A genuine person, wouldn’t be a genuine person.
People, whether as a group or as individuals are disingenuous.
It’s a human thing.
You see.
We’re a fairly young species.
You must keep this in mind when dealing with us.
You’d think that having been around for thousands of years,
we would’ve learned a thing or two.
We figured out the technical stuff.
We went to the moon, cured polio, and found the goats ****** is very similar to ours.
Though, that’s about it…..figuratively speaking.
Though when it comes to being better versions of ourselves.
We kinda threw the baby out with the bath water, into the trash, off to the dump, and set it on fire.
You see.
Despite our extremely advantageous position in the tree of life.
We're not very high up,
ethically speaking.
It’s because we are so young.
And stupid
**** are we stupid
I don’t know if there’ll ever be a world
where we treat each other with unbiased kindness.
Champion empathy and compassion.
Crave honesty unto ourselves and others.
And abolish The Red Hot Chili Peppers because **** if they aren’t just awful.
It’s a nice thought though,
isn’t it?
Kind of like how an **** where everyone pronounces you the king and you get cake and balloons fall from the sky and **** all your enemies, is a nice thought.
Tis all it is though.
Still,
one day we might get there.
Hope springs eternal.

I beseech you
Please
Make it stop
Say
Goodbye to me
Please
Let me go
It
Hurts to wake
And
Sleep’s no friend
So
I beg you
Say
Goodbye to me
And
Let me go
Once
I am gone
You
Can start forgetting
I
Was ever here

Some of us write from the heart
Some of us from the head
The thing we all have in common
Is one day we’ll all be dead

So we put our thoughts to words
Penning our woes and such
Silently screaming into the night
Using poetry as a crutch

If you’re lucky someone will hear you
Your words might strike a tone
Though most of us will go unnoticed
Forever remaining alone

I like to imagine each new day is like a fresh page in a book.
As the day starts it’s spiral down the drain, I rarely hold the quill.
I’ve always kinda just let it do it’s thing.
Because I didn’t care.
At the end of the day I skim back over the page.
I don’t read it, the events of the day are of no matter to me.
I’m just looking for your name.
As long as when I look, I can find you there.
I don’t have to tear that page out.

The moonlight creeps through my garden like a white tiger on the hunt.
It caresses the bench where you used to sit.
Come morning these trees will burst into flames of crimson, sunflower, and oranges.
I’d like to be able to imagine you there and when.
Add it to the list of things I’d like.

A spring of night bubbled from atop her crown
It meandered down past her cheeks
Small streams of starless skies rounded her chin
Then fell upon her shoulders and pooled around her neck

Candle wax and sweaty backs
Empty packs of butts
Balled up pants, and a passing glance
What more could there possibly be

Empty bottles the hard **** waddle
And the chicken got left out
Your kid is crying, I’m over here dying
Surely we are blessed

A morning beer dost make things clear
Underneath that callous sun
A new day calls I scratch my *****
Truly this is heaven

I beseeched along the road I walked, these things I held so dear
Hoping all along one day to see my path laid clear
Those dreams I had of her and I
These stones that I’ve collected
Now litter my past, that went so fast, more so than I expected

I’m going to tell you that I love you
And here’s what you should do
Take this here I love you
And keep it as a clue
So that when you ask the stars at night
Who it is that holds you dear
Take that there I love you
And know that I’m right here

It's as if the building is on fire
And I'm just happy I can finally lite my cigarette
My lighter, much like hope, had only temporarily been mine
I lost one in a field while wondering why I'd let go of the other
Honestly
I'm not sure it was ever mine to hold onto in the first place

Are you still there?
In the mist, where I left you.
Under a crumbling sky.
We were alone
And I couldn't understand why you were looking at me.
Wisps of fog march passed us.
Like an undead army from an ancient battle.
You sounded more frustrated than anything.
So I left you there.
I still think about you.
On those dewy mornings.
As the sun breaks over the trees and sets the world on fire.
I'll smile to myself
"the **** was I thinking?"

Fingers dragged kicking and screaming across an illuminated dance floor as if this were some new age line dancing competition for people who have no idea what they’re doing.
That’s what this is.
It’s like being asked to sculpt out a scene from MacBeth in jello using a chainsaw after doing blow with a hyena who has a grudge against HR over the comprehensive dental plan.
Do you see where I’m going with this?

We’re coming close to the end of things, of things I’d like to say.
Here’s a list of some of those things I said before I pass away.
I called an old woman a **** one time for reasons that are my own.
I don’t regret it not one lil bit and let’s just leave it alone.
I once told a small child I’d cut off his face and use it to wipe my ***.
But to be fair he was stirring my scotch but he went and chipped the glass.
Then there was that time in church when I said “what in the **** is a ******”.
Or that time I told my girl that I might as well go **** a sturgeon.
The end.
Don’t forget to tip the coat check girl. She’s homeless and afraid of homeless people.

Those frosted amber days of fall have come into fruition
Leaves fall like money dropped, the trees just paying tuition

The dew upon the spiders web as if all she caught were diamonds
And sunlight spills out on the valley to nudge the sleeping highlands

Tell me then just what you said from behind that veil of fire
That night we saw it all come down and you called the moon a liar

These days fall short of 5 o’clock and the night is extra quiet
It hangs its head and drags its feet with no one to stand by it

I’ll tell you what you told me as your lips were burned away
You said “maybe, I don’t know. But I can’t, not here today”

This is why I don’t mind that there’s a vacancy in my life
No confusion to be sorted out no cursing and no strife

So I’ll drag my feet along with the night through streams of dying leaves
And those who see me on the rivers shore will know the one who grieves

I’ll probably just take a walk through the stars like I would a field of wheat.
Run my fingers over the reeds of starlight protruding from a time long dead.
Spend a day with the sun. Take a nap on our quiet moon.
Then I’d like to awaken in an ancient forest by a silver waterfall.
To build a fire. So if you should ever want to find me.

I should be able to tap out.
That’d be nice.
If I could just place my hand over my heart. Give it three quick taps.

Lie to me
Or
Tell me the truth

I wasn’t there
So
I wouldn’t know the difference either way
So
It doesn’t really matter

The harshest of realities
Is when you realize
They feel the same way about you
As you do

They tell me to write what I know.
Pen out the feelings inside.
Well I’ve been holding this quill and smoking all night.
And I think that I’ve already died.

It’s like reaching into a vase.
And finding nothing is there.
Cold blind hands scraping the walls of nighttime in a bottle.
What’s worse is I can’t even care.

So I put the vase outside to soak.
And watch it grow cold in the sun.
In the fall it fills of death, in the summer it’s colors will fade.
And sadly no where to run.

A moment unknowingly waits.
This vase will surely break.
From water and mud it came, to ash and dust it’ll be.
It suffered for sufferings sake.

What yonder light they said be seen; in hues of yellow, red, and green
Fields of satin sands run high; beneath the clouds as they roll by
The dolphins play amidst the surf; the bays, the waves, the sea their turf
A gulf born whispering wind; will find its way and begin again
There’s nothing here to be said about i; another cloud just passing by

Look it here what I did with words; I lay them out till each one curds
Then I skim them tops with my favorite knife; just leave them with a little life
Just enough for them to be true; when they whimper “I love you”
This rhyming **** isn’t so hard, most words used are just plain lard

I’ll probably stop on this verse three; in keeping with the trinity
Don’t wanna ******* any would be gods; just in case they’re not all frauds
Besides let’s just be honest here; nothings ever crystal clear
Like this here flow it has no meaning; just the ravens eyes in the darkness, gleaming

They’re like those puddles of rain.
The ones you find in a parking lot littered with oil spots. The colors that swirl about within. You just gotta stop sometimes and look at them. Just for a moment. Give them all of you. Maybe you part ways with nothing. Or. You walk away having seen something that no one has ever seen. And it’s yours. To think back on at your leisure. Forever.
These people.

The whiskey ran out but the shrooms kicked in
So I’m off to a pretty good start
The church bells ringing reminds me of home
And covers the sound of my ****

I found my fingers on the ends of my hands.
I thought I’d never find them
I needs these fingers to catch these thoughts
So that I may hush and bind them

I lit you a candle and it burnt down the house
But I found your diamond ring
You could give it to that charred mockingbird
Though I doubt he’s gonna sing

Just hold on my nuts, when I order a sundae
I sold my epi pen
There’s a blind lady waiting to tell me some lies
About how she’s back again

Sitting under a bodhi tree, hoping for some truth
Or even a sincere lie
I’ll burn to ash every **** tree in these forests
If I thought we both would die

If what matters to you, is the illusion; then let the illusion become what matters.

It’s not what they say or how they say it. It’s how you take it in.
If you’re wondering aloud “what’s it for”, that’s where you should begin.

A bear is a bear because you called it a bear, the bear itself don’t care.
It’s not aware that it’s called a bear, it’s simply not here or there.

Your existence is so improbable, in fact the chances are practically zero.
But here you are, the king of your dreams. Your very own ****** hero.

A photon can traverse the universe from billions of light years away.
Only to die in the blink of your eye at the end of another bad day.

If you assign a thought to someone and hold them to that standard.
It’s you, not them, that stepped right up and wrecked your delusion of grandeur.

I think it was Matthew at 6:14 who said forgive them for what they’ve done.
Those that would trespass against us, before gods dying son.

There’s nothing to prove that every creature doesn’t share in your same fears.
Will it die for reasons unknown or has it a few more years?

This wasn’t suppose to make sense, it’s simply some observations.
That’ve come into view under many a sky while searching for constellations.

Though I urge you to think about these in moments of conflict and strife.
Kindly remember that while we’re here, what matters is only life.

I did things so that I could, one day, say I did them.
Now that they're done. I don't want to talk about it.

I remember you.
You asked me for a kiss.
There was an overhead street lamp spraying us with yellow light.
The parking lot was empty.
You were smiling as if you'd just found out Santa Claus was real.
I chalked it up to you having been suddenly stricken with blindness.
Because there you were. Blonde hair like woven sunlight. White blouse sewn onto you. As if the universe had just made something so pretty it had to show it to someone.
Asking me for a kiss.

I've buried a body, fingered Jess, and cooked a thanksgiving turkey.
I snorted a line, took a hit, and things are still a bit murky.

I've read the Bible, a little of Kant, and I've stared into the abyss.
Followed the moon all the way home, and something's still amiss.

I've listened to Bach while making her come as she looked into my eyes. And still I sit here wondering about unnecessary lies.

I thought by now there'd be a pattern, that in some way it'd all make sense.
That if I went ahead and experienced things, I wouldn't care about the tense.

So I jumped off a bridge, have had a few drinks, rescued a young opossum.
And I've had a few nice thoughts about that **** Emmy Rossum.

Maybe I've seen and done the things and people I was meant to be.
Though I know it never was or ever will be me.

I never stopped to think. I never needed to.

I can come over. I can tell you jokes, stories, or just listen. We can watch a movie, eat dip, and talk about our day. Or sit around the fire and give each other advice.

You can go ahead and tell me how you feel about anything at any given moment. We can relate to each other on multiple levels. One of us might even feel a connection to the other.
It won't be me.

I'm playing a role. Not because I don't care. I do. Because I know it's what you need from me in that moment.