Morning thoughts swirl under the last night's char
Slowly body comes alive from the coffee dark as tar
An exercise I do for my self
A creative act I do for my health
My heart I keep in a Five Star

Scratch out a little something
a honed blade
a sharpened pencil
paint thinner creates a subdued hue
hands ache
and fingers bleed
What once was nothing,
exists
Now, you are lighter
a surface scratched
You
have left pieces of yourself
exposed

A sculpture
A canvas
Raw Nerves
A poem

Clockwise against the blue light
Silhouette against a 70 mile speed limit
"I let the music take over my soul, body, and mind."
It looks like an ant with wings
Hitchiking it's final ride
Counter Clockwise against the blue light
It takes off and lands again
The wheel shakes as my unbalanced tires reach 75
I turn the volume **** two notches up
Clockwise against the blue light
"The stress burns my brain,
like acid raindrops."

There is something wrong
I don't know why but when
I find a mirror it becomes clear
as I become distorted
My face slowly falls apart
blood oozes out as my nose falls off
My cheek is gone and exposes
Damaged teeth held together by roofing
nails and plaster of Paris
The blood is heavier now
and my deterioration excellerates
Where did these wires and transisters
in my head come from?
I am pretty sure they were not there
before I went to bed.
I hang my mechanical zombie head
to the side...and bleed.
I wait patiently to be awake again.

Puffy eyes, stayed up late
That's what they say
Broken window, glass in the seat
Who would want an empty bag
anyway?
Manners lost, nothing but hate
and strife.
I hate when people can't even act
in real life.

Sitting at the coffee shop
across from my labyrinth of
employment.
I could...I could do it.
I could walk to my car and just drive.
Keep driving.
Just disappear....

If I was brave.

Sitting here sipping away
at this blackest of coffee
I cannot help but think
that a glass of tequila might
serve me better today
Somebody should have a
Happy Hour
in the morning

Do not fear it's form
Soft, dark dweller of the earth
Everyday reborn

The goofy middle aged men
are funny as they
flirt with baristas

Why count sheep
when you can count shoes
Think about it
Next time you are having
trouble falling into the abyss of the night
Try to go back and think about
every pair of shoes you ever owned
maybe even in chronological order
The good sleep will come

I was there
And I was patient
No judgements
I was listening
And you confided
I wish I could absorb your pain
Sometimes like a priest
Or a therapist
Or a soundman
The truth is
I cannot absorb your pain
Without adding some of my own

I will always try to help

But nobody is going to tell me how to feel.

The Wire Tree
Walking through a dim lit wood
The far off scent of firewood and nosetalgia  
creeps up my back like an old Army Blanket
A shade appears before me
Without words I follow
Further and further
The translucent green shade leads on
I come to a great oak tree
A very old strand of barbed wire
appears to be melted into the tree
It is very dark now
the shade is gone
In these woods
Man's boundaries
Meet
Nature's patience

Been cooped up too long
Need to get back to what is good
Do it for others but also for self
Like Timmy Sommers said
"What do we know about partying
Or anything else?"

I used to be able to forgot who I was
The easiest way was to stare at my hand
I was young
Nine or ten was the last time
After a while I would look away from my hand
and I would not know where I was or who I was
I would be fearful and magnetized
And question where I was,
Who I was.
I remember asking
"Is this real?"
"Whose eyes are these?"
Yes...eyes,
It was through rapid blinking that would bring me back
to life as I know it
I never knew what I was experiencing;
A seizure
A mystical experience
A temporary return
Whatever it was
I cannot go back
No matter how hard I try.

Those eyes
Like cups of black coffee
I cannot tell were the iris stops and the
pupil begins
Windows to your soul
and you are a mystery

That's ok
Because I am a detective.

Everybody gets to be a winner
The greatest lie they ever sold to my generation
No ****
Who likes to lose?
But the biggest lie is that handing trophies out to kids
Makes them entitled
Everyone wants to win, the right way.
Competition is in the soul...
You can't take that from me
Sorry to burst your bubble
but competition is our soul
It's our
inalienable right
Whether we get a trophy to mark our season of playing
Or for our esteem it does not make me who I am.
In fact me and my generation don't compete for ******* pieces of Tin or Plastic
For us it's a different plane
Next time please do not point at a trophy
And sum up my(our) whole existence
You already had your shot.

Up
Up from the depths
Of muck, of stinging
waters
Of being buried
I can breath again

Laying here on the cusp of sleep
I am visited by visions of the young man I once was
What happened to that beautiful boy?
I miss that overwhelming positivity
the naive idealism
the undying spirituality
he was fearless in many ways
I am not that old but that boy is
a million miles away
and all that's left is me
in my body's shell that has gone hard and stale.  
I could learn from his example
But I survive better now...

Careful, careful now
Step lively and often
Beware because
Crave
Is awfully close
to craven

When the light comes
The shadows rush forward.
The light remaines untouched.

America is a
bacon egg and cheese
sandwich

A tiny army
armed with tiny knives
slowly cut away at me
They cut away my skin
leaving behind wrinkles
they cut away memories
and tastebuds,
hair, color, and sensations
Every day steady chip, chipping
away on me.
The bravest move I make
is to get up every morning
The hot water of the shower
hitting my spine is the jolt
I need, to keep the army away
Steady now, hold together,
here they come again.

The country music plays at a low tinny volume
I never much cared for it
But thinking back now I enjoyed it then
From the back seat of a love's family car
Stopping at small town after town
Country meals and light on conversation
Our favorite was finding
everyday treasures of times long past.
How appropriate then as I scour my mind doing the same
thing

Do I act what I feel
or act how I am supposed to?

Today is the first day of Spring
and it is snowing
Like the first day of rehab
and you are fixing
The difference is
it is not in your
nature.

Running
Fast considering the darkeness
What am I running from?
Not sure
And yet here I am
Up hill now...
I can see better
Moonlight creeps in through some breaks in the surrounding trees
A Demon Dog of the night jumps
out at me, moonlight reflecting off it's teeth
Gimlet colored eyes make my stomach drop
No.....No......No.......!
I wake up a minute before my alarm

It's true I am being paid
But it's not just for my time
They get much more than that
It wasn't till I pulled up
my driveway from an hour
and a half commute
that I realized I have
gone nearly a week without thinking
my own thoughts.
Yes I get a stipend for my time
But my mind has been hijacked

and I let them...

The trick is to make that first beautiful
hot sip of coffee last the whole day.

Open when closed
Closed when open
I am a drawbridge

I found an ember earlier
this morning.
It survived.
Everything that this
numb winter could throw.
Add some kindling, here
oxygen, there.
My hands, there we go...
I am starting to feel like
myself,
again.

Do not blink your eyes
Sitting up, scratching your head
I just lost an hour

Thank you Beckett.
Thank you Richard Lange.
I will fail better, next time.

Stop
I am tired of it
I don't need reasons:
1, 2, 3
Let alone
7, 8, 9
Your bad behavior
is your bad behavior
No more rationalizing
**** your personality
if it's going to be like that
I am done
Own your faults
shut your mouth
and maybe, just maybe
Overcome them.

I know you are brave

Everyone's favortie thing
In the mirror
Drunk
Sober
Cracked grins and halfway smiles
It's how we walk
or
lean against that wall
Photos
Job Interviews
Time with friends
or family dinners
it's how we hold our drink
or
Drive our car
Clutch that cigarette with fingertips
or
two knuckles down
We all love to pose

So.
You ****** up
You know it
But like anything else
it's what you do next that counts.

In a second story room
a gas fire goes out
as a refrigerator compressor kicks on
even the middle of nowhere is noisy
The panel board walls relax as the room cools
like an asthmatic that can finally breath again
Snow and sleet pelt the
windows and deck
I write this with greasy hair
and a band t-shirt
Thank you for today
sometimes a poem
pays more than a
day of work anyway

I will get there
he said
staring
at the blank wall in front of him
the shadow of a lonely nail sticking out like a sun-dial
when he does
it will be
very
very
slowly

Leaning back in my chair to give the crowd a scan
Outside the bar window up pulls a van
He came in with guns drawn, hands in the air!
Wallets and money liberated told not to stare
Gone now, reach into my sock for a 20 to pay for another dram

I have a feeling
We will all be hacked
In the near future
It will be like the
Burn Book scene in
Mean Girls
But of epic proportion

She was my Drugstore Cowgirl
It's tough this time of year
She smelled like Christmas Trees
and pallet fires
rooftops were not safe
from our company
Car rides
Sips of beer
And medusa's stare
The Violent Femmes carried
through the air
I can still feel her hugging
on the sleeve of my grandfather's
old Army jacket
I tried too hard and not enough
She got bored

We came together once

I move
You move
You move me
Too...

Lately I feel a lot like Lew Welch
In more ways than one
Thinking about it depresses me
The Beats seemingly forgotten son
But I know once you read his poetry
In your soul forever it will seep
You can take it with you
And from with in find your strength
So that one day you won't be gone
With out a trace...
Leaving only your jeep
Loved ones forever left to wonder

Tonight when I get home
I think I will read Ring of Bone

Chapped
Done
Shattered Bleeding
Broken
Slower to get up now
Cracking noises snapped prime delusions
Caught between, what?
A rock and a, no **** that
Sitting at a middling crossroads
Salt remnants in my beard
Maybe a new path can be attained
Walls punched, pillows confided in
Matches struck, lungs burn
Passions drowned in hops and barley
A professional crossroads
Sometimes the best teachers are broken people
Great leaders wear chain mail over a flawed guise
Hands down offer a leg up
Life as a shorty shouldn't be so rough
Changes can be made
Fat washed up
Walls repaired
Pillows cleaned
Reflection looks
Pony Boy Tuff
A mind can be made up
A new path begins with a rising sun
Spitting is a ***** habit
But I know a worse one

On He Climbs!
Back up my spartan kitchen wall
a spot on a blank canvas
making his little way
to the tombstone of a landline
Oh Little Stink-Bug!
everyone hates you
I used to
too
Now I hardly notice you
crawling up my wall
not bothering anyone
keeping me company in fact
Poor Little Stink-Bug!
I saw you fall
It looked like a suicide
Made me quite sad
On He Climbs!
and I am glad to see you back

Gonna go back a few years
Back when clothes came from Sears
Nineties life revolved behind some handle bars
A few years away from driving cars
A few more from sipping at the bars
Trying with all our hearts to salvage
those moments of pretend
But the time is here for it to end I fear
Dennis and I prepare for one more neighborhood war
I raid the water balloons and paint ***** from my skivvy drawer
We go to Max's Video for a battle plan
Maybe some tips to take out a vampire clan
Step inside and see the back curtain
What's behind, we are not certain
Clerk is gone at a glance
Pull it back, take a chance
Please be kind
Press rewind
Leave your childhood behind

They stare
Too many of them do it
They look at you with their sideways
face.
They don't peer
They arn't peers
Lack all intuition
And empathy
"What?"
"Huh?"
With a plastered on smile
On their sideways face
I am done trying to explain
to the people frozen in their
permenant Dutch Angles
"Wait, what?"
You can stick your sideways face
up your sideways ***

It's like having your hands bound
While someone stabs your heart
Except you did the binding
People say it's brave
But it doesn't feel like it
Cowardly
is more like it
Peel back your skin
To see your broken bleeding
Throbbing
still beating heart
The embarrassment caused
is like ******* yourself
but
similar to that warmth you
experience
When you share yourself with
your love
it is more than worth it

It dropped upon all of us like
the cold dough of a drop biscuit
The baking is up to you

build a fire, soup on the stove,
sipping the steam off of a mug
of coffee,
hot shower
The shovel waits in quiet reserve near
the front door

Winter is not supposed to be here
But someone forgot to tell her
I pull out the cookie sheet
The cold dough
Transformed
Into the golden brown
Moments of my day