Talking in code
Talking in rhyme
Sitting up summer nights on balconies high up enough to reach out and knock knock knock on heaven's door drunk on gin and chewing mint leaves trying to come to some kind of solution
There are problems here that need addressing but how much easier would it be to just ******* about it?
Piecing together alibis from the body counts of tragedies, picking up as many fragments as we can with the little strength we have left
We didn't do very much to deserve to feel this tired did we?
We could never figure out how to remove ourselves from the equation
Answers are a lot harder to come by when you've lost all personal interest
Where is this going?
Where does this progression end?
I wanna see what else is on
When I was a child I had recurring nightmares about televisions
When they shot Andy Warhol all he could say was that his entire life had been television all along
I don't know how to find comfort in familiarity
I am missing the connection here
I wanna see what else is on

THE REAGANS KILLED MY BEST FRIEND

THOUSANDS MORE DEAD, THE PLAGUED MASSES PLEADING TO BE MADE CLEAN

THOUSANDS MORE INCARCERATED, THE JUNK SICK DESPERATION VOMITING UP DEMONS IN JAIL CELLS

THOUSANDS MORE HOMELESS, DEEMED WORTHY OF NOTHING MORE THAN SPARE PENNIES AND BARELY CONCEALED DISGUST

I will not let the blood be washed away
I will not let history paint you as Saint
I will not let you be made holy
I will not become another casualty in your war
Not while I still have a voice
I spit on your grave
I see red
I bleed red
I am red
I am a rifle
I am a nuclear warhead
I am a Contra weaponizing loopholes in the law to **** my enemies with
I am Osama bin Laden as the Crucifed Christ
I am the AIDS victim drinking drop by drop of toxic blood while the hawks of war stifle laughter from gay jokes in their capitals
I am the ****** bashing my head into a wall hoping to destroy the itch before it destroys me
I am the beggar who the wealth never trickled down to
I am the mental patient met with closed doors anf nothing but ammunition to soothe the screaming in my head
I am the workers on strike chiming out the death knell of the unions and my own autonomy
I am the Soviet child living one badly timed joke from holocaust

I AM THE DEATH MASK OF YOUR ANNIHILATION
I AM THE DAMAGE DONE
I AM WASHINGTON BURNING DOWN
I AM MOSCOW INSOMNIAC
I AM HINCKLEY IN MY DREAMS I **** YOU EVERY NIGHT
I AM WATCHING YOU RISE AGAIN
I AM TERRIFIED OF YOUR SURVIVAL
I AM READY TO DIE BEFORE I LET YOU RESUME CONTROL
I AM SICK OF LIVING IN YOUR SHADOW
I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE

Oh oh come friends. To the river we go

I don't know what situations led to us to come to this magical places.

And I don't know what led me to the i75 alone behind a steering wheel

Oh oh come friends to the river we go

I'm not good at phone calls

But curse my name if I wasn't driving and listen to you talk about your day to your friends mom through satellites.

Oh oh come friends. To the river we go

We have disconnected the call and I'm still thinking of the past days I've listened to you.

I'm stuck thinking what if this is a friends fling like with your friends and your friends friends.

And I think what if this is another excuse to love my self a little more

I think what if this an excuse to drown someone out

I think what if I hurt myself on another person

I think what if you

And I smile

That's all it took.

Was the mere thought of awkwardly reaching for you hand

And I smiled.

Oh oh come friends. to the river we go

There is a traffic jam and I am in the fast lane blaring don't fear the reaper

We are merging lanes

To the right and I am stuck in thought

We are merging lanes

And to the middle I am lighting a cigarette

We are merging

And to the right I am
BAM !

Oh oh come friends to the river we go.

There was no collusion

Just the sound of an 80 thousand dollar bmws horn

A sight I would have been jealous of before
But on this night I don't need a car to smile

On this night I don't need fancy things

On this night I just need you

Oh oh come friends. To the river we go.

I'm passing the sign for the Ronald Reagan highway

And 65 miles per hour has never felt so fast

I want to talk to you but I can hear your voice scolding me for looking at my phone while on the road.

But I smile
I can hear your voice
I can feel you there next to me
And I'm still happy at the mere thought of you


Oh oh come friends to the river we go  

With you I don't need luck
We can split a thousand poles
We can laugh at the thought of a Buddha belly
We can step on 4 leaf clovers
We can walk under ladders because your hand will be in mine and that is the only luck I need

Oh oh come friends to the river we go.

The sight of this river under me is almost as beautiful as you.
Sitting on the bank watching my new friends passionately Kiss while standing on the ruins of a smoldering burnt American flag with jemi Hendrix playing is almost as infinite as you
But nothing will make me happier then being with you.

Oh oh come friends. To the river we go

I want 12 o clock udf trips

I want to wake up next to you at 6 in the morning to simply give you a kiss and go to work

Because in America. After love, the only thing we have to sit on are the blue collar workers fighting the good fight to give us the freedom to love

I want your hand in mine,
But never touching wrist. Because you said you are afraid of our veins popping out.
But I'm afraid that if they do they will tie in knots and I won't be able to let go

You are stuck in a lump of post fling relationships that hold you back from tying  your veins into mine

From letting the tips of our hair connect in a patch of daises on the cold ashy ground of a meadow in woods of fallen comrades

Because although most wars are fought with guns

The good ones are fought with words.

I need our love to stand true and not fall through because I'm running out of puppy dog nicknames for random girls that always fall short of grasping my heart the way you did.

Your grasp is an iron maiden that caught hold two years ago

At times I feel it dies to the torture of the cold metal spike

But for that there are plenty of cold peanut butter milkshakes with chocolate milk, because white milk is just to normal for someone as abnormal as you

But I do understand there is a lot holding you back.
There is a man fighting a war that has no purpose being behind enemy lines
And if I have learned something in my many years. I support the brave troops. But I cannot support the wars for a materialistic freedom driven by oil consumption and corporate *******

I love you Because you are much like an American flag. Though we have been burned so many times. Even on fire we are a symbol of beautiful freedom that struck me in my childhood and that will carry through my soul for the rest of my days

If you love something set it free.
But you are already a beautiful fire flapping your opinion in the wind
Telling me when I'm being unreasonable or quite frankly a bit of a sarcastic *******

But I cant be upset at you
I've given you more reasons then one to not put your faith in me,
Anytime things get rough or I'm afraid of hurting you. I distance myself

But I will never forget the time you told me it hurts you more when I leave
Because I forced myself to choke back tears from the pain of tearing my arms away from you

My last words will not be as meaningful as Che Guevara
They will not be as ironic as tom Ketchum
They will not be as dark as Edgar Allen Poe
But they will mean something
Even though they have been said so many times
It will be simply this
I love you

I am writing to convince myself
I am on the second day of withdrawal symptoms and I am kicking myself for using such juvenile metaphors
I am sifting through scraps of newspapers, each one bearing the face of Antichrist burned into my retinas
I am feeling myself swell with rage
I am clenching fists and biting tongues
I am limited in my capacity to destroy
I am becoming romantic about forest fires and wildlife again
I am becoming misty eyed at the thought of where we came from
I am speaking in tongues
I am establishing a dialogue
I am addressing Mohammed as if we met at a high school party
I am watching a child of Christ light a cigarette at a gas pump
I am trying to think of an excuse to leave
I am breathing in exhaust fumes
I am standing on Nietzsche's shoulders as if he owed me a better view
I am putting off calling my grandmother back
I am godless in my arrogance
I am strung out on my ideology
I am overdosing on words
I am fighting hard
I am losing
That doesn't matter

I am in love with Allen Ginsberg's Sunflower Sutra
And I am in love with sunflowers
But those two facts aren't necessarily connected
If someone ever asks me when I think I will die my reply will be "exactly when I need to"
I once heard of a Buddhist philosophy where you envision everything you own broken, so when the world beats everything you own into the dirt you can smile because it is a fact you have already accepted
The things you own cannot be truly yours until you accept that they are not eternal
I find it important to smile at everyone I make eye contact with
Even if the smile I produce is the usual awkward mess
I don't carry on this practice with the idea that "smiles are contagious"
I do it because I have spent enough of my life with the look of distaste across my face to grow tired of it
This poem is nothing special
It will start no revolutions
It will be forgotten
It will not make you or me or anyone else holy
That's not what it's for
This poem is for a small smile and a chuckle on a night where everything is so bleak and dull
This poem is for me to remember the little things that make this life of mine worth all the trouble
You can feel free to use it too
I won't mind

I am a simple soul
When I die I want to be remembered fondly as a pretty decent poet
I don't want fanfare
But if I receive it I won't complain
Most of all I want to be remembered
My greatest fear is that everything I am and everything I have ever done will be reduced to a forgotten blip in the back of someone's mind
How I so much wish I had the power and strength to start fires I have no intention of putting out
My greatest philosophy is that a majority of people who do evil know **** well what they are doing, they just don't care
And enough of them can get away with it to inspire the next generation
Let me inspire a generation that won't allow evil to be done and go unpunished
Leniency towards evil is a joke that stopped being funny long before now
It never really was funny to start out with
Sometimes I catch myself thinking of all the rocks thrown at Peekskill and how they got away with it
I think of the four dead in Ohio
Even now I think of Sacco and Vanzetti and cry

I am a simple soul
I only wish that you remember those that came before us and sacrificed everything they had
And then I hope you think of me

How much of the world is nothing more than what we experience?
William S Burroughs believed that everything you experience in your life you were meant to, that it was made for you
He wasn't very religious but in a way I am
He argues that every opinion is both subjective and objective
Because there is always an object, and a subject experiencing it
I'm sure, however, he was a better judge of art than I am

There is nothing more bittersweet than hearing the poetry of someone who you know is about to die
But here I am at nearly 1 am
Listening to your song

How much of the world has passed me by because I'm afraid to get my hands ***** or get my heartbroken?
I talk about our past creating who we are and then I spend months pushing no envelopes and not even stepping near a single line
How disappointed Hunter Thompson must be

I know I write a lot about dead men I idolize
Yet all the women in my life whom I love are living and although many of them have gone their separate paths in life I look fondly on every moment spent and know that no words I possess can describe them.
We are living in a world completely possessed by the human mind
And I promise to be more than along for the ride

My love is like an old stubborn dog
It's tired and sick and sits around all day
But dogs are know for being loyal and sometimes that's all I can offer
The problem with this love is it still has many tricks to learn and I promise to be a good student
But you gotta be patient because this old dog gets wrapped up too much in its own self pity to know better half the time and if it gets too mopey it doesn't know what to do with itself
But even dogs in their eldest years need the love of any of those young scrappy puppies that go running around ******* on the carpet
My love does not **** on carpets
And neither do I

But there is something you must understand
If things go south and we split
If I leave, this old love isn't going to follow
For better or worse this love is yours
It belongs to you
I can't take it back, no matter how I try
You can do what you want with it
You can put it in the back room of your mind and forget the key
It will sit and it will stay exactly where you leave it
But nothing that happens and no mater how bad you treat it,
With you it will remain
So if you are going to come looking for love in my heart come prepared
And please be gentle

I, the capitalist war machine,
I, the magnificent static,
I, the bomb shelter peace,
I, the twenty four hour news cycle, the rise, the relapse, the detox, the retox, the crucifixion, the rebirth, the disgrace, the continuation of the theme repeating ad nausea towards annihilation,
I, the caged ******,
I, the black boy bleeding to death,
I, the rioters in the street,
I, the Wall Street gallows,
I, the old money militia,
I, the yuppie **** appropriating culture from the scraps of endless genocide,
I, the shock value mockeries of conventional moralities dumbed down to be digested,
I, the blood spilled on sacrificial altars on holy ground,
I, the celestial body ignored, passing back and forth endlessly through peripheral visions,
I, the madman howling at the moon for some ******* peace and quiet
I, the pill popping siren choking on adoration,
I, the mass hallucination shared and reshared till it loses all meaning,
I, the Pantheon collapsed,
The downfall broadcast,
The television unplugged and still playing,
I, the crushing realization,
The devastating grip of ruinous apathy,
The movement monetized,
The victory shallow,
I have built this tomb with my own hands,
I have changed the channel one too many times,
I have let this consume me
I am guilty
You are no better
Lie still
Let it consume you