Where are
The ecstatic saxophones that
Slung forth swank slurs of
Beauty,
The ***, ***, ***
Bass lines,
The snaps and snares and the
Sweet rhythm of the Night?

Music had character
And minds followed, in following
Soared.
There were no glittery vampires,
No prepubescent
Brother boy bands.
Soulful crooners never
Warbled over Alejandro,
Or the boots with the fur, with the fur.
We wrote letters and shared thoughts and ideas
And convictions.
There was no need for the techno
Middleman
To wrap our
Real thoughts in LOLs
To make opening
Up to another
More efficient.
Mass media
Gluttony drowns
America till I strain and struggle
Only to barely stay afloat
In this sea of apathy.

But you won't buy and sell my soul.
I'm not going to
Be your
Consumptive,
Quiet,
Couldn't-care-less,
I won't get in the way,
And I won't raise my voice,
Good American,
2.5 children,
Christian,
Conserva-libera-publi-crat,
Self-centered, Illiterate, Ignorant
Sheep
Only to follow the power.

**** no,
I'm mad as hell;
I want to leave the next generation
A world where
You can confess your
Love and be a man or
Love another man and have
Basic human rights, and it all
Starts in your
Mind
And your
Expression thereof.
It's the saccharine pop
Culture that has
Made free-thought unfashionable, a crime.

Art is
Revolution.
Hang
Up,
Log
Out,
Unplug and just look
At what you've let the
World become in
Letting yourself be
Little more than
A faceless source
Of merciless dollars.
Wrest free our
Culture from the
Calamitous and indifferent
Claws of rampant capitalism.

Express yourself or submit,
Stand up for a free America.

I will not be sold.

Sweet old woman
Two small boys
Hand-in-hand
"Only step on the dark ones"
Midsummer leaves
Under angelic sandals
Step!
Step!
Step!

There is a pit where
Certainty once sat;
How can we turn away
From such Terror?

I will hold my breath,
Still with anticipation of the day
When children sleep soundly in their cribs,
When hounds stand poised and alert at their master's side,
When high school friends recognize each other after years of separation,
When the mendicant wanders a cold city after dark,
When the ever-thirsting stock broker buys the American dream with stolen money,
When a sorry little girl embraces a once furious, now placated mother,
When a college student spends days in a library and nights drowning in cheap beer,
When a cozy red hand knit scarf protects an old man in the unforgiving snow,

When I finally find what I've sought for so long,

That will be the day I stop writing and start singing our song.

Jumpercable dreams
Defibrillator epiphanies
Wet streets of this city.
Rain way rivers down
Alley and walk.
Fumble for the seventy-five cents,
Slam!
Crack!
Vroosh!
The heights are drowning!
Shared awning storefront,
It's not stopping and it won't ever stop.
The Lee Rd. sidewalk,
Now the new Rio Grande,
Flows to the big parking structure,
Now an Atlantian City,
Relic to a cryptic past,
Arcane acropolis.
Dry overhang is my raft,
Only it,
Too,
Is sinking.

The spider hanging from the wall,
Does not even notice.
Perfectly at peace,
Master Spider has his web,
His dinner,
His enlightenment,
All of which are part of the
Arachnid awning and web zen garden.

Cigarette smoke and suntan lines
Big ******* conglomerate of it all
California short hours away
Small town America burns hot
Scorched with dreams
Drunk and sappy on cheap beer
And wonder
How does it all make sense?
Where does it all go?
What Divine notices all that happens?
Going unseen
Uninhibited
Unrestricted.
Scene continues forever.
Worried in hot sweaty short drive
To carry on Sherman
Fall on Caves
First fill up, gas up, cookies and gum.
Girls work icecream stands
Firewood ten dollars a stack
Sliding into drunk dresses
Drunk kisses in
Drunk bathrooms
Room to love
And to fight
To hate and leave and stay
And we do stay and
Don’t mean what we said
When jealous.
Best friend backstab
And open road fall back
Drink,Drink,Drink
And fall on same old singsong solitary stool
Or walk on till all
Makes sweet holy sense.
Think where they will go,
Where they’ve been,
Sleeping in beds of tomorrow
And eat the toxic cancer of now away
Till only in remission can the
Revolution of our unconquerable youth shake.
Natalie keeps kids and complains
But truly is the best mother and friend of all
I really do believe it,
Kate drinks and dreams
And I dream with her, too
Of highways and great plains,
Ratty dives and eclectic bars
Too hip for She,
The Messiah of cool, even.
Gone.
Too soon.
How can we consent,
Look away, turn away from such terror?
It freezes, chills to bone and I light up again.
Figurative fire scorches lungs
Grass burning from the inside out
What’s she care?
It’s over anyways,
It always comes to an end,
But I really just don’t see
The beginning of the magic.
I’m here for you.
Helicopter scares,
Sober stares,
Where did they all go?
California dreams
Dust and ****
Close your eyes
See the soul,
The sun sink past sand,
The sky turns gray
No beautiful aversion,
See the orange and red,
See the beauty that doesn’t fit here.

Go.

See it all.

Go.

I have a new poem,
I just have not written it,
Since I have not
Come up with the words yet.
Oh.