A portal
to other worlds
that
can inform and amuse
or a horrible brain leach
depending
on who you ask.

Everything
returns to normal
the broken things
break again
and the elegant ball room
is once more just a ruin
if only the music never stopped.

I threw a dart
at a board of names
my barber is apparently
the cause of all my pain
was worried it was me
but the dart wouldn't lie
probably.

Say the right thing
which was what again
good morning is a good start
but
that is too
cheerful
i'm not here by choice
can I complain
that would be natural
No normal people are polite.

The early show
Cheap tickets
For the big screen
Full of stars
Popcorn aplenty
Another tally mark
Against one more day
Worse ways to **** time.

They just appear
these creatures
I have no say
I can't avoid them
They could a least ask
but no
so I wander
and bam
they appear
they swarm
it's freaky
at least to me
dam creatures

fear of this
fear of that
fear of them
it spawns
the best tales of horror
even better than reality
which has
more often than not
such unexciting horrors.

I found heaven
and found
it had its own demons
So I moved to limbo
Not sure where
I will flee to next
I hear the void is nice.

Anxiety and fear
such a happy couple
they make their home
in your place of strength
and make you such
a wretched coward
unless you excise them
before they get comfortable
but they're a sneaky pair
they often fail to notify
before they take up residence
you could
remove them
once they've roosted
in theory.

I know the truth
Well
I know my truth
it's probably
your truth as well.

what
do you see
is it
the same thing
as me
if we see
the same thing
does that mean
we're both crazy
because if so
i'd like to change
my answer.

Cut to the quick
with plastic knives
you are weak
and not
in fighting trim
on the pro side
you go well with toast.

good folks
bad folks
neutral folks
all kinds
unless it's a joke
who dies young
the people we like.

we are going
going somewhere
forwards mostly
getting ahead of myself really
but if I linger too long
I fear the passengers
will attack me.

Just shine
crimson lighthouse
be something
to stumble over to
in the dark
why red instead
of blue or white
we want it to look
ominous.

In half a decade
Where will you be
Well
Having consulted
My crystal ball
I can say with certainty
Somewhere.

Kinda creepy
Those dark things
That hide behind you
Those shadows full of lurkers
We shine our lights
To rid ourselves of them
But they're stubborn
And when the lights go out
The shadows will be ready.

All things look small
In the big picture
Such a lofty perspective
Makes clear the unclear
Any horror can be minimized
It might be a wise view
Unimpeded by emotion or bias
But it isn't a kind one
And it's hard to have
Especially when a small view
Is so much more natural
And fits like a glove.

we danced
we laughed
alas
as naught but a pauper
I was not the right sort
so I was shown the door.

I have a plan
Well more of a notion
It's like a plan
But less complete
It's quite masterful
Even with those holes
You know kinda
Sorta
Okay maybe not
I just need one more part
Do you have it?

once upon time
there was a dude
his names irrelevant
he walked his own path
and was proud of it
one day
he ran into a tree
it was right on his track
he says to the tree
"outa the way"
the tree didn't care
and kept on treeing
the dude repeated himself
to no avail
so he starts to scream
in a very masculine way
for the tree to move
he only stops
when his voice gives out
the man is loathe
to leave his path
so he just starts climbing
he cared not a whit
for the trees great height
so up he goes
he makes it
and finds on the other side
nothing apparently
a tree marked the end
of his path
undeterred
the man walked on
to who knows where.

You
you who
you who can read
inbetween the lines
will probably drive yourself crazy
discovering coincidental patterns.

A Scarlet Letter
or something
less obvious
A mark against you
that you know
they will notice
and they will
condemn you.

You raised the dead
Though not very well
The thing you resurrected
May breathe may even walk
But that special something
Just isn't there anymore
I suppose it's stuck
In the grave.

A secret place
To escape everything
And everyone
The loving ones
The unpleasant ones
And those that don't care
Someplace quiet
Maybe somewhere
Over the rainbow
But really anywhere
Just not here
If only for a visit.

in the darkness
anything is possible
and nightmares are probable
every sound is trouble
but their is a bright side
all your woes
are shrouded
at least until dawn
when that light pours inside
things are harder to ignore.

So well made
Tailored clothes
Perfect hair
It's all most real
But it isn't is it
No pain
No panic
No pleasure
No blood
No bile
Just well shaped plastic
And a chiseled smile.

weary is accurate
reading sad stories
can be such a drain
the news
more dead people
justice still only a dream
foreign affairs
****** and tense
same old same old
should probably
stick to fiction.

There are always rules
Some are unwritten
Some are set in stone
But they are everywhere
Of course if you want
You can break them
Though
You may regret it if your caught
You may feel guilty
Even if your not
But it's up to you
What to do
In theory
At any rate.

everywhere
is the fight zone
at least unofficially
even those
who sit in the aisle
aren't necessarily safe
they're just safer
which is better
than nothing
I guess.

The thing is
I need to do something
but I need something
to begin .

Family is great
They have your back
They pick you up
Their on your team
But do they have to be related
Why of course not
Family are those closest to you
Whether by blood or ink
Or whatever
Like lilo and stitch
Blood makes someone a relative
Ink can do the same
But what it means is up to you.

Why don't I drink
Why don't i take
Shot after shot
And flee from reality
Into sweet sweet oblivion
Oh right
That's not healthy
And no one in easy reach
Has any
They have drugs
Prescription And not
But I suppose I'm too dam
Law abiding for that
Ah well
I'll just write poetry
Instead.

like an egg
on a frying pan
plus bugs buzzing

No magic here
Just science and madness
I know it's so
I really do
Yet it sounds lovely
And it catches my mind
Do I have a genetic predisposition
To thinking about magic.

My mind wanders
often to places
i'd rather not be
you might say
it
has a mind
all its own
very meta
and aggravating
but whats a body to do
meditation perhaps
maybe some mindfulness
Ah such grand choices
there are other options
of course
but they are
a tad grim.

you know a lie
when you hear it
A Lie
Is Anything
that competes
with your truth.

when does hope die
right before you do
is probably the best case
some live long lives
with their hope dead
A sad bunch
resigned to the shadows
they know the future
it isn't good.

Your totally prepared
To look like
Your prepared to do
What needs to be done
But we both know
When push comes to shove
Your confidence will shatter.

Run run
To enact your plan
Poor little thing
It's all done
No matter your actions
My goals are fulfilled
You are just
Too little
And too late.

A figment made of iron
that equals a million lives
there is no future
without a past
it ensnares some
offends others
and some
realize it simply
is the beginning.

One forever
one for always
like a god dam penguin
it simply can't be
one for you
one for me
it never lasts
and everyone cheats
or so the cheaters say
maybe there is
a grain of truth
maybe not.

The colors clash
make a mess
an acid rain
drip drop
on the citizens
who wonder
why
Why
human nature.

Resurrection and rabbits
sure
why not.

Invest in change
The only certainty
Aside from death.

Little needles
they pop in and out
to jab me the spine
oh so often do they appear
they have no will
no particular intent
certainly not one
I can control
so just deal
is what I must do
somehow
maybe thicker clothes.

It's amazing
Your silver tongue
Isn't burned by the venom
You spew
I see people swayed
By your passion and your volume
Sheep I want to scream
Turn away from this snake
But I don't
And they certainly won't
Among your most insidious flock
They find acceptance
And learn of the fun
Of mob justice.

Everything was lovely
once upon a time
or so my mind claims
there was unpleasantness
but all that comes to mind
was such energetic fun
laughs and good times
wait
am I thinking of
the Brady bunch.

Giving words
As a gift
What A poet thing
To do
I can't though
At least not
If it's true
That the thought counts
Cause none of my thoughts
Are Charitable.

it's not crazy
to scratch an itch
might be uncouth
does it become
A mad action
if you scratch
till you bleed
but the itch remains.