Beating on steering wheels
& knees waiting for
the rock apocalypse

I sit up late contemplating
the apocalypse in your eyes.

That feeling that everything
is extraordinary. Looking
up into the ceiling and
seeing straight through
and up at the stars.

You could **** a man
     with eyebrows like that.
Lips so pink
I would drink
     my fill
if I could.
The curve of your face
     more precious
          than the curvature
                of the earth.
The hair that
      falls down your back
could be woven to cloth
      just as you
are woven throughout
            my dreams.
Tonight, when I
      dream of you
(as I know I will),
I only hope
          you will look
     at least half
              as beautiful
as you do right now.

The monks
hunks of spiritual form
take to the ocean
on a cloudy winter morn
I see them from here
& it fills me with fear
for unearthly music
has begun to take form.

Oh mad hatted,
push cart rolling,
wanderer
wither goest thou?

Are you looking
for cans?
coins?
money to keep
on living?
money to keep on rolling?

I hope you
find your way
or at least
a place to
stay.

You're not alone
mad ***.

Julia
I Should Have Known Better

I Want to Tell You
You've Really Got a Hold On Me

If I Needed Someone
Baby It's You

Come Together
Because
Oh! Darling
All You Need Is Love

i sing a song of my soul so that all can see
to some degree
my heart of hearts and my world that to me is free
my hands sweat
my body shivers
can it be from being alive... living in absolute ecstasy?

i need sustenance, i need poetry
my body needs food and ***
i need things like these
that give life and reason to wake up tomorrow
wake up tomorrow so i can spend time loving and writing
i need love, i need to be important
my mind needs to be recognized
my hope to be known, to be told i'm a writer
so that i can be sure of it,
be sure that i am what i say to myself that i am

how do I see myself?
self esteem?
is there a self to be esteemed?
am i made up of thought? feelings? perceptions?
what am i? what are you?
is this what was sought by philosophers?
lovers?
sisters? brothers?
i hope to find myself somewhere
under that rock
in the toe of my sock
behind the tree
i just hope the me i find is free

i hope that in the future i'm needed
i hope that i will be recognized for revolutionizing
for socializing for rectifying
i hope that i'm loved for my soul and for my poetry (which is my soul)
my greatest hope is for at least a little inner peace
for a quieting of the mind and tranquility of spirit
i have hope for the world because i see love everywhere
for finding love in myself it must be in everyone
for my soul is yours as yours is mine in this cosmic milkshake
shake O shake you cool cool cat
let the whole world hear your song
leave more than the impression in the couch
from where you sat

i prowl the twisting alleyways of imagination in search of heaven
i've heard that it's down here among the trees and *****
cigarette **** sidewalks
have you found it?
if you had would you have told me?
i love you don't you love me?
i've found heaven in you but you've found it
where i'd never think to look
not in a book or the bodhi tree we shook
but in the love of another
where i'd never think to look

you there! alone! aren't we all lonely wanderers!
i see you there
i see the love where you'd never think to check
come here, i beckon to you
find the love in me so ****** red
i lie alone in bed
thinking of you, dear
are things ever better left unsaid?

come with me! on the road and back again
travel with me! never let me be!
of all loves it's you i chose
come quickly now
for i'll be leaving soon
i must only wait till the road opens
and the flowers finally bloom
for love is quick
and there is so much world to see

peace! love! take me to where i can find these things
for they are all i think about in the infinite universe of my mind
like the infinite love in my heart
or the finite love of your lips

love is lonely
hate is holy
find me god! save me!
what is this life that lifts me up only to drown me
in thoughts of loss and endings
in words that spew from my mind i drown myself

poetry! music!
things so important to me
i find poetry in everything
and music straight from my dreams
spine tingling, legs shaking, head rocking,
a world orchestrated by eternity

the cigarette between my fingers burns at the tip!
how it burns burns burns
like my world burns
my life that's gone up in smoke!
will i end up rich and famous?
or happy and broke?

a lifetime of poetry ahead
words to be written
love to be made
loves to be lost
and paths to be crossed
i must get out of bed

the future scares me and
the money in the world is quite a sum
it's just too bad i want to be a ***

years from now when my song is sung
when the words have crumbled to dust
and my mind has begun to rust
will you love me then?
will i have proven my worth?
will i be happy with my life, my work?

can i rest in peace and return to the earth?

I met someone who sees,
whose vision stretches
deep into time and space
and knows all
of what is and what will be.

He said unto me, look!
See that there is pain.
See that there is war
and violence.
See that there are horrors
beyond count
and know that this is what was,
what is,
and what will always be.

He paused, looked afar, and smiled.

He said unto me again, look!
See that there is love.
See that there is peace
and friendship.
See that there are beauties
beyond count
and know that this is what was,
what is,
and what will always be.

This time he looked to me
and said,

“Put this in your songs.”

Do not laugh at my depression,
my suicidal thoughts
    past or present.
Nor my time spent in hospitals
    or otherwise spent alone.
I am who I am,
not ruled by my past.

I am whole

Where are your trenches?
Your broken places?
Where do you look
in times of sorrow?
From where do you draw
your words?
And how do you plan to
use them?

Find me where I am and not in your mind
for surely I can't be found there.
I know your mind as maybe I used
    to frequent your thoughts
        sometime.
Know you're always on my mind
and that from time to time
I think I love you right.

Ginsberg, Kerouac, Whitman
understood the importance of poetry,
words from a good universe that make the world
admit a secret: that the best way to live
is to grab hold of life
and not let go,
to love
and not be ashamed,
to write from the universal soul
     for what hides in the universe is verse.

Everyone thinks
    that not everything
can be fantastic
     but the secret is
that Everything is

     Kerouac wrote,
'no time for poetry
but exactly what is”
     the truth is that everything is poetry:
tying your shoes to go to school
a cool breeze on a too sunny day
a lover's warm thigh
the stars,
that remind me that we all have
something in common

     Is the earth not poetry?
The wind on your cheek
     not the meaning of existence?
The music you hear
     not the voice of god?
This love, at the very least,
     not a reason to wake up tomorrow?

This poem
       so small
hurriedly scribbled
   in a pocket notebook
can it mean anything
        in this infinite universe?

Loneliness bellows.
Sadness screams
      to be heard
and how could one not hear it
as it yells from the balcony
beckoning for
         love
that will never come.
How harsh it's voice
that scrapes the mind
and kills the hopes
found inside.

If I die tomorrow
at least I have this moment:
    cold water
as if from a mountain stream
(really from a soda fountain) and
yellow light illuminating Ginsberg
who sits beside me
and says "live".

I don't want to be a tortured writer,
I just want to write.
If it kills me
     that's the art.

No time for poetry
     but exactly what is?
Is the earth not poetry?
The wind on yr cheek
      not the meaning of existence?
The music you hear not the voice of god?
This love, at the very least, not
     a reason to wake up tomorrow?

I wish I could be with you when yr lonely
                Instead of far away
        and lonely myself

I sit awake with thoughts of lost sleep
the words do not come
but the thoughts like       mist
      feelings inexpressible

I can't sleep

No midnight epiphanies

Make love all day long
Make such love that none feel unloved
Make love with your speech
Make love with your thoughts
      and actions and with
      all effort and urgency
Make love with your body
and mind bent on one and on all

Is this the river at the end of the world?
Thoughts like these that
overwhelm my brain,
Apocalyptic poetry,
the words that end all time
that stretch            beyond all there is
inattempts at being everlasting.
     Truly all maps end
and that in the end words are
swallowed and destroyed
          No.

I want to write in full honesty
    of myself
and of the whole world
saying ****
       (because it's real)
and screaming to the heavens
in hopes of finding it down here,
heaven

I know a girl like that
    with eyes that know,
         a mouth like an arrow,
    ears to sing to,
             and a nose to crinkle
       I know a girl like that
She's so heavy

******* life
that makes me scream in
pain and
ecstasy
Thoughts billowing
from the smokestack of my mind
polluting the air and
in turn
the universe

I have hope
in-between thoughts of
death

I don't like wasting time
with passing talk
or idle chatter
I like to get to the roots of things that matter
like ***,
or what happens when we die, if
you love me
and if so does it transcend
time and space,
is it truly beyond my universe of understanding?

I am alone forever
     and everyone can read my poems
           and hate them

Something in the way she sits
     alone
Like a cool breeze on a hot cheek,
my world that burns,
                            burns,
                               burns.

I know I'm in love
And I laugh

Why I write
I write with a feeling of urgency
Knowing that this love will end
Like this world must end
And that this love,
so small in this all too big world,
does not matter
To her
To God
Only to me
Alone in a black sea

That feeling
That feeling of infinite possibilities
Like a blank page
Like a straight away of open road
Stretching out ahead of your
Car grill
Like the black night stretches
Overhead
     inviting
        exciting
            inciting
The infinite possibilities of the
Night as in the day
The day comes
It offers just as much promise as the night

The neck of a guitar, frets
Fields of possible sound
Waiting for able fingers
To bring forth notes of
Immense unexplainable power
Not just heard but felt
in the tips of fingers and
up and down spines

Beginnings
The feeling of beginnings
The want of infinite beginnings
For what is the most exciting part of
anything if not the start
Because only then do you have
The widest selection
Only then are the
Possibilities endless
Only at the beginning is a page blank
And anything can be written

Dreams so good you feel you've
     lost something
When you wake
     the love you had
That brief love that only exists
     in a dream
That love, everything happens
     as it should
Not as in life where
     the heart breaks
and leaves you empty

I must find the roots
Of the life everlasting
Is it not writing?

Purple mountain tall
Red sky overhead glowing
Find reasons to live

All things come and go
In the end we are all dust
But still I love you