Palestinian
children
and women
attempt to
protest apartheid,
fighting against
those borders and walls,
walking towards boundaries
where snipers sit
settled in
to shoot the innocent,
and continue
freedom's infringement.

Soldiers fire to take
the lives of those
they dehumanize.
Two thousand
are wounded
and fifty plus
dead.

My government is complicit
in these illicit
acts of violence.
We support and supply
the horrible ordinance
used to brutalize
and end those unfortunate lives.
Our politicians
spin blood red threads
into golden ***** lies
and celebrate the bad guys
who have no intention
of compromising,
the ones who
go on occupying
and terrorizing the Palestinian people.

Meanwhile,
state supported
media guys,
are televised
to tell us lies,
go on air
to share a side
that shames
and blames
the victims of
new atrocities,
by their favorite
allies,
repeating
reports of agitation
incited by
Hamas,
but no one on
the Israeli side
was wounded
or died.

From the mainframe
That brought you war games
Head-shots for **** points
Team death match battles
Close to realistic war scenes
On your plasma tv screen
Here your enemies scream
As their heads explode
See your IQ drop
While dexterity improves
As your gaming console
Get used to control
A digital killing machine
Pumped up world war dreams
Cause death is a game
And killing is great
And now our children are well trained
To fly our missile and machine gun
Loaded drones
and shoot down the enemies
Of our sick bloated
Corporate corrupted
Fake free state

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

My *** is a phantom limb,
of long ignored desires
that stir within,

Imaginary women,
****** fairytales
of strange scenarios,
silicone sexiness,
constantly urging
cupping and grabbing
licking and *******
my long meat stick.

I am unable discern
the reality of it
because it has been
over two years for me.

So, I give up
looking for love
and get down
to the ***** business
of amputating my desire
with *******.

Internet ****
plus hand equals
tension relief
and my ability to focus
increases.

He only eats brand names
She only likes Loui Viton
Got to have a nice car
So they can drive on
To a fifty hour work week
Plus more overtime
Over worked to chase
The vaguely defined
Pricey good life
Fancy restaurants
Great vacations
But in between
Pleasures visitations
Pressure builds
Tensions tops out
Hours go grey
Before old age
Days turn to dust
Natures turns to rust
All in the pursuing
And eschewing
What they thought
They must
What they assumed was just
Cause markets never lie
And the only way to win
In this heavy human race
Is to have all the best stuff
Before you die

Today was a lazy day
Shameful play
Not working at all
Just shoveling ****
Down my throat
One unhealthy calorie
At a time
One thirty minute
Show at a time
One video game
To ease my mind
No books
Just sleeping
Not much thinking
Just peaceful dreaming
Ashamed
Because I was unproductive
But sometimes
People just need to veg out

The favored son
Called patriot
The shell game
Sacrifice
That they too gave us
Life lived
But we wasted it
Spending bodies
Like counterfeit
The market oversold
And underpaid
For each corpse
That we laid
Another child
Who got played
By those hateful
Hurting war games

How deep can I go
How honest can I be
Watching out
For those who hurt me
Letting them in
And out
Like a revolving door
Hurting while they explore
Things they wanted more
I let them go
Hoping they know
That I love them
And wish them all the happiness
That I will never have

It is a gush
of cultish greed
that sees me seed
these gray streets
with cement
and litter.

Searching for
the stars that glitter
in commercials
and window shops,
the tyranny
of humanity
swells in my heart.

Callus to the collective
because of the things
I seek to collect.

Then with each purchase,
and each pleasure pill
I use to conceal
the depths of
what I truly feel
I lose
a piece of
the empathy
I once cherished
and loved.

Till, my leather worn face
turns bitter
and the last of my humanity
escapes me
because of poor scheduling.

There was pain and self-destruction
a medicated nightmare of misunderstandings
doctors demanding that I be sedated
because they hated
my child hyperactivity
my playful disposition
and questioning nature
my poor nutrition
and the affects of a mother’s violent behavior
so at eighteen they put me on Paxil
drugged me up and I didn’t sleep
for almost a whole week
which made me suicidal
lessened the chance of
my overall survival
I spent a week in a hospital
a month or two in a group home.
Then less than ten year later
they gave my brother
the same medicine
and those drugs
nearly did him in
they sent him
to the same hospital
not ever asking if
the prescription
caused this ****

What weary traveler wanders slowly down a worn and dusty road. Knowing that it has been year since anyone last traversed these dangerous trail. Still he dares to bare the burden of clearing this once wondrous street of debris, so that those who wish to walk this road once more can do so unafflicted by dark memories of the struggle once undertaken on this path before.

2010

The best artistry enraptures its creator in a fugue of furious activity that is almost beyond his/her control. They are overcome with inspiration and must follow it. It is the unconscious mind ripping and taring at the fabric of the creators mind, and it is is the closest thing to ecstasy I know.

Why do I have to be tense
when the easily offended
are the ones who commit the offense
emit attitude with their pretense
moral to a biblical degree
With no true human decency
Publicly they frighten me
privately they sicken me
declaring hateful victory
over love and humanity
Or is it just me?

Perhaps we should take comfort in our insignificance. The universe is indifferent. It neither needs or care for our existence. All the reason we need to care about one another is that our existence is so transient. It is most likely we will not revisit this or any other life, so why not treasure those by our side, and be kind to strangers for that reason alone.

We walk right down to the minute,
right up to the second.
We fall down in an instant
when the heartbeat is missing.
Black smoke become shapes
of whatever painful memory takes
our final beat and breath away.

This is for all the crazy people thinking that they were made to rule
Walking around with ray ban glasses wearing Armani cause  it’s cool
Believing that they are so much better even when they act like a tool
Don’t give in to the status symbols that people keep making
You think that this is what you’re made to achieve but your mistaken
This is for all you lazy people slumming around and wasting your day
Life isn’t something that you get to do over and over again
There’s always someone out there who could use a friend
And don’t forget there’s a million ways to be a better person
Then standing around debating shuffling lies and cursing
Don’t you know life isn’t a stage for rehearsing
If you’re not trying to make it better than your just watching it worsen
I know you think that it’s so hard to make any improvement
But all it starts out with is a little social movement
This for all the silly dreamers dreaming of a beautiful world
Refusing to just sit back  take it while violence and hate unfurls
Don’t give up when they try to tell you that you’re stupid
You got so many arrows of change so be the heart of cupid
And shine your light of love all over the place

There is a gap,
between that
which holds me back,
and that which
makes me laugh,
until I am able to
launch myself
right past
that *******
obstruction.

Empathy is What makes us an amazing species. It is how close we can actually come to understanding another's pain. It is a spark that lights the flame of compassion. As artists we engage that emotion in other's hope to utilize to our own ends.

       My greatest ambition has always been to write that which inspires love and compassion. To create some thing that clears the distance between you and me, and makes this a world of us.

      I have failed but continue to try.

The urgency of desire
Sacs of hormonal anxiety
Directing me subliminally
Sublime ecstasy
And anguish
Lavish pain
Pulsing in the member
Ready to dismember
All conscious control
Hands on flesh
Or flesh on hands
Two ways giving
Relief
An atomic explosion
In which two crazy creatures
Find calmness and contentedness

Enlightening sentences,
heighten senses,
take fixed countenance
and furrow them
in fierce concentration.

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.

If it is a race, then the pace of one set of clouds out does the ones that float above lazily. Smokey dragons cut across Odin’s one good godly eye. The night pursues its cold cool wind muse,
and I cannot lose, because I use this muse so well. I walk the building corner to brick corner unwilling to enter the unyielding nightmare hallways. I do not wish to walk in the white hollow echo chambers, alone and uninspired while the night spirals in lunar delight. I postpone it as long as I can, walking the yellow concrete corners like they are tight high wire. I swerve and struggle to maintain my perfect position, for fear of falling into the black top lava pit. The inside world waits for me like a ravenous beast. Please oh please do not force me to leave the light breeze that brushes my skin gently. Glass and metal doors see me swallowed whole. I did not want to go but now I know this white washed world will be my graveyard fantasy. The red buds on the tree beckon me, but I cannot go back out. The musical clank of metal clips that hang the flags summons me beyond the security doors with their dangerous whipping movements, but I am not allow to explore such freedom. The strangers of varying degrees, shapes, weights, skin tints, hair, and teeth beckons me to question their history. I cannot go out there to the fantastic. No that is a lie. I could if I tried, but I chose to hide in a secure hourly wage paid life. I could leave and let my wanderlust take me where it will. I could go back to Pleasantville, Champaign, Williamsville, Pontiac, Mt. Vernon, and Danville, then go see places I have never been. I could give in to the seductive siren call of landscapes unseen, sounds unheard, and strangers not yet met. Instead I sign my time sheet, walk and repeat, securing nothing. I drive home tired and come back and repeat that as well. I accept the mundane. It is a part of the price I pay for a slice of peace.

The light changes
Shifting shades
Slip across
His weary face
Shadows sweep
The sun away
Leaving the cool day
Under the tree
He rests peaceful
With one eye open
Just barely
The breeze hits
Just a bit
Leaves flutter
In unison
The sun returns
To my skin
Now he is wide awake
Again

The falcon stole the sea
Soft pebbles broke
Beneath my blistered feet
Dark dreams of water
Black waves drowning
The very core of my being
Salt burning my last breath
The wet fire of fear and desire
Tempting the void
To claim its cheap carny prize

Warring walls let men condemn
Other nations we might call friend
Thin boundaries made of leaves and death
Imagined markers that separate state and self
The illusion stands stronger than any borderline
Humanity so easily defined as the other
Cause the enemy outside the gates
Is supposed to be worse than the beast inside that waits
Withering intellects that debate merits and levels of hate
While class warfare does exist
The upper puppeteering the middle class
While the bottom is dismissed

The soft egg shelled mind
is soiled and embroiled
by the terrible turmoil
of technological silence,
with a key board click
we once lost it
however now
in swift with sic stealth
the quiet imbeds itself.

Sorrowful seeds dropped
sowing painful thoughts.
Small sprouts
peek and poke out
through the surface
to catch us all
as unsettled earth
is disturbed.

Fierce floods of
painful stuff
erode the
fertile ground.

Stillness brings
crimson flowers blooming
and fruits falling
to rot on the dirt,
it hurts
but births
new verses,
till there is
poetry.

Life is the aftermath
of a blood bath
that ******* were laughing at.

She wears
the blush of flesh
lit aflame
with the wild wonder
of an untamed
parallel passion.

Silver streaks of starlight
come racing through the sky
causing tender tears to fall
briefly from my eyes.

Tiny drops of water
paint the cement walk
a darker shade,
as me and my grandpa
watch the chalk circles
that he made
become another color.

Warm wrinkled hands
hold me up to tickle
instead of accepting a hug,
yet still remind me I am loved.

A soldier’s flag
and five-rifle salute
sees someone I love
disappear permanently
from my view.

The shooting star
is gone before
I knew how much
I would miss it.

I never liked the mud,
but I loved
the smoky mist
that was stirred up
when I crumbled dirt
into a dusty substance,

when the light would catch
the passing particles
and I would try to
hold my breath
as the mist moved in a
strangle swirl,
as if the earth
was smoking itself.

I enjoyed making
little smoke bombs
from handfuls of dirt.
I would toss them
on the ground
and disappear
like ninjas did.
Even though
everyone I knew
could see through
my trick dirt
to my dust covered jeans.

I like knowing
that if allowed,
if I’m not put in
some sable box
but left to rot
I will become
that silly dust stuff.

The silence says so much.
Nothingness scratching at
my stream of consciousness.

Valued for the vacuum
that ***** the soul
from the bottom of my shoes
giving me sapphire shades
of sorrow,

Velvet and suede
silk stalkings
that float, fading away,
as I dream of filling the silence
with love,

But like always
there is no one there.

I project my heart
out into a universe
that does not reciprocate
said empathy.

Twilight falls, and I can see
stars twinkling in infinity.
Atomic explosions
push out plumes
of nuclear energy
but they don’t give
a **** for me.

The sun that shines
does not mind
if I live or die.
The buds that bloom
from the thin brown branch
will not be bothered
if I fall victim
to some horrible accident.

The massive mountain
with snowcapped tops
will not be moved
or stopped by the loss
of little old me

I am less than a flee
in the monsoon reality

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.

You better watch out
for wanna be tyrants
and opportunists
if you want to
protect the illusion
of democracy.

In lines of age
we find a trace
of history,

weathered responses
that come to haunt us
as we are weighed down
by all the gravity
that we have found
in this life,

creases of flesh
molded to express
all of time’s
presence.

We earn each line
with perseverance
resisting death’s
determination.

Until, the end
when death finally
takes its revenge
and wins.

Bets placed
eternity takes
all the wrinkles
on our face,
and turns them to rot
and decay.

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.

I am sorry for my ability
to smile and laugh
while others are
are being torn in half
by acts that
can never be taken back,
by folks who joke
about cruelty to blacks,
cause I am living
pretty **** comfortably.

My white privilege is showing
and it makes me feel so guilty.

See this is so strange to me,
all this obsessing
doesn’t break down logically.
But you are breathtaking,
soul shattering if you chose to be
and I would risk eternal damnation
to be next to you and do whatever
you want me to do.

In the morning, my first thoughts
are of you.
In the evening I daydream,
play out strange fantasies
that circle around all the things
I long to do for you
and to you.

When I go to the gym
I try to strengthen
my body and mind
so if the time
comes
when you need me
to defend you
or help you run
then I know
I have done
all that could to prepare.

Part of me is very scared,
because I can imagine
getting lost
somewhere
deep in there,
in a place where me, and I
becomes we and us
because I must
Still, I trust this love
is more than lust.
I desire your mind
and you naked touch

If I am an egg
fragile and ready to shatter,
and all the yoke spills out
like yellow brain matter
if you break my heart,
I know that all the king’s men
and all the king’s horses
couldn’t glue me back the same
cause you would have my heart
and I would keep what remains.
But I will risk it,
because to miss it for fear of trying
to sit out the inning
and go on dying
well what an empty life that would be.

Look at that
Humans are
Dust motes
Dancing on
A cosmic scale
Burning behind
The comet’s tail
Too important to notice
That they are
Less than a particle
In a universe
That is an electron
In an atom
Of a larger universe

It's so futuristic
and mechanistic
those fatalistic
mystics of nihilistic
behaviors
that seemed to mirror
the feudalistic years.

I close my eyes
massage my eyelids
see impossible impressions
of the pressure
become spherical
abstractions
distorted shapes
rippling in the void
of sightlessness.

What a weird wonderland
as Alice comes so close to see
the strange curiosity that is me,
an inverted reflection,
while I see negative space
filled by her body, face,
and the thoughts she traces
out for me.

I’m the mental man
made of immortal stuff,
the kind of fluff
that lets me
retroactively
justify the things I see.

Good men are slaves
to a system
that has them
trying to stay strong,
trying to pay rent,
to feed moms,
and their children.

They do the wrong thing
because they need money
for food, cloths, shelter
for car insurance,
for maintenance, and
for medical emergencies.

So, the goodness,
We would like to see
gets buries out of
necessity.

Kind hands
become calloused tools
and the hardworking man
dies at the plant,
were other good men
are struggling the same
with some minor variations.

Nostalgia
Is the smile
That brings
Tears to my eyes
A painful pleasure
Of reminiscence

It is the truth that breaks a poets heart. To know such violence lies in the eyes of the so called protector. Everyday I find myself more heartbroken even though I see the violence coming. Cause for every stride we made for justice their is another ******* hiding behind authority trying to take it away.

Darkness and chaos
played out stupidly before us.
That seems to be the story of everything,
lately.

Despite the delight, but brief interludes
with you few fellow poets who
brighten my life with your  words of lights.

Can we be
fine without past
if we find happiness
and peace
presently.

The lesson is
we are not less then
other men
but different
in our radiance.

Some may shine bright
while others wear a light
that is on another spectrum
one that most humans
are not even looking for.

Make it quick.
You are already
killing me slowly
dragging me
through the snowy
thorn covered field,
making my flesh bruise
changing it from pink
to blackish blues
as you spread the abuse.

Just make it fast.
slip the blade past
my ribs and up into
the heart you broke
as you choked
the land I loved
as you grabbed
children by the throat,
while you demonized them
with shaded lies.

Your corruption is poison
and I am tired
of writing the same poem,
so just **** me now.