There are clouds
That obscure reality
While I wait
For the most
Probable
Eventuality
Knowing
That immortality
Is a lie
We like to tell ourselves
I wait to fall
Scrape my knees
Against the cold concrete
And hope that each time
The coarse grains
Will give way
See me sinking
Into a shining world
As hardness envelopes me
Vapors conceal
The way I feel
The affections that are real
And I hide a bit to
Till I find the truth
Visiting one friend,
Her or him
Walking and talking
Knowing
That they will be swallowed
That the earth will open up
Time will crack and rumble
Lightning to thunder
Splitting just enough
To take the ones I love
One chip at a time
Till their fate is mine
And I join them
In the dirt nap defeat

What a folly
I live at a fools address,
try not to deceive myself
but give so much
to touch and support
the one I love
with no reciprocation.
I live in the wasteland
of alienation
leaving with the taste
of nothingness on my tongue

Morality and ethics are abstract illusions/delusions that are relative to the place and time of ones existence.

A beauty works
enshrouded by
obscuring light
long blond hair
verging on
silver grey
interesting
moving and smiling
working
seems kind
from what I can see.

Perhaps that is just
the bias in me
that wishes beauty
to be as beautiful
inside as what is outside.
I keep such thoughts to myself.

It is not fair that I am happily an ear
For everyone else’s problems
But when I need my nearest and dearest friend
He does not want to talk to me
And I can’t muster up the will to
Talk to anyone else
So I will drown
Or grow some gills to swim

My muse burns with a cold fury,
a frosted fire that flames in the night
fast as death and slow as time.
I sit and wait, hoping I’ll find
the right words to fill this rhyme.

So, I seek soft speakers who feel as I,
the ones who use poetry
to tell beautiful truth filled lies.

Then once I have devoured their vowels,
once I have sipped and savored
their constant consonants
briskly reading through
the stuff they share with me and you,
I let my mind do what it must do.
I rest, absorb, learn, and get ready to use,
the sweet words of my wonderful muses.

Well we sit until it stops
Can’t hear the ticking of the clocks
The clicking of the locks
As we lose all notions of control
Time sweeps us up
Space beats us up
Fill it up with stuff
But the stuff is not enough
Man this life can be rough

They put poetry on the wall
Wrote it deep into my skin
Barely ink boiling
Paintbrushes
Were like bandages
Pens were like anesthetic
Pretty pamphlets
Pasted perfect words
To counteract
What made us disturbed

You do not know your enemy;
For the flesh you see
bleed just like thee.
Tears swell and fall
when they lose those
they love
those whom
they would hold close;
But then when your
bombs explode
shrapnel goes
in their throats
in their arms
and in their eyes
clouding and killing
their consciousness,
our enemy buries this
body boiled in
rage and chaos
setting the stage
to make them hate us.
How can you blame them?

Outcast
Miserable
Despicable
Untouchable
I got years
And tears
Of fears
That this is
What I am
Well practiced in
The art of love
Loving everyone
More than myself
And never seeing
Or believing
That I deserve
A return
On my loving investment

Your wishes are wasted on her body
Tasting desire’s empty promise
The illusion that passion equals love
The truth of the moment is only passing
The passion is a byproduct of living
Reducing us to animal urges
When our better natures
Would be better served
By jerking off
So our rational mind can be heard

I get frustrated by those who think they know me. I may come off as intellectually arrogant but spend more time trying to see the world from different angles. Since I suspect that i'm frequently wrong I endure a lot and forgive more then I should.

Maybe I don’t deserve to be sad,
didn’t do something bad,
and the fortune I had
is ok.

Maybe all this **** ain’t my fault.
The wars were not mine.
I did commit those crimes.

Maybe the truth is,
I spent too much time in the dark,
but today has my heart,
and the sun feels so good

The stars crash and collapse.
Our time has finally past,
and I no longer wonder
if our love was really meant to last.

I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to leave.
I would like to stay
but you don’t need me.

Eternity’s a lie
we like to tell ourselves,
but the truth is sadder
cause we got played
by those madder
then the mad hatter.

I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to leave.
I would like to stay
but you don’t need me.

There is sorrow in
my spoken words,
tears in the songs
heard and unheard,
and this is the year
someone will fade.
Its okay if you want to stay.
I’ll take my leave
to end these days.

I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to leave.
I would like to stay
but you don’t need me.

A gun that scars the shooter
is the perfect metaphor
cause no soldier leaves battlefield
without the wounds of war.

Give me a song to calm my nerves.
Give me a sweet swinging verse.
I love those words
the ones we both heard
that made life so nice.

When I am alone at night
with too many thoughts
running through my mind
a play soft song.
Then I sing along
and I am alright.

When I am daydreaming,
I fantasize about singing
soulful songs of yesterday
as we sit and talk throughout the day
while playing checkers, or dominoes.
Man, that would be great.

Perhaps, later on that night
you’ll let me hold you tight
as we sway to the soft beat
with synchronized feet.
That would be so sweet.

The clock in the waiting room
hasn't been changed to
reflect daylight saving time
just like the one in
the coffee break space.
The black liquid tastes
like a remedy to my lack of sleep
but since each clock is off
I am constantly caught
thinking my weekend
is an hour closer than it really is.

The summers spent
Will not return
Even when we revisit them
They are distorted
Each year passing
Finds them lasting
But losing bits
Parts sorely missed
And with the death
Of family and friends
We find we cannot
Retrieve those parts
Ever again

I was angry at god.
Even though,
he does not exist
because I knew
if I had the power
I would never
let anyone
abuse a kid,
but I saw
that ****
and I let it
happen again and again.
I am such a big
******* hypocrite.

Sleep should be my refugee
But anger is my wasteland
Half nightmare half black harbor
Dark liquid coal stirring my soul
Taking my light hearted temperament
And trading it in for its furious friend
Breaching the ****** birth canal
Ripping my insides out
Such a betrayal of trust
So sick of this slick ****
Twisted people trying to turn me over
I walk away with broken stiches
And a bile filled stomach
While they walk away
Thinking their stinking bowls
Are dandelions and sunshine
They are all fine but my mind
Becomes an echo of old scars
A deep familiar tunnel
That I have to struggle
To drive back out in
To find the daylight again

Sacs of flesh water skins
Bleach white bones
Will burn from within
Cancer sticks
Fleshy *****
Human animals
With parts that fit
**** to ****
Desire this
But I resist
Wanting love
From the lust that I missed
We kissed and now we are dust

My heart is a fool’s corpse
That archeologist will find
Thousands of years from now
Fossilized in amber or calcified
Toughened by all the lies
That scarred it

Each time love’s promises
Smashed it
Each time hopes dreams
For a better world
Crushed it

Each failed expectation
Which sought to lessen
Taught me many lessons
To pass my heart on
and prevent someone else pain

Give me a song that speaks to the soul of humanity
Seeks to fill the hole of our vanity
Even when it requires a little obscenity
***** the subtle tones and submissive proclivities
I will take the truth of insanity
Sprinkle wisdom in poetry
And put those prosaic words to music

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

They seem like creatures
cut from some
merciless mythology,
these demons that haunt me,
working hard,
while I try to be
a decent human being.

So, I seek peace in nature,
loving the earth,
but it seems
the monsters are now coming
for that to.

Still, I look down with a smile
cause their winter war has not yet claimed
grasses’ lush green demeanor.

The clock in the waiting room
hasn't been changed to
reflect daylight saving time
just like the one in
the coffee break space.
The black liquid tastes
like a remedy to my lack of sleep
but since each clock is off
I am constantly caught
thinking my weekend
is an hour closer than it really is.

If you haven’t bled
then I don’t need you.
No pain in your soul
then I can see through you.
That deep blue hue is true to
but your depth doesn’t match
the latch that **** blocks
the brown doors that are locked
and if I can’t get in to your mind
then that is fine.

Just give me the red stains
that paint my human pain
when I try and try again
to ******* before it is to late
to activate your empathy
for all of our human kin.

The sky is falling
Little lights slowly descend
Little broken rays of solar skin
Coursing in the blue horizon

The day dies a slow
And sensual death
Teasing out each second
With slowly disappearing
Orange illusions
Till the night consumes
The suns last gasp

Veins of lightning
Crackle in the distance
We count the seconds
To imagine how safe
We might be

The cloud sweats and spits
Falling debris
Soaking me

My mind searches
For less familiar ways
To say the same thing
I wearily search
For a better way
To stay awake in the wake
Of this sad storm
Till I can let sleep
Refresh the best of me

The dry disturbed earth cracks and folds under the furious summer heat.
Brown ground surrounded by more brown ground
Punctuated by small cloudy puddles wearing wet deeper darker shades of brown
No town or any people found just nature’s awkward silence
White cumulus become grey and darkens to a bluer hue
I do not want to blunder fearing the coming thunder
Watery winds may cause me to stumble and sink deeper into the muck
Till my boots get stuck, till my knees are covered up
By the wet slippery stuff my, balance may not be enough
To avoid sinking into the shrinking coal stinking mud

His hands were a solar state
that could never be sated
by cools pools of hydrations.
The same summer heat
could be found
down where desire meets
extending flesh.
His lips parched.
Eyes dry with desire
crusted from waking
finding another day unfulfilled.
But in his mind
a body swam,
soft feline curves
black hair, thin waist
eyes young
heart immature.
Still, he denied himself
even the hope
of being drenched
by her soft water body:
Because he knew
that with the slightest
touch
she would drown him
and he would be grateful
to die in such a manner.

I live in darkness and vacation in the light
watch madness swell and grow like fast track tumors
watch the bloated masses explode as they consume the earth
and it hurts, knowing they will not hear me
certain no one is listening
truth is an unwanted commodity
when religious and political philosophies
are so much easier to devour,
but they taste stale to me
I am so **** hungry,
so I lay stretched out in agony
mourning the loss of humanity
and human decency.
Darkness is the truth I see,
it is the clay I work with,
but I am so tired
because I haven’t had a vacation
since nineteen eighty
and I am thirty-seven years overdue

Blood red petals
Floating in a bowl
Watery
Death
But still oh so beautiful

Singing birds sit
on thin tree limbs
that fracture the heavens
while a white streak
seeks to sheath
itself in the
turquoise sky.

She is mercury
As beautiful
As the planet
And as poisonous
As that silver
Liquid
That we tell
The temperature with

At night with the camouflage exhaustion
The white light burns red signs to blur
Indistinct edges dance out of focus
The quiet stillness is painfully disturbing
Thinking and waiting for the hurting
Of 35 years to punch me in my mind
Still I find this cold midnight isolation preferable
Night roads circle to the edge of nowhere
Memories drive me more than fear
I echo past sentiments, darkness seeds
The night sky with infinite with tangles
Yet conceals the true depth of nature
My hand aches with so many scribbled truths
And my mind stumbles to further such a reckless
Train of thought so I stopped for now just now

I let the lambs go
straight on and up
into the arms
of an imaginary being.

Cause they have
been struggling,
sweating
sugar stains
from the pits
of their pain.

All they can see
is a better life
breathed into being
after death.

They are tired.
Like me they cry.
I know they try,
mostly,
to do right.
I think they
are trying
to do right.

We all got our doubts.
We all got our pains.
We are all struggling.
Some struggle in vain
to satisfy an imaginary guy
but I understand.

Sheep need a shepherd.
However, if they ever
tire of being a sucker,
I still have my staff
and I can walk them back
from the cliff
they are trying to run over.

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.

It is Sunday morning
And it used to be
Had to go to church
To find the divinity

Now I see the beauty
In our reality
See the sparkle
Of the divine in humanity

It’s not a god particle
Or supreme consciousness
More like a mental clarity
Empathy, wisdom and intelligence

There’s a crack
in the back black
parking lot.

There’s a crack in my engine
so, my car
won’t start,

and there’s a crack
in my demeanor
so, any one
can look in
and see my
bleeding heart.

Please,
Do not let 
The words fail me
Or vice a versa 

I need a verse to
Give the evening 
To you
Because you deserve
The universe

I may be tired
But everything inspire
Higher creativity
And what I seek
Is to gift thee
Graciously
With a reality
Where you can be
Happy

So as my eyes flutter
Falling over 
The constant clutter
Of humankind
I hope I find
The precise rhyme
To unlock your mind
So that in time
Some time later
You can return the favor
Bring the flavor
To be my verbal savior 
And inspire my desire
To continue to live and 
Be a great creator

I thought that
I was in love
with a girl
I hardly knew.
Certain I could do
things her current boo
couldn’t ever come close to,

And yes she was a beauty
but she was clever
and kind to boot
a special quality
that deserved
to be pursued.

But that dude
was a good man to,
hard working,
good father,
adequate lover
put in his dues,
proved that he
truly loved her
as far as I observed.

I respect that.
I can't imagine
that I could
do much better.

It was a superficial affection,
an unrealistic fiction.
Their shared friendship
was so much better
then what my lustful
ego ever imagined.

I did not forget you
The way you wield words
To clears the thick muck
That collects on the bottom of
The black boat barreling down
The Missouri River

The deluge of branches
You barely missed
As I stared at this
Shoreline one to a thousand times

You poked passing holes
In the water to know
How and where to go

A little to the left
A little to the right

Soft streaks of starlight burn,
like the light from
a unicorn’s enchanted horn.
Hopeful dreams
like firecrackers
sizzle, pop,
then fizzle slowly into
a young hearted laughter.
My heart flares there
in the words of a poetess’s
strange world
as I wonder
what wild treasure
such a deep mind
hides for the truest seeker to find.

I’m too tired to see.
So, I need caffeine
to relieve me,
with windshield wiper
efficiency,
of this mental fog.

I slip the restraints
of fatigue
that are bound to me
so, I can see
how the concrete streets
in this city
strangle mother nature.

Trees are confined
to small yards
and other enclosed spaces.
Till, there are only
small traces
of that sweet elm smell.

All mammals and insects
hide when I inspect
the small amount of foliage
that I am able to find.

The birds that I love
hide themselves away,
ceasing their delightful chirping
when I walk their way.

Even the stars are obscured
by the city’s light pollution
creating the illusion
of an almost blank
blackish blue canvass
that stretches across
the night sky.

But I know the truth.
This city
is only temporary.
It will fall and fade
after we all pass away.

You want to raise
an army of hate
but I cannot
ride the river Styx
and face Hade’s gate
with anger in my face.

I dare not visit
similar grief
upon a stranger’s life.
I will not see
a stranger’s wife
weep terribly
because I believed
I was better than he.

You want to raise
an army to rage
and ravage
all that lays
displayed,
flesh splayed
folded open
with blood ink
to write
your history pages.

So, when
you command men
to turn upon those
who once
could have been known
as friend,
I will close my eyes,
turn around,
put my weapons down,
say my sweet goodbyes
to love and life,
and let you label me
as a man of treason,
a king of reason.
I will swallow my spite
and for just this one
last night.
I will do what is right
and die refusing to fight.

It makes us
It breaks us
Shreds us
To pieces
Lifts us up
Causes us to retreat
In solemn defeat
To repeat
Painful behavior
It is *******
And Agony
Hope binds us
And separates us
From our humanity

Long gray streaks
become
bone thin
dragon men
that spread
their wings
across the
afternoon sky,
monsters that
soar hard before
the heavy clouds
burst,
dropping their
acid spit
all over
our planet.

The cold glow
of a frozen morning,
the thin layer
translucent,
I look through it
to see the stiff blade
of nature’s green
barely surviving
The sun is up there,
but seems to be
emitting null energy.
It is a subdued
ball of fire
burning softly
in the dawn colored sky.
I remove my shoe
then the other one to
to move through
the wet grass
as the ice cracks
and releases
its hostages.
My tank top shoulders
shiver straight down to
the fingers I used
to poke holes in the earth
for no apparent reason.
For now, I am immortal,
unaware that death
is always there
unable to identify
that black shrouded guy
who hounds us all.
I just enjoy
this early frost in fall
as I crawl across
this ice laden landscape.

In the night
the fountain
spits red light
streams of water
with a little
blinking blue
to skew the view.

Paintings may portray
a wide array
of life so gay,
but it is only
a still life
that the painters paint,
and the only time
we find that life is still
is when it has gone away.