Think loud and talk softly so that many may hear you. When you speak softly those around you must silence themselves and open there ears. I hope people will learn just because you speak loudest does not mean you win the argument. If you must raise your voice and interrupt another person than you have proven only that you have a louder voice, in that moment.

I got no swag,
just a split spine
that sits in a bag,
that I drag
everywhere
I go.

Another sun down,

another broken sparkle
fading in the distance
turning into an empty instance,

another black hole nightmare
swallowing every stray ray
dimming then destroying
every beautifully bright day,
leaving us lost in the dark.

While parishioner celebrate
history’s ending this way,
on this tragic date
cause they think
destruction makes us great
and will take us to
a final holy space,

they sing hallelujah,

but I am not happy to say
goodbye to today
and all of my yesterdays.

We are not a first world country. They are not a third world country. We are all part of the same world. I am not part of a white race. He is not part of a black race. We are all one race in our human family.

The pain comes from knowing
That no matter how much love
I keep showing and growing my heart
To encompass as much as possible
Without self-destructing
Without self-cutting
There are still so many people in pain

Sad stories make monsters compelling
And wealth makes them desirable
Does not matter that monsters are monsters
People still manage to ignore their horrors
As long as the atrocious act serve their interests as well

Her pitiless
prose
placed
eternity
before me.

The truth isn’t free
Give it away
And they will take
Your liberty, dignity,
And life
Keep it
And it is suicide
As your morals decline
you will watch
Your better nature die
as you become
A passive carrier
Of their new guns

A little smile and conversation,
it doesn’t last very long
cause the strangeness in my personality
makes this woman just move on.

Now the sun is slowly rising
as this night comes to an end
you know it wasn’t that surprising
to see her leaving with her friends

Another heartbreak in the notebook
another antacid accident
acid building up inside me
cause it’s a temperamental life
that breaks me like a bull
so it can grind and ride me

So I shake off the dusty road
with thirty seven years behind me
and wait for the sun to fall again
just to feel the cool night wind.
I didn’t really care for the bar scene
but it’s hard to pick up women
at your local library.

Pygmalion
Do not fall in love
With your illusion
Your marble lust
Will not serve you well
Will not help you grow
But see you soften
And become stale
For though your love
May be statuesque
She will chip
Falling to dust
Never learning
How to be
A beautifully unique
Human being
For she is only
A whisper
Crossing the void
And coming to nothing

A random thought;
If we absorb
the stimuli
that surrounds us,
then everything
around us
becomes part of us.
So, by running
from the world
are we really
trying to escape
ourselves?

I am just a fish,
a tasty dish
that others missed,
a tuna plate
or salmon patty
with just a pinch
of mercury
poisoning.

Feel free
to eat me
and tons of
my floundering
family
so, you can die
oh, so slowly.

Universal morality does not work their is no cookie cutter solution for every moral quandary. However, this does not mean everything is relative. Moral judgments can be made by using empathy instead of ancient texts. It requires people to think deeply about what they do and who they do it to.

How I long for the eyes
Of love’s lusting affection
To become a servant of desire
Sweet and sensual proclivities
Though I am afflicted
With such conflicted
Inclination,
Wanting rationality
And hungering for passion
That make the crescent moon
Smile and swoon
More then anything
I long for a partner
More of the mind
Then of the body

I do not have enough reserves
To give out all the love I have to give.
To do so would drain me completely.
To truly live in this world is to see pain
To feel it deeply and know even if it is a sea
I can still see the other side
Still see the other lives
Wanting to ease everyone’s pain
Wanting to elevate everyone
To where they can be
To see their potential fulfilled
In small part because of me
Because I believe
We can all be better
To give it all would be tantamount
To suicide
I tried a couple of times
That is why I love from a distance
Safely separated from people
Because I would end up giving up
Every second I had
Every cent I made
Every ounce of energy
Until there was nothing left of me
To love humanity
The closest thing to good insanity
Just know
I love you all

Do not mistake
kindness
for weakness,

cause it takes
strength
to fight this
anger,
to resist
the fury
that persists
as I watch
wicked men
go one waging
a war against the truth,

as I watch
woman
reward
*******,
those
elite
alpha
monkeys,
with a love
that is
rejected
and abused.

It takes
a determination
most do not have
to maintain
compassion
as pain reigns
in the open veins
of bully’s victims.

It takes will power
to smile and be polite
when violence
racism, and sexism
run rampant.

Sometimes,
it takes all I have
to swallow the bad
and work small acts
of compassion
into my day.

Lurking and working its natural will
Compromising with surprising ease
Eyelids flicker faintly to tease
Yawning and stretching expecting
No sleep, must keep awake
Thoughts become slippery
Focus become elusive
Anxiety builds
Upon a failing foundation
Facing no respite for night
I sit and write
Longing for the cover’s quilted embrace
Three and a half hours down
With to many more to go
Before my eyes can close
I slip a sip of caffeinated nastiness
Down my throat
Sadly it only eases exhaustion slightly

My heartbreaks in reoccurring waves
In old stories, movies and plays
So you may wonder why I write this way
Because even in sorrow I love writing

A flock of
propeller seeds
fall from the tree
right in front of me.

He who works
With mortality 
Seeks morality
To be good
To be kind
Walks into 
The burning 
Sands of time
Alone 

But a man should not 
Stand alone
Should find a home
Work out his wanderlust
But settle down
Should have a tribe
To stand by his side
To be his guide
When he is wrong
And listen when 
He is right

Perhaps
I am a fool
Who is to far gone
And always wrong
But how far would I go
To come back home
To my friends again

Will I always be
One second to late
To see them succumb
To the only true fate

This is not 
Merely a preemptive
Elegy for the heart of me

Every action that is taken is shaded with bias and intent which is spread from friend to friend.

See the sands softly sinking
Beneath the ghosts of sandal
Wearing travelers
Nature compressed
Or impressed
Temporarily
With people
Passing through
Till the tides
Rushing wash away those prints
Like a salty etch a sketch

She writes with the earnestness
of a true master poetess.
Sparkling words ascend the heights
of those love vacant
aching star lit nights.
Emeralds lost.
Diamonds broken.
Ardent urges left unspoken,
only alive in movement.
Not a token
of purchased property,
instead, she proffers
her verbal beauty,
the best wares
worked into a wooden wonderland,
from a walking wonder woman,
a waking wanderer who sees,
so much more than me
with perfected imagery
in poetry.

******* up
on a rocket ship,
send me fast
on my final
fatal trip,
skip this ****,
tip your waitress,
and let me leave this
graceless existence.

It takes great courage to risk being hated to be loved for who we truly are.

I am a humbled beggar
pleading with the cosmos
that cool beneath
chaos in my unconscious.

I plead for the need
of words to be
refilled
until hearts observations
are fulfilled.

Let word cut across
the blank pages
that I thought I lost.
Let pure white snow
become polluted
by the words I know.
Let me see ink streaks
stretch across
the blank canvass.

I entreat
the inner lining
of my softly churning
mind
to chime,
let the bells of inspiration
finally find
their home.

But if they do not come today
let me mull over
what I have been
working on
until I find
the buzz of words
slipping in a stream
freeing me
from the fear
that I will
never write again.

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

Language is the democratization
Of making shared meaning

Bright white lights
burn my eyes at night,
makes me wonder why
I have to drive like
it’s all my life.

They sear my retinas,
so, I flinch.
as a loud *** trucker
passes by real quick
and this other ****
just sits
on my ***
making it hard
for me to see anything
driving home on this
over illuminated highway.

Some smiles are part mechanical
Manufactured to sustain
The kindness that was self-trained
And cultivated like wheat
To defeat depression
With a sprinkle of humor

It saddens me deeply
to stare out at the breadth
of human beauty
and know that no
fairytale dreams
wait to for the right
musical keys.

There is no soul mate
singing under
the same star strewn
sky that blooms
with planets and moons.

There is no one out there
who feels what I feel,
who seeks to think,
and be thrilled by
the knowledge that I
gathered for all.

There is no one
who would burn
with the same cosmic fury
that causes other fools
to flee in a hurry
but enraptures me
in knowledge’s ecstasy.

It is very sad to be
the smartest sub atomic particle
in a reality that eludes me
because I cannot see
beyond my proton and electrons
and all the other sub atomic morons
do not even know
that universe is just a part of an atom
in a molecule in much bigger
universe.

If you support the troops
then support them dude.
Don’t give me an excuse
while the rich dudes
exploit the troops and you to.

Though, I am vigilant,
I’m a ****** participant
in this world we are living in.

While, I am observing it
I am pretty ambivalent
cause I know how ****** up it is.

The stars are twinkling guitars
Sending out radical vibrations
Signals to our expanding nations
They are Vikings burning in space
And dying a billion years later

By the morning
as light pierces
my perfectly placed curtains
forcing my eyes
to flutter open
I wake with dry crust
flaking off.
Still stiff with
my unconscious lust
I shift to search
for an after image
looking for the presence
of a person who
filled my dreams
a stranger whom
I have never touched
or even seen.
But she is a ghost
slipping from my mind
like sand in my hands,
faster than I grasp her.

It is those depths
that people share,
painful truths and all
that make people human
and tragically
beautiful.

It is the pain
that connects us,
when we realize
we suffer similar
sorrows,
these experiences
open us up
to empathy,
making it
harder to be
cruel.

Dopamine swelling
And swarming
Our brains
Fingers hands
Arms
Touched
But in loss
We lose ourselves
Shivering in withdrawal
The agony of life
Is in the loosing
One by one
Addictions
Not given up
So much
As stolen away
And we tremble
With tears
Knowing
But still living in fear
It has been that way
For hundreds of thousands of years
Since the first burial
Till the last mound is past
Till the last human basks
Withering in grief
Wallowing but raging against the thief
Who stole eternity
And will not give it back

A shadow cloaked in darkness can not escape its fate to fade as light shines upon its pained and embittered face. Their whispered words of wicked intent curve and cut what was never meant to be damaged or destroyed but explored and employed to make the world a little better. Now those dreams of good intentions are lost forever.

Writing becomes an exercise in humility.
I strengthen of my vocabulary
by using words I am currently
learning
and putting them in my poetry.

My eyes expand
Pupils dilating
To see the night
Adapting to the darkness
No streetlights needed
I can see clearer than most
But in the day
The light is harsh
Burns my retina
Hurts to see the sun
So I labor in the shadows
Hiding from the
Light

Rules do not make something
Right or wrong
Talking heads do not
Make something
Right or wrong
Fake gods
Do not make
Something
Right or wrong
Traditions
Just because
It was
Always done
Does not make
Something
Right or wrong
Your law
Does not make
Something
Right or wrong

I elevate myself
by understanding
the patterns
I have performed in,
in the past,
and not repeating
said sad weaving.

It is a certain sadness,
an empty sorrow
for something I never had
but still miss.
I ache for any scent,
for any nasal experience
cause I have never known
the sweet smell of anything,
but if I consider it a blessing
I have never known the stench.
of anything.

It has been years
Since I have seen the water
Felt the cool freshness
The cold shivers
Stroked
Backwards
I do not know
Why I do not go
Back there

They say to be heroes
To be great
We have to become killers
Harbingers of hate
Bullets and bomb bringers
No one line zingers
But ****** rage
Howling sorrows
Creators of destruction
Anguish in the name of
Our love of a nation
Patriotism facing
One way while war
Wages in another direction
Violence there for our inspection

A heroic deed indeed
Would be better defined
As the art of ending such wars
Standing arms intertwined
To stop the hate
To end the wars
To obstruct the tanks
The drones
And the soldiers
Who march on thumping
Backs heavy with their packs
Souls stained with their warrior way

We are complicated
Beautiful water bags
With calcium sticks
Tiny members
Inverted ***
Smoking desire
Snorting up ideas
And vomiting
More complexity
Chunks of variety
Intertwine
With red wine
And clichés

All the hopeful promises
were like sugary treats gone rotten.
So, I lay sprawled out in pain
a loving body forgotten.
It was only once
she ever said she loved me,
told me all her deepest pains.
I told her she was lovely,
and so splendidly strange.
I’d come over and she’d recline
into the comfort of my arms
and every time I’d find
the beating of my racing heart.
She would tell me to rub her feet
or massage her neck and back,
and though I proved I loved her true
she never let me get farther than that.
I know she had every right to.
It just broke my heart to be so closed to her
and watch her walk off
with some other ****.
All the hopeful promises
were like sugary treat gone rotten.
So, I lay sprawled out in pain
a loving body forgotten.

Life is a trickle in a faucet
filling it up with discontent.
It is the pitter patter of water
soon to be possibly stagnant
in that cracked porcelain sink.

But all that liquid grows
till it overflows
or evaporates
seeking some salty sea.
Though it may go
where it pleases
it leaves me to be
the filthy
stained sink.

It does not matter
But I made us
A flowered mattress
Of shimmering star dust
You know
All the
Dead space stuff
As a poet
That is about as romantic
As I can get

Life is a pre-gone
pre-drawn
predawn
conclusion
cause we fall
as the celestial lights
of others
finally begin to rise.