Where in the world do we go from here
Other then forward, which tracks will I retrace
Do you realize – you have the most beautiful face
My lips are on fire – for the girl who eats her ice cubes
Put me out or at least cool me down
And just like a vegan still eats food
I still hear the irreplaceable sounds
Of your voice, your moan, your compliments, your phone
And if you are home all alone
And alone I sit lonely – this will not be the only
Poem I write before I win you back
If I stop composing after you rest under my arm once again
I’ll read life, and as we interpret two different stories
We will find common ground in you and me
If we are both naked, we will both have that too
And when I am inside you – you can be me
I will become your problems and solutions
Its true – you will see what I see
Feel what I feel
Hear what I hear
Do what you love, do what feels right
Do what we do.

I want a smoke. Bad.
But its raining. Hard.
Yet I’ve already had one today
And I had it in the rain

Tomorrow, I will be a better man
By a man undefined by time
Who refuses to acknowledge it
Understands its inseparable from space
And if we are thinking bigger picture?
All is interconnected, living in an illusion of separation?
I refuse to be indifferent on the topic of things not being different
I guess I am tomorrow.

The helpless homosapien
creature of habit, and routine
A simple life of complex things
provide highs lows and lives completely  fluctuating
Continuity that continually
Empties its energy in search
Of equilibrium

My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it

Resolves all problems with questions
Curiosity is questionable
Contemplate  curiosity and questions some other time
Before you revolve and resolve
And your mind reminds you
Of something….
You

completely forgot


what it means


to have a ramblin’ mind

My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it

Don’t say I’m too sweet baby
I’m only being kind
Don’t wear headphones baby
I’m standing right behind
You at the bus stop
Don’t catch me staring baby
at your
Behind

Behind you
At the bus stop
Sweet baby.

What a beautiful place to
Meet the love of my life
I really can’t believe it
Never-ever been this surprised
But with gentle little eyes
You might
Just see
Lies.

And I never want to be the one that lies to you.

Who is the military?
What is government?
Who bought what country?
Who are his other clients?
North America in chains
Slaves being silent


I hope I don’t worry I hope I don’t stir
I hope these things for you all
In this giant blur
Spreading my message, sure
Never really has been clear
I don’t drink Budweiser
And have friends that are queer

For who can I stand for and believe in is not as human or alive as me?

Elect me for president and lets take a chance
When was your last destiny moonlit dance
I will remove all propaganda from being shoved down your throat
Solar paneled roads, a moneyless system, and an environment that gets to vote
I’ll be fair and honest and I’ll rhyme all my speeches
I Might even just leave you…

Speechless.

I have always been one to take shortcuts -
This might/must explain my love/hate relationship
With run on sentences.

A Clear and concise statement is best
And concise.
                And clear
                                  And also a statement.

The mighty must love.

My writing seems to have reoccurring things,
One of which is not the truth

That’s a true statement.

What am I hiding
In my (my mothers) hide-a-bed?
Insecurity?
Defeat?
Dreams?

I guess writing is an
Honest
Place for me to
Start.

“Walk the walk, talk the talk”
state another cliché and commemorate
the poem with the
reoccurring theme
of acknowledging
one,
That you are
writing a poem
and as per usual
two,
it’s about me.

Shimmering narcissism.
Golden aura of a fading golden era
Classified as a mental disease -
If writing can help keep my distance from
Facebook
And taking selfies….

Then I will risk being honest.

Living by the lake sure is great
And a full fridge is a ******* privilege
And moms aren’t half bad
Especially when they have
Never given up on their
Sputtering child.

Sputtering narcissism.
At the convoluted writing convention
I’m over in the self loathing self help section.

I want to tell one last lie
Before I start
Shooting straight , kick the habit and
Become an honesty “truther”

Its important what people think of my writing, and what they think of me.


Practicing self love is the key to surviving
Living @ home w/ your mom
Because I have always been one to take
Short cuts,
And drive long windy roads
Instead of sleeping,
Always reading/speaking –
working out words in my head
That I can soon write down  –forcing
More honesty out to the surface before its
Too late
To tell
What ends first – this poem or
This sentence.



Living @ home w/ my mom
Will play a vital role
in becoming a great writer.

Drunk

Without regret
I pound on her
The keyboard
The typewriter
The idea
The lady
The liquor
The order
In which I
Pronounce them,
In order
Of completion
In reverse

I got it wrong
For the last time
I got it wrong
**** isn’t bliss
But ignorance is
Fueled by jesus
& volunteer service
I only hope that people will read
Long enough
and allow  
Enough time
To write something
Better then this

Early poems and early love
Life is a story that none of us can think of
When it goes wrong
We never figured out turn right
We just keep driving straight

A blur of words slurred!
Of times I’ve wasted of times I’ve swore
Times of drunkenly swerved
That I’ve been good but I have been better
Breathalyzer trend setter
I’m going to go ride my bike
And look at the sky

don’t drink and drive.
Trust me, it makes mothers go mad

Unrefined gem
how I feel
Rereading old work
That has no
Feel

Let it all blur together
Some days you work
Some days you don’t
And maybe, just maybe
Go with the flow
Boats float for a reason?
Whatever you are trying
To show off or
Find
Or understand

It just might be a case of
replaying the same song
Don’t do that
Press shuffle,
Or even better
download a new idea

Rethink possibilities
Rebirth, simplicity and sacredness,
Drop the labels
And ramble on
For a
Man without a fave band
Is flavorless
And has no feel.

You will learn to enjoy them
Without even hearing them
Earphones or stereos.

And long road trips are for everyone
Including old ladies and kids
And elderly ladies and little
Brothers
And his friends
And Girlfriends
And lovers
And dogs

To the one who first  said life is waiting
That guy!
That guy wasn’t a ******* fool
God even gave even the fools tools
But that guy!
That guy was speaking the truth
Without even knowing he believed in
God.

Odds are not the first man quoted or first said
But odds on favorite first person to put the thought in your head

A definition will always demote, derive and diminish
The truth.

Whatever glorious future you have earned
You deserve it

And you remember it clearly you will not be the first or last
To succeed
And to write
Or to write
Or to live
Or to ponder

Or to wander.