The time just before
Night

The setting sun

The wavering wind

The families all
Bundling up
To escape the madmen
Of the streets
And the alley-ways

Whenever there was
Peace
They were there

Whenever there was
War
They were there too

Crimson clad captains
Of the criminally insane
Free as the forest and
All of its mysterious ways

The nights
Are worse

The sun has gone
The sounds have changed
The people grimmer
Greedier and
Meaner...

My kind of
People

The way we walk
Like we own the world
And everything in it

Clinking glasses and
Smoke filled barrooms

Wearing our loneliness
Like a badge of honor

Throwing our weight around
Like we've been eating and
Drinking all day

To press matters further
We burn the postal service
And contemplate the brink
Of natural disasters, all over
Salted peanuts and stale
Glasses of tap water, the television
On full blast to drown out the
Half-drunken chatter of teens with
Fake-id's and half a pair of *****

The way I keep it together
Is to inhale and exhale, or breathe

Sometimes that doesn't work

So I think of Freud and how
Much I haven't read of him but
How right I think he is about
Anxiety and how it runs the show

Afraid of our failures
Before even an attempt
Is made

And the schoolchildren are
Let out early because of rain
And all the friends that were there
Are now gone or have changed

Their eyes
Look different

Their smells
Not the same

Their attitudes more
Reserved and adult
And mature and collected

Discussing the
Future of the American Dream
And how we - the freedom negotiating youth -
Hold on to our morals until
A paycheck big enough comes
Our way

How expensive is happiness?
How much money does it take
To **** the virus of loneliness and sloth?
How much does unrequited love
Truly cost?

"In answers, "wept the preacher, "We will
Find the truth of the lord, but, to seek truth
We must first ask the questions the Lord
Wishes us to ask. Think and ye' shall be
Given questions to find His truth."

Winged beast of mythical lore
Your credit here is no longer good
Please, tip the bouncer
On the way out

And you know that it is true
The way the wind blows through
The opened window, a view
Looking down and out toward the street

Fear has her fingers
Wrapped around your throat
The de-anxietized man is
Just out of reach as

The clouds burn to black
And the rain begins to fall
And the last rays of the sun
Can just be seen with the
Flooding of the sky

Blank cards to be dealt
Everyone is all in
The money is on the table
Transfer's on the cable

We are quite alone now
Aren't we?

You and I

When the ***** naked ******
Make their rounds
Searching for coin or purse
Or wallet

We will be watching
We will be seeing
The worst that man
Has to offer

When was it
When life turned
So sour?

So processed?

What was the turning point?

When the dust finally settled
And all that was left
Were the debts and
The massacres and the
Racism and the end
Of any kind of genuine
Human kindness and
The death of music, poetry,
And literature?

When did the last page
Turn to only show there
Were no more books left
Because we burned them all?

So much has come to pass
So much that many thought
Would be eternal and last

Everything
Is re-born

Everything turns
To dust to feed the
Ground for the new

We are the changing
Wind within the
Crevices of the highest mountains

The leaking water
Chilled from the night
Echoing within the fountain

The ink that dries
Has dried before
And will continue to do so

In truth we will see
Answers we wish
Not to believe

Steps will be taken
Backward, forward,
Left and right and
Backward again

To wait
For the forward

To strive
For the forward

To believe
In moving forward

Is our key