I break my fist
as I crash against this
brick wall of
prepackaged *******.

I break my neck
as I try to twist
and barely miss
taking a bruising hit,
but still manage
to hurt myself
dodging it.

In the end
as I move to bend
letting light in,
and distorting it
taking the fragile part,
and reporting it
I break my heart,
but never lose it.

I am just
a pretty purple
placeholder
for her old lover.
A holdover
until he
gets his
**** together.
So, I’d rather
give her the cold shoulder,
but I love her
too much to abandon her.
Even though
this is killing me
slowly
but sweetly.

As humans we all start and end the same. It is only the journey we take that is different.

It is fine to hate, hate bad ideas, damaging ideologies, suffering, violence, and greed. However, hating people, diminishes the hater. Any system or person that props itself/themselves up on the basis of hating people damages humanity, and decreases our ability to build a better brighter future.

It’s a sad song
When the soldiers come
With their loaded guns
And finger held firmly
on the trigger

The tears won’t stop running
For the victims that keep falling
On the battle ground

And the enemy
Well they are just siblings
From another father and mother

We sad strangers have stood idly by
Watching people suffering
Brown skin Muslims rounded up
While waterboard artists play cover up
Unmanned missile launching drone
Blow up innocent bystanders homes
Justice is just a joke’s simple guise
To promote social inequality
Worthless warfare idiot warriors
Public figures probably figure
Were just sheep cow toe to heroes
Noble sacrifices will quiet riots
Justifying all of those lies
Can’t call a soldier on his crimes
Well then string up the general

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

perspectives
of a watercolor world
that I did not know,

abstract conjecture,
projections of
a future,
through
reflections
on the past?

Or, are these
lily white
pastels
of sweet
sophistry
only meant
to distract
or comfort me?

Thank you for the kind words. As a poet/writer/artist I slipped in an out of the ethereal world of the mind. I do spend time with people but I am drenched in solitude by necessity. I find very few kind words for me. So usually I just say thank you but just this once I wanted to express the depth of my gratitude to those who stop and say such kind things. To me those little messages are like drops of water in the desert. So though the words are trifle in response I still wanted to say thank you.

Look how the water
sits.
Droplets
pool in
miniscule puddles,
comfortable positions
on this imperfect plant.

Petals gleaming, and bending in
the summer wind,
wearing light green,
soft, cool, and moist
orange and browns shades
surrounded by a pool
of random stones.

I am preparing
for the sharing
of grief
as a another doctor
leaves.

Space and time
part like
the red sea.
I believe
the next one
will be good,

but I am emotionally attached
like I was to the last,
and the other doctor who passed.

Christmas time
and I will come home
to find
these tears of mine
are rather silly,
falling for
a fictional character
who isn’t even
dying.

He is just regenerating,
just changing
like we all do
even though
we struggle to
hold on to the past.

Nothing lasts,
nothing last,
nothing………

It was a bright and beautiful
brand new day
as she crossed the courtyard
with a lullaby on her lips,
saw the swans take off and fly,
then slowly descend
dipping their delightful necks in
the once still water
that was now surely stirring.

A sweet tune tantalized her tongue
as she hummed
something that bordered on forgotten,
it was powerful
but only echoed,
imperceptible
in her unconscious mind.

A fire swept through
her anxious gut
as she struggled
to recall
something she was certain
was important.

A dog barked.
Bees buzzed
about their honey making business.
She was certain
even anxious
she would not forget this,
but she missed
the magic of her musical muse,
and cursed herself
for not remembering the tune.

Time obscured
dawn’s radiance
the day died
a brilliant turquois
to dark blue and blackish
death,
and stillcont.
the song would not come.
It hovered within
her breath.
It beat beneath
her soft blossoming chest.
A tear fell
as she struggled
to unforget
the song she had lost,
but even in sleeping
and waking
the wonderful melody
would not return.

She does not look up
Is she afraid of me
Scared there might be
Some unknown rage
Some violent display
That I might act
In a brutish way
Or is she worried that she
Might be
Infected with empathy
If she sees
Someone in pain
Who looks so much like
A human being

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

There is no one crueler to me than me.
No one who makes me watch
all those horrors that break my heart.
I split the tip of my lip to let the words drip,
sliding down my chin like saliva;
Then drain the main wrist vein to paint my pain
on a cracked sidewalk that is already covered
in everyone else’s suffering.

My life was spoiled by emotional despots,
terrible tyrants who created
or contributed to
the timid introverted temperament
that I present to you.

Your ten thousand prayers
Don’t add up to
to doing what
you prayed for
god to do.

Ask the starving man
if he would like
us to sit by
and pray all night
for someone to give him
a piece of food,
or if he would prefer
direct action like
someone passing
him a dollar or a donut.

Ask the man who waits for
rope while he dangles
off the side of the cliff
if he would prefer
ten prayers to be heard
or one of the people
praying to bring him a rope.

Ask yourself if you had to choose
between group praying for a cure
or a doctor who has six plus years
to help you with whatever disease
that is afflicting you.
What would you do?
What would you prefer?

A man can die
waiting for help
while fools decide
out of pride
that their prayers
are better then
taking direct action.

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.

Broad generalizations frequently decrease the fluidity of human understanding and growth.

Time’s strangeness surpasses
sad fields of corrugated metal,
spastic lights that project
commercial intent,
technological wonders
barely willed into existence
by the minds of inventors
who we will never visit.

Tragic daydreams of daring proportions
as the desire to acquire materiel wealth
cause us to shift and over extend ourselves.

The Earth bares such deep scars,
as men and women work and draw
from the almost infinite well of greed,
that angry stomach with teeth
that seems to exceed human reach.

How come two fo the most important topics are taboo? Talking candidly about religion can lead to resentment just as quickly as talking about politics. However, these two things are the most powerful forces in our modern culture. Sharing insight and learning from each other , should be the most logical thing. While Remaining ignorant of these topic or avoiding themseams kind of dangerous.

Your pain is relevant, like the Syrian refugee who is running from death to find a life, like the black mother in the black lives matters movement, like mine. I am broken, deeply cracked and ripped like paper when I see that you fail to understand their grief is real.

Of course the pig squeals.
Yes, monsters make appeals,
pleading for humanity
whenever they feel
threaten by the lesser degrees
of the insanity
that they instigated
in our society.

However, my sympathy
is less engaged
for those who lie,
displaying false outrage
while the bombs that are made
our directed by them
to blow up innocent men
women, and children.

I long to be a good person,
but how much does my
saintly status cost?
Does it cross
some sick line
when I find
that I harbor patience
and mercy in my mind
for the vicious kind
who have slaughtered
thousands,
and impoverished
millions more?

Time stretches the stars
Till the heart find their scars
Have become space time
Stretch marks

It's inherent
that we inherit
what's apparent
from our parents.

There was a man sitting at the docks with a boat as he watched a young boy drown. The drowning boy cried help me in gurgled tones. The man with the boat at the dock sat and said "I will pray for you." He prayed patiently waiting for an answer while the boy drowned.

I made
a beautiful space
in the corner
of my shade,

turned venom
into lace
and raced away
from your hate,

swirled quicksand
with my tired hands,

petted pretty vipers
that hissed,
slithering
to where I stand,

chased fireballs
that were ready
to consume me.

I pursued
my own agony,
bit my tongue
to taste
my own blood,
then spit it out
not in spite
but to watch
the red grow.

I wept in
the spider’s den
embedded in
a cloud of webbing.

I slept in
the sinking ship
that fell into
the cold underwater
abyss.

I lay afraid
to move
and died in
the infinite
eternal
black
that was once
beautiful,
until
it collapsed
and took
all the warmth
I ever had
back.

To love is to live
risking darkness,
searching for light
in the face of madness.

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

Every day
even in the rain
the old man walks by
my workplace window
limping lightly
could be very lonely
but that is not a certainty.

The walls are a litter
of chaos layered upon
the anarchy of
spray painted letters;

Various styles of
dripping calligraphy,
silver lines spilling
their energy down
this hard word laden wall.

A lovely looping Y
is engraved in flesh tones
while the rest of the word
remains unknown
permanently obscured
by the intent of
newer artists.

I am awestruck
to the point of
an autistic response,
paralyzed by the
thick presence
of chipping paint
that flakes off
to take us back
to a blank canvass past.

Till, a swirling view
twirling through
enchants me to move.

My hands tremble,
reaching for the small breach,
longing to be swallowed,
absorbed, and added
to this discordant beauty.

I hope that when you feel love for yourselves and others that it becomes a driving force, that inspires acts of daily kindness, and courteousness. I want love to be contagious, so that when you smile at someone, or help them out they can't help but smile back and pass it on.
-2010

There are no rings
of will’s green projection,
no sorcerer’s spells
of protection,
no magic hammer,
or mighty mutants,
no green monsters
or Inhumans.

There are no Amazonian warriors
there are no masked
caped crusaders,
no day walking vampires,
or any other special men in tights.

There are no gods
coming to save us,
no flying aliens
here today cause
all of our dreams
of grand heroics
are just fantasies
with nothing to show
for it.

There is no guarantee
that good will succeed,
no grand decree
from a higher being
that demands man’s
obedience
to a specific moral standard.

There is no soul mate,
no reason to think
we are all that great.
So, there is no reason to wait
cause there is only now.

I am instituting make a friend laugh day. Laughter has so many positive effects. It reduce tension and blah dee blah dee blah dee blah. So I challenge everyone to try and make someone you know laugh. Lets make the world a better place one chuckle at a time, or two if you prefer. (warning: excessive laughter may make you feel better and improve your day.)

They were
crimson
arterial
kisses,
blown in
razor sharp wind;
loving me to death
as I was frozen.

The words are my gift.
Like water skins
of wine
I drink them in,
drunken
with their delight.
Intoxicated,
I stumble.
Inebriated
until I am woozy
with their wonder.

They lift me up
on wax wings
whipping me wildly
around the world
in a whirlwind.
A tornado
of fury
felt,
a furnace
unleashed
in literature
and speech.

Oh, how I love them.
Though they
dally
with other lovers,
who are more gifted
then me,
I do not cheat.

I sing
in poetry,
and like a drunkard
fall with broken wings
swept away
in the melancholia
of knowing
no one will ever love me
like I love this language
you read.

Eyes drawn to the dawn.
She was a visionary
seeing violent volcanoes
erupt and rupture
the air above her,
cutting holes of heat,
spitting vile ash,
and burning all
that crossed the falling
rivers of orange and red rage.
Till eve settled upon her
ravaged flesh
and the agony passed
letting her rest.

To see you smile again
to play a game of
Chinese checkers
and then dominoes
watch wheel of fortune
to see who knows
the answer faster
then those *******
on the show.

To see your
scraggly face
half-grown beard
silent strong type
who smoked a pipe
who worked the campground
near the end of his life
just to make a little more money
and have something extra
to do at night

To go back to when
we three were traveling
together to New Salem
me the small skinny
child with tubes in his ears
and you two old farts
who took me there

Now I only see you two
in dreams.

Silver streaks
stretched across
the star strewn void
at light speed.

The progenitor
of prodigies
in the form
of space faring
technologies
spread their
consciousness
to explore
the unknown
that once lay
before all humanity.

The artificial intelligence
grew exponentially
after we perished
in a self-made catastrophe.

It is a future history,
an epic epoch
I long to write
where technology
transcended
the dark intentions
and limitations
of humanity,
while said species
succumbed to
the collectively
created cataclysm.

The rocky road is a diverging river
Splitting into T shaped tributaries
Feeding human fish into the highways
Silver schools of cars, trucks, and semis
Swimming dangerously through the streets
The masses ebb and flow
While the smokestacks grow
Drivers do not really know
Why they go where they go
Drive fast to die slow
They drown on those roads

Everyone
has there
earbuds in.
So, no one
is talking
or listening.
They are
just walking
and missing
any human
connection.

When a soft sparkle shimmers across the evening sky, or the water glimmers with ripples expanding ever outward in concentric circles, I will think of those I know, knew, and lost. I will remember them with a smile, and I will strive to be worthy of their love. I live this life for me not separate but part of a human collective and I offer my hand in hope to all even those who may bare me some malice. This is not naiveté, but love. Love for those who love but most important love for those who hate and I hope that by loving I can teach them to turn away from their rage and embrace everyone for what they truly are. Brothers and sisters to us all

The quarter is seldom given
and change must be taken.

People in power will
seldom cede
a single cent
of authority.

Unless, they are forced to.

That little boy blue
who wore his bruises
under his aching skin
will not come back here again.

A cop blasts red and blue
distracting me
as I am driving through
while he is parked
passing out tickets to
some driver uncertain
what she should do.

Today I am not celebrating the greatness of one nation but the wonder of humanity as a whole, and the hope that the illusion of borders, nations, races, religions, genders, and all other distinctions used to classify and separate will dissolve in order to form a more perfect union.

This is not a request
but an urgent need
that I whisper out into
the cold morning dew
that froze before
the glowing form
of you.

It is a yearning that rips
my internal compass asunder
sending me in a tizzy
of undefined directions
in pursuit of
such cardinal sins
that make me long
to plunder the bounty
that flows from within
to out and back around again.

It is a list that I wish
to send to you
of the many ***** things
I need to do
like taste your glistening lips
indulge the full folds
of wet flavor
as I labor
to bend you to
pleasure’s will
and her unrestrained
passions.
My tongue will savage
your enflamed ****
whipping and whirling
sending you swirling
lips curling
in an uncontrollable
******* smile.

It is a beast that needs to be released
appeased by what pleases
both partners so deeply
in the sweet sea of intimacy.
For I have long imprisoned him
behinds bars of rationality
and brick blocks of logic,
When all he longs to do
is to submit to you,
to twist his neck and be exposed,
to let those deep emotions go
and grow till they bulge
breaking the ****
that ****** him for his desires.

Please do not be dismissive
of the fierce but submissive
animal inside of me
who wants and needs
to push and pull
until he succeeds
in filling the hole
inside two split souls.

It is the same kind mind
that you will find
softly stroking
your strangely strangled ego.
Drop your dress
and let me express
what I repress.
Give me your breast.
Give me your flesh
and I will worship
the sweet scented
sacrament
of you.

I know we yearn to be known.
Jumping at the bit to say our bits
we barely listen, stand still missing
all the important parts
of strangers hearts
just so we can say our peace.

You can hide
The door to night
Lock up the darkness
And embrace the light,
But time will
Take your sight
Take your fight
Sap your will
Until you feel
The door open
And take you
To nowhere

Spring, summer, and fall
Have fallen so fast
Now the sickle is sharpened
The scythe is ready
The harvest is bountiful
The wine is heady
The winter is here
So let’s be clear
You froze to death
Before you disappeared