I am fractured
These dream I have
Manufactured
Do not sway
Me away from past grief
Do not lessen
The happy days
We have known
The smiles that were
Softly shown
Glowing
Till death did part
Familial hearts

I sit pondering
old autumn days
when I would play
my cassette tapes,
while my OCD
would entreat me
to organize my
comic book collection.
Then do
my comic book card
collection to.

I fill my bowl
with a wicked
word stew
stirring stirring
words
supping up
delicious verbs,
spilling some nouns
while savoring
other sounds
then packing them all
in my current
favorite notepad.
Then onto my laptop.

They wrap a bag in a big bad bow,
silk that sparkles in the day’s reflected wonder,
blue that shimmers and waits to plays outside.
Instead the bag hides a steaming pile.
I spit rage and bile cause that vile
package is just one
more piece of purchased *******
one more perfect present
to present
a fake pre-constructed sentiment
of pre-ordered individuality.
It is consumerism, our kryptonite,
which is slowly destroying
curiosity and morality.

Flicked by one frantic finger
The sting still lingers
The tiny fleck of a red mark
Left its’ spark bruised his heart
How easily a child is hurt
And yet only seconds after tears had fell
He was back outside merrily playing with himself
But not actually playing with himself ;)

If I never ventured forth
From these ocean ports
Stayed hiding in the inner lining
Of my insulated life
Just slept away my nights
In waiting for brighter skies
Then I would never be alive
Just a performing puppet
Pushed and pulled
Along by predictable strings

Is it just me.
when I see
strangers crying
frequently
I tear up to?

They rack my brain
with loss and pain
so I take this rage
and start again.

Crack my spine
and break my back
I will not stop.
Tare me in half
explode my heart
don’t make me laugh,
I will not stop.
I will not fall.
I will not drop.
I will not crawl.

I’ll keep on running.
I’ll keep on rising.
Even if I lose it all
cause I’ve lost before.

I will not stop.
I may cry.
I may eat poison,
but Ill sweat it all off,
till, the day I die.

I have to admit
That I absorb
Other peoples ****
And even though
I live to know
Thrive to grow
And show
People the truth
Sometimes
I get stuck to

It is another work day.
Cold curling winds
cover my exposed skin
dulling but not destroying
the rage that dwells within.

It is a dollar less than
the clichéd inkling
but still a little beast
stirs inside of me
spouting the lie
called jealousy.

As if such a love
could ever belong to me
as if the world
could ever appreciate
what I give each day.

The suitcase cracks
and little folds of red
slip between the two
holes in my head
bleeding out into the world that
spawned those stained shirts.

The solar flare
surges here
and subsides over there.
The anger fades
as does the day
becoming a lonely and cool
nights remembrance
barely imprinted
upon my once again
preoccupied brain.

I would forget you if I could
Let you go sailing away in
Fogs of forgotten days
But the sight of you
Would stir the truth
The breath of you
Would shake the memory loose
The touch of you
Would clear the clouded seas
And one kiss
Would bring back my broken hearted
Memories

We live in
the evening
observing
other beings,

reading
new and old stories
following
the yellow brick road
even though
its full of dust motes
and black mold.

Trying to be strong
but we are depressed
and compressed
into
something new;

Unable to walk to you
or through the crack
in the soon to be
shattered glass
perspective,

you expect us
to conform to
your pews,
bending in devotion
in your church,

but we worship
in other ways
chase better days

When the fog of pain abates,
when you ask us why,
we do not know for sure,
perhaps we never will.

How do you find peace
When you are sleep deprived
When you live to die
Working your life away
On the midnights
Tired, so tired
Caffeine
Till caffeine
Doesn’t do a thing
And when you crash
Eight hours in to
Your twelve hour shift
Life feels like ****
Tears want to run
Even if the sun shines
You are not fine
Rain drops that once
Saw you dancing
Now makes you cry
And you can’t figure out why
Everything is a trigger
And you can’t seem to figure
Out why you were smiling
At ten but at four a.m.
You’re breaking down again

the stars spewed
swirling waves
of raging fire,
bleeding light
that finds us
inspired to
reach higher
then our predecessors
were want to do.

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.

I know that you are tired
that they work you too hard,
and you never get far.

I know that you are afraid
of losing your car,
of losing your job,
of losing your way.

I know that there are
daily concerns of
your children getting hurt
or your spouse leaving you
for some sexier ****.

but don’t let your lovely light
flicker out,
don’t let your laughter die
because I need
your good humor in my life.

She is a mysterious mind
A well read poetic being
With serpentine eyes
Silver grey, cool, and calculating
But only in appearance
In reality warm and generous
A winter word warrior who writes with
Experience beyond her age
A woman child or childlike woman
Whom I admire either way

We live in parting paths
Not knowing which way
We are going
Diverging roads
Separate us slowly
Gets kind of lonely
Till we come back
You to the old me
And me to the old you
But only in memories
Because we are as faded, wrinkly,
And distorted as we will always be

She hides quietly,
folding the saffron scented apron
over here shy blue eyes;
A timid and mini sized
mirror of his younger life.

Her mother smiles,
gently pushing her
sweet Penelope
forward to meet
the man coming in
from off the street.

Out of a cab
with a camouflaged
duffle bag
watery eyes
weep.
Not hers
but his
are wet
with the same blueness.

His uniform smells
but does not repel
her curiosity.
Inches away
from his scraggly face
a tiny voice timidly says.
“Are you my daddy?”

With one hand
he wipes away
the purest tears.
With his other arm
he pulls her into
the deepest embrace.

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.

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.

Our life for all its sorrows
thick thorny burning bushes,
bruised and bloodied heartbeats
ripped open with razor heartbreaks
is the only thing we truly own.

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.

We rust like a metal chest
taking in somethings
while many things
are forever lost.
The melancholy
music plays
while we spin in
Our porcelain graves
aka bejeweled boxes,
forced to pirouette
in a perfectly repeated
and painful form.
Until, the sounds stop
broken by the crack
that flows
front to back
splintering reality
making our little
ballerina bodies drop.

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 is the sound I dread
when tires squeal
in stretched out agony
moving with the slowness
of uncontrollable motions
and anxiety.

I hear a car streaking
the concrete
with black tire treads
as it tries to stop.

I pause for a second
in silent prayer
please don’t let me hear,
the sound of metal
and glass crunching.

I can’t stop the beat
It won’t let me sleep
Use to be
That I could relieve
All of my stress
Then go to bed
But now
When it hits
I can’t slow it
I have to share it
So I just write

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

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 would be bold
And for the care of you
Come dancing
Out of the dark blue
Clear the clouds
That catch your tears
And sings a song of love
Every verse a pure pursuit
Of me loving you

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.

Excuse me are you
tracking all injustice
or just this
one particular issue?
Are you treating the symptoms
or the cause of the disease?
Please believe
that I admire the effort,
but you can't solve the problem
without addressing the underlying
issue.

Time is a ballet dance
Sweetness in form
Nostalgic beauty
Moving in and away
Up and down
Sweeping the ground
Soft body hardened
And hard body softened
Tears, and adulation
Till the curtain falls
And the performance is over

It was midnight in Paris
One night to prepare us
The trip that never was
We dreamed it all up
But never went
However, each moment
We spent
Dreaming together
Was worth
Ten trips

More often than not
I am the bird that
the walls of the aviary forgot,
left behind to rot
as I swallow the nectar of
a handful of broken flowers.

Tonight the light sky
Is a pink and orange desert
Sandy cloud waves to glowing
Looking like the beginning
Of dunes forming in June
While the baby-faced moon
Swoons with affection
For her solar partner

Some say it would be great
to go back to those better days
but I remember a younger me
escaping in dreams
but waking in tears
no fears
Only a slight inkling
of my sad self sinking.

I am not certain
if the hurt was worsened,
stayed the same, or was softened.
I only now know
how much I have changed.

Old pains may remain.
heart bled a puddle strange
but so much feels unchanged;
Even though, I am unchained
from those past burdens.

Old pains only find me
in the remembering of
my younger self.

Going back in time
in my creative mind
is like picking a scab
or biting my tongue
I still feel it.

It helps to see
some of what was
but I would not go
back there for real

I got red bull
And nicotine dreams
Caffeinated frenzies
Of creative musings
Amusing only me
Cause no one else bothers
To stick around and see
What a wonder I am
With my red bull
And nicotine dreams

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

We find ourselves
in the struggles
in the books
in the movies
in our reactions.

We chip away
and add some clay
to find who
we will be.

Not a matter of fate,
we are not etched in stone
but tempered by life
and all the curve *****
that are thrown.

It is a constant process
of chipping and adding.
Until the time comes
when all the arithmetic is done
and we finally slip from
the form we found.

But it was never
part of a grand plan.
There were a trillion
plus roads
with a billion-fold
stops.

Whether we were lost
or planning the trip
the journey is what
we became.

I am not the dark one
But I do not run from
The black sun
I take those onyx rays
Twist and turn grey
****** filled days
To hopeful affirmations
For our young struggling
Human nation

I should be so blessed
That if the best
Thing that happens
To me
Is that when I die
I am remembered
For a short while
While my words
Impact humanity
deeply

Please check this link out. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.


https://soundcloud.com/graff1980/earths-lullaby-3gp

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

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

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.

She was a vile venom sac
Poisonous black widow
A spider spinning webs
In my back bedroom window

I am a piece of paper,
a digital display
ready to be filled
then someday
made blank
but please do not
throw me away.

I reject the hunger for affection
I reject the isolation and depression
Even though my dreams weep
For some what if past
Cause me to wake and cry
Even though pictures of loved ones
Tare at my heart
Ripping the strings of kinship
And long lost loves
I reject all that pain
And I will pay the fairer price
For that decision
As my heart is shredded with precision
Or sometimes with a surgical incision
I will break brick by ****** brick
But it will make a grand poetical spectacle

Soft swirling
streams
of liquid violet,
moved around her body
like silk scarves.

Green gloves
touched
with the love
of living fruit,

rays of radiances
gave way
to smiles
birthed
from
****** canals.

Opposite
this virginal dancer
another lover sat,
female form
of cold blankness,
deathly pallor
of numb affection.

For one I wake
in grand *******,
but for the other
I stay alert,
putting her off
for as long
as opportunity
and will allow.