some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

It was a nice crisp summer afternoon.
Snow will come and go in a heavy swarm.
Soon we will see the big round shiny moon.
The summer was plentiful, nice, and warm.

Since forever, time will always pass by.
For as long as we’ve known, it comes and goes.
Although some live, many will also die.
Throughout life we make enemies and foes.

But now the hour-glass of time is up.
It has finally come to a big end.
You now have a very large empty cup.
I’m sorry to tell you this, my dear friend.

It may see as if time is everywhere,
Even if it is very hard to bear.

Five minutes ago
Five minutes before his death
A healthy man flipped a switch

Now, miles from sunlight
We hold six billion worlds
In our hands

And now we feel the shockwave
Through the miles of concrete and steel
We feel the sunrise of a million tiny suns

And now we decide
Whether to launch the missiles
That end the world

“Vengeance,” we ask?
“Justice,” they scream.

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

I will not taste of your deepness red,
until the dark thoughts in my head,
don't darken the shadows and
dare to scare my dog, to whimper
while running away, further into the night.

I will not taste of your brew,
beer, rice and hops and you
all that is nice of your dark or
golden riches, until the waves
of the gray matter brain move
in a positive rhythm and groove
so I don't crush the can or
bust the bottle glass to pieces.

I will not taste of your sweetness white,
for I am easily transparent in my plight,
nothing in your fruity delights will
remove the soured palate I have for life,
so stay far away, for I am alone,
until there is peace for what I only
                                     can atone,
if I can figure out where it all went wrong.

all things green are not created equal,
what brings mean hearts a revival,
the green that some die for,
the green the mint strives for,

there are no green initiatives, only a green economy
there is no interest, that will starve the old, their bank
cupboards bare, soon they will eat their own flesh.

they ayes may have it everywhere so be aware, watch your step there
the green that binds our hands,
binds our feet, binds our minds,
bind us together in defeat.

this may sound like a call but really it is one voice with a bad echo,
bouncing off the walls of misappropriation and missed understandings

stewardship is taking care of what was given, (not earned)
he who made stewards of us is going to call (out our names)
to find what we did with the Terra entrusted with us (what a rush)

embracing the wrong green blinds us as it binds us to a rocky
spire, that double edge blade hacking at the legs of God's footstool.
the light talk about saving a planet, ****** Janet, what fool's
we have been, we blame colour blindness for corporate greed,
oh the
green that bind us
to every wrong to which we own,
will now cost us the best spot closest to the throne.

Open mouth,

Exhale smoke rings of equations and formulas revealing answers only discovered with the liberation death brings
Disperse your arsenal of gray matter upon me
While I absorb your reality T.V. and high school science projects
Accepting an empty proposal
Negotiation always on your terms
You spit game with out passion

Inhale sentences of herbal essences--
Burning like open flame on my voice, stealing my breath
Never stumbling over mistakes or transgressions
Dominating any and all fields of study with which you choose to fill your brainpan
I submit unwillingly in this prison,
in this prison for eternity.

How enveloping
This overload of pumping adrenal glands, excreting testosterone and overzealously prejudiced masculinity
Lack of understanding for femininity and sensible comfortability

Close your eyes
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown
So content atop a pillow bursting at the seams with $20's
1, 2, 3.
Knife. Fork. Spoon.
Drifting
Hundred dollar bills bouncing over the moon holding the cow's hand as you count your materialistic disguised happiness.

I can't read your poker face
I can't keep up

What does it matter if no one likes me
when worlds away a spider blinks its translucent eyes
and takes another step
on the branch.