Politicians
extort men
to retort then
go on acting
bad again,
whilst reporting
trends that tend
to move friends
to end good
relationships
in favor of
spouting off *******.

The clown in me
sees the mirror man’s
suffering
and camouflages his pain
into puns.
The jokester runs
fast away
from the truth of today.
He plays
with symbols
to say
that I am not ok
but lets laugh
anyway.

I got a sick suspicion
someone is dishing
***** laundry
in our kitchen.

It is a perfect
fall day
for following
whatever whim
directs me
to ride
against or with
the wind.

I daydream
that I am being
chased by
villainous
creeps.

My bike crosses
the worn wooden bridge
with the thud of
loose boards
persistently
following me.
I imagine
they are my enemies.

Brown leaves
clutter
the dirt path
crunching
and crumbling
under
the black tires.

On the sidewalk
I speed up
preparing for
the air
I will walk
as I leap off
the top
of the three steps
to finally escape
my enemies.

I love
this ten speed
purple huffy
that carries me
wherever
I choose to be.

How do you go on
When grief compounds grief
When foundations turn to sand
Turn to glass
Then shatter again and again
How do you persist
Against this sick cycle
Of losing then gaining
And losing again
How do you
Please tell me

I know I won’t be here forever,
and I am just wasting away,
watching politician playing their games,
play acting outrage while preventing change.

There is a no place for my face
that shifts and distorts from the pain
that I am forced to witness over and over again.

I’m not the cleverest
but stating facts makes me feel like
I’m trying to scale Mt. Everest
while screaming against the bitterest winds,
like I am going to have to watch all of my friends
slip off the top and drop nonstop
until our whole civilization ends.

I’m just dressing my heartbreak up in
stark sparkling words meant to
amuse and enlighten all of you,
until the same fate catches up to me to,
and my legacy disintegrates
with the rest of the human race.

It doesn’t matter if I am trying to be
a superior version of me
while every other *******
is out for themselves,
getting fatter and dumber,

cause I’m a whiny little *****
to sit and sob about this
when I am doing great.

The time has come.
Soft silk shirt
unbuttoned.
Lacey *******
slid from
the skin I want.
I dive in tongue first.
Let you scratch my back
as I latch on like a lamprey
feeding on your juices
plunging deeper.
I hope you’re a screamer.
As I slither to and hither
twirling my tongue
like a cheerleader’s baton
or a helicopter rotor
around and around
with such frenzy
till you gasp fiercely
and squirt me.
Then I return to taste
your flesh,
trace your breast
with gentle brush strokes
caress your neck
and nibble your earlobes.
Then when you shiver again
I’ll send my soldier down under.
That up and ******
grinding out another ******
as your pink slit gives in to it
my body going in you
like a hyperactive tide
Just the tip then ****** in it.
Just the tip and ****** in it.
All the way out
and all the way in.
Till you are ******* again
and again and again
and again.

There is no release
from this vile disease
that affects a society
that claims it owns me.

I watch in disgust
as fools drool over the dust
of our most recent bombing.

The mother of all bombs,
the biggest ballistic *******,
killer cadre of collective bombardments.

Even though I have not looked at
the pictures yet,
you see them and then
still embellish with inflated sentiments,
claim the explosions and armaments
are so beautiful.

Our youth line up
to sign up
and support
this reckless endangerment
of humanity,
while I write to plea
begging that they see
this violence is degrading
the quality of our
American collective.

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.

I used to dream of
endless M.C. Escher stairways
that led to quiet rooms
with no one in them

This world can be a dark, crue,l and hateful place. That is why we must be ever vigilent against the tide of racism and hatred that overshadows the land. Where there is cruelty we must bring compasion, where there is darkness we must become the light, and where there is hate we must be love. I hope all of us can live as shining example of the goodness within the hearts of human beings.

How tragic that I have fallen for
my peacock colored angelic
poetically created fantasy,
how her lips are rainbows
and hair falls fancy
full of vibrance,
though she is written in silence,
hazel eyes always focused
in some far-off distance
behind me,
the man who longs to be
the one she is truly seeing.
Galatea to my Pygmalion,
though I know there are billions
of possible lovers out there,
I do not care or dare
avert the heart I share.
She is my obsession,
and I am her devoted
poet possession.


-2022 December

Ridiculous seditionist,
I wonder what his
cretinous position is
in this cuz,
he isn't a traditionalist
and censorship
is not a hardship
for this fake populist
wanna be ******* fascist.

Don’t give me
your troubles
cause I got
my own.

Don’t give me
your reasons
when mine
have all gone.

Don’t feed me
no lines
about the divine.
I don’t need a god
and you won’t
change my mind.

I appreciate it
if you are empathetic
enough to relate to
the pains of others.

But, I have seen such barrenness
in the field of human empathy
for quite some time, and though I
have learned to enjoy my life
despite the tragedy that paints this world,
the pervasiveness of apathy
towards what should be our shared humanity
still haunts me terribly.

I am not some black sheep to be shepherded by some make beleive creep.

I believe that the gift
I have been given
is for looking at things
different,
for shifting strange perceptions
and seeking underlying connections
of a nonspiritual persuasion.

I look beyond the black vastness
Of the infinite
that spreads out before me.
My eyes are closed
and I know
that the solid world
of reality
waits past my eyelids.
However, celestial explosions
of white, black, and green
flow through the darkness
that envelopes me.
I am sightless
but sometimes
as I breathe
I find my way
halfway between
the waking world
and the visions in my dreams.
Slippery stones
and water that gleams,
saran wrapped
potato beings
are strange portraits
of this unconscious scene.
It is the breath that carries me
as I float slightly
above my body.
It is the silence and solitude
that was forced upon me
by an angry and violent
human being.
Perhaps, it was the first steps
Of a ten year old boy
On his way to find
the inner peace
that still eludes me.
Or, maybe, it is
just a faulty memory
that deceives me.

She is a waking obsession
possessing every second
of thought that I have.

Each action I take
each thing that I make
is for her.

When I go to the gym
I push myself to the limit
to get stronger and faster
so I can protect her
and her children.

While I walk around
at work
I hope she’s not hurt
and wait for her
to get the urge
to call me.

Be it three in the morning
or ten o’clock at night
I never mind if she calls me.
I maybe a little drowsy
but I love hearing her voice.

I don’t mind cleaning her dishes
or doing her laundry.
She can ask anything of me
and I’ll do my best
to accommodate her request
and do what she asked me to.

I’ll stay late
or come over early
no matter how tired I am,
with no expectations
or devious plans
to be her man.
I just want to do what I can
to help her
because I am her friend
and I love her.

They blasted us,
made more landfills from
the dust that was once
our skin,
toasted a succession
of successful thefts
as they took
what was left
of our hope
and innocence.

I thought you wrote of the heart you broke.
The poems spoke of sorrows familiar,
but not your own.

The verses were benign.
No identity to find,
just plaid sentiments
parsed out pieces
of other people poetry.

Pop sensations,
predictable platitudes,
empty verses
with no sign of your heart,
so many syllables to hide behind,
but what I couldn’t find.

It was you, I was looking for
in those words.

Tv made to many promises
Saying we could conquer all problems
That love would solve them
All that Disney sentiment
In reality it meant ****
Truth hurts and love is all the worse
For the losing in poorly using
One vulnerable heart
Failing find false starts
And arrhythmia
All fluff and hopefulness
Doesn’t mean a **** thing

I am not the wreckage
Your life was built upon
Or the side street
Were rushed lovers meet
To greet each other
In a panic with frantic fingers

I am not the hole
You fill to ****
That internal ache

I am not the hero
Or the villain
Of this small
Human production

I am not like
The similes
That litter
Your eulogies
Or the metaphors
You adore

I am simply me
Still searching
To find out
Who that is

It is time for a mellow ride
To the musical side
Of this temperamental
Dark life

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.

We are displaced
by pain’s past,
a place where
black roses bloomed.

Where sorrow was groomed,
but between
the waxing moons
there were small smiles,
light laughter
hugs, love, and
stories.

Though shadows came
soft kindnesses
kept madness at bay
with bright interludes
breaking through
shaking the core of who
we thought we were
and who we want to be.

Presently, I visit shade
to see the sun above the leaves,
to see the light shimmering
in small rain puddles that pool
in the streets by my old school
in the cool springtime afternoons.

The pain is a permanent companion
but through those tinted mirrors
of bruises and verbal assaults,
I see a sunny side of sanity
the goodness inside of me,

and in time
even the shadows become a pleasant
memory.

A hundred twenty miles
Away from home
Doesn’t seem so far to go
But I’m tired from
The twelve hours that I worked
Need some sleep need some food
Get it down and back in I go
Seems my life never slows
Down at all

Back and forth I’m in and out
Barely get a second’s  breath
And they call me for another shift
On the road

Wash my cloths hit the store
Get some food and gas
Before I go
Back on the road
For another fifty or so miles
Farther away

Pushing on going through
Still you know I’m missing you
Gone one twenty to two hundred and two
Miles away

Heavy hearted I hear a sob
Tears fill my eyes
I don’t know why I cry
Maybe I’ll get a day or two
To come back home to you

I am a river of longing
Swerving and changing
Draining myself
Into your desirous ocean
While you evaporate
Swelling the bodies
Of other oceans, seas,
Lakes, rivers, and tributaries
Leaving little love left for me

The crow, parrot, raven, and parakeet
Meet across the cracked street
Scuttle along the wrecked concrete
Where human feet once walked
Flutter up steep uneven steps
Not missing those tripping fools who
Cracked the earth with metal tools
That split lumber with chainsaws
That destroyed thin and thick limbs
With loud rusted wood chippers
That incinerated hated legal papers
Shredding evidence with precision
These birds do not miss one person
Just go searching the soft grounds
for deliciously slimy worms

The wolf, coyote, and lonely fox
Hop and trot from here to cross
Separate paths to their favorite snacks
Bloated bodies swelled with stinky fat
Exposed corpses sitting back so that
They could watch their favorite clips
Catch invisible monsters on their phones
People who now become kibbles and bits
For two howlers and one quiet hunter

A mouse, possum, and racoon
Hunt under the split moon
Going through the monsoon
Of decaying human garbage
Devouring all the waste they want
Finally, free from the humans
Who used to hunt and **** them
Now they just have to watch out for
Other local predators

But all these animals are so much better
For the lack of such a destructive species

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.

Life feels like a hammer clanging against a broken anvil
A token of what you were choking down
A broken clown killing yourself ironically
Suicidally marking dimes stretching metal to make nothing
And nothing begets nothing
Rock forgets scissor and paper cuts flesh
Words wielded like stone swords
Smashing and slashing with equal effect
I suspect I am the fool chasing today while I am wasting away
From social decay pleasures so sweet they rot my teeth
But this is just a stream of stinking slick sewage
And instead of swimming in the ****
I think I am drowning in it

We are not the personal property
Of some person who proposed
As always I oppose
The subjugation of our identity
In pursuit of marital bliss
This institution does not fix ****
It just repackages old ideas
In modern consumerism
In love I am not yours
And you are not mine
But I am not blind
To the stunning visage
The gift of your existence
I just don’t think real love
Requires ancient legal and religious
Assistance

Time broke the heart of Van Gogh
Wrenched the soul of Edgar Allen Poe
As the ages spoke with words and paints
The romantics yielded up all of their pain
And put it on display in canvasses and pages

The clouds curl behind shadow birds
Fleeing just in time to miss the summer rain
Leaving me to see to the softened earth
Leaving me to see all the greys
Dull earth shades of brown
Colors lose themselves
The ground is less disturbed than me
I want the rain
I beg for pneumonia
Just an excuse to quit it all
And end this long week
To never speak again
So I let the coat get soaked
I let the button up shirt
Stick moistly to my body
I let the pants wrinkle up all wet
I let everyone leave
As the rain washes
What is left of me
I just sit still as stone
On the grey monument
Till the water in my eyes
Is just tears from the sky
Till all the paper in my pocket disintegrates
Till the ground starts to swallow me
Like it swallowed her
Never fully digesting
Just weighing me down
From this side of death
Till it all stops
And trudges back
Slipping and backing into my skin
Feeling other emotions again
Heading home I start to sneeze
Smiling inside I beg please
Let this sneeze be the death of me

You’ve been lied to
They spied on you
But that’s not half the ****
They used to and still do
To my brown brothers

I don’t want to forget
How to cry
Don’t want to let them
Rob me of the ability
To release this tension
That squirms inside of me
This anguish that tries to ride me
Lying to me with its knots
And churning stomach
Anxiety in reverse
As my lips purse
As I curse my broken heart
I start to kneel and heal
At the altar of soft, warm,
And oh so needed tears

The sheep minded
Elevate ignorance
To celebrate
Their own mundaneness

Claim this enslavement
Is natural
That the moral
Shun the strays
Who walk in
Diverging ways

Cling to status symbols
And fashion trends

Their mind bends
To fit their servile situation

Praising the nation
Instead of humanity

Consumers not real creators
Products not innovators

Digesting stupidity
And spitting the same
Uniformed madness
Right back at me
And that is why
I love working nights

I have seen
a mess of human tragedy
and on a bad day
wanted to see it all
just go away.

These struggles harken back
To a heart charred charcoal black
That drained dusted facts
About the lack of that
Which could set our society free

Tic, the clock kicks
just a bit
counting seconds
but nothing moves.
The pen is still.
Time feels unreal.
The digital display
blinks at a slowed pace
and I match it
a slow breath
a slow heartbeat,
a scattered mess,
and an empty desk.

Tic, my sanity escapes me
driving me to boredom
ticking through
another minute or two
and all I want to do
is go home.

Tic, aaaarrrrrggggh

I hope that when I fade, when death becomes my bleeding shade, and paleness mmars the expressions on my face, that my words sink into the stream of the collective unconscious and find a permenent place.

**** the society
that tries to
inseminate me
with hateful
violent tendency.

**** those laws
that cause
liberty to be
denied to those
who don’t
make as much money
are look the same as me.

**** those reality stars.
Stuck up,
liposucked
money mongering
artificial
Hollywood housewives
that sell lies.

**** those fake
pop stars
who claim
their art is
making them
brilliant artists
when it is just
poison
their bringing.

**** me for singing,
poetry writing,
Not injustice fighting
cause I enjoy my
lazy lifestyle
and social justice
seems like a losing war.
A hundred battles
I lost before
I even started;
Fucccccckkkk.

I can never go home
Cause home is not real

Never was, a place where I felt safe
Just a building with exits
Just people who no longer exist
No safety or happiness

So why do I laugh at this
Cause it is better than
Crying out loud

I am not proud
I just never knew
The same truths as you

Home was a beautiful lie

So I say goodbye
Before I say hello
I say good night
And close out the show

Never was a home
So I stand out here
Alone in the cold

I do not pledge allegiance to a flag
But dedicate myself to eradicating hate
I sing love, love, love, love
Knowing these words will never be enough
To raise the dead but if I can raise a head
That has been hung so low
Take one heart that does not know
That it does not beat alone
But taps in chorus with the rest of us
I pledge to write to the heart of us
Till we are synced in purpose
I will not give you some sappy slogan
Or worship a cloth symbol
Which is not even half as red
As those strangers who bled
To pretend they defend righteousness
Imagining liberty can only be defined by this
False crucifix sacrifice, I drink to life
Pledge that you will not die un-mourned
That words will not set sail unmoored
No matter if your gay or straight
Mexican, American, or poor
Brown or pink skinned
I will not give in to the only sin
That I recognize,
As **** crow thrice I will not deny
I will rise
And pledge allegiance to love