You aren't big ****
'till you're on a stick,
not even legitimate
like gator, hotdogs, sausage and chicken.
A stick gets your mouth waterin'
and your tongue lickin'
you can get your veggies on a shish-kabob
and cotton candy handed to you at any sport
or circus,
we even got religious services about servin'
this person on a stick!
Wanna be famous? Get your wish
and put somethin' on a stick--
the get rich quick types stick 'em up their ***
while the rest of us gather
at fairs and carnivals to mindlessly laugh
at jugglers, clowns and ride circular rides.
All the while snackin' on somethin' on a stick.

Four people walk into a bar--
and let it all hang out.
      Everyone is spitting out some demons.
We knew we were at the right place
when the band started playing "Last Dance with Mary Jane."
My best friend made my neighbor cry,
but she needed it,
she's bottled up so much.
He wasn't mean,
just hit her with truth.

I let it known I have poor taste
in the woman I date.

                 No ***** were given,
we're all emotionally volatile
when sober.
We shared each other
along with drinks.

I jumped off my balcony.

The next morning
I cried--
what a release  last night was
for us.
Then I threw up.

Today I don't believe
in love at first sight.
It's been replaced by lust;
a look of stalking prey
without any real understanding of "who"
but rather "want."

I must have believed in it
when I met you
millions of years ago--
our eyes synced together,
and for only a passing moment
we must have grokked each other--
forging an early link in the chain
called our timeline
through the fire within our molten third eyes,
binding our spirits together in the metal with lightning
from our hearts
and a hammer of certainty
as we saw each new life
we were to live had us meeting
all over the world, from Denmark to ancient Mexico
to Egypt to The Light past the darkest parts of outer space.

That's the only explanation
that makes sense,
why I don't believe in it today,
because it's already happened ages ago.

Mona.
Lisa.
Lee-ah
nardo
how do
YOU know
my mom.

I remember having
pizza
with ya the other night,
we watched
the "Da Vinci Code"
after we had that fight,
about Montauk
hotdog tripe flavored ice cream.

Even the audience
doesn't think that's yummy!

You taught,
me how to knit
chocolate and wish
upon the sun.

Did you mom?
Am I your son?
I'd prefer pecon pie.
No-body likes
pecans in my family.
Did Leo
like legumes ?
******,
I may always
be cursed
with writing words
that make reference to obscure
astrology.
My apologies to his
groupies who think he's
the best ******* art-east
since slice bread.
But how would it
feel to had some dude who
painted your mom
and it was
the big-gust
most successful
commercial success
through out
time?

You seem to think it all just bounces off
Your faded-plaid-flannel armor
Like the smoke from the fresh-rolled joint between your fingers bounces of the mirror
-you know, the one that told you just this morning not to eat today-
But that smoke stains the glass as it floats in double vision back to hit you again,
And again,
And again.

And that mirror doesn't seem to see you through my eyes
-or anyone else's for that matter-
You are somebody
You are strong
And there is more light in your life than just the embers fluttering down into your lap
But you just don't see it, do you?
Your eyes, two pills, staring at the world through the bottom of a glass,
Washing them down with alcohol so that you can't see the world anymore
But thats not the life you want,
Is it?

So the world stops like raindrops on a wind shield,
Trickles down into restless dreams flung away into the street,
All so you can see a rainbow that you don't think will ever come for real
-everything's rainbow in your head-
Because that mirror lied to you
And those pills will only **** you
And you rolled your whole world up and smoked it
In a fit of  pain, you disregard tomorrow,
Too tangled up in your fantasies because

Puff the magic dragon lost control and set your world on fire
Hona-lee up in flames, but you're safe-
Your feet don't ever touch the ground
Your paint is wasted on your canvass mirror,
Creating what you think you are:
Your eyes, two pills, staring at the world through the bottom of a glass
Washing them down with alcohol so that you can't see the world anymore

But are you alive?

Child
Wakes up beneath the open sky, he is confused.
He has fallen asleep in his tracks  just a few steps from his tent.
He unfurls his tiny body and with sleep still in his eyes he looks up in wonder, 
Seeing the stars for the first time. 
Child shivers, a cool breeze disturbs the night air,
And in a voice too meek, too small, to properly taste the words on his lips he asks me:
Thomas, am I alive? Or am I an angel?

Child, in this moment is Peter Pan.
Welcome to Neverland this world is yours-
Thats right, its more than just stories, its 
The innocence in his voice and, the awe in his eyes
Its almost as if he transcends time, Child is alive between
Point A, and point A
He sends shivers down my spine as he wakes up to the beauty
Of a world he does not yet understand; doesn’t even need to 
As long as he never stops wondering, 
Always searching, for the ends of rainbows.

Child, 
Wraps himself in the blanket draped from my shoulders
Gazes up at the flickering stars in the sky
Every one of those belongs to you, I say
But Child is asleep once again,
To play among the lost boys, and little Indians, and friendly
monsters in his mind, let the wild rumpus begin!

I pull my sleeve over the hook that is my hand, 
Child is not ready for that yet.

Sun hits the mountains like
The colors of iced-tea-pink-lemonade
Rejected by rocky faces and
The charcoal remains of once-majestic pines
Rays cross in the sky as the valley drinks down the last
Sip or two of the iced-tea-sunset

Jonah asked me,
‘Thomas, do you wear sunglasses all the time because you don't have eyes?’
In my head I said ‘yes Jonah, you’re right!
I wear them because I don’t have eyes,
I hide behind mirrored glass because I’m scared of the world, Jonah.
I am terrified that maybe someone will understand me--
But I can't stop you, can I Jonah?’

Those words circled round and round in my head and heres what I did say:
I have eyes, Jonah, they’re blue.

In a dream I dreamed that I was Odin,
That I gouged out my eyes in exchange
For all the wisdom and understanding the world had to offer.
Jonah I have ******* holes for eyes,
Big empty spaces where every thing goes in and nothing comes out.
I have dark pools of disbelief and
Grown-up thoughts and
The pictures in my head have edges as if they were film
Instead of fog blurring edges with reality,
And all the caffeine coursing through my bloodstream
Cannot possibly give me the energy you have, Jonah.

Maybe I was Odin once, maybe I was a god--
But that was long ago and I grew up, jonah,
So, I don’t have eyes anymore,
But these blue-black-holes will watch you grow up,
And each year they will grow darker as you grow older,
Until finally I fade to nothing more than a name painted on a wall and
empty sunglasses staring out of the past--
Watching,
Wishing I had told you:
Don’t ever, ever give up your eyes, Jonah.