it's astonishing
how swiftly
this disease moves.

it's gotten to be
this familiar pattern,
an ugly ebb and floe-
agonizing stretches
of nothing, just numb silence
and tense conversations,
with brief reprieves
of manic glittering highs.
it builds and builds
until it bursts, and not
in any extraordinary way.
it's usually while
engaged in some menial task
like brushing my teeth
or eating a turkey sandwich,
and suddenly it's suffocating me
and my hands are shaking
and all of my words are gone.
this is the phase
of delicious self-loathing
and bone deep sadness,
where it almost feels good
just to feel something real-

until i'm spinning out,
heaving out months of nothing
in back-breaking sobs
in the middle of the week
on my lunch break
and they're all asking
what's wrong
with their faces
******* up into
genuine concern
and, ****,
they've almost
found me out.

i regroup,
smile like i mean it
and say i'm getting help;
let emptiness consume
as i dive into the grey.

Peering through crimson curtains,
Into the life of someone new.
Peeling away their layers,
Until all becomes black, just like you.

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength ***** against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

We bend the rules and use them like we're using tools
sitting on our conscience comfortably like we sit on stools
we've ignored the stairs because we all wish for elevators disappointed many friends and turned them
to aggrieved foes because there's pride in having haters
nothing matters, nothing ever did as long as we got the paper
life is a gamble we claim but we've mastered all the tosses
living a life of camouflage taking cover cause we're someone's debtor we've given up the schools of thought, now profits can be losses
we're lost in the wilderness, enslaved by temptations and darkness
because we've been convinced that as slaves we're the bosses
we're reducing our lifespan with the tattoos
and skin mutilations of reckless living we call uniqueness
we're free in chains of our addictions,like caterpillars do cocoons
we're giving with strings attached and foolishly term that philanthropy
penning discombobulations and terming that philosophy
politics is about the money statesmanship is as scarce as honey
the foolish took on roles of imparting wisdom into future generations
we can't remember our roots, history's on tattered
pages of time and rhyme in unclear narrations
We weld our own chains yet shackled we start freedom fighting
We give in what we can get, forgive and not forget
Courage has walked out on our race, perhaps she was never here
so much so that we'll scream "go to Hell" to the dare devils
instead of playing the game of life up to their level
our lives are ships we steer into stormy waters we can not sail
then whimper (at every slap of monster waves) out of fear
we've ignored the caution, dance in the rain,not storms with the hail
hence we're stuck in a darkness we cannot counter
living on the fast lane, supersonic places without room to saunter
memories are left in the pictures for we remember only nothing
present when nature died,in pain she screamed for our help in vain,
for while she bled her life away blindly we were watching
now that her monsters have come to warm the treacherous Earth
with nightmares of heat, typhoons,hurricanes we realise her worth
we are architects of our own doom, of the towers of gloom
congesting the skyline with scrappers of bad choices
and denying the rays of righteousness a path to our visage
we've altered the world into dark sweltering global room
we're preachers and philosophers who need to listen to our own message
we're the ***** that needs shaving, the righteous who need saving
a wide path which needs paving,we're the change we're craving
for it's utter madness and strange to say the world needs change
when we, we are the world, we are the ***** in politics
players of the game,the authors of the lyrics
and with good interred to our bones can be the saints to the relics
we're a lost generation and the campus we need to be found
we're the liberty we seek for we are the shackles to which we're bound
reality is twitter for most times we control the trends
we can unbend the bended rules and change how this story ends

Searching through my mind
for anything I fear to say.
I have spent thirty-five years
of my life tracking down
my fears,
cornering the slippery ones
and facing the fearsome feral ones.
The few secrets I keep
are no longer for my sake,
but are kept to spare others.
Even those,
I have aired to a few,
close and close-mouthed friends
who hold my trust
as sacred as I hold theirs.
To keep what
hard-earned sanity I have,
I need to keep facing myself,
and stare the evil within me
square in the eyes.

The thing I fear most today
is my arrogance...
my arrogance that there is nothing left to fear.

The ambivalent affect of a cold cup of tea 
On a snowy day, late March 
When everything rings of life and death and urgency 
Like our elliptical elections  
With their Messiah complexes  
Mundane 
Like Thursday desks and tables 
Green tea tainted with undertones of unwashed coffee 
Lingering in the pores of mugs 
The politics of shame 
And all the things I wish I told you 
(I wish I had told someone) 
But cyclical realities are ultimate realities 
And I've chosen mine already 
Woven with interchanging self-destruction 
And re-composition 
Re-construction 
Resurrecti­on. 
Pain. 
Dull, dualistic  
And dripping from my forehead 
Did I mention Thursday? 
Did I mention scars? 
Shall we move to new and different places 
And leave ourselves behind?
Burdens like sticky, heaving blackberries 
Molten, melting, gooey, globbed together and leaking  
Through the cracks in my straw basket 
Heavy. 
Dropping berries walking paths to places 
Falling like blood-bombs 
One by one on the white-brick 
Walking silence into sunsets  
And never looking back at the 
Rotting plasma carnage  
That marks the roads I travelled 
What's left are leaves and stalks and thorns 
A basket dyed dark red and sticky 
Me, poised and paralyzed  
Gasping, gagging, groping in my liberation 
Homesick 
For places that never existed 
    That never will 
Crying stories that never happened 
Fearing creatures never born 
Blisters and bruises, 
Beckoned to oceans 
In the soft-tide I saw my future 
In the undertow, my past 
Riding the waves with crystal foam  
And diaspora trash 
All my chunky sins intermingled with salt and seaweed.
Questions burn me
Bind and blind me
Battered and bleeding 
Left helpless on the floor 
And they yell  
Learn faster!
Learn better, learn well!
If pain leads to the deepest learning 
Then I will know so very much 
Muffled and maimed I'll sink in it 
Drowning,
Docile in the knowing of things.
Facts and figures
Factors, functions, fractions
And formulas
Here are the things I know
Splintered, smiling, basking in their blinding light
They’re my diamonds, my precious disasters.
They are my welcomed death.

Eyes open and perceive
Taking stock of the surroundings
A blood-burned path of blackberries and scar tissue
My knobby-spine leaning against a tree trunk
Sea breeze, and my aura
Free-floating but defeated
Affected ambivalently by these words
By worlds
Spirits and bodies and
Torn flesh and minds
Still always cold questions
Still always early Thursdays
Walking
Working
Willing to draw more breath
Willing to keep walking
To keep working
To keep breathing
And bleeding.

Rational
What's rational?
I'm a poeta-
I'm far from the
Rational.