Off with your mask, foul deceiver
My eyes pried half-open, mud still dripping
People like trees
Just enough to see
A halting glance of who you really are
Horrid face painted, ugly and hateful hidden
Behind pretty shades of green and haze of smoke
Pleasing to the senses, illuminating the beauty of numbness
Tripping me into the abyss, you make darkness out of love
And convince me that it is found in the
Empty spaces, colour-absent
Twin brother of lies
Your heart is hard
You stifle a laugh to keep me from knowing
Your contempt

A sharp blade slashes with divine precision
The softened heart
Leaving the most precious wound
That will never heal
A sign, a seal
Of all that is true
And all that is real
All that remains
When the blood is drained
Empty space
For the wind to fill

My muse has abandoned me
****** because I called her my muse
She was a jumble of words on a canvas of light

Without her flattering words to guide
I've lost ambition, will and drive
I'm nothing left to my own devise

You know it's not worth all the trouble
The stationary on the table
Open the doors to needy families
They need their ice machines
Need their locks and they need keys
And they need chairs and beds and ashtrays
The stationary on the table
Next to the television
I was in the shower
Looking for my soap
The doors were closed, I'm sure
No one knows I was there
Kept it well hidden, then I
Did what I had to do and then I
Walked away and I forgot this day ever happened
Ever happened
It's easy to walk away just turn your head
And forget this day ever happened
It's easy just to walk away, turn your head and forget
That this day ever happened
It's easy to forget, turn around and leave
Wrap it around your sleeve and forget
Forget this day, this day ever happened
Left the ice machine
I left my locks and keys
I left my luggage and my ***** magazines
I left my ashtrays
Left my bed and my buffet
Left my chairs and my keys and
Lord, I left my "Do Not Disturb"
Left my family, left the housekeeper
And I left the ice machine
Left the postcards of the pool
Left the restaurant, left the shower
And the rooms and the signs that say:
"Soap upstairs, stationary on the table
By the television."
I stole the towels and the TV guide
I got into my vehicle, I stole another ashtray
From the bar, by the bed, by the buffet
Sat in your electric chair and thought of children
I was a clerk, I had a "Do Nor Disturb" sign on my head
And the Doors were playing in the background
About the broken families
And the housekeeper at the ice machine
Where she lost her keys, but she never could find the locks
And her luggage and her magazines
Oh, she's on the phone too much, and the pool is warm but it's closed
She's got a postcard
There's a remote chance that the restaurant is still open
But we've got the keys to the rooms
We got showers, we've got signs that say:
"Soap can be found upstairs
By the stationary on the table
Sitting by the television."
Well, I brought back the towels but I kept the TV guide
My vehicle's in the shop and the ashtrays are filled
With roaches and roach clips
And the bar of soap that I stole from the hotel
That was by the beds that were never quite made right
And the buffet that didn't taste right
And we were sitting in the chairs
We were listening to your children
Oh, that purse does not seem to like me much
I said, "Do not disturb my meditations, if you please
Turn that Doors tape off, if you please."
Gotta get home, back home to my family
I once was a housekeeper, I once was a housekeeper
Yes, I was, do you remember when I was a housekeeper?
But I never knew my way to the ice machine
And they never gave me keys so I never knew where the locks were
And I never needed luggage because the only things I'd seen were in magazines
Heard about on the phone - spent some time by the pool
Writing on the backs of postcards, suicide notes
But it's remote- this restaurant will not be the place I do it
I know I need some rooms - rooms with showers
Need myself a sign that says "The soap can be found upstairs
Next to the stationary on the table by the television."
I need some towels but I don't need the TV guide
So I got the TV, yeah I put it in the vehicle outside
Along with a couple of ashtrays
And a bottle or two that I had ordered but never paid for at the bar
Well, the beds were made this time
But the buffet still didn't taste quite right
And the chairs they gave us were much too small
Like they were made for children
But the clerk was not responsive to my complaints
She kept on saying, "Do Not Disturb me
You know the way to the doors."
If I had a dollar for all the families who were expecting me to be a housekeeper
I'd go buy the ice machine
Empty the ice and find the keys
And then I'd go look for the locks
Take my luggage cram-packed with magazines
I've got some quarters for the phone
Brought my swimming trunks for the pool
Send a postcard
But there is a remote possibility
That I might never leave here
But stay here
Eating in the restaurant
Where the rooms are not too cozy
And the showers ain't got no running hot water
We need a sign, there were nothing but signs
I should have been paying attention to the signs
I should have brought my own soap
The thought occurred to me as I walked down the stairs
That's why I need some stationary
I'm gonna sit down at the table
Turn the television off, send back the towels
Open up the TV guide, think about the vehicle outside

Who waits for me
At the end of the road
With arms wide open
For me to throw myself into
And disappear?
Whose gift is eternity?
Will I be given the chance to see you
Growing and slowly filling
My field of vision
With the beauty of permanence?
Or will you sneak up from behind
To strike me down with mercy?
Such a blessing to know you'll be there
To take me from the present suffering.
An even greater blessing to forget you altogether.

I'm good for nothing
In a world
Where Gertrude Stein
Is considered influential
She writes rolling rivers
Rushing rapids to drown in
Bitter algae laced salt water
But no rocks
No branches to reach out for
To grab and get your bearings
It is what it is blessed relativism
Feet in the enemy's camp
I stare aghast as the coven chants
Worshipping the inscrutable
Collection of letters, words, sentences
All placed in the service of...
A preference for emotion over reason
Because Reason won't stop laughing at the impertinence.
Perhaps Gertrude Stein's childhood home is for sale
I'd buy it and sleep in it and keep all the Stein groupies outside where they belong
They've no business being allowed inside
To sully up the detritus of innocence with their confusing, convoluted badly misjudged critique of Stein's cosmic joke

Every time I look up
Into the black ocean of night
I expect to see a falling star
Inevitably
The only ones whose light reaches my eye
Are fixed and fated
To remain eons after I've gone
That should be wonder enough
But I love a falling star

She guided my hand to the right spot
Said "This is how it's done"
I said "This is all there is?"
"Isn't this enough?"
"I thought it would be so different"
"It isn't"
"You're like a stranger to me now"
"Run your finger down the side"
"Your skin is dry and unfamiliar"
"Kiss me on the lips"
"Your tongue is like a withered flesh-prune"
"That Meat Loaf song is so romantic"
"I never bargained this with you"
"Aren't you the lucky one"
"Inside your mouth is like a desert"
"Keep your hand out of my pants"
"Oh, I really don't know what it was doing down there, as I'm not interested"
"Is it past midnight yet?"
"Long ago, this lesson has gone on too long"
"I'll let you love me tomorrow"
"By then it will be too late"

The man who walks on water
Understands gravity's pull
The murky liquid ripples and hangs
On the feet of the bravest of sailors
His courage fails him
The lightness of being
Takes on the weight of the world
If not for the outstretched hand of example
He would sink to Leviathan

All the answers are in a book
A terrifying tome few understand
I can see these are the answers
Though I'm not ready to surrender to them
How many times have I read this book
Closed its covers feeling condemned
The meeting of sacred and profane too much
The rebellion spawned leads many to skepticism
But stubborn me, I know there's a neutron bomb hiding in there somewhere
One day I'll dive in after a hiatus
See that bomb floating with the flotsam and jettison of all my days
Like it's already detonated once
Or a second time many years ago
I don't suppose I'll ever learn
No, I don't like this depression
Fact is I despise it
But it lays me out flat where I can realize
I thrive in this environment
This retched realization
I don't know how to feel any other way

Thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts don't stop they won't stop keep coming unbidden don't stop try to catch one examine exhausting roll it over six sides to a die random molecular structure quarks misfiring

it
is
exhausting

Gotta tell someone gotta tell you big plans for everybody just another bubble rising from the bottom of a Pilsner glass don't wanna over think this but who am I kidding I've already thought it over and decided I've already overthought it the dictionary is my friend Roget is my partner in crime

it
makes
very little sense

...but I won't twist it or turn it, mold it or meld it, sing it or speak it, let it lie let it die let it be let me see...

A general rule of catharsis the recovery process is often difficult the changes it affords take considerable time to assimilate and this is not always a smooth process as one tends to gravitate

Maybe I watch these fools
Because I want to believe
Or because I hold out hope
That one has a word of truth
For me
I've always been disappointed before
But I'm willing to accept a miracle
Were it offered
I have a gut feeling
These fools won't be the ones with that gift
To give

So what, then? Why?
Why do I turn up my nose and
Level a sharp cynical stare
At these snake charming hucksters?
I know all they do
I percieve their intention
I hear the lulling lilt of the seducer's song
That rolls like fragrant incense
From their serpent-tongue mouths
Lips chapped and bleeding
I smell the stench of their breath

All have eyes to see
All have ears to hear
Still the blind lead the blind
Their hands deep in pockets

The damage done
I sit and stare without guilt
Because I love to see the deciever in action
All the better I'll be able to recognize him
When he comes knocking at my door

People are dying, baby, all around
Can't catch your breath another's fallen down
They stop living and you know it's true
Gonna happen to me, yeah, and it's gonna happen to you
People are dying, baby, everywhere
You name the city, the Reaper's been there
He come a-swingin' with that shiny blade
Make you pay for all the mistakes that you've made
People are dying, baby, that's a fact
There ain't a-one of them a-comin' back
From where they're going on that uncloudy day
Didn't tell no one they was going away
People are dying that's the facts of life
You gonna tell 'em to the kids and the wife
You gonna live 'em there ain't no escape
Put an end to all the plans that you make
People are dying, I don't mean to be irreverent
But I got this problem with the social experiment
They call war and it sure is hell
Black water from the wishing well
People are dying, baby, some too soon
And some are thankful for the Raven's tune
But some too soon, is that what I said?
Some people are dying, baby, all the others are dead

I am the dreamer
From the other side of a galaxy
Whose dream is of the dreamer
Sleeping, sprawled out in a young lady's
Victorian boudoir, snoring ignored on this
Chemically imbalanced meeting place of
Her own dream
Walking on the sea
Sleeps with his eyes open
Her wild eye child
Made an enemy of gravity all the while
Too far gone entwined  with infinity
She dreams of my return to ME
Dare I wish such a dream come true?
Break forth like tiny claws ripping fragile egg
Shells
It is me, flying like a rocket angel
Got my sights on Saturn and Jupiter
It is me, flung away like aborted children
This tunnel is necessary
You will never reach the moons of Jupiter
Without a week in the mud
You won't know what's in that mud
You won't know what's on those moons
That's enough work for 2 year
Close your eyes and go back to dream
Yes, perchance to dream
Of the future of the known universe
Of worms, hungry worms
Worms dreaming of men dreaming of worms
Those same dreaming worms feasting on men
Those same dreaming men feasting on worms
All but one of them truly surprised by how tasty these worms are
The worms, however, are not as impressed with the human flesh, generally dismissed as
"Tastes like chicken"

Phong hit the ground
Within a second of the sound
Of the gunshot that laid him down
Loosened the grip on his own weapon
At the moment of impact
It fell with a thud
Next to his body in the mud
When his head hit the hard earth
He heard thunder and saw light

The bullet in the North Vietnames man's skull was made in America
Loaded by The Poet earlier that afternoon
Along with the rest of his ammo
In the second after Phong died
Poet lowered his sight
And came to an abrupt and awkward halt
There was no denying the man was hit
Even less to prove the man was dead
The hole in the back of the metal helmet
Was the same size as the hole in the back of the dead man's head

Instinct bred caution even so
As The Poet slowly tread the fifteen yards
Between where he stood and where Phong lay
He crouched down
Rolled him over slowly
Placed his fingers on the corpse's eyelids
(I know you can see me)
Shut them gently
(May the darkness be your savior)

The Poet took the bayonet knife bolstered at his side
Pressing down on Phong's shoulder
He cut an incision between the man's chest muscles
With a gentle sawing he cut through tendons and bone
Until a trough had formed
A six inch baptismal filled with blood
Still almost warm as life
The Poet plunged his left hand deep into the pool
Grabbed hold of Phong's heart and tugged
He caught the resistance of the arteries
And severed them
With the knife in his right hand

Raising the dripping ***** to his nose
The poet inhaled deeply the strange odor
Inspiration teased
Quickly The Poet brought Phong's heart to his mouth
With a huge bite his mouth was full
His brain felt as it would explode
The drama and the dreams of the whole world
He chewed and savored the flavor
He had come to appreciate it during his time in the jungle
As well the firm gelatinous texture
The saltiness of the blood
This was The Poet's reward

With the last swallow he wiped his hands on Phong's shirt
He felt a piece of paper folded in the right pocket
A letter, written in Vietnamese
And though he didn't know the language
Somehow a few sentences made sense

"Confessor
My soul is tormented
I am a liar
My wicked heart has made me do despicable things
Words and actions without regard
Of consequences
Things that would hurt people, if they only knew
If they knew what I have done
They would rise against me and do ******
I would deserve whatever punishment they saw fit
For I am a renegade poet
And I have lost all respect for the art"

As he finished reading the page
The Poet felt nausea in his gut
He dropped the paper
Bent over and vomited
He heaved several times until his stomach was empty
Then he just stood there, hands on knees
Staring at the mess
(I have a message for all mankind)
He forced himself to look at it
Until inspiration left him

He reached for his gun
Stood up and walked to Phong's rifle
Bent to pick it up as well
Strapping it to his side
The Poet walked away
As a gentle breeze blew the confession
Far from Phong's lonesome body

The lighting
reflects from your porcelain skin
shaved, coiffed for perfection
transubstantiation
accomplished via Photoshop
robot eternal
perfection, infused with spirit
unnoticed
except in the moment
(moments)

wha a joke.
I heard someone laugh
he thinks the thing is human
hypnotized by the beauty in the face
he forgets to appreciate
he will never even know
just how close he came
to falling in love
with a figment of his own imagination

the idols, lined up against the wall
the people
take these abominations at face value
flesh and blood encompassing
hollow shells
***** dolls

I long to shed this bulk
flesh and bone cocoon
something in me longs to expand

A quark
flickering into Andromeda

When will this coma-grey fog dissipate?
shouldn't years have absorbed it by now?
something in me suffocates hope

A stone
tied to a rope

I wait to close my eyes
drift into unfamiliar pastures
something in me remembers

A dream
of shouting into empty silos

I know now that I want nothing
nothing is all I want
something in me is too full

A piñata
stuffed with rat poison

I step up and onto the porch
pushed forward by a force more powerful
than the west wind.
my hand on the doorknob
(how it got there I don’t know
I don’t remember a thing)

The door won’t open, secured by something on the inside.
I pass through anyway, a ghost.
(I hear the sound of organic music
see the grand instrument
see how it’s ivory keys are caked in dust
indented with fingertips, stamped with fingerprints)

The love birds still create their cooing sounds
they must be very old by now
I never let them out of their cage
for fear they might escape, for to
find love elsewhere

Then to the last room facing north
some of my best dreams came to me
in that bed
good solid sleep, what a bed is for
making love with a stranger
who cried at my story
three nights she surprised me
true surprise and just what I needed
to cleanse my mind and clear my heart of
You
she made it easy
had a helpful talent to make me forget You

I gave her a good part of your memory
I gave a good part of your memory to the two chubby gals who double-teamed me, high on hydropnic cannabis I pretended they were you and her and the awful things we did that night cast their uncanny disgusted joosy-joose towards small gatherings of everyone woh let me down, they know who they are

...and so I’m sleeping with everyone of them.
I feel as if I owe them something
maybe a snake and a spider
Burn this with fire
Before The Poet finds it
Before the lying Crow catches on
For the Poet is a liar
and the Poet is a thief
He doesn’t even care anymore

He’ll lose what he loves
silly love birds talk too much
the poet writes no more poetry
He’s traded it for love

LOVE

and the Poet’still not satisfied
he wants to wait and see if his death will sell a few books

But he won’t
His poetry is *****

Somewhere
could be close as your living room
maybe as far as Siam

Two idiots gonna prove
they ain't never possessed a clue
not one brilliant idea between them

Telling stupid stories
making them all up
each one half as believable as the last

Soon they're angry at each other
Ronnie launched projectile *****
in the general direction of Ray_Ray

There are no words gross and horrible enough to describe the things Ray Ray was planning and doing against Ronnie

They only happy conclusion
is the thought the Ray and Ronnie will be sleeping on the floor, sprawled on the wet linoleum of a floor covered wit trite,offal, straight up ****, Gobs of spit, the precarious bar of which they need to rise

Those ******* died the Martyr-ific death like only they could die I honestly think they get more thrill out dying than any of the rest.

Let 'em die
we have no use for them
it's what they wanted all along

Everybody was having a good dead
Two freaks making faces at each other and us ain't about to make a deal out of it

think we'll mosey on our merry way
Leave all that analysing where it belongs
I know a poet who could
Put an end to the coral that doesn't honor the almighty honor bound
He can hide them in his closest
Melt their bodies in barbells of acid,
Much less to deal with

The fly begs me to extinguish
It's pathetic existence
It's
Caught in a vortex
Outside the pale
Of sentience
In
Agony, it's pathetic being
Buzzes like a power drill in overdrive
Screaming
"Put this down, this moving, flying
Thing
You can't end a life that isn't properly a life
Now can you?
It's genesis as maggots
Digging deep where the worm doth turn
Recycling disease
Busting my buzz
Making me want to write this whatever this is
Instead of listening to some tunes
Which is what I'd rather be doing
I'd much more enjoy
Tripping with the new Tool album
Alas,
The thought that this souless insect might
Land on my nose in the middle of Danny's drum solo
Keeps me from donning the headphones
And powering my fingers to walk across the flaming coals
That are the letters on my computer keyboard
Hoping it will go to the bathroom and stay
Go away, go away, go away!
You wretched, horrid beast
You first amongst the least
Fly, fly, fly...you don't even fly all that well
All zig zagging to and fro
Like a firefly with a broken tail light
On this stormy September night
September 12th, 2019
Yesterday my facebook page
Was like a bizarre but heartfelt REMINDER
Unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless
Just strange to think of a world
In which anyone would need to set that one...

Slowly a sense of purpose returns
And hovers just out of reach
Shrouded in the darkness of this womb
Encrypted and encoded to the point
I may never decipher the meaning
So that my destiny is to invent new ways
Of keeping the disappointment from being devastating
Like it was the last time
And the time before that
And the time before that
And especially the time before that
To live on the hope of love in the next life
Knowing full well any love I experience
Given or taken
Is sheilded and corrupt
Through no fault of my own
It was purged along with my youth
By circumstances
Beyond my control

He didn't live in darkness
It was the light he couldn't bear
Illuminating the futility
Exposing the reality
A world full of selfish people
A trait of the species
Darkness would have been his friend
To hide the truth he could not deny
Obfuscate lust, greed and pride
Survival of the fittest, hey that's alright
Instead he proclaimed humanity's state
Without the hope of even temporary escape
Grim as the Reaper knocking at your door

A car crash aftermath
You can't help but slow down
Turn to see what's there to see
But not for long
The guy in front of you slowed down too
(We've all the same hard wired brain)
Lest you find more than you thought
Not turn back in time
And rear end the other guy

He found ways to sing of loneliness
Despair given a melody
Between the look in his eyes and
The tremble in his voice
He could sell it to a poor man
He was no faker
As real as the sun
That will burn out the eyes of the one
Who gazes too long
At it's blazing light
From light years away
Giving decieving darkness
For the moments you bask in it's glow

The burden was too much for his skinny back
More than the weight of many worlds
He fell beneath his own weight
To him the logical response
But not to me
And not to you
Regardless the empathy and solidarity
How he seemed to have read our mind
Known our story, all our years to now
But he never knew the ending
How I wish it would have been his too
ESCAPE
From the blinding darkness and the piercing light
My third eye has been blind
Open it,  Lord
Show me the reason
And I will sing your song

My arms grow tired
Yet the battle rages on
What am I to do?
Lifted to the sky the nations prevail
Heavy weights to my sides
We fall
Responsibility has made an old man of me
They grumble and curse
They whisper plots to have me killed
They have no use for me, looking forward to the day
The cow brings forgetfulness and madness and lust
Depravity and apathy
Still my arms point to the heavens
Still our enemies fall

My arms grow tired
I can no longer hold them up
Useless limbs, they drop
And I look to the battlefield
Blood runs in streams
Silence lost to screams
But no longer do our men prevail
They join their women, their children
Beaten down with rocks and clubs
Primitive knives and swords
I feel throbbing in my wrists and my shoulders burn
The blood flows down into each limb and makes them even heavier
But what am I to do?

Come, my brother
Heed my call, strong companion
Be my strength in this cruel time
Hold my hands, both of you
Like dead tree limbs raise them
Hold them fast and hold them long
For the battle has not ended
Hoist my dead arms high until our enemies fall
Until the last bone is broken
Until there is no one left to boast

Let our people look to the mountain
To see the miraculous sight
The weathered prophet, the withered puppet
Leaning on the rock

Let them recover in my shadow as the sun sets
Let them look up to see how a broken man has saved them

My arms grow tired
Suspended
It won't be too long now
I will become a serpent coiled around a staff

We're pushing up against a wall
Rain thrown like bullets in a storm
Pelting
Stinging
Burning for something just out of reach
A patient moonbeam
The sound of unfamiliar animals, wild
Huddled beneath the pouring water
Sheltered by alien trees
Push, push, though it never gives
We are here to push

They are gathering again
I can hear them through the whispered breeze
Speaking in tongues, rattling swords
Waiting for the clarion call
Here she comes, baby, here she comes
Hear their marching feet
The war songs so beautifully deceiving
A company of angels
Armed for an onslaught
Unfamiliar animals

How did we wind up here in the first place?
That's all I'd really like to know
Airplanes and cannonballs
Relative oxygen
Hark, I can hear the battle horns
A mournful bellowing
Signifying
Victory
Cracks in the wall

Dances for victory, dance with the enemy
Yes, they see our fear
Empty and they soon fall and run
Busted by confusion
Just lay down, be still, they may not see you
Try not to breathe
It's not that hard
It's not so hard

Maybe we'll get lucky this time
The wall surely will relent
Sing like a bird, woo-hoo
**** two with one stone
Get lucky, this is the time
This is the place
Throwing sevens to the wind

And I'll never be so easy to read
And I'll never be your tough nut to crack
And I'll never be a grounded lightning rod
And I'll never be caught in a loop
And I'll never be anything but me
Me is all I'll ever be

Funeral procession crawls down the sidewalk
Carrying bodies tied to chains
Dragging them to the cemetery
Mumbling prayers, saying them backwards
That's the language the devil understands

How long and how far?
How are you forever?
Back and forth, my love
Feel your love forever

Breathe in, breathe out
Listen to the rasp
Start counting

Of course I don't know what it means
Do I look that smart to you?

Some push with their backs against the wall

When the earthquake comes
I will not move
I will lie still and close my eyes
Let it course through me
So to be reminded
Of the first time
I noticed you looking my way
How you turned
Then looked back
Wearing a different kind of smile

Time was you could turn on the radio
And the first song you heard would contain
A message to you directly from God
He'd tell you what was happening in your life
Sometimes He'd tell you what to do about it
Always a surprise, good to hear from Him
But not always what you'd want to hear
A lot of it depended upon the radio station you chose
These days fewer people listen to the radio
Opting for streaming music or perhaps internet or satellite radio
The last two sometimes seem to work in a pinch
But it's just not the same, I don't know why
Yahweh just seems to like good old fashioned terrestrial radio
Probably makes His voice clearer on the AM band than FM
Not that He doesn't respect progress
He's got a nostalgic streak in him, that's all
And some really poor people can only afford a cheap AM radio
So there you go
Practically any song can drip with profound meaning
If you use the radio like a Ouija board
Try it sometime
It could change your life
Even for the better

The first raindrop tapped the top of my bald head
Like a tiny drop of bird ****
I wiped it off, unthinking, and went back to the sheep

The clouds were gray, as gray as I'd ever seen them
A hue that threatened total, complete darkness
Yet still enough sunlight peeking through
To keep me from being discouraged when it began to sprinkle
A few hundred birds
The sheep needed tending
I'd already lost one in the last week
I'd given up on ever finding it
To slaughter, sacrifice and eat
Lucky sheep, lost in the darkness, waiting for the wolves
I was sure it had no feelings and that it could care less
When the sprinkling turned to rain

When the sprinkling turned to rain
I said, "To hell with it"
Turned and left the fields, ******* at the sky
Cursing the Deity that had ruined my day

The woman I called "wife" stood with me at the window
Watching the rain come down in sheets
In torrents
I'd seen worse
But those clouds...
The dirt had long since turned to mud
A thick, deep, gelatinous mud
Quicksand...we stayed in the house
For fear it would **** us down to Sheol

Still a ray of sunshine
Just enough that we could see what we had done

Hours passed, and my sons joined us
Congregated at the window to witness the spectacle
A rarity, a flood, seeping into our home, soaking the stone floor
We lived in the valley
So we'd seen them before
We knew what it was like to get our feet wet
Up to the ankles
But the water kept rising

The water kept rising

We didn't really begin to worry until
Adam's ale reached our bellies
Until we could feel it swirling and tugging
Rising even still, so deep a current
My wife began to cry, unsure what to think
My sons tried hard
To show no fear
Failing
Me?
All I could think about was the sheep
Each and every one
Floating on the surface of a pond
That hadn't been there yesterday
When they had roamed, mindless, without feeling
Caring only for sustenance

I couldn't help but wonder
The realization terrified me
Struck me with dumb fear
Is this our fate?
A thought too incredible to contemplate
Or entertain for even a moment
Though it had occurred to my wife
My sons' quiet resolve had been shattered by it

I used to love the sound of rain
Falling into puddles outside my door
I don't know why
But it was comforting
Soothing
Relaxing
Delivering me to deep, dreamless sleep
I'd wake up in the morning completely  
Rested
And
Ready
For another day
To work the cursed ground
Resenting my lot
And the God who cursed it

The rainwater reached our necks
The screams were loud and desperate
I recognized each one
Though never so desperate
My wife clung to me like rotten seaweed
Her shrieking brittle and annoying against the side of my head
It hurt my ears and I would have told her to shut up
Had I not understood exactly why she was yelling
Yet I kept my resolve
Barely and likely to break before long
When the water reached my nose
My sons had floated to the other side of the house
I could hear them, too
But I could hardly see them
Because the sunlight
The terrible, cruel sunshine that so selfishly illuminated this ungodly scene
Was beginning to fade into the black clouds
Yesterday I would have closed my eyes to block it out
Burning annoyance
Now I knew it made no difference
A prayer for the rain
To stop
Would fall
On deaf ears

My sons, my pride and joy, my legacy
Both floating, dead, not 10 feet away
Rivulets of water dripped down their upturned faces
So much like sweat from a hard days work
I wanted to wipe them dry and tell them I was sorry
For bringing them into this world
This awful world
This hateful world
I wanted to somehow bring them back to life
Together we would **** the God who would do something like this to us

My wife, the apple of my eye
My helpmate
Friend, lover, the one person I could not live without
Her screams were muted, aquatic glosollolia
I could almost hear the sound of my name
Muffled as water found it's way down her throat
The look in her eyes was chilling
Despair, hope slowly draining away as she drank, unwilling
She begged me to stop it
STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!!!!!!!!

The rain kept falling
The sunlight vanished
I was in the dark
I felt the world flow in
A new atmosphere to get used to
Alone...alone
No more reason to worry about a lost sheep
I'm sure wrathful God had more important things on His Mind

Days later the rain still had not abated
But I was no longer alone
A nation, a race, a species
Floated at the top of an ocean that covered the globe
Corpses bumping into each other, dragged by the undertow
Flushed down by eddies
A macabre soup of carcasses
United
All but Eight to find and bury us

.............................................................­.

From the heights of a clear blue sky
In the bright, clean light of the sun
Heaven opens
A dove descends

I deserve this
Don't I?
It was my battle to win
In a war far from won
Who will take my reward from my arms?
Who would squelch the music in my ears
Or explain it's virtues with cold theory?
I have seized the moment
The day I have called my own
Will the morning sunrise expect me to be content
With victorious yesterday
Will the calendar's relentless trajectory
Put me back in my place
A paradigm of depression where I've convinced myself
I belong
Doomed to breathe borrowed oxygen
Or will chemicals and sleep
Ease me into another easy day?
Who among you would take that away?

Starlight freckle the open night sky
Some famous classical composer's work is on the radio
It sounds intricate and elaborate
I've heard it before but I can't
Remember his name
A good soundtrack for reckoning
As my Ambien helps usher me off to sleep
Who is gonna remember my name
I haven't even written a symphony
And I know I never will
I'm not half as proud as you think I am
Sitting cross-legged and naked beneath the moon
I love being alone in the cold air and darkness
What do I really know?
You know what they say about opinions
There's just enough truth in every one to make a sale, to seal the deal
I'm no writer, I'm no poet
Don't think for a moment
That I don't know it
But I share these night visions with you
I call it poetry sometimes
For lack of a better word
I of all people know
If I moved a mountain and made you think twice
Or made you think, "aha, yes, that's just the way it is"
It wasn't me except as a channel
For the one who brings on
Such universal agreement
The only absolute
You know it's name
Whether you will speak it or not
Determines many things

They are building
wielding hammers, driving spikes
brick by brick. precious mortar and pestle
Babelesque they build it
a spire points to Sol, blinding eye of the gods
to breathe spirits into lifeless bodies
They are reaching
so much further than they dreamed imaginable
masterwork of skill, a testament to pure science
In defiance they shout
Psalms of caterpillars
chants of butterflies
They are ascending
laughing at gravity, how it surrenders
beneath their naked feet
They are serious this time
the new tower
the Internet

11:11
Window of assurance
A break in the storm
Tell me it's not for nothing
Standing tall against threatening winds

Dizzy
Sweat dripping, fever rising
Had to hold myself up
Knocked back by the aura
Of Buddhist monks at the trough

I would have engaged one in conversation
Talked about dharma and the quality of the food
But not a single one spoke English
*******, real deal
Bald and robed to a man

I only want to know
What prankster spirit tells me
I'm a genius and a poet
So convincing I believe it for a moment
Time out of mind

11:11
20 minutes ago
That's how long it took
To comb the thoughts in my lazy head
To come up with this thing

Whatever this thing is
Devils tell me a masterwork
Though I know devils lie
The truth of the matter is in the heart
Not sleight of hand or speed of eye

You get hungry for the way it was
           Even though the way it was...

Killed you slowly,
                    slowly broke you down
             Killed the part of you
Kept apart from everyone else
           part of the past you won't let die
When the best you can do is help it die
                                         do it
  Drown the voices, I'd do it for you if I could
                                                           ­ and I can
You only have to know the difference I can show you if you let me
You take all your selfishness and fascination with evil
You take all your anger and anxieties
You take all your fears and misconceptions
You take all your judgment and hypocrisy
                               you see it's all hypocrisy at the core
     That's keeping you away from doing something about it
                  We're all this way
           When we all recognize it we can move to the meat of the ******
                Stuff it all inside a golem, chant a few prayers
Even your dead god listens to that chant
          Small case god just isn't the One that can hold it under the water
            Not strong enough, not long enough to keep it under
                                                                ­It's got to be held under forever
                   Before it loosens the grip it's got on you
              But the right hand, the right chant, can you tell me what's next?
Struggles and bubbles, muffled screams, it was you but no more
                          Murdered that illness, left it on the ocean floor
     Only an illness, no demon or serpent crawling on the floor
  We're killing it with chemicals, ripping theses from the door
  We're tearing them up
  We're throwing them out
  We're never going to hunger again for the
                                                             ­               way
                                              ­                                      it
                                                                ­                       was

...or is it too late?
Who set you on this path to hell?
The same ones telling you "turn around"
Weren't they saying there's no turning back?
They'd have you believe it's much easier
Getting used to the idea of being ******
But you've seen the world from a different point of view
The truth is a misunderstood paradox
Being as far from the Eternal as you can possibly be
You swing the spiral to become closer than you ever were
Where the reality of I
Is neither blessed nor condemned
Caught in the short circuit
Where acceptance and rejection
Elicit the same response
Joy and sorrow
Indistinguishable

There was a time when it served me well to forget the times
When they were fresh to devestate
Hard times, mean times, time to forget but the memories wouldn't stay buried
For too long
It took a long time to keep them from escaping the soul-locked box I stuffed them in
Hoping, they would rot inside
Losing, with the passage of time, the power they weilded
What damage had been done would eventually be credited to other foes
But that's not quite what happened

**

There is a soul-locked box sits in the center of all I know
With no labels or any way to guess what might be inside
Be it wonderful or wicked
Light as a feather
Stinking, moldy air?
Ashes, fine powder weightless?
A black hole vacuum just waiting for me to open it
For to be ****** down and in to the times for which it was spawned

I don't know what's inside but this I do know:
It's something important
A missing piece of a huge jigsaw puzzle that covered my grandmother's coffee table
An instinctive aversion to Thursday nights at 9:00 o'clock
A resolution to never again defend the Bible to bullies
A plastic bag filled with flour, snorted like *******


I don't know what's inside, but I do know this:
It's something important
A casual observer forced to take sides to help a weak man win
A look in the eye only noticed through hateful glaring and if eyes are truly the window to the soul...
A new meaning to the phrase "looks that ****"
A wet pillowcase still warm from muffled curses

I don't know what's inside, but this I do know:
I'm afraid of knowing
Because I think I DO know and now I don't want to
I remember pain and disappointment, fear and contempt
A loathing for someone who may or may not have deserved it
Someone with a set of excuses every bit as valid/worthless as mine
I'm afraid of the possibility ithat those excuses don't amount to anything
That forgiveness somehow got lost in the shuffle and someone went to heaven without mine
And I can only pray that there was a time he repented and forgave me in his own mind

Because I have a strong suspicion
That forgiveness is the key to the soul-locked box
In the Spirit, let the breeze dissolve the molding, rotten air
Let the Wind, which no man knows which way it comes or which way it goes, dissolve ashes into ether

I long to find out the times, torn from the fabric of time
Memories alive but unconsciously ignored
You tell me you can tear down those walls
I say Ignorance is Bliss

For the lessons never learned
The harvest of regrets

I embarked upon a life of crime
From the snuggled warmth
Of my misbegotten infancy
Seeds and serpents deep within
Waiting for the day when I took my first step
Down a slick smooth road to delinquency
A little further down to apostasy
And the cries of the ******

Was I a fool to believe
I could escape those tendencies?
Could I turn them on myself?
I fancied myself transcendent
But I was only transparent

For the dreams worth sleeping
The rooster won't stop crowing

It used to be fun to pretend
I was a genius
But the truth demands it's rightful place
With age comes revelation
Ah, but that's mine to covet
You'll find out soon enough

For the passion smothered by defective genes
For trying to say it all in one sentence

I don't even look for someone to blame
It's in me, a part of me
I have sinned against spirit
No cry for help, I'd spurn it with ease
It's cotton I'm stuffed with
The ringing in my ears doesn't even bother me anymore
Unless I think about it for awhile
And ain't that the way it should be with life itself?
Am I a barrel of transgressions filled almost full from the past?
Heavy and difficult to haul around

For the best of intentions and good advice
It doesn't get any better

Judgment weighs heavy above my head
Suspended in disbelief for a brief reprise
If hell is the cessation of existence, nothing more
Is it blasphemous to pray for it?
If only someone could convince me it's so
I wouldn't want to put you out, Yahweh
I don't deserve your mercy
But nothing more, please, nothing more

I looked to the western sky at sundown
I saw it as the Canvas of God.

I stared into the deep infinity of the night sky
I imagined every star a pin ***** in the black horizon
offering tiny glimpses of the Light on the other side.

I came to realize
heaven is to be found
in the moments after sleep consumes the intellect
just before dreams tease the spirit.

I feared inner peace and sought distraction
to the point where distraction took the place of inner peace
and I was content with it.

I sought to deny myself
thoughts,
beliefs,
experiences…
I had sacrificed them
to a code that prohibited them.

I tried to do the right thing
when most of the time I hadn't a clue
what the right thing was.

Awake now
I celebrate diversity
and seek to tear down the walls of intolerance.

I closed my eyes and thought
"This is all there will ever be".
Thus I taught myself to love darkness.

I opened my eyes and thought
"This is all there will ever be".
Thus I taught myself to love light.

A guru led me into a place within myself
neither light nor darkness
he told me "This is all there will ever be".
Thus he taught me that if I wished to find it again
I must empty myself 
surrender to the Supersoul.

It was then that I realized I knew nothing.

I read the Bible.
I read the Bhagavad-Gita.
I read the Koran.
I read a lot of other stuff, too.
It all made sense and I thought to myself,
"God has always been my favorite author"

Then I wanted to be a philosopher.
Then I wanted to be a priest.
Then I wanted to be a hero.
Then I wanted to be a famous rock star.
Then I wanted to be a mentor.
Then I wanted to be a scholar.
Then I wanted to be a Marine.
Then I wanted to be a champion.
I wanted to be a lot of things.
Too many things.

One morning I saw a storm brewing in the eastern sky
and I gave God a high five.

I willingly lost myself in the dreams of others
then felt used and manipulated
when the credits began to roll.

Science nurtured my intellect.
Thoughts nurtured my mind.
Imagination nurtured my spirit.
Dreams nurtured my soul,
satisfied with poet's nonsense,
content with someone else's song.

I want to share but I fear
The things I offer
Will be useless, unwanted by others.
Through painful experience
I've come to this conclusion.

I'd give it all away
If only someone wanted it.
Mine, all mine, mine alone
But none of it worth keeping
If I can't enjoy it with you.

Pick me clean before I leave
Behind these aspects.
Take what you want, take what you need
But take it, take it all from me
Before the rushing wind blows it all away.

Before the rushing wind
Kindles baptizing fire
To burn all I ever was to ashes
For to fill the gold or silver urn,
Precious to friends blessed by generosity.

A blessing I was more than willing to bestow
With love, thankfulness and appreciation.
All I had to share were seeds of memories.
I can only pray
The harvest will be bountiful.

There's no shame in begging for your life
When you're looking down the barrel of an assault rifle
In the hands of someone who isn't listening anyway

There's no shame in turning the other cheek
When the spray of bullets penetrates
Both

There's no shame in being remembered as a victim
When you never had a chance
Or a choice in the matter

I'll never forget the look on that dude's face
Walking through the door into the store
To pay for a tankful of gasoline
He reached into his pocket
For cash but he didn't mean to pull out
And drop that big sack of marijuana
That hit the slate floor with a "tap"
He pretended he wasn't embarrassed
But the expression on his befuddled mug
Told quite a different story
I knew right away
He wasn't the generous, sharing kind
So I just pointed and said "you dropped something"
Bending over I could almost read his mind
He was afraid I was going to call the cops
He needn't have worried but it ****** me off that he did
Even more so that he didn't offer me a bud as appreciation for my silence
But I suppose you get these kinds of people in all walks of life
Besides he'd never seemed to get over the shock
And covetous look in my eye when I first saw him lose control of the plastic bag
He paid for the gas without much of a word
Walked back out into the heat and his
Luxury automobile that was clearly outside of his price range
"Goodbye,"I said, "O selfish dope head
You would probably have been a drag to get high with anyway...make sure you didn't drop anything else on the floor, you stupid *****. I'd hate to be stepping over little chunks of hash you forgot were in your in the same pocket as the dope. "
My opinion of you has not changed
And it's been YEARS

May a bolt of lightning strike
The metal posts of the headboard
Grow tendrils of electricity
Send voltage like a clutching fist
To lift my head from the pillow quite unaware
And flow like so much wobbly frozen fire
Through each essential system
Manifest in its own way
All called by a Voice of Authority
To traverse every inch of my body
Shaking and baking, front to back
Lost in a dream of Iceland's lunar cycles
And how much better the cold feels next to the artificial heat
Artificial heat send me away to where I belong
Anywhere but here
Lost in a jungle of neon signs
Now it's time for an English muffin

I've looked through your old records
And the books upon your shelves
I have decided
That you and no one else could understand me
Could understand the things that make me
What I am
And I wonder what you'd do
If you knew what I was thinking
That I've been sinking in a liquid sea of love
Since I first saw you
You're the One I'm thinking of

Sacred woman
Shamed and beaten
Shaman's offering refused

And it all comes back to you
It really all comes down to you, girl
It's like  my whole world's revolving
Around you
What I'd do to make you happy
Someday in this life
I could wish for such a balance
Oh, you simply take my breath away
And I don't miss it

Sacred woman
Shamed and beaten
Shaman's offering refused

Graven image
Blamed and broken
Shaman's offering...

Sheila, this life's too long to leave behind
Sheila, your world's too small to get inside
It's a needle's eye I tried to squeeze through
I tried to get to you

Sheila, waiting for a place in time
Sheila, counting every tear she's cried
It's a coward's lie I needed to believe
To get to you

...and I almost threw it all away
Let the memory dim and fade
The only thing about you that I ever knew
Was your name

She's meditating on the mantra of her own name
When she puts her heart into it she can understand
Comprehend and explain

She wants to tell you her life history
Is a mystery that only she can see
She wants to give those wasted memories
Back to me

But she won't need anything
I could offer her anyway
She's so vain

She's memorizing "Sheep In Fog"
Sees her tortured soul in poetry and Burroughs
Keroauc, Ginsberg, Zimmerman and Plath

So she won't need anything
I could offer her anyway
She's so vain

She's meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra of her own name
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra
Meditating on the mantra of her own name

I remember tears
The tumultuous upheaval
An unsuccessful exorcism
The years between
I remember the losing battles
Held down
This is where I have existed
I have loathed this dwelling
All the while fearing no other abode
I remember the fever dreams
The visions of ungodly beings
That settled and nested on my bedposts
That would not be scattered
No seraphim or cherubim to stand guard above the headboard
If not for the open window
All hope would be lost
But vultures flew in and out that orifice
Bringing foul air and maddening noise

Sigur Rós played Fljótavík
A reverent calm
Between bookends of heaven's thunder
We were, everyone of us
Hypnotized, given over to a beauty
So consuming
Like water to drown in

I don't know how long into the song
But a thought of you broke into my heart
Experimenting with chords
Trying to hit the high notes
Failing, even so all the more endearing
Those notes were really high
And you tried

I wanted to give you something good, pure
Something to remember me by
To take the edge off the bitter memories
I blame on depression
Memories nonetheless, ones that loom large
Proven by miles and miles and miles
Between

So I wanted to give you something good, real
To serve as a bridge to one day cross
Above a dry river bed
That should have been teeming with water

As Jonsi hit the really high falsetto notes
I felt something like a bolt of lightning strike through my very being
He hit them perfectly
But that's not what I heard
That's when I felt that old familiar bittersweet feeling
In the pit of my stomach
And had to fight to keep my mouth from twisting
I finally surrendered to the feeling that words will never describe
But I kept the tears from dripping down my eyes
Barely

And soon enough I was glad the song was over
Even while wishing it would never end

I sat back in my seat
I looked around to see if anyone noticed the anguish in my face
I had to confess to a strong sense of paranoia
Because really, who would take their eyes off of the stage
When Sigur Rós plays Fljótavík?

If you've hurt me
I've forgiven you
Honestly
I have
If you've let me down
Deserted me
Pushed me to the ground
I have forgiven you

Not with hollow words
Forgotten when the memory
Comes back around to taunt me
When the past comes back to haunt me
But knowing full well
I have hurt somebody else
Let somebody down
Left someone when they needed me

You didn't have to ask
I did it for myself
To compass the distance
The east flees from the west
To see if I could do it
Though I never could alone
Break my prideful begrudging
On the precious cornerstone

And though I know you didn't ask me
You are forgiven
And you might not even want it
You are forgiven
And I don't expect a thing from you
You are forgiven
For I've been given
A reason to let it all go

I won't delete this one
I promise
To do my best
My love's sleeping in the other room
No baseless arguments
This King size bed hurts her back
And my snoring doesn't help
She can't tolerate the music I have to
Listen to in order to fall asleep.
It keeps my mind from wandering off
Gives the Ambien a chance to hit the pineal bullseye
I miss her, though.
There is much to be said for the pleasures of simply being with a loved one
Listening to the rhythm of her breathing
Watch her body rise and fall
Scoot over an hug on her, hold her in your arms
Those times we're losing
And I'm not sure how much we're getting back
It seems a lot to sacrifice even if it is for health benefits
For in those times I'm reminded
How dear you are and how much
I love you

Instead I command this room alone
I wriggle my way into pajamas of darkness
I try not to think about the future
It offers no guarantees that it will even come
Frightens me to not know
And I think of friends I'm not talking to
I assess the reasons for my non-communication
Some, I feel, are legitimate and real
But I wonder if they're even aware
Of what they are
Of why I can't see them
I'm convinced they could care less
But what do I know?

In the meantime
I have to be satisfied with small chunks of time
Days, hours, minutes, even seconds
These are increments I have faith
I can navigate
I can do it on my own in the blanket of darkness
As long as I can tell she still loves me in there
Real love that honors vows
Love that is defined by those vows
So what if her back hurts and the other bed makes it better
There's your reason
As long as she knows
I'm a creature of short time
That I have reasons for avoiding people
And that they are usually pretty good ones if you stop to think about it

From what well of unconsciousness do these words come?
How deep, how strange?
Muttered beneath thin sheets of sleep.

They come from a place where there are no lies.
Even so, the  truth is tricky.
You never can tell.

It's good to know you're there to keep me from believing.
I wish you weren't listening, but hold me down, hold me down.
I say such silly, silly things.

Rhyming words of confession
I've offered accidentally
With no intention of repenting.

My own words, drunk on slumber,
Become an unyeilding relentless God
Who keeps me more honest than I need to be.

Who am I when I claim these memories that aren't my own?
When I recall experiences that don't belong to me?
Why don't I remember any of it? Any of it?

From what thick air do these visions unfold?
Dark clouds, thick rain
To wash clean and baptize dreams,

Revelations ripe for misunderstanding.
Even so, the truth is tricky.
Of that you can be sure.

You really should know how special you are
That I would trust you with these
Words, confession, dreams

Blank verse

A stream of nonsense, funny as hell.
From the belly of the beast you'll hear me laughing
At the God of inhibition, the God of oppression.

For who am I to bear this curse?
Why shouldn't I plunder memories and experience
When I won't remember a thing in the morning?