Death beside me, softly waiting.
He gave me time for contemplating,
Past mistakes and wrongs I’ve made.
I truly thank that somber shade.
On borrowed time I cleared my mind,
Prepared myself for one last dive.
He whispered patiently in my ear,
“It’s time to go but have no fear”
“I’ve been told to lead you, toward a light”
And so I rose without a fight,
And took death’s hand and let him lead,
He’d given me the time I’d need,
To rest my mind and heavy heart,
Before I followed into the dark.

It's always been difficult,
for me to communicate.
Friends, family, whomever,
I can't always express what I want,
or how I would want to.
I'll sit stern and stoic,
and tell all the people I know that,
I am fine.
Than I go home,
and between choking sobs explain to the dog,
or the cat,
what it is that ails me so.
The dog just stares,
the cat just purrs,
but I find more solace in that,
than the words of anyone I know.
Is that so strange?

Life never
turns out how you'd like.
It never steers you where you'd think it would
where you hoped it would.
Life constantly hands you a left
when you wanted a right.
Gives you a hand full of ****
when the other guy
gets a royal flush.
I've now come to know
that it's just inevitable.
Expect nothing.
Hope nothing.
Life will never give you
what you think you need.
It never gives you what you ask for.

This is an ode, to words.
All the ******* beautiful words in existence.
At the end of the day,
the words are all we've ****** got!
The words are what separate us from the animals!
The words are life! And they are also death.
That's why you gotta fight for 'em, man,
bleed for 'em.
At some point in your life, someones gonna tell you,
"Hey! You can't say that! That's wrong, indecent, inappropriate!"
And you'll have to tell them,
"******* man! They're my words. I'll say which ones I please. You won't censor me, *******"
Oh they'll fight too, the *******.
They'll try to bully and beat and bribe your words outta you!
They know the words have power, but so do you.
That's why you can never surrender.
You may die kicking and screaming but ******* it,
you'll have your words to the very end!
They say, "Actions speak louder than words."
I say *******!
I say, "Words, are the inspiration for actions."
It is,
all.
about.
the words.

It's funny how
lack of sleep will hit you.
It's six in the morning,
and I,
I'll tear up at almost anything now.
All sense of sanity
hindered by delirium
but I think of you.
Maybe I'm insane,
maybe I'm delusional,
but at six in the morning,
I still love you.

Even when I was young,
I knew things,
perceived things you didn't think I could.
I knew it was time to stop talking,
when that distant look suddenly crept into your eyes.
I knew it meant you weren't really there anymore,
you'd traveled back in time.
I learned quickly,
there are some things you don't ask a man.
Ever.
As I've grown I've learned more,
still probably without your knowing.
I know when you attempt sleep,
memories you've learned to shroud from light of day,
spring forth and reign terror on your dreams.
A grotesque cinematic beyond my imagining,
yet all too real.
I know why you struggle with people,
and with crowds.
I know to you,
anyone and anything could be an enemy, a hazard.
I know to this day you see blood on your hands.
I wish you knew your sons do not.
I know when you look in the mirror you see a monster.
A younger you, with hollow eyes
and as you once so eloquently said,
"A smile that speaks, of death delivered"
I wish you knew,
to your sons you stand a warrior.
Tried but unbroken.
I know you didn't want to go.
I know a part of you died there.
I can hardly fathom,
how deep it cut to return home labeled a murderer, and worse.
So much guilt already on your shoulders.
But I know you've never gotten over it.
I just wish there was a way to tell you,
it is not your fault.
You did the best you could,
you did what you had to do.
Maybe someday you'll understand,
You are not what happened there.
Maybe someday I'll find a way to tell you,
The war is over, dad. Come Home.

Farewell, dear friend, this will be our last goodbye.
Laugh at smiles shared my friend, for me you should not cry.
Fought my battles, some won some lost, but finally it's time.
To say our last farewells, old friend, this is our last goodbye.

I grew up living by the law of escalation.
There were no holds barred,
very little hesitation.
I wasn't physically imposing
but I fought
like a ******* savage.
Winning doesn't matter
when you're just plain mean.
I got my satisfaction
from making boys bleed.
We progressed,
fist fights hastily became grave.
People started swinging everything from rocks
to blades.
I escaped,
joked it was my "retirement."
And yea I've stopped the violence,
let go of some hate.
But I still carry knives to this day,
just in case.

I'll be honest
with you
friend
It's a long, dark, hard ****** road
we walk
You and I
It's gonna tear your heart out!
Spit on you
kick
you
when you're down
and
no one is ever going
to be
what you need
expect
I'm tellin you
roll with it
It
is
supposed
to hurt
It's not all
sunshine
and roses
But
at least
you'll feel something.

Couldn't even spell Camus,
you illiterate ****,
not to mention you never heard of my dudes,
Hesse and Chuck.
I've roamed expanse, of Middle Earth,
watched sun sets, from Martian perch.
You poor *******, can't comprehend
the tortured lives Of Mice and Men.
Fail to grasp the beauty
in Ray Bradburys' words
and you'll probably never know
how Dresden Germany burned.
When "Something Wicked, This Way Comes"
you'll hardly know just where to run.
As Billy P. learned "So it goes"
Soon you too, will come to know
A strange thing I have gleaned from friend,
just "Poo - tee - weet" can mark the end.

I've wandered quite a while now, and I think it's time to sit.
I'm beaten, bruised and battered; reaching the end of my wit.
Start sifting through statistics there must be something I missed.
Or maybe I'm just chasing wraiths, that never did exist.
I no longer see the sunshine, ever shrouded in this mist
the forest plays a game with me, "Can we make him lose his grip?"
It's bad enough these ******* maps resemble twisted acid trips,
But I think my compass finally broke, the needle spins and spins.
The path is hardly visible, with incessant turns and twists.
Every time I think It's straightened, it invariably splits.
I'll slowly saunter onward I've too much pride to quit.
I may be lost forever, but that's just how life is.

All I wanted was a lullaby,
a simple song to ease my mind.
And guide me into gentle sleep,
I’d long forsaken counting sheep.
A whisper through my clouded thoughts,
To recall a peace I had forgot.

I don't claim,
to have an abundance of accurate knowledge.
I know I've too much yet to learn.
However,
after a bit of experimentation,
after years of trial and error,
I do think I've come to find one truth.
No one is ever what you expect.
Fewer yet,
are what you need.
They key I've come to find,
that one piece that makes the puzzle fall together,
is to find someone who makes your soul quiet,
but your heart scream.

I know the pain you feel is deep,
your want from life is simple peace.
And though I cannot guarantee,
please listen closely, as I speak.

Presently you stroll alone,
searching for a hand to hold.
You feel your sorrow in your bones,
in harshest sun, you still feel cold.

Pre - dawn, however, is darkest night
that must be followed by morning light.
I pray you won't give up the fight,
the universe will set things right.

I know at times, it seems unclear
that happiness is always near.
But wholly I believe my dear,
someday soon, you'll find some cheer.

Beware! My dear shepherds,
I think you've failed to see.
There are wolves among your flock!
And one of them is me.
Are you not aware?
That in a pack we hunt?
Or that sometimes there are better things,
To have as sheep for lunch?
We are patient and unkind,
We creep slowly through the dark,
You're so secure within your power,
I think it's made you blind.
We'll start with your dogs,
And then move on to you,
And then you'll know that these were facts,
You'd wished you would've knew.

I lost my heart,
have you seen it?
I set it down so often it got easier to leave it.
If you find it,
would you keep it?
It's a hardy little ***** despite the minor leakage.
A bit of thread,
perhaps a needle?
Really I think a little love is all that's needed.

I let smoke roll from my cigarette,
and watch like death entered the room.
Seeing it fill with his hazy presence,
undisturbed.
Few will know the peace that comes,
with choosing your fate.
I will NOT cower,
at the ghastly shade.
I will smile at it.

It was on the walk home,
from school.
A path I always took,
with slow deliberation.
That Frank sidled up to me.
"Hey man, you ever smoked bud?"
Reaching into his sock,
he produced a small bag.
"You wanna?"
That Cheshire grin.
We slipped off the road into a small pine thicket.
He shoved what I'd now refer to as,
"Bricked out Mexican grown *******,"
Into a little metal pipe.
This was no,
"I didn't get high the first time" event.
No,
I got ******* ******.
I wandered my neighborhood after,
for quite some time.
Everything was beautiful.
The colors of the trees and the houses
all burst forth!
Brilliantly vivid.
I journeyed home and came to find;
the beratement, the hate,
it rolled off
like so many drops of water.
I fell asleep listening to "No Quarter,"
for the thousandth,
but the first time.
Life never was the same,
after that.

I had so much passion,
once.
It seeped from every pore.
My heart roared out of me like a lion,
hungry and proud!
I walked with a bop in my step,
fought like a savage,
loved with my whole being.
I was raw,
unfiltered,
naked!
I've come to find,
life has a way of taking that from you.
You add a layer over this scar,
a layer over that one.
The layers stack until the fire inside,
is suffocated.
I'm just going through the motions now.
I starved the lion,
and now my heart is quiet.

My heart weeps for those lost,
those yet to lose.

Last night I dreamt.
for the first time in a long time,
I dreamed of you.
It was a good dream.
We sat close,
in some surreal plane,
intensely illuminated by the moon,
and the stars.
I embraced you from behind
you grabbed my arms tight.
And then,
inches away from my face,
you held my gaze.
You turned away.
It would appear,
not even in my dreams will we ever embrace again.
I awoke missing your lips,
but knowing I had to let them go.

If you think world peace is realistic,
you are a ******* idiot.
All the bright eyes and optimism,
I'm getting pretty sick of it.
No, it's not that I don't want it.
It's such a lovely thought.
I just know that evil in this world exists,
People full of madness;
malice, hate,
and rot.
You can stop the useless chanting,
go and tear up all your signs.
And if you can't quite shake the hope,
remember,
children die.

I don't necessarily
think highly of myself
but
I live with an old dog
and a young cat
to whom I am the world.
Sometimes
I doubt my strength
but
I live with an old dog
and a young cat
both of which view me as their rock.
Sure
the dog whines constantly
poor ******* has arthritis
and sure
the cat's a little wild
I did scoop her up
crippled and alone
in front of my house.
And sure
sometimes I feel alone and broken
but I come home
to an old dog
and a young cat
and a small piece of my heart
finds its' way back.

An old soldier sits alone,
smoke rolling from his nostrils,
a tepid dragon.
He gazes vacantly at his sword,
at the blood on his hands.
It all seemed so far away,
when he was there.
It's easier to see,
after the dust has settled.
We were never heroes.
No.
Just so many pieces in a game too vast for us to behold.
Our sacrifice,
was calculated from the start.
They dubbed us expendable.
They forged monsters,
out of boys.
Then they sent us home with no purpose.
Warriors with no war.
Old Soldiers.
Just so many broken men,
with bloodied hands.

When Death finally reaches for me,
as a cat would ****** a mouse.
I'll distract him with some chit-chat,
then punch the ******* in the mouth.
Scream, "You sure took your time!
You miserable, arrogant ****!"
I watched so many others go,
I've grown quite bitter with the schmuck.
He'll raise his gleaming sickle,
and view my end with angry eyes.
I'll laugh and laugh content with that,
before he took me, I got mine.

I listened to my younger brother
on the phone.
He told me
a friend had killed himself
shotgun under chin.
There was an open casket at the funeral.
They'd patched him back together
as best they could
but
some things you just can't fix.
My brother said he looked like an alien
foreign
misshapen.
Without thinking I responded
"You're at the age now brother
where people will start dropping like flies
for no good reason
and you'll have to learn to deal with it."
My brother is nineteen.
What is wrong with a world
in which that statement
is the truth?

Some people,
are nearly indescribable.
But too prominent in the mind,
not to make the attempt.
I guess,
I guess I'd say she walked like sunshine,
and spoke like rain.
Where she strolled it was warm,
all the evidence could be seen in the people she met.
No one walked away without a smile.
When she spoke,
they all listened.
A gentle voice that hit you like soft drops,
in the summer.
Walking away I felt like I was watching the sun set;
disappointed in the loss of light,
but happy in knowing I'd witnessed something beautiful.

I always said,
"What a man has in his pockets,
says a lot abut him."
I still believe that.
A man carries what he thinks he needs,
or what he thinks will get him what he wants.
As I've grown I can say,
I like how my pockets speak of me.
Some whiskey, some ****, a couple smokes
always a journal and a pen,
or two.
An empty wallet,
and at least two lighters;
that's very important.
With a little intuition,
someone can put those pieces together,
and know me.

Never have I seen a heart,
so wrought with open woe.
As a mother with a child who,
was far too young to go.

And nothing is as hopeless as,
watching parent bury child.
The scene burns into memory,
as if your eyes have been defiled.

Pray you never come to see,
your offspring meet deaths' kiss.
For naught in all the world I know,
is a purer pain, than this.

That's it,
you've let loose beast from cage.
Prepare yourself coward,
you're facing an onslaught of rage.
You cant possibly comprehend,
the ******* enemy you've made.
I'll turn your family to memory,
from the timeline they'll fade.
This is far from honored duels of old,
fought in sunlit splattered glade.
I'm a man of slick efficiency,
I'll see that you die in the shade.
Even worse I'll make it hurt,
see you leave our earth in pain.
I suggest you learn *******,
Understand that death is my name.

I abandoned the
accepted standard
found the edge of the map
and fell off.
The world is flat

Just how deep
does the rabbit hole
go?
We may never know
but I dove head first
into the ground.
Try and find me now

The universe is vast
but I
rearrange the planets
in a pattern more familiar
*The system can collapse

The only thing
I have left.
Is the desperate hope
(an evil thing it is)
that long after I've departed
someone
somewhere
will read my words
and feel better for them.
I don't desire
to fix a soul
but I surely pray
maybe
just maybe
something I've said
will get you to tomorrow.

I sit alone at night
with tears held in my eyes.
I sit alone at night
and hope that I may die.

I know, that it's no good
I'll get nowhere at all.
But without my Shady Grove
I'm broken and I'm small.

Shady Grove's, my little love
Shady Grove I say.
Shady Grove's, my little love
I'm bound to go away.

I wish I had a golden pen
that could write all my lines.
I wish I had a golden pen
then Shady Grove'd be mine.

Cherry's in the summer time
apples in the fall.
If I can't have the girl I love
I won't have none at all.

Shady Grove's my little love
Shady Grove my friend.
Shady Grove's my little love
I'm leaving in the end.

You do not piece back together
shattered glass,
you sweep.

I knew a wolf who dressed like sheep
with smiling eyes and hidden teeth.
Calmly through the flock he'd step.
Preaching life, and meaning death.

Once upon a dreary day,
he found a lamb who'd gone astray.
Lined with silver was his tongue,
a spectacle for one so young.

Nearly at the speed of light,
the wolf sprang forth and made his strike.
And not a sheep would hear the crunch,
of the wolf, enjoying lunch.

I've always been a sucker for the deceitful,
the dissolute.
In knowing such, it's become hard to trust my instinct;
it always seems to lead me astray.
I despise wasting effort,
I grow bitter and disillusioned with ease.
Perhaps for a loss,
perhaps for the better,
this realization has forced me,
into reservation.
I expect nothing,
I assume nothing,
I extend myself,
for nothing.
I'm waiting for the universe to align things,
to tell me I'm safe to dive in.
I'm willing,
but waiting.
Show me something.
Tell me something.
Do something!
Like gasoline waiting for a spark,
I've got the potential to start a serious fire;
I just need a little motivation.

A series of flashing lights simulate a reality that no longer extends farther than the boundary of your back door.
You sit complacently in your living room while the world outside your window turns to ash and the re-constituted chemical pastes you eat as food slowly transform your body from flesh to a synthetic meat by-product.
I am more preservative than man
Your perpetuated existence is a lie. Maybe once the plugs pulled those incessantly firing neurons will catch up to what's already done and stop.  You've been decomposing for years but haven't lived enough to ******* notice.
That's it folks,
the show's over.

Everything we never said,
every ounce of love I bled,
the memories I thought were dead,
the silence spells it out.
And what I believed I'd beaten down,
the feelings I thought strangled out,
It's got me reeling, nearly kneeling now,
the silence sounds it out.
Foreboding like the coming rain,
or worse yet winds that sound like trains,
I choke on sorrow, drown in shame,
the silence screams it, now.

It never was that I loved a cigarette,
more than you.
Just that I knew every morning,
when I rolled over,
my smokes would still be on the nightstand.
But your keys would be gone.

One night,
while on some tremendously great acid.
I watched the snow fall,
ever so softly,
illuminated by street lights.
It was the most beautiful thing,
I'd ever seen.
And truly,
it had very little to do with the drugs.
It was beautiful because...
Because I was there,
and because it was real.

Why do you people
think it so despicable,
that I won't share my time
on occasions in which
I'm particularly ******* miserable
I'll give you my reciprocal,
I don't need your help
I'm strong as an individual.
And I do not, intend to be critical,
but too many choose to use emotion,
over thinking that's analytical
That's why i need to be alone,
Both mental and physical,
It's kind of a ritual, interaction is minimal
It's never been personal, it's more of a principle
I hope you'll find it forgivable,
I am sorry,
But I'm strong as an individual.

Every night as you eat a meal,
I solemnly sign a devils deal.
The agreement simply reads as such,
It's suicide I'll have for lunch.
And breakfast, dinner, every day.
All sustenance I've signed away.
I only hope the pain will dull,
the consequence, I shall not mull.
For the lessening of life long strife,
I'll trade the threat of ended life.
I know my sorrow will slowly pale,
for every breath of death, inhaled.
And if it's bourbon I choose for dinner,
I'm told that peace can find this sinner

Two boats float on the horizon,
as I watch the setting sun.
They put the picture in perspective,
how deep and far the water runs.
It makes my concerns seem awfully small now.
The vastness hits me like a bomb.
The burden of my ghosts lifts from my shoulders
and I think "Alayhim as-salaam"

The colors of the sun run,
like damaged tapestries.
Painting the sky surrealistic
and I wonder what it means to me.
Light reflected from waters surface
glitters for a moment then refracts,
A million different directions
leaving more questions than it subtracts.
How many lives have sparked and died,
within the never ending depths?
The waves receive the query
and to the bottom it gets swept.

Who would have thought,
How merciless a beast we could create.
Sure,
The weapons are scary,
But **** if that ring doesn't terrify.
Who's sighing?
Who's crying?
Who's dead?
At least you can be certain,
Of what's at the bottom of a barrel.
Unfortunately,
You never know,
Who or what,
Is at the end of the telephone.

Many thanks to all of you,
who've given me their time.
Took a pause from busy days,
to read this drunkards lines.
I've never asked for compliment,
but some are so inclined.
I still am shocked to see such praise,
on these, my humble rhymes.
So again my friends, I give my thanks
you all are much too kind.
And I hope a few have had some fun,
in skimming through my mind.

My heart aches
at the present condition of our world,
of our species.
We the mighty human race!
We who have conquered nature!
We who have grown from simple apes to explorers of space!
We,
who continue to slaughter and maim in the name of gods whose existence is at best,
highly questionable.
We the hateful.
We,
the broken.
If only tears shed by the masses
could wash away the blood of the few.
Pity not those of us who suffer,
but rather those,
who feel justified in their heedless aggression.

Come one! Come all!
Hey, bring the kids!
Whatever your trouble buddy,
I've got the fix!
I've got cures of all kinds,
in a thousand different shades.
They can even be ingested,
in a thousand different ways!
You can shoot it or snort it,
hell, you can smoke it in a pipe!
All my snake oil's cheap,
I've got just the kind you'll like.
The first time's even free!
(The second might cost double.)
Don't worry about your soul,
just let the elixirs fix your troubles.