Reality ceases to be
Reality,
This flesh and blood,
The rough of the splintering wood
Beneath the cheap crumbling paint
Of a number two pencil.

Reality ceases to be
The softness,
Too soft,
Of this grey jacket
With the fuzzy innards.

It ceases to be
The leathery feel
Of my blackened wrist-band
For my banged-up wrist-watch,
The smooth hard of the
Desk upon which I oft
Have laid my head.

It ceases to be
The cold of the blust'ry wind
Howling 'cross the trees,
The dark, damp, dismal grey
O'th clouds that crest our sky.

It ceases to be
All that I can see
Nigh on all I can hear,
For in this half-dreaméd state
In which I wake,
The intermittent sounds of life
Pertrueb upon the louder music
That permeates my dreams.

It remains solely
That which I can feel
Yet I feel numb,
Alone,
Cold and deadnéd as I ride
This night of death
Throughout the day,
Touch alone
The sense that grounds me,
Makes me see, if you will,
The great golden good
Of this here wood,
And by a wood to say
A world.

I am he who brings thee thine sunset.
I am he that brings thee the dark night.
I am thee, thin ender of all days.
Thou art me, and forsooth,, I am thee.
Fight not me, For am I inside ou.
A royaled ruins, A prached beach, that thou art/
I am here, eternal, dark in mind.
The night shines on even in daylight.
Run on far, run away, escape me
Thou cannot, never shall, You are me.
I am you, all your whole, always there.
Forget me, for a day, then I come.
I come strong, roaring back, slicing the light.
I leave marks, never gone, know this now;
Hide me now, push me gone, I come back,
Stronger then, than ever, rule your life.
Own me no, I own you, own your soul.
Thy soul mine, thy body mine, own your all.
I am this, thy bully inside you.
The shadow in your light, cloud the day.
Thine rain all eternal, ever here,
Always there, present now, for all here
Forever, I am you, never done,
Ending when, only when, you do too.

A murderous melody rings now here,
Acurséd cacophony shouts now out
My mind begins its saddened bout
Stressing all little things there are to fear,
As this opening gape comes now but near,
The voices within me only loud shout,
As if they stood upon the Sinai Mount,
And the cliffs upon which I stand, so sheer.
I cannot hate it, this I know, ‘tis me
Yet all of me be, it surely cannot
Accept, adapt, and improve I now must,
Life shall move on no matter what I wrought,
A dry well this world does not, cannot be,
Shall, will, continue forth, no matter the dust.

Depression is
Not feeling worthy
Of feeling bad.

To die, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream,
Aye, there's the rub-
Hamlet.
For but now this quote runs,
Runs arampant 'cross my mind,
For therein it lies,
Ifaith, it hides,
But ne'er has it been
So much that I have seen
For what I thought was true
Was
Or was not
Forsooth,
'Twas but bumbling miscomunication
And yet,
And yet I truly felt as though
There was something there.
And there may be
And there may not be
For, ifaith, ifaith,
She hath not pondered long enough,
Nor deep enough
For her to know,
Thus spake she.
And so I shall wait for I,
I know how I feel of her,
And I know,
I know that I can wait,
And, ifaith,
I will wait until,
Till that day she makes her mind,
Or that the rainy clouds of emotions long confused part
And make way for that sun of inner knowledge,
For I,
I know how I feel of her.
And yet,
And yet I shall not,
I shall not let myself become obsessed,
Nor over-enamored,
For ifaith,
I cannot let myself
Harm myself
More than I have already.

dead bodies floating
in our oceans
from the Asian Pacific
to the Mediterranean

crumpled corpses lying
on our beaches
thousands drowned unknown

overcrowded detention centers
not unlike concentration camps
behind barbed wires
guarded by police and snarling dogs

nobody feels responsible

not  those who started wars
destroyed whole cities
made millions homeless
and into refugees

not those who take advantage
of the chaos for their own gain
abusing the names of their gods
or some ancient figurehead
to excuse their atrocities and greed

not those who live
in comfortable homes
and wish the desperate crowds
would just stay on the TV screen
and not come close

nor those who pretend
to be the guardians
of our great humanitarian heritage
but show no backbone
against nationalist fanatics

it is the shame of the world
to sit and talk and watch
and not do enough

those who turn away
the needy and homeless
could also
      quite suddenly
lose their homes

forced to rely
on the kindness of strangers