I didn't expect it
but in that dark basement
of some strangers house
coated in a blanket of dance rhythms
veins running with fire
arteries pumping chemicals
you chose me
we danced until I can't remember

but then I found us outside
walking back to your dorm
my arm around you
protecting you from the cold winter night
I never wanted that walk to end
cars rushed past us,
and could see how happy I was
we got back to dorm commons
our small party the only inhabitants
she got on the floor
flat on her back
so I took our coats
rolled them into a pillow
and place them under her head
with my arm comfortably back around you
my favorite muscle memory
looking at that ceiling
not speaking,
not having to
caught in the magnificence
of stars which
were for our eyes only

I'm an old western gunslinger
but in my old big irons
slung low down on my hips
I don't load metal slugs,
I load slugs of apathy
ink, irony, and bitterness
and I always keep one bullet
tucked away for myself
but as for the rest of them?
well, it's people season
and I'm one hell of a shot

In my dreams
we stand together
bare footed
on the grass
of our rural Georgia home
or maybe
we are out west
born again pioneers
trekking on through
the California sunshine

In my dreams you would be happy
all because of me
and in my dreams
you would feel safe
and would call me
your better half
your rock
your one and only
with nothing but compliments
coming from your lips

In my dreams you would support me
and I you
and we would revel
in each other's success
and we would wake together
in the sober morning light
to the pretty sounds of birds
perfectly content
moving only forward

whatever I may conjure in my sleep
rest assured you are there

In my dreams
we stand together
bare footed
on the grass
of our rural Georgia home
or maybe
we are out west
born again pioneers
trekking on through
the California sunshine

In my dreams you would be happy
all because of me
and in my dreams
you would feel safe
and would call me
your better half
your rock
your one and only
with nothing but compliments
coming from your lips

In my dreams you would support me
and I you
and we would revel
in each other's success
and we would wake together
in the sober morning light
to the pretty sounds of birds
perfectly content
moving only forward

whatever I may conjure in my sleep
rest assured you are there

Inside my head at all times
I slowly begin to believe
that all of these poems
are self-serving servings of selfishness
can I accept that for what it is?
self-acceptance is accepted as the way to go
but improvement sounds just like superficial small talk
I smell like pickles and meat sauce at any given time
but these ink stained fingers
know no bias based on heart beats
Hysteria in the streets
watch the ants swarm over the abandoned picnic
watch the ants lose their **** over mixed chemical signals
Mary is calling me home to her embrace
and I'm too nice to say no
but if I could just get a small lead
I'd open up the highway and discover Eden
regardless of how many times God ***** his teeth
blood is blue until it meets oxygen
and the blues were stolen from a people who truly knew them
but hey - whatever sells, right?
put the bullet in my head
should I ever become one of them

It's amazing that
in spite of everything
she can still smile
tricked into thinking
she needs make up to
make her self beautiful
this world has made her
unknowingly bipolar
a cold *****
or a ****
she can take her pick
but she still smiles
somehow in the afternoon sun
down by the James river
she dips her feet in
and her smile
outshines the sun

You are a guitar
with strings which
are the slightest bit
off tune
an old acoustic
which is more like an old companion
then an object
varnished to reflective perfection

Me?
I'm more like a grand piano
gathering dust
in the back of a thrift store
accustomed
to telling the tales
of the down and out
empathetic tears shed
leaving water stains
on the ivory keys

let me introduce you to my old friend
Jax (Jackson) Hate
ladies and gentlemen
tell 'em about yourself
why don't you, you're the writer
I've known Jax for as long as I can remember
UK to US
kids to teen to?
to a sentimental ***
He's an *******, but he's my *******
He kept me safe
kept me laughing
when I was lost he found me
stop you're making me wet
I love him
really - I do
I'd love me too
The scruffy, scatter brained, *** crazed, sarcastic sociopath is more than blood to me
My imaginary friend who leaped straight from somebody else's nightmare to rescue me
You looked so pathetic, let's be honest, I didn't really have a choice.
He was the one who went straight for the cricket bat in playground scraps
taught me everything I know about manipulating women
You'd still just be loving your right hand every night if we never met
Yeah, but I'd still be in college
Yeah? Rotting away with the other soon to be bovine corpses? Stellar plan my man. ******* A
No, now we rot alone
Smells more like waiting for the legend to take hold. We'll own this world by proxy.
Me, I'm a kid who writes
Jax?
He's a murderer at heart
the hurricane to my calm, rippling koi pond
You forget I'm a misogynist.
I don't know if he's here to stay
I don't know if I ever want him to leave me
no longer mutually parasitic
*the ******* end

I've found that
all of the major moments
can be captured
in that one exhalation
of the cigarette,
A post ****** drag
a shared smoke with a stranger
a shared smoke with a new friend
it's the smoke which makes us
which defines us
whether we blow it out at once
or in a tiny stream
personally,
I like to blow it all out at once
before inahling it all back in
it calms me
it clears me
it wakes me up
and puts me to sleep
and everything in between
In the breath of a cigarette
I can forget
every other breath
which has come before
or which may come
cleansing
cleansing
cleansing
cancer

when it gets too dark
and the daylight is just a lingering memory
forgotten by palpable blackness
She leads me home
when I can't see
but one foot in front of me
and every sound
is amplified to the point
of disorienting confusion
she grasps me by the hand
gentle yet firm
and drags me safely past
the obstacles and debris
she leads me through
night after night
always in search
of another sunrise

it had been the three of us
since we were little kids
who listened to their music too loud
and didn't listen to their parents enough
It's all one long cycle
more so a downward spiral
the things we were promised
are always put on a higher shelf
and no matter
how high up on our tip toes
we can get
they will always move it
just one shelf higher
it can really **** a guy off

But like I said
It was the three of us
me Jake and Martin
mister no names
in that house
the glass house
because we could see it coming
and so could everybody else
stuck outside
cursed to only watch
never intervene

The glass house
we stained the walls
the color of our lives
Crimson Jade Purple Black
and the colors blur
and the scenes become twisted
and harder to look at
It has our lives already
a commodity for nutrition
we are more like ghosts now
doomed to haunt forever

I woke up
Jake never did
deeply asleep
gone gone gone
his girlfriend called to him
shook him
slapped him
all the while he slept
like a rock
He will never get out now
the glass house his tomb
Martin dug himself deeper
a trench against the outside world
and he was a trench rat
he knew it
he was okay with it
it was a suit which he wore well
I packed up
the few belongings that place hadn't stolen
and got out
never looking back
because people in glass houses
shouldn't throw stones

Let's be honest people
I write too many of these **** things
for all of them to be any good
I know that the notifications from Harry J Baxter can get annoying
the only thing is
I'm not whole yet
and each poem I write
****** or great
removes a piece of me which is deemed
unessential
Pain is weakness leaving the body
*******
pain is the body leaving the idea of weakness behind
one minute
two minutes
three minutes later
I'm dealing with ten views and one like
which is fine
eat me up
I taste like ****
but I'm nutritious
that's for ******* sure
read my three hundred and something poems
and try to tell me you know my life
you'd still be wrong
working on working towards being completely honest
but a part of me cries against the crimes of obvious weakness
that's fine
patience is a a part of my best part
I can write ****
until there's no **** left to come out
that's the goal
aim
desire
I can sound similar at times
but don't fall asleep
this ocean runs deep
and is ready to explode
hold your friend's hand
a tsunami is brewing
and I'm in the mood to drown

Sitting in that cafe
was like sitting atop the tower of Babel
a cacophony of language
like a hurricane was going on all around him
the homeless black men
who spoke with their own jive and jib
he knew some of the language
but was far from fluent
there were the Arabian men
talking into blue tooths on their ears
or into cellphones
or arguing with each other
outside over cigarette after endless cigarette
nothing but harsh blunt sounds,
it was beautiful in a way
and there is the Russian couple
bombshell athletic blondes
it was hard to determine whether the relationship was
Mother and Daughter
or coach and athlete
they were seemingly
all business
broken with interspersed bouts of laughter
and their were the Asian boys and girls
coming from Korea or Japan or China, or some other place
talking fast and easy
gesticulating wildly with their hands
and of course their was English
thick and arrogant in its tone
it was a language for movers and shakers
money makers and deal breakers
it sounded nowhere near as special
as the other languages
And there was him
sitting silently in the corner of the cafe
his language
the chitter chatter of the keyboard

Introverted tendencies paint the scene
free to think only when locked away
cold to other people,
distant even when close
a lifetime spent close to the chest
hanging on to
an isolation flotation device
dragged to endless parties
to stand people watching
in the corner
family asks questions of depressions
and are met with "okays"
I would go out and play
but I have some things
in my own head
which I have to take care of first

I prefer maybes
over the real thing
every single time
so give me a maybe
instead of reality
because sometimes
reality can ****
but a maybe is nothing
just a maybe
so don't give me your troubles
and taboos
and issues
no,
just don't
because my favorite place to see you
is in my imagination
when I wake up alone in the morning light
with a smile on my face
thinking maybe I'll go see you today,
maybe...

he is a robotic man
clad in a suit or iron
which is the only thing
anchoring him to this place
foot steps leave dents in the ground
huge heaving strides
a step with a purpose
cold to the touch
filled with dangerous mechanisms
only vulnerable on the inside
but nobody can crack the plating
pulled by magnetic fields
He is lifeless
tight like a nerve
charging up passionate energy
which comes out in laser beam explosions
a sentinel
less human with every sunset
he puts mankind
in his cross hairs
and opens fire
an Iron man
who was once
simply,
just a man

I put a baby tooth in a half empty 2 liter of coke
it was gone in a month
now I put much worse stuff than coke into my body
but I'm still here
how can something which makes me feel so good
be so very bad for me?
I guess the human is nothing
if not adaptable
or maybe I'm just so much of a *******
I mean maybe I hate myself that much
that I'm not happy
unless I am well
and truly
******* myself over

It was a lonely night
East grace street
Richmond's art district
on the border of Jackson's Ward
my side of the city
more bums than students
right by the transvestite bar
I met a fellow,
strange in appearance
and mannerisms
black dress shirt
black slacks
black shoes
black hair slicked over a waxy skull
'scuse me sir
ya gotta smoke
no man, I'm all out
all tapped out for cash
wanna strike a bargain
this roadside stranger
the hour was wee
cracked a cracked teeth smile
I knew I should deny
but still...
what're your terms
use your wrists
veins
fingers
mouth
mind
heart
promote me
tell the people I'm still sittin' here on the side of the road with a sign askin forra smoke
I nodded
vocabulary voraciously stolen by the non vox populi
he gave me a pack of filters
I lit up
eyes dancing, lost in the cherry's afterglow
and I felt it gone
empty
dangerous
erratic
I sold my soul that night
and I don't feel like looking for it

She was a small town girl
visions of suburban angels
she had big dreams
and itchy feet
she packed her bags
and her guitar
gave herself to the wind
like a summer tune
she had the California dream
so she left that small town
shrinking in the rear view mirror
and she drove west
until the gas ran out
and the pennies were spent
so with her bag
and her guitar
and her thumb
and her itchy feet
she hitched a ride to Santa Barbra
and she still resides there
making her music
just a small town girl
with itchy feet
and a guitar

It comes and goes in lunar waves
flying above the mountain top
then the nosedive
we suggest the cabin prepare for impact in ten. nine eight seven....
it's a water landing

If it was sixty outside today in December -
then maybe I won't feel so ******
at least until the night comes forth
alone with a head full of thoughts
stumbling through a strangers dark living room
trying to find a light switch

It's all fun and games riding a wave back to shore
but the wave recedes and leaves you with a back covered in sea shell scratches
swim out a little further
ride a little longer, a little bigger, lively, dangerous.
keep swimming further out
shoot for the sand bar
or the reef
but you might find yourself lost
helpless in the clutches of some foul riptide

Victims pay the price eventually
a role clad in escape
store windows full of things
that were never your fault
but you have a pocket full of change
hands shake
stomach growls
skin itches
tell yourself no
and cave in just like always
tomorrow's better for me anyway

No Mom, No Dad
everything is fine
oh yeah and merry Christmas
cheers and blessings
quality time with the people you love
in that costume you don so often that
it's hard to tell one side of the cracked mirror from the other
pound fist into open palm open palm onto flushed face
sweating and clammy and growling at the waist
shake it off champ,
the next round starts now

Now picture a small stretch of city
on that beautiful sixty degree December afternoon
maybe it's uptown or the arts district
you are with friends
conversations -
easy and honest. Organic.
talk of dreams and goals
bask in the sunlight. leisure.
sit outside at the cafe with an iced coffee
in the most-hipstery jar you've ever seen
who cares?
drink it down
enjoy it
days like this don't come around often
unless you make them

Walking past businesses with their doors wide open
letting the spring air permeate the room and vanquish
the lingering taste of winter
I’ll have what I always have - only make it iced
an ice cream cone is melting in the gutter
and I can almost hear the five year old girl crying for another
all of the colors of this worldly palette now so vibrant
take the blinders off of my eyes
and let my heart dance to rythym of far off shores
I’m smiling because the birds stopped shrieking and started singing
I write the same five or six poems over and over and over again
but I dress them up in different costumes
I’ve always loved acting the noble fool of endearment
I have to move my car in 40 to avoid the ticket
but I might just see how far that ***** little hatchback can take me
to avoid my roots going so deep they dry up
listen to love
listen to rage
listen to petulant cries for warped justice
listen to lust
and listen to depressed realizations
listen to all of the ******* we can come up with
we love to talk but not to listen
blah blah blah
shut up
it’s sunny outside
so take of all of your clothes
and dance in your nakedness
in the middle of midday broad street
unlock all the cages
let the light in
it’s a great day for living
so quit your death march

the morning after
the sun sneaking through the blinds
naked and hungover
but not caring
because you were naked too
I know this because
while you were sleeping
I took a cheeky peek under the covers
I sleep with a body pillow
but waking up,
my arm around the real thing,
kicks the hell out of any pillow
and your hair was messy
i liked that, but knew you wouldn't
so I tucked it behind your ear
you letting out a breathy sigh
and I could tell you were smiling
by how your cheek bones raised
you playing footsie with me
and smiling
and ******* on my thumb
was an ego boost
because sober you
wasn't freaking the hell out
trying to find a way out of that stranger's attic bedroom
and we kissed
made out
and other stuff
which gentlemen don't talk about
and you got up to get dressed
standing naked trying to find your *******
me in bed saying
"stay in bed for a while longer
that plane to California
ain't going nowhere"
and you said
"yes it it,
it's going to California"
I knew that
but your *** looked great
pulling on those cut off denim shorts
but you had to go
and so did I
and I know *** is supposed to be for the mature
but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't
singing that entire ride home
"I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT!"
like a kid hyped up and hopped up on Halloween candy
It's nice being called "Good Morning"

It's not fair for me
to hand you my broken pieces
with puppy dog eyes
and to ask you
to put them back together again
while the entire time
I'm trying to sweet talk you
into coming to bed
it wouldn't be fair
but i'm going to ask anyway

things change
like the passing of the seasons
don't take this fro granted
change is scary
yet at the same time
change is right
change is good
change is cleansing
people change,
inevitably,
any attempts to change the change
are futile,
it's all a matter of perspective
so don't ever think of it as a goodbye
goodbyes are poisonous things
rather,
think of it as
another chance to say
hello

The sun is shining today,
it feels as if it's the first time in weeks
I'm sitting outside of a cafe
just taking it all in.
It's spring break for the public high and middle schools
and seeing children running around downtown
unsupervised and smiling
makes me miss the simplicity
of just being a kid,
but try as I might,
I'm not a kid anymore
around this time next year
I will be twenty years old
which is pretty unbelievable

I sit in the midst of a sea of people
they ebb and flow like the tides
men on their breaks from work
their shirts opened down to their chest
a casual sunshine fashion statement
and the pretty art girls
with their pretty faces
and pretty dresses
walk on by
and I can't help but look at them
and smile to myself
like an utter idiot,
but I don't care
If you can't smile on a sunny day
when can you?

I left the windows in my apartment wide open
turned on the fans
and in an effort to symbolize
my victory over the winter
I turned the heating off
When I get home
I think,
that I will sit at my desk
and write
and be inspired by the sounds of the city
which ring out in a beautiful cacophony
of car horns, construction, laughter, and birds
it's sunny today
and no matter what happens
it will be a good day

can you taste the iron on your lips?
acid reflux creeping up your tongue
as you swallow another soul whole
sweat stains on a pillow
all of this surrounds us
time will tell us as legends or monsters
we aren’t in control of the wheel
tirelessly we maraude the alcoves and nooks
of an indifferent planet
they call the thing we’re looking for love
we call it whatever gets us through today
but if this shriek of pain sets your teeth on edge
just know that it should
just know that even the smallest island
is connected to the most landlocked country
through an underground railroad of humanity and history
the bedrock is constantly shifting and warping
but it’s key elements remain eternal
tattoo my address on your forearm
should you ever find me lost you’ll know what to do
with the baggage I carry like heartbeats in a ribcage
do not burn the bridges
regardless of how rundown they might become
do not convert drift wood into an idol of the sun
because time is relative but the moon will always have it’s moments
eclipse your protests with apathetic motor oil
manifesting the robotic machinations of another man shackled
tethered to anchors which set out not to drown him
but to keep him on the precipice of high tide
all of the great words in the world couldn’t paint a picture
of what this all means
so why do we try so ceaselessly
to see the face of God

I've been to Paris
seen the city
unwind in flashes of art before me
but do not be fooled
by the amateur writers' ideals
for Paris is full of stores
with neon signs in the windows
which read
******,
*** toys,
bisexual,
gay,
videos,
and lubricants
in perfect English
Paris is full of
hotels and hustlers
African men,
met us off the ferry
and tried to sell us lighters
and fake watches
And the homeless line the street
like unfortunate corpses
and there are areas
of great dangerous people
full of edge and hate
but at night
the cathedrals
Notre Dame
and the the landmarks
are lit up like supernovas
and it is enough to make you forget
forget all that is ugly
and wrong with the place
so if you wish to seek Paris
just remember,
you have to see beauty
through the ugly

Let me be your drug
stimulants to raise you up higher than any peak
setting your veins on fire and tickling the bottom of your feet
Let me hone your mind to a fine focused edge
lethal, right?
Let me take your inhibitions and crush them
teach you how to dance
and egg you on to violence
standing up for yourself is just that
depressants? Yeah I've got that covered
make you feel so low the sun light falls short
I've got a book full of lullabies to put you to bed
and I can make those cuts and bruises
feel like loose, easy sunlight
let me alter your perception
DMT, Shrooms, and Lucy
I'll show you a God you forgot to believe in
hallucinations so real they send your nightmares reeling
back into the comfortable dark of closets and bottoms of beds
Love Drug?
I'm an easy E to pop
Molly Molly Molly
Moon rocks
prompts for the closet romantics
and **** machines
light this stick of TNT spliff
and ******* out into the dead air between all things

I thought about you last night
And it's not what you're thinking
I mean more like day dreaming
More like a storyline
Playing out in my head
With ups and downs
And it was so perfect
I wrote it down
And realized
I might love my fictionalized version of you
More than the real you
I guess that's always the case
But it made me realise
What I love so much
About writing
It's the closest I've ever felt
To god

I met Jack and James in the 9th grade
a Tennessee farm boy and an Irish *******
they were wild
they didn't listen to parents
or teachers
or me
they knew how to destroy and dismantle
and from the rubble they made their nests
they showed me good times
backed me up in bad
even introduced me to girls
like Mary,
in her sweatpants and poncho
no make up
talking about the universe
we first kissed the summer before 10th grade
everything was so ******* rosy
Me, Jack, James, and Mary versus the world
we were going to do big things
and ***** anybody who said no
we weren't the type to take any ****
but years went by
them sleeping on my floor
my couch
my bed
using my bathroom
my money
Jack and James started the fights
I got the bruises
While Mary sits on the couch
eating potato chips
and talking about her next great idea to change the world
I got the bills
I told them,
enough is enough
but that is never the case
now I sleep in a grave
they were kind enough to dig
with friends like these,
who has time for enemies?

It's another slew of ****** poetry
so publish this junk
so I can sell my work to people who can't read
let me tell you about David
he is a *****
not a literal ******,
that'd be ridiculous,
what I mean is -
he admits to having emotions
what a *** right?
but his emotions come on too strong
cologne on some ***** in a bar
and he doesn't know what to do with them
so he empties out every bottle
and fills them with his tears
then he thinks he might see something amid the pain
something to throw together
so he stacks the bottles in a jaunty pyramid
and calls it art
how ******* deep of him
he loves girls
fears rejections
so his trash cans are filled with old cummy wads of tissue paper
and wakes up hung over and nervous about everything
I hate him almost as much as I love him

Then there's Jake -
a grade A ****
no really, he is
Violent
angry for no reason other than it makes him feel good
he views women as three holes to put on his trophy case
he puts cigarettes out on his arm
and throws every thing anybody he ever loved ever gave him
back in their face
with a hefty helping of satirical, cynical, sarcasm
but say what you want about Jake
He get's **** done
and the **** he does only helps him out
Jake and David
they are best ******* buds
and God knows why
because most of the time
you can walk in on them
choking each other to death in the night
only to hug it out the next morning
Jake and David
star crossed lovers
holding desperately onto each other
as they make their way down the dark, frothing river of life

Turn your music down
stop listening to that stuff
are you taking drugs?
I wish you would talk to me
blah blah blah blah blah

Go to school
you can't be in a band
Take this seriously
******* it
do you want to be broke?
do you want to throw your life away?

Maybe, what is it anyway?
for the land of the free
We aren't given a lot of choices
you go to school
you go to college
or you get a job
you contribute
That's a joke
it's not contributing
It's slavery
well not me man
not me

*** Drugs and Rock 'n Roll
that's my life
and I have to fit the part
Besides
It's not like my parents
check the liquor cabinet
I'm going to make it man
going to be the next legend
Woah this stuff is strong
and I'm feeling sleepy
so... sleepy...

It was another boring school day
and school is out
nope, no school for me
not today at least
I've got places to be
and man to see
about a horse

I sneak out at lunch time
the teachers here are dumb
I went to the woods
behind the chain link fence
of the Athletic/Health club
personal betterment
what a joke?
nothing but a bunch of sheep
trying to fatten themselves up
so they can be slaughtered first
Well not me
They won't catch me

The bottle is right where I left it
untouched under the leaves
each gulp of that *****
is chased with another
even longer one
The world looks a whole lot more rosy
when I'm looking over a bottle
and the sun looks so **** cool
as it comes through the leaves
green and warm
like a bottle of Jager
Life is good
real good

Take the bottle of Jameson
my favorite one
triple distilled like a loaded gun
Imported Irish whiskey
makes you feel frisky
so drink up quickly
before the bottle's gone
Pass it around to and fro
lost in a thousand gulps
a quickly slowing pulse
my favorite flavor
my one true savior

Me and you
are broken
in different places
so that we
fit together
like a jigsaw puzzle

You so frenetic
so open
you are a hurricane
people always remember
when you pass through
venting your insecurities

Me so passive
not a care in the world
always out of touching distance
I am a rock
covered in moss
always numb

we fit together
like a jigsaw puzzle
and together
through our flaws
we make a picture
which is so beautiful

I'm writing this from my phone
Winter forgot to wake up
So now the kids play in the streets
And it's one of those days
That attacks you with a smile
You can't quite shake
Give me your tears
And I'll make you a tall glass
Of half full
Excuse me ma'am
But your self esteem is showing
And it looks like you could use some more
I have an ego
Locked away in the basement
And occasionally I feed it
Smiles from pretty girls
And likes on my work
The car has no gas
I have barely enough dough
To pay the power bill
But everything's all Henry miller
Because I decided to start living in day dreams
So if you pull up next to me at a red
And find me laughing to myself
Feel free to join In

see we don’t take anything too seriously
meet up at my place for some *******
splashing in a pool of **** your stuff
they only told us to do as we were told
so we always did the opposite
calling self-destruction noble individualism
take a GB or two or however many get’s the job done
I hear some medicinal **** is coming to town
and yeah grab me another beer
because it’s noon and today still looks ugly
muscles are tripping on lactic acid
stomach growling
but the coffee keeps the leash tight
when the word sober puts your teeth on edge
and the part-time gig scratches your throat
we’re the silly people who weave in and out
of anonymity
with music too loud
and choices too poor
the junkies and jokers are carrying me to the river
because it gets hard to paddle upstream sometimes
and laughter is really only the second best medicine

as long as you are
one cool *** *******
you're untouchable
think about it,
guns liquor and cigarettes
surely do more bad than good
but you are a liar
if you'd say
that guns aren't bad ***
that liquor isn't cool
that smoking isn't edgy
so be cool
and as bad as you want
and they'll do whatever they can
to make sure that you
don't go anywhere

just be yourself
unless yourself is a ****** ***** *****
unless who you are
rocks the boat
because we don’t to get splashed
unless who you are makes us uncomfortable
climb down from that edge who do you think you are?
this isn’t a movie. grow up
as long as that is who you are
just be yourself
as long as who you are wears the same uniform
with the same lapel patches and flare
just be yourself
unless whoever the hell that is does better than me
the only thing more dangerous than a mob
is an envious mob
so who you are better be modest and humble
and mumble those bumbling opinions
because we don’t want to hear anything
we want to be told
just be yourself
unless you are afraid of social pariah exile lifestyles
be yourself but keep that trap shut
because this is a game of respect
and we are all your elders so stand up straight and tuck that shirt in
listen up kid you’ll never make it with that attitude
so shut the hell up and eat your vegetables
just be yourself
here’s ‘being yourself for dummies’ just to help
one tip - yourself better not be top shelf
talented is another word for targeted
so be yourself -
so long as yourself is a commodity we can sell
for high profit margins
to kids who are just trying to figure out
how the hell they can be themselves

just one more poem
it's a frantic rush
peripheral vision blacks out
pin point visions of tunnels
voices meld together and become music
the keyboard
or pen
or pencil
are instruments of conduction
that seem to match your heart beat
Just one more poem
you feel it bubbling within
it will die if it doesn't escape
so you write and write and write until
you get it out
crying in the new world
and you love it
until you realize
that there is still one more poem
trapped somewhere deep within you
so you try to save it
you have to save them all
because one day
there won't be time for
just one more poem

once all the leaves have dropped
we stand eternal
like the dead
falling from withered branches
which once carried so much life
time has a way of taking these things from us
life
love
passion
hate
anger
Time is the great thief
time is relative
making everybody relatively
scared shitless
time is the relative
that the family merely tolerates
always on
and on
tick tock
tick tock
with two broken hands
wrapped in a ***** kitchen towel
I'd like to throttle
father time

Don't **** them with violence
because they will still win
don't **** them fast
because lord knows
they deserve pain
don't **** them with your words
they are too valuable to waste
on such ****
no if you really want to hurt them
then **** them with your smirk
every time they **** with you
raise a corner of your mouth ever so slightly
an "is that all you've got" smile
because everybody knows
you are stronger
smarter
better
than all of them
and it ****** them off
so **** them with smirks
and if that still isn't enough
well you can always just
**** on their graves afterwards

There was a long road
from the church to the farm house
and ten acres of land was never enough to disappear
but we tried our very best
the fields spanned out in wooden fence borders
until they met with dirt side roads
sheep, cows, and horses
and mud tracked jeans
we built dens in the woods
out of whatever we could scavenge
with wheat hanging limp from lips
we graduated to the days of the pretender
and started memorizing names like
RJ Reynolds and Phillip Morris
our fingers grew as yellow as our teeth
Tobacco Road Hobos
sticking up a thumb
with a Kamel Red pinched between index and middle
that's the gun metal blue smoke screen
rattling lungs in the morning
scorched throats at night
and a pair of mud tracked jeans
Kings of Tobacco Road

hold on to the small victories
these are the hand and foot holds
that your survival clings to
there will be an avalanche
rock slide
mud slide
of rejection and doubt and defeats
but these small victories
a comment from a stranger
or something greater
have roots which run deep
and at times you have to say
kiss my animus
*******
and hold on
like your life depends on it

The mind is conflict
the human mind
is incapable
of truly grasping
the concept
of infinity
and yet
within the mind
the imagination
is endless
so people who say
they really know themselves
are liars

Cast against the grain of all things
wandering the earth
from small town to hamlet to big city dreaming
gleaming every small ounce of life
fought desperately over
magpies chasing shiny glints in the darkness
Each piece of ground earned
a victory
go with the sun on your back in the morning
and in your face at the end of the day
Westward like pioneers of old
and if there’s no new ground to find
we will make some for ourselves
so that our dreaming heads
might have a leg to stand on
It’s just the way she goes
Lady Luck is up there laughing at me
as I crawl on my belly from place to place
lusting after her touch
my Goddess wearing gypsy shawls
and no shoes
egging me on
another step towards the last

I was such good friends with last night
that she decided to stay with me this morning
waking up like coming out of a blur
panicked
check that phone
assess the damage
if you get lucky
your phone is dead
knock knock on the skull
go away nobody's home they're out
knock knock knocking on heaven's door
you should probably eat something
but your stomach won't get off
the merry go round
round round and around again
like a spin cycle
and you're always alone
but for the sounds of birds
nesting in the tree
outside of your bedroom window
but it doesn't matter
with a stomach full of one liners
you still get up
and go out that door

Here he comes,
All ****** up
A child
With a man's habits,
How can he handle this,
This genetic disease.
He just sits
With a mouth
Full of **** that
And waits for
This current night,
To be over

He didn't rob the banks
he didn't shoot any sheriffs
he sat outside of the bank
and burned his money in a pile
he gave his possessions
to the hungover sobs
leaving the drunk tank in the early hours
He left his family
his country
his city
his friends
to become something more
he didn't break any laws
but they still chase him down
they want him back in the fold
to insure that nobody follows
an outlaw
who didn't actually
step outside of the law

I just wish life
was like a lazy river
I wish I could just
float through it
taking in the scenery
as I bobble forwards
catching some rays
laughing with friends
smiling at pretty girls
dressed in their bikinis
they say I lack ambition
I say they lack sanity
if their ambitions
aren't to have a good time
and to be happy
different points of view
I guess