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Mar 2013 · 730
And Back Again
many dreams last night
          strange and powerful
          and so brightly lit
a luxury hotel in the sky
bioshock performance for the crowd
          at a gangsters' award ceremony
sipping whiskey
          and smoking cigarettes
          in the hotel pool on the rooftop
          with the young ******* billionaire
glass of warmed milk
          waiting for me in my room
          atop a hand-scrawled note
          pleading for mercy
gently lifting the tiny girl from the floor
          where she had fallen
          and laying her down
          on her silk bed
stabbing her with the needle
          to deliver the potion
          that will still her seizures
making passionate
          affectionate love
          with my wife
          for hours
in the living room
          in the bright sunlight
          in front of everyone
and back in the bedroom
          in the soft lamplight
          all by ourselves
          just for us

woke this morning
lifted high from Dreaming
back to earth
to the bright sound
through my window
of the first birdsong
of the New Spring
and a new day
and another Me
Mar 2013 · 382
those walls you've built?
those thick stone walls you surround yourself with
to keep you safe
to keep out the pain?
how are they working out?
are you comfortable in that tower all alone?
do you feel safe?
are you free from the hurt?
or does the pain seep in anyways
as cold creeps through cracks
in the mortar?
loneliness an ache in your bones
and a shiver down your spine.
are those walls keeping the pain out?
or are they holding it in?

Life Is Pain, precious.

there is no avoiding that.
not for anyone.
and sacrificing everything
that makes Life worth living
in a futile attempt to avoid
the inevitable
is the worst pain there is.

Climb down, precious.

leave that pointless, pitiful prison you've built for yourself
and don't look back.
don't hide yourself away forever
like some fragile little snowflake.
you'll hurt either way
so why go through it all alone?
there's nothing to be afraid of.
and you have nothing to lose.

Come out and play with us.
Mar 2013 · 603
Equal Night
Twice a year
once for Yin
and once for Yang
We pass the Balancing Point
and hover there for just a moment
hanging in the Black
perfectly perpendicular
aligned with Our Star
Day lasts as long as Night
and Night no longer than Day
We pass this point
and balance on this edge
just as We begin to explode with verdant Life
and then again We balance here
at the other side of Our Revolution
just as We begin to grow cold and die
These Equal Nights are the doorways to Our Two Worlds
light and dark
Life and Death
Yin and Yang
back and forth from one extreme to the other
in Our Endless Revolutions
but always passing through the same
points of Perfect Balance
in one door and out the other
We live and die all the while
swaying to this Eternal Rhythm
and it shapes us
molds us into Who We Are
What We Have Become
And so We hold these Equal Nights as Sacred
or Magickal
examples of those brief ineffable moments
of Alignment
and Balance
and Perfection
these Equal Nights guide us to seek those moments
within Ourselves
and without
We feel this rhythm
and We see this balance
return again and again
We see it in Our World
and We feel it within Our Selves
and We strive to achieve that perfection
And so do We accomplish
all Our many
Great Things
I know that the Vernal Equinox was actually yesterday, but I had other things on my mind yesterday.
Mar 2013 · 438
why don't you want me?
why don't you want me
the way that i want you?
why can't you feel for me
what i feel for you?
is it chemical?
just an accident of genetics?
or is it me?
is it the pills?
or is it me?
Is it something in our environment?
Or is it Me?
Is it the hormones?
Or is it Me?
Is it something in the way you perceive yourself?
Or is it Me?
Is it pathology?
Is it just a lack of empathy?
Is it the drugs?

please don't say
it's not you
i can't hear it anymore
because it is me
I am the thing
that you
don't want
not like that
not in that way

not so close

always at arms' length

no closer

because that is where

you want me
Mar 2013 · 785
Coming Home Again
That sound
that instantly unforgettable sound
so alien in this setting
the garden in front of my home
but absolutely unmistakable
like hooks in my ears
pulling me toward it
no resistance
couldn't if I tried
half grunt
half moan
all hot need
Uhh... uhh... uhhhh!
warm Spring day
one of the first of the season
her windows open
she doesn't care
or maybe she likes knowing
her naked lust echoes across the courtyard
for anyone to hear
oh, gods the things she is saying!
screaming out her ******
crying out for his
telling him where she wants it
telling him where to put it
I'm suddenly dizzy
losing my grip on the earth
heart racing too fast
palms beginning to sweat
mouth going dry
pummeled by emotions from every direction at once
lust of the ****** certainly
but also anxiety
          this is wrong
and fear
          what if someone sees me
and shame
and guilt

And jealousy
and sadness
I wish I could have what she has
I wish I could be him
and I know that will never happen
not for me
not anymore
those days are long dead
cold ash in the ground

As her hot screams
soften to moist sighs
and my lust sours into grief
the hooks evaporate
and I turn my back to the strangers' intimate sounds
and crawl home
Mar 2013 · 624
Alone In The Bathhouse
alone in the bathhouse
i have the pools
hot cold warm herbal
all to myself
lying in the warm pool
water just about body temp
ninety-eight point six
i lay myself down
and let myself drown
a moment
lost in the gentle un-feeling of wet
ninety-eight point six
as it was in the beginning
only to rise again
back to the surface
through the membrane
into the light
into new life
and float
and gone
no sensation
perfectly balanced
only sound the muted

of my slowed heart beating
in my drowned ears
the dull steady rhythm of life
eyes closed
lost in dark nothing
lulled away by the pulse of creation
floating forever free
gone beyond
gone utterly beyond

form and function left behind
anchors in the warm water
tethering me to some distant memory of existence in
ninety-eight point six
letting go
letting it all go
drifting away
Mar 2013 · 568
I dreamt of drinking whiskey
first sip
favorite brand
dry for a year
now wet again
felt the weight of the glass in my hand
heard the ice tink against the sides
as it sloshed around in warm amber glow
held it under my nose and
noseful of vapor burn
so wonderful
so familiar
comforting as a favorite old t-shirt
woodsmoke and caramel and corn
county fair
harvest festival
excited heart racing
time to do it
break the seal
break the spell
I cast on these lips last Witches' Night
ember sparks the tip of my tounge
and fire spreads down
my throat
and out
to my limbs
and through
my whole being
dopamine rush of
and I know this is the single greatest thing
I have ever put in my mouth
and I know I was born to do this
and I wake up
Mar 2013 · 300
Exercise #2
Let me in
Let me inside
I need to get inside of you
It hurts so much out here
Feels too much out here
Outside of you
Inside of myself
All by myself
Everything would be okay again
And I would know my place again
If you would just let me in
Let me inside of you
Let me sleep inside of you
Let me dream inside of you
Let me lose myself
And find myself
And remake myself inside of you
Where everything is warm
And everything is Love
Where all I am is gone
And all we are is one
Where everything began
And all my futures end
Where all that's broken now
Does our motion gently mend
Where we are all we need
And nothing matters more
Where all I have I give to you
And whispered wishes roar
It's not too late
Please seal my fate
My doom in you
Don't hesitate
Just let me in
Invite me in
To live and die
And forever abide
Mar 2013 · 883
A Meadow In March
Early Spring snowfall
dusts late Winter bloom
crystalline fractals piling gently
all around
to rest upon vibrant petal
and ground
The field now
a riot of pixelated color
struggling to be seen under
blank canvas tarp of
Winter's last throes
Portrait of Nature's perfect balance
Yin meeting Yang
flowing together
each becoming the other
flower melts snow into water flowing into flower
demonstration of Tao
in this limbo-time between the seasons
that is no longer Winter
and not yet Spring
when the Universe gives lessons
to remind us that
there is no such thing as
Mar 2013 · 500
Other Words
I love this song
but I want it to leave my brain
Go away!
Get the **** out!
Leave me in peace!
Be quiet!
For ****'s sake
I have something I need to say
but I can't say it
with this song in the way
The same fifty words
the same catchy beat
over and over
looping through my mind on an
endless rotation
I'm feeling something slightly
that I need to express
to try and get out of me
but I can't find the words
beyond the lyrical wall blocking my path
And even if I could
even if I knew the words
I couldn't lay them out
couldn't string them together
couldn't find the flow or the rhythm
because all I can feel is the beat
that someone else created
pounding in my head
I'm infected
and I need to get clean
Someone else's art is interrupting mine
and I need to banish it
to wherever lost art goes
so that I can find myself again
hear myself again
so that the voice echoing through my mind
will be mine again
I'm embarrassed by the number of my poems that end up being about the process of writing poetry.  Mark of an amateur/novice?
Mar 2013 · 878
the air touching my skin was noticeably warmer this week
and today is the First of March
and people are beginning to talk about Daylight Savings Time
and there's that familiar excitement in my chest again
the Spring butterflies returning to my stomach
every time I smell the electric ozone scent of
carried in the warm, wet breeze blowing from the west
it's the chill down my spine
and the recurring gooseflesh
anxiously awaiting all the unknown
drifting in on the wind
every day it seems the Sun changes color a little more
shading from the hazy white-blue hue of Winter
toward the bright hot yellow-orange fireball of Summer
and I swear I can taste that color shift with my skin
licking it up
cat bath of photons
drinking it down
sunlight pouring straight into me as
altering my basic chemical makeup
my Self
coming back to life
waking the **** up
waking the world up
I can feel it
I know it's time to move again
time to run again
time to drift again
time to dance again
time to **** again
time to kiss again
time to drink again
time to feel again
feel these things again
feel awake and excited and anxious and nervous and alive again
I can feel all of it beginning right now
with every new sensation when I step outside
I feel the familiar twitch of that little seed growing in the center of me
stronger each day
getting ready to burst
Feb 2013 · 424
It's so easy to step on the wrong word
hit a bad verbal note
an off-key phrase
and bring the whole delicate dance to a screeching halt
Why can't we each just understand the other's meaning?
After all these years
you'd think we'd know each other well enough by now
to understand the intent behind the words
that fall limply from our mouths
to thud at our feet
It shouldn't be so easy to hurt each other
trod on a vulnerable heart with ill-prepared words
and misguided affections
The sentiment should speak for itself
the care-for-ness that guides our every action
shouldn't need to be stated explicitly anymore
should it?
We know how we feel
about each other
So why is it still so easy to fall to the same conclusions
that paint ourselves as victims
each to the other's phantomed cruel intent?
We should know better by now
Will we ever be able to truly learn this lesson?
Or are we doomed by the very fact of our dancing
through this life together
to step on each other's toes once in a while?

I guess it doesn't really matter
so long as we keep dancing
it's worth the
bruised toes
bruised egos
battered hearts
and all
Just hold on
hold close
don't look down
and don't stop
don't stop
don't ever stop
Feb 2013 · 337
I wanted to write a poem today
about that frustrating feeling
when Life intrudes on Art
that sensation of being stuck
pinned between
and Needs
I need to express myself
but I want to make money
so I can eat
and watch TV

I wanted to write that poem
but I was too busy
Feb 2013 · 2.7k
day's almost over
Sun's almost gone
an entire star hidden in the shadow cast by a speck of rock

high on caffeine
while falling asleep
trying to push myself past a mindful minefield of lyrical cynicism

scraping around bottom
goring the core
make a wish upon our shadow star to be a whimsical poet-to-be

flimsy words arise
then fall away
and the head's emptied again from nothing worth remembering

could be better
could be worse
not qualified to judge due to never passing the bar set for myself

eye-ing the time
passing me by
feeling the throb of decay in fingers' muscle memories of home row

finally the night
and darkened peace
stopping to let the words sink in, refresh the mind, and rest the eyes a minute

just resting my eyes
Ugh, utter crap.  Bad combination of "too tired to write" with "nothing worthwhile to say."  If I had any shame I'd be embarrassed to post this.
Feb 2013 · 322
Name For God
I remember feeling a sort-of sense of
looking down at my mother lying
in her coffin
Difficult not to see
my own waxy lifeless face
lying there
and it was like looking down on Earth
from Heaven
or maybe I was standing on Earth
and looking down into Hell
for the first time
seen in the empty face of
this life that I came from
this person I came out of
my maker
now just a lump of dead weight
a heavy pile of stilled flesh
eerily still
like a life-sized doll
The light that created me
that started the spark that still flickers behind my eyes
suddenly gone out
and nothing left behind but
a sagging sack of meat and salt wearing
the too-fancy clothes that
she only ever wore to funerals
That is where I came from
That was Home
now gone forever
and someday soon
it will be me
lying there like a pile of clay
wearing too much make-up
but there won't be anybody there for me
holding my hand for hours
rubbing off the make-up
exposing the rubbery grey-blue skin underneath
the way my father so lovingly did
for her
Feb 2013 · 2.3k
Electric Ego
I want to write a poem
but I have to write code instead
There can be a kind of poetry in code
especially my code
I'm proud of the elegant design
of my loops and logics
my streamlined systems
My code flows

pulling the User along effortlessly
guiding them gracefully from one end of the black box to the other
and out again
No Errors
My code flows

secret haikus left in comment blocks
for other programmers to find
like digital hieroglyphics on virtual cave walls
test data populated with pantheons and
mystical chants from faraway lands
My code flows

water of ones
in sea of zeroes
pouring through me
from aether to mind to muscle to machine
bit by bit
block by block
stacked upon stack
module into module through function and parameters passed
My code flows

flows through me
until the integer flips
the Boolean switch
change of state
status update
now compiled and crystallized
and then passed on
leaving me
out of my hands
disseminated to The Users
like a prayer to a congregation
I hear the clicking fingers of their choir
singing the song of my code
now flowing through Them
Feb 2013 · 424
it's not that i'm blocked
though i don't have anything particular to say
at the moment
i'm just tired
couple of long nights
not enough sleep
another one looming ahead of me tonight
the weight of it all holding me down
thoughts coming slow and sluggish
every yawn another pothole on the road
to creative output
sometimes i wish i was a machine
a poetry machine
that never stopped
never stopped
never stopped writing
never stopped creating
never stopped expressing
just feeling and saying and doing everything in poetry
all day
every day
never needing a moment's rest
never needing to do anything more than this
to keep my clockwork heart ticking
It's been five years
since the Moon spoke to me
And I did my best to listen
and remember

I'd never been more lost
never felt more alone and confused
never been closer to death
than I was that year
Technically an accident
but living so recklessly
"accidents" become a near certainty
so I am not free of responsibility
I nearly ended my self

Grasping at straws for months on end
Clutching at any whispered fragment of hope
of a Way Out
One morning
I heard a news report
about an upcoming celestial event
a Total Lunar Eclipse
of the Full Moon
I barely noticed it
thought nothing of it
changed the channel
and landed on a cartoon
about the embodiment of the Tao
in the Spirit of the Moon
and something clicked
I know that click
I'm intimately familiar with that click
I have been my whole life
But it'd been almost a year since I'd last felt it
I thought it was gone
gone forever
but here it was again
from a news report
and a cartoon
a cartoon!
of all things
but unmistakeable nonetheless
something about the Tao
and the Moon
and an eclipse

That night five years ago
the night of the eclipse
I didn't know what to do
I almost gave up
but I finally decided to go through with it
out of a sense of absolute desperation
I had nothing left
I might as well
At the appointed time
I took my posture
half-lotus in front of my altar
set flame to candle
and recel
I tried to relax
to let go
to empty myself
I found my Center Mind
and reached inward
to the Void
When it was time I let myself go
drifting up out of my body
flying through the atmosphere
floating in space
above the Earth
staring at the glowing white surface of the Moon
filling my vision
with cratered beauty
and profound grace

And I waited
I watched as a shadow crept across the face of the Moon
from East to West
as the Earth behind me
moved slowly between us and the Sun
And I waited
until the shadow blotted out the Moon entirely
leaving me in darkness
And I waited

And nothing happened

And I felt something inside me break
I had been so certain
that click had always meant The Way before
but nothing had happened
I must really be Lost then
so I gave up
and started to let myself fall back to my body

Just then
the eclipse broke
as the Earth continued on its Way
the shadow began to leave the face of the Moon
a brilliant crescent of white light blinded me from the eastern edge
and I heard a voice that was not my own say

All things that Are, are Change

As amazing as the experience was
a voice inside my head
that I did not recognize
I was still let down
What it had said was
hardly news to me
a paraphrasing of Heraclitus
"All things that Are, are Fire"
The only Constant is Change
Nothing is Certain
except Uncertainty
et cetera
I knew that
had been living it
for years
the purview of Chaos
Nothing is True
and Everything is Permitted
Kids' stuff
arm-chair mysticism
Tell me something I don't know
I said
And the voice answered

You cannot be Good
You cannot be Bad
You can only Be

And suddenly I knew
what should've been obvious
all along
Good and Bad are entirely subjective
just ideas
not Truth
their existence depends entirely
on our particular point of view
at any given moment
there is no single thing in this Universe
that is entirely Good
or entirely Bad
every single thing is both
Good and Bad
depending on your circumstance
your point of view
how you look at it
just as no single thing in this Universe
is entirely Yin
or entirely Yang
every single thing is both
Yin and Yang
that is the Way
that is the Tao

How had I lost sight of that?
What had happened to me?
I wanted more
I knew there was more
I asked the Spirit of the Moon
What else?
and Manni-Moon-Yin replied

Look on the Bright Side
Make the Most of it

Again it suddenly seemed so obvious
it followed naturally that
if all things are both
Good and Bad
then it must be our choice
to view them either one way
or the other
Joy is not a circumstance
Happiness is not an event
something beyond our control
that we must wait for
wait until it happens to us
It is a choice
it is something that we do
or don't do
So if there is Good in every single thing
then all I need to do
is choose to see it

I asked
Is that all?
And Manni-Moon-Yin replied

You are Amazing
And so is Everyone Else

Human existence is
astronomically improbable
We should not exist
We are the end result
of a billion
one-in-a-billion chances
all coming up Jackpot
even the worst of Us
is an absolute ******* miracle of Nature
the most amazing thing in the known Universe
the Living Embodiment of Tao
a Human Being
an astounding accident
a chemical formula so complex
that it has become aware of itself
and I am one of them
and I should never lose sight of that
I am one of these ridiculously
amazing pinpoints of sentience
and so is every single other person I will ever see
or hear
or touch
or encounter in any way
throughout my entire life
Each person is an Individual
and I can't know them
can't know their experience
or their circumstance
so it is unfair
and pointless
and rather ridiculous
to try and judge them
when we are all equally amazing
each in our own Way

I said Goodbye then
to Sifu
to Master
to Manni-Moon-Yin
and slowly fell back to Earth
back to my body
back to my self
anchored by Knowing
by finally Knowing
some True thing
with certainty
and clarity

To this day
I do not know
whose voice I heard that night
the Moon Spirit's
or my own
my Unconscious
and I don't care
it makes no difference to me
either way
because the words that voice spoke
are Truth
and I will remember them
for as long as I live
and as long as I remember them
I will never again
be lost
Not my best work.  But I think that's understandable.  My poems that I tend to like the most are the ones where I am just trying to express what I'm feeling.  This poem is trying to describe (and commemorate) a particular event; and that is a very different thing.  And a complicated event, at that.  Still, I'm glad to have written it.  It needed to be written.  Even if it's not my favorite.
Feb 2013 · 617
the lunch lady likes me
because I smile at her
every day
and say Hello
and call her by her name
because I took the time to learn her name
because I asked her how to pronounce it correctly
so she likes me
I can tell
by the way she smiles at me
and says Hello
and calls me by my name
she doesn't do any of this for anyone else in line
just me
and I can tell by the way
she gives me extra portions
a little bit extra
a second small ladling
of everything she puts on my plate
more than she gives to anyone else in line
my plate is always heavy when she gives it back to me
this is her way of being nice
the only way she has to say
Thank You for treating Me like a Person
and not a Food Dispenser
and so every day when I get my lunch from her
and she heaps an extra portion out for me
and I take that too-heavy plate from her hands
it makes me feel very happy
in my Heart
but also very sad
in my Stomach
as my pants feel just a little tighter each day
and I know she is giving me too much food
and I can't eat it all
but also knowing
that I would never
want her to stop
Feb 2013 · 618
I gave Her a star
my Valentine
my Forever Valentine
designation K.I.C.-
now bears Her name
a Kepler star
a binary star
two stars
locked Together
each attracted to
and repelled by
the other's force
of Gravity
Two immense
Nuclear Explosions
so gigantic
so astronomically enormous
that their own weight
holds them in place
and keeps them from growing
any larger
Chaos poised
in perfect Balance
these two fireballs
right now
are spinning around each other
in the cold vacuum of deep
extrastellar space
each throwing off enough Heat
and Light
to brighten and warm
a dozen worlds
they spin around each other
locked together
through the void
They have been dancing for
a billion years
and they will keep dancing
for a billion more
They will still be dancing
and burning
lighting the dark
long after Our World
has turned to dust
and blown away
and there is no one left
to remember them

But for now
we call them by Her names

And it's not enough
it will never be enough
there's so much more I could do
so much more I must do

But for now
I call them by Her names
so we can look up at night
and see ourselves there
on fire in the void
dancing forever

And so I call them by Her names
my Valentine
my Forever Valentine
Feb 2013 · 980
In Rapture
A Big Daddy knows only one thing:*
Keep Her Safe.
Do what She says,
whatever She says,
and Keep.
Keep Little Sister Safe.
The whole world
the whole big, violent world
is trying to hurt Her
and the only thing She has
the one and only thing She has
in this whole horrible, ******-up world
is Me.
The only thing standing between Her
and all the wretched, psychotic lunacy littering the streets
and all the pain and degradation they want to inflict on Her
is ME.
They want Her.
More than anything
They WANT Her.
But they can't have Her.
They can't even get near Her.
Because first,
they'd have to get through ME.
A hulking,
wall of NO.
And I won't let them have Her.
She's MINE.
And I will Keep Her Safe.
Like cradling a Snowflake
in an Inferno
I will Keep Her Safe.
Because She's MINE.

She's All I Have.

My Little Sister.

And I am Hers.

All She Has In This World.

Her Big Daddy.

And I will Keep Her Safe.

I will Keep Her Safe.

I will Keep Her Safe.
inspired by the Bioshock series, and dedicated to my Little Sister, my forever Valentine
Feb 2013 · 799
The Day Before My Birthday
the city smelled like frankincense this morning
stepping out into a world of
startling reminiscence
of childhoods spent chanting in churches
and calling out to Papa, Papa!
Come save us!
Come save us from ourselves!

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
like a whole world made holy
streets paved with sacred resin
sewers leaking holy vapors
warm fogs wafting down from
some invisible censer
to smother us all in glory

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
oh so familiar tangy-pine aroma of magick
and mystery and mastery
and gold glinting with candles' light
burnt offerings sacrificed
as to make the very air sacred
with graceful gifts to gods

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
potent and penetrating and permeating
into and through and all around
clinging and saturating, dizzying and cloying
turning the world as a dervish reeling
in a rush of divine dance
inspired to the light of one true mind

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
and when I breathed it in I knew
I could read the sign
I knew which way to go
I knew what I had been waiting for
and why I had been wanting

I knew
Feb 2013 · 608
Far Away Eyes
Only half here
eyes held open with
caffeine charms
and sugar spells
thoughts whirl in
a hot delicious haze
All desire
and no purpose
rushing headlong in
a furious attempt to
say absolutely nothing
Catching whispered whiffs of
marijuana smoke
in the conditioned office air
like phantoms remembered from
an old recurring dream
of being naked in public
Casting out
desperately clutching at
shards of pitiful ideas
hoping against hope that
will *****
and gouge the flesh
and spill the vicious viscous crimson
artists' blood of poetry
But finding only
fistfuls of sand
Battered Ego
and Bloated Heart
do not a poet make
What do I need
to say?

What needs
to be said?
Feb 2013 · 802
suddenly so sleepy
nodding off at my desk
don't know what's come over me
limbs weigh a thousand pounds
it's a concentrated effort of will
to hold my eyes open
muscles made from ***** tar
i feel myself being pulled under
down down down into warm grey
favorite blanket
arms of a mother
wrapped tight
held close
warm and safe
all over warm
all inside warm
and down down down
further down into night
and play and wonder
into joy and fruit loop philosophies
and cotton candy *** with
childhood friends
and down down down
further down into warm caves of earth
molten black rock steam and sweat
lungs full of fragrant sweet hot
breath of life ancient ageless mind
swept away gone gone gone
lost in the stream mind of one
eye and one flesh and all
of one and down down down
into gone gone gone
into heavy warm wet safe loved all
over all over into
Feb 2013 · 1.8k
Meditation #1
Reaching Inside
to Center Mind
and further still
past Grey Matter
past axon and dendrite
through the synapse
Once more unto the breach
and further still
into cell
into nucleus
into gene
into acid amino
and further still
into particle carbon
past electron
past proton
into neutron
and further still
to Reach
The Void
and reside within
and wait, still
Being within Nothing
as the World Serpent
consumes itself

and Hold





Now gently Returning
Up and Out
tugging softly at The Void
with wish whisper touch
softer than Light
bringing Nothing
Up and Out
into Everything
into Center Mind
Up and Out
leaving neutron
past proton and electron
leaving carbon
Up and Out
pulling No-thing
Up and Out
leaving gene, leaving nucleus, leaving cell
Up and Out
bringing The Void
Up and Out
through synapse
past dendrite and axon
through Matters Grey
Up and Out and Into

Center of Mind
the Hole in
Your Self
the Whole within
the Holy

Now Wait

and Hold

Feb 2013 · 2.5k
It's Not OCD
It's not OCD
I'm just ****-rententive.

There are two
coffee urns
in my office kitchenette.
Each urn has
a spot to place your mug
beneath the spigot.
Each of these spots has
a circular insert
of gridded plastic
to mark the mug-placement area
and allow spilled coffee to flow through
so this spot
doesn't become
just a puddle of coffee
soaking the bottom of everyone's mugs.
Each of these inserts has
three indentations:
one on each side
at nine and three o'clock
small, arcing parabolas
like reversed parentheses
there to allow someone to
get their fingers into the
coffee mug spot
and under the insert
to remove it
and, presumably
clean it
and then another indentation
more like a groove
or a notch
much smaller, thinner, and deeper
at the top
that fits perfectly with
a matching
small plastic protuberance
jutting from the coffee mug spot
where the insert goes.
In an almost ****** fashion
this protuberance fits into
this last indentation
this notch
this groove
to secure the insert in place.

For some reason
I've never known
perhaps laziness
perhaps inattentiveness
more likely simple
this insert never seems to be
placed into the mug spot
It is always placed sideways
rotated a quarter-turn
so that the larger indentations
on the side
meant as finger holes
are placed top-to-bottom
noon and six
the small plastic protuberance at the top
being swallowed whole
by the too-large indentation
and its mate
the groove
meant to hold the plastic piece
so tightly
is left alone
to one side
and useless.
This has always bothered me.
Bothered me more than I would like to admit.
It's such a simple little thing to get right
it would take almost no effort at all
and yet, day-after-day
I don't know who
whoever is in charge of these things
on doing it wrong.
And I cannot abide it.
So, day-after-day
when I go to get my morning coffee
I fix it
I twist the insert ninety-degrees
and secure it in the correct position.

I have noticed something.
when I go to get my coffee
one of the inserts
will already be
Someone else has seen
what I have seen
and felt the same
had the same response
took the same corrective action.
This feels like winning something.
I don't know what
but it definitely smells like Victory.
And Conspiracy.

And it makes me happy.
Happier than I'd like to admit.
Feb 2013 · 890
Trigger Warning: Rape
I am a ******.
That is a powerful word
a putrid, painful word
a psychotic thing to say
out loud
to know
about myself
to admit
to You.
This is the worst thing I know
about myself
that I ***** a girl once
without even realizing what I was doing.
I don't know why I'm saying this now.
I know a lot of people will hate me
for saying this
for admitting this horrible thing I did
for displaying this
piece of my personal history
like picking up a piece of my ****
and showing it to You.
I don't know why I'm saying this.
I don't know why I'm telling this.
I guess because
after all these years
more than half my life later
I still haven't forgotten
I can't forget
I still regret
so I guess it simply
needs to be said.
So call it a confession.
And now the bargaining begins.
The inevitable qualifications.
Because while it is true
I am a ******
that powerful, putrid, painful, psychotic word
calls forth to mind an image
of violence and brutality
that is not me
and is not what I am trying to say
and is not what happened that night.

We were very young
not even twenty
and stupid
clearly stupid
and we'd been "going out" for years
Homecomings and Junior Proms
we'd taken each others' virginity
many years before
this was not our first dance.
And we were drunk.
Blind drunk.
It's not an excuse
but it's a fact
and it's relevant
and it needs to be said.
We had rented a hotel room
away from our parents
and we were *******
It was a glorious night.

At some point
she said,
"Wait, stop."
I don't know why.
To this day, I have no idea
what happened
what was wrong
why she wanted me to stop.
But I remember
what I said.
I'll never forget
never be able to forget
what I said
what I did.
She said, "Wait, stop."
And I said,

I'm almost done."

There is no apologizing
for that
no accepting it
no getting over it.
Not for her
or for me.
Some things just become
a part of you
and you can't hide them
no matter how much you want to
or how hard you try.
Some words weigh on you like Marley's chains
and you carry them for the rest of your life.
And you should.
I'm not seeking sympathy
or solace
I deserve neither
and I wouldn't want them
even if I did.
I want to carry this chain.
I have to.
Because it is the only way
I can attempt to
balance out the equation
and even have a hope
of trying
to begin
to make up
for what I did
to her.
I guess I just needed to
acknowledge the chain
admit it
make it real
so that I could keep carrying it
a little longer.
I really wasn't sure whether to post this one or not.  I knew it could make some people feel some very negative things, and quite probably at me.  But it's real, it's honest, it's from the heart, and it is likely to make people feel something, and as that's all I'm aiming for, I felt that I had to call it art, and put it out there.  Art shouldn't be about only expressing what is safe, or acceptable, or what is likely to only make people feel positive things.  It is often controversial, or provocative, and that's as it should be.

Another concern I had, was whether I was right to use the word "****" in this way.  As I tried to express in the poem, that word conjures up images of violent, brutal ****** assault that is not even close to what I did.  I was a stupid, drunk teenager, having *** with my girlfriend of several years, and when I was just about to come, she said "stop," and I didn't.  It was absolutely wrong, and I have regretted it ever since, but that is, literally, as technical as **** can get and still be considered ****.  So, am I doing a disservice to victims of actual violent ****** assaults, by using that term, by equating what I did with the horrible trauma they had to endure?  Am I just taking a mildly traumatic event from my youth and blowing it up for maximum drama and artistic gain?  I honestly don't even know anymore.

All I know, is that for my entire life since that night, every once in awhile, the first line of this poem has flashed through my brain.  It happened again this morning.  I was lying on the couch, trying to catch a few more minutes of dozing before I had to get up and go to work, and a story came on the news about a ****** assault in my area.  There was something about the story that resonated with me in some way, and the thought "I am a ******" flashed through my brain again, and that whole night came flooding back to me.  And at that moment, I knew I had to get it out, and onto paper.
Feb 2013 · 563
Nine Months
Nine months
since My

Nine months.

That is
in an obvious way.

Nine months,

Nine months since
I last sipped
purposeful poison.
Nine months since
I last heard
the beautiful
of ice
swirling around
into amber
Nine months since
I last melted
into caramel-
and smoke-
Nine months since
I last felt
the burning hole
in my gut
weep red and raw
and wail for more

Nine months since.

Nine months today.

Does that make me a new man?
Am I a New Man yet?
Am I re-born?

The bags
under my eyes
are gone
but it's still Me
I see
looking back
from that glass.

It's still Me.
I'm the Same Man.
I just found
some New Pleasures.
And New Problems
to go with them.

Happy Birthday,
Little Man.
Jan 2013 · 1.0k
Lost Spirit
Appalachian Alchemists
Weaving Gold from farmer's grist
Whiskey Stills
and Copper Pills
Magick Wyrm cools vapor mists

Shine down from a Whiskey Moon
Silver Gift and Nature's Boon
Corn Cob Wands
and Thumper Pots
Mountain Spells from Summers' June

Lightning flash in jar of White
Burning Soul, distilled delight
Mountain Streams
yield Moonshine Beams
Corn-fed Wizards, dark of night

Wisdom cast in Silver hues
Blessing born of Mountain Dews
Love's Desire
from Smoke and Fire
Ancient kin-folk's hidden brews

Inspiration Distillate
Poet's Draught, inebriate
Charcoal Casks
and Secret Flasks
Of this Spirit, Celebrate
The first stanza popped into my head as I was trying to fall asleep last night, and it's been on my mind ever since for some reason, despite my best efforts to forget it.  The rest of the poem built from there.  I'm actually sober right now, but I guess I miss whiskey more than I realized.
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
They gave us too many fortune cookies
Twenty or more
What are two people
supposed to do
with twenty fortune cookies?
Three of them
Not normal
Not like the others
Not really fortune cookies
at all
One appeared to be
only two-thirds
of a cookie
folded in the wrong place
as if the dough
had fallen
halfway out of the mold
in the machine
at the fortune cookie factory
Another had the folded
paper fortune
sticking out one end
like an impertinent tounge
ready to deliver
a raspberry
a paper bronx cheer
rather than prognostication
And the last
the poor devil
the poor, sad little ****
was simply crushed
and broken
and useless
Not even a cookie anymore
and no fortune inside at all
I took up these three lost charms
these empty, broken spells
and I cast them
into the trash
because that is where
the broken things go
This whole thing came to me in a flash as I stood at my kitchen counter shortly after arriving home from work.  The fruit of the creative exercise I posted earlier.
Jan 2013 · 362
What am I putting here?
Are we recording?
Is this thing on?
Are you on?
Are you on to me?
Can anyone see me?
Hello hello hello
Hey hey hey
What're we doing today?
What's on the menu this evening, sir?
Lust for life
Live to lust
Where did it go?
How old am I?
Do I really want to know?
Why did it happen?
And when did it stop?
Will I ever get it back?
Is it gone for good?
Is there anything left?
Scraps on the table
Crumbs on the floor
No one to play Lover now
The X marks the door
Leave!  Leave, and never return!
But the path is blocked
with accidents
and forgiveness
and everything left unsaid
and we're trapped in here
in the fire
no way out
coughing up the smoke from our hearts as they burn
i'll die for you
i'll die with you
i am going to die with you
i always knew i would
somehow i always knew
and i did it anyways
and i did it again
and again
and i'll do it again
and again
i'll always die for you
i'll always die with you
i'll always be in you
somewhere i always knew
somewhere you never let me go
I will burn there
Ever After
Sometimes I want to write something for some reason (creative desire, self-destructive pressure, guilt, etc.) but don't have anything in particular to say.  On those occasions, what I'll often do, just to prime the pump or get the juices flowing or whatever other appropriate cliché you want to use, is just starting writing out whatever comes across my mind, stream-of-consciousness style.  Sometimes what I end up producing is strikingly profound.  Most of the times it's just nonsense.  But, either way, it works.  In the end, regardless of whether what I've produced turns out to be beautiful or ridiculous, I always have at least the germ of an idea to write about, and the will to do it; that sense of creative "flow" that is so essential.

The above is an example of one of these exercises in go-with-the-flow writing.  I'll leave it to you to decide whether it is beautiful and profound, or ridiculous nonsense.
Jan 2013 · 474
Winter Haikus #1
Silent Fractals Fall
White Whispers Wash All Away
No Thing Left To Be

Soft Crystals Gliding
to Wrap Us in Fluffy Ice
Inch by Inch by Inch

Succumb to Snow Fall
Smothered, the World Disappears
only Yin remains
Jan 2013 · 391
my favorite thing
about Winter
the reason I Love it
and the only reason
I even like it at all
is Snow
is Watching the World
is seeing Everything I Know
slowly become
a Field
of Perfect White
Our World
that contains
All our Joys
and All our Pains
All our **** and All our Sufferings
All our Love and All our Longings
our Whispers
our Wishes
our Doubts and our Deeds
our Laughs
and our Hopes
and our Everythings
Temporarily Transformed
into Beauty
while we Watch
as we Witness
Nature's Art
in fractal forms
in the sky
and all around
Silent Yin
paints the ground
in Perfect White
to reflect the Moon
as Winter's Light
Jan 2013 · 320
Nothing To Say
I've got nothing to say
It's an ordinary day
Nothing to write home about
No reason to stay

There's nothing to see here
No deep thoughts to feel here
I'm empty as the mirror's gaze
For all the world to see here

This is just an exercise
Performed for all your judging eyes
Written to determine who
Can wrench the Truth from all my lies

Because I have nothing to say
On this ordinary day
And the rhymes of poetry sometimes
Just get in the way
Jan 2013 · 976
I woke this morning
Wrapped in Luck
Discovered in the bathroom mirror
My bedhead looked fabulous
Better than my actual haircut
Like finding a $50 bill on the sidewalk
Like getting a fortune cookie
That speaks your name
And says,
"Today is going to be a Good Day."
This came to me with my morning coffee.  I thought it was kinda funny, so decided to share.  I don't think every poem needs be about the deepest aspects of the human condition/affliction - the fluff of daily human existence needs to be admired and recorded, too.
Jan 2013 · 711
The Romantic becomes The Cynic
His Heart becomes The Stone
The Poisonous Fruit
At the Tree of Life's Roots
Chills him to the Bone

The Fool no longer Dances
Seeks no Joy from those he Loved
Their Smiles seem Dour
His Mood gone Sour
He's lost his Light Above

And the ***** Fires sputter
The Flesh turns Soft and Gray
What once was All
Helped bring The Fall
Nothing Rose can Stay

Then Passions aged to Bitters
For Reality means only Tears
The joys of Youth
Mean acrid Truths
At the End of all our Years

But who are We to Argue
And Death comes for Us All
Will you Cry at Night
Or Will you Fight
To find Your Light in Time's Black Pall
Jan 2013 · 831
Choose Wisely
What am I feeling?
So many things.
How do I pick the one
that is worthy?
How do I decide
which flitter of chemical cascade
to capture
and pin down
and immortalize
on this page?

They are all so ugly
and so beautiful,
each in their own unique way.
Which is wheat?
And which the chaff?

It would seem that
"Ambivalent" and
"Introspective" and
"Pretentious" and
"Self-centered" have
risen to the top today.
In trying to decide
how to define myself
I have defined myself
without choosing.

This is who I have become,
but not
who I choose to be.
Jan 2013 · 639
Whither Winter Hither
wet wings drip sanguine
frost-cold eyes fog in the heat
and the snowflake melts
Jan 2013 · 563
As Above, So Below
spiderweb cracks
of bare black branch
against slab of slate gray sky

blue sun glow
blurry and lost
shrouds the world with ice

bite of cold
winter wind cuts
through flesh naked and scarred

bone white flecks
of fractals fall
to dust the red and raw

crystal'd waters
with gentlest touch
melt into seeping wounds

frost fingers roam
through veins gone cold
seeking the vaults of doom

old heart in hand
black carbon char
powdered ash blown high and free

corpse crow caw
shattering shriek
endless echoes mocking me

night at noon
and no one saw
there's nothing left to be
I swear I didn't mean for this to turn out as goth as it did.  I wasn't this goth when I was actually Goth.  I was just trying to capture the heart of Winter, as I was feeling it just then.

Jan 2013 · 628
Twelfth Night
Orange yellow tounges climb licking
tinder dried limbs wood eating
pine bough'd circle yearned-for grasping
explode in blazing new Sun crackling

White wisp'd winter ghosts rise gently
carried north on cold winds darkly
sacrificed spirits pyre'd burn brightly
light for a New Year to shine sublimely

Red runes round ring enchanted
holy words spoke oft-repeated
flowed wine o'er horn filled sacred
Gods' graced gifts for wishes granted
My first attempt at rhyme.

Jan 2013 · 2.6k
Without motion
there is no Heat
In our sudden stillness
we are freezing to death
But our fire scorched
and consumed
so what choice
did we have?

There is no heat
without Motion
But we only ever went around
in circles
It was inevitable
and obvious
that someday the fuel
would run out

Fire without fuel
Cold ash of promises lost
Deep winter of resentment blows
Howls echoing through our empty chests
Where blood once pumped rhythmic hot
Now silent ice blue

Every Push needs a Pull
Every Give a Take
The dance from White
to Black
to White again
is all we are
a trillion trillion trillion times over
All Creation writ large in infinite complexity
so who are We to pretend to argue
with Nature's Orders?

I am No One
I sit in silent stillness
numbed now in the Cold
I only ever wanted One Thing
And I nearly burned the whole world to get it
Before I realized the obvious truth
that all my actions
my motions
my Heat
had only pushed it further and farther from my reach

So now I am No One
Sitting in silent stillness
comforted in the Cold
knowing that there is nothing I can do
That if I am ever going to have the world I want
it is out of my hands
it is beyond my Will
and all I can do is simply wait
in the Cold
for Her
to come to me

And Hope
it wasn't only my Heat
that drew Her here
Jan 2013 · 1.3k
My brain buzzes and my fingers dance.
My eyes twitch and dart to make the world vibrate.
Too much coffee and my heart slows down to one,
I feel the fibers in my muscles coil like a snake.
I'm all adrenaline and nothing to do.
No fight to be had,
no flight to be made,
no harm,
nor foul,
nor **** to be given.
Wires pulled taut,
I could strike out a tune,
make the bones dance
a crackhead jig.
Long breaths in staccato time,
high on the oh-2 painting my brain red.
I can feel my whiskers like an aura,
hovering over my skin,
every hair a bright,
Throb, pulse, twitch.
Writhe, dance, squirm.
drink it in,
eat the lightwave whole.
Bits and bits and bits
into image,
It's all the same.
All light
and heat
and motion,
no differentiation,
no line of demarcation,
no distinction,
no more,
no me.

One more cup,
and I'll be gone.
Jan 2013 · 537
It's Autumn
and the World around me
has begun to Die
and the Air is scented sweet with Decay
and the crisp Snap of the breeze
boils my Blood

Life thrown into
sharp, Sensuous relief
surrounded on all Sides
by its inevitable Reflection

Breathe it in
hold it Inside
Kiss it
Eat it
**** it
let it Roll down your chin
get your hands Sticky with it

and Remember
that One day
It Will Be You
Jan 2013 · 1.5k
Three Diamonds
:   i have realized something

          :   i have realized the distilled essence of all of my desires

          :   is simply to be able to Love you

          :   or, more honestly, that you would be able to let me Love you

          :   and i have realized something else

          :   i have realized that this desire of mine

          :   to be free to Love you completely

          :   with neither regret nor remorse

          :   will never be fulfilled

          :   and so now i have a choice

          :   i can let go of this desire

          :   to save myself

          :   from constant rejection and disappointment

          :   i can accept that you will never let me Love you

          :   the way that i want to

          :   the way that i try to

          :   i can let go of this desire

          :   accept my fate

          :   and simply stop trying

          :   or

          :   i can take it

          :   i can endure

          :   and keep Loving you

          :   knowing full-well that Loving you means

          :   an oft-broken heart

          :   and i have realized one more thing

          :   one final thing

          :   that for a life spent Loving you

          :   You

          :   for that I can be

          :   for that I will be

          :   for that, I am

          :   Strong
First line should be indented with the others, but for some reason the editor won't display the leading spaces.


UPDATE:  why does this poem keep trending?  And why is this my only poem that ever trends?  How does trending even work?  What does it mean?
Jan 2013 · 485
Um, ok, here goes...
cough **
I don't know which upsets me more
That I am saddened by my Self
And my life
Or the Guilt
Stemming from the Knowledge
That I have no Right
Nor Reason
To feel this way at all

I'm a King
dressed as a Beggar

Who will give me Alms?
Jan 2013 · 346
are Drugs
who live
to get high
on each other
they can feel
as if
they are Living

Jan 2013 · 1.2k
Zen and the Art of Biology
Is there any better feeling
anything more freeing
than standing naked
in a Summer rain?

It is a sensual kiss
from the Mother that bore you
and the Monster
that will devour you.

The air that caresses you
is the motion of the Earth
vibrating on your skin
the transfer of momentum
from the spinning ball of Blue
to the gaseous sphere encasing it
to your body
to You.
You're dancing on the roof
as we fly through the galaxy.

The water that now licks
your entire body
was once part
of a vast sea
wherein the first chemicals
melted together
locked into each other
and twitched
and copulated
and convulsed
and conspired
to move
and to Live.
The molecules that once held
the first Life
All Life
surrounding you
touching you everywhere
setting your skin on Fire.

It is your planet
Making Love to you.
Jan 2013 · 398
For want of Union
What won't we do?
For mate
To conquer Flesh
To possess a Heart
What won't we do?
To climb that Tower
And leap to our Little Deaths
To Hunt
And Pray
And find Shelter in salt
What won't we do?

And Who
are We
to Ask?
Jan 2013 · 810
Prism of bright Sunlight
Through Curtains of Rain
This Is
And Is-Not
Jan 2013 · 525
The Tao Of Cliché
It's hot
and it's humid.
But it's the perfect temperature,
and the best climate.

The bugs are all over me,
a distraction.
A thousand tender caresses
from The Mother.

I am wearing too much clothing.
But I am completely naked,
and exposed
to the air
and the light.

On opposite ends of the wood,
I am too close to you.
But I want so badly
to be inside of you.

There is no sound here.
And it is defeaning.

I am completely sober.
And out of my ******* skull.

I feel like ****,
and have never felt better.

with you,
I am all alone.

My books
all define the Infinite,
while void
of any meaning.

I Want so fiercely,
like a ******* hole in my chest.
And I am content.

I miss you all,
now that you are here with me.

The wind swirls around us,
and nothing moves.

My belly,
my heart,
and my head
are all empty,
so I nourish the insects
with my skin,
and my sweat,
and my breath.

And when the storm
finally breaks,
and the rain
finally comes,
I will
be dry.

— The End —