Drop the rocks
Full-grown pop in the jaw
Bleeding gold
Won't save your soul
Moving again and again and again and again
Until the pacific
Closes behind your back
because criticism smacks
kids out of whack
Morphemes-phonemes again
and again
Given the knowledge
of a recycling bin of
letters

Use them again and again
Won't save your soul
Atom smash logic replaying
and playing before your eyes
Some days it's too much
coal to mine
Mouth covered when you
step in time
Won't make your life
I'm a goner if I can't
stand on the rocks
and if the laundry doesn't burn
If the grim reaper doesn't speak
nonsense words from one
state of consciousness
to the other

Drop the bomb
Call the mob
Stock our shelves
Grow the letters
Feed all those starving
tongues

Let me tell you a story
Once the grim reaper
dressed like an old woman
and bought denture cream
just to know how it feels to
grow old
A human is an animal
Some think an olive is a fruit
A dog is a wolf on the inside
Begging to learn the trick
Speak

Next in line most wait
for straight prose
pinch their noses misguided
Want blood to bleed red
Don't want ideas to smash
their bread
Won't save their minds
from a punch in the gut
Mine closing in their faces
and their Atlantic drowns
shattered glass
encasing words upon words
owned by streams of

Consciousness running
all around
Those nonsense words
running aground
can't swim though all
the world's frowns.

Don't leave me loving you
Here alone
***** my finger, at least,
and lull me to sleep
before you go.

I'm supposed to be in school
yet we bring ourselves here
Friend, we bring ourselves
here to write
They call me irresponsible
yet I felt sick this
morning, throat and mind red
And so I grabbed you out
of there, in need of a
little help to make this day
worthwhile
Let's make this day
worthwhile
I pulled you out of the
burning house up there
to write

Of the piano man
I've never heard, and
am gracelessly missing out
on him. Cannot thank
him for inspiring me
because I refuse to listen. He's
playing in concert only blocks
away, or perhaps on YouTube, but
who needs him? I ask myself
this on the surface--
deep down I know that
I do.
Walking all over the town in
other directions, still
can't get away from the
violin accompaniment, the truthful
tones. I've
no hope, I won't hear him
I've no hope for relation, I
won't listen. Run
everywhere, find myself there

He says, "Welcome home my
lost dreamer."

Teen sits in his room
reflecting on the walls and tables
Sometimes this place is a cafe
and is a little bit unstable
Crosses his legs,
forgets the dread,
self-hood brings him back
from the troubles inside his head
Take his hand, lead him out the door,
stoke his fire a little bit more

Adolescence,
Adolescence be free
Sweet adolescent boy, come back to me

Rests his head
upon the floor,
even the most grotesque things
won't bug him anymore
Young man doesn't watch them dance,
he knows he must grow his own steps before
they slip through his fingertips

Adolescence,
Adolescence be free
Sweet adolescent boy, come back to me

Young man, be your own man
You're halfway there, so don't disappear
again
The cafe is crowded,
yet you're not alone, not stuck in one place
like a drone
You move across the room, bright and tall,
and never again going to fall
Like you did the day before
your soul returned to just being a kid

Adolescence...

you are adolescent.