Yuch,
I tasted Chrissy's canned food today.
Though our tastes differ
her personality is sizable.

Her thinking faces
and her dog winks
make me think she is an old fuzzy lady.

Peoples and their pets.
Not a petty thing
yet treated as such.

This morning she
crafted an omelette
for me because I requested.

I would have liked it
but, as I said,
yuch.

Namaste
The divine in me
recognizes the
divine
in you

the part of me
that ashes her
handrolled cigarette
all down her top
on accident

who wears someone
else's black rimmed
plastic glasses

they're the wrong perscription
but there's no reason
the world shoudn't
appear a little blurry

hearts are farther away
than they may seem

behind the thin
layer of skin
and tissue

the fragile
birdcage frames
that protect them

If I were a zombie
I'd eat hearts instead
of brains

that way I'd know
what it was to taste love

I've had enough of people's
thoughts and opinions

I wanna taste the ache
for a change

and ingest the chambers
that held all your exs
and family
your friends

the divine in me
eats the divine in you

I went to Old Saint Rick today
And here's what he had to say:

Two poems a day to keep the sadness away
     - one to laugh at
     - one to keep my ailments thin

Two songs to sing to keep my voice loud and proud
     - one to practice vibrato
     - one to make my voice crack

Two good acts to keep my feet on the ground
     - one hello to a stranger
     - one to keep cash away from fingers

And he said bananas and vegetables wouldn't hurt either.

I'm glad I listened when I saw Saint Rick,
because his handwriting, uh, isn't that chic.

Tired eyes
Quiet lips
Seal the night
With bottled bliss

Shaking hands
Tightening throat
Around your heart
You'll build a moat

Shattered image
Dreams in your cup
You don't really care
If you ever wake up

Calm your mind
Envision those hills
Medicate your life
With more of those ****** pills

Never a good night
Don't think of sleeping well
Because you know with every morning
Comes another day of hell

Let it slip through your fingers
Like sand in a sieve
Stop buying into it
Don't ever believe

Let your heart harden
They've had it all wrong
'Cause in the end you know
You only breathe for so long

Perscription addiction
It will keep me sane

A twist of the bottle
A change in my name

Perscription addiction
They said it would help

Perscription addiction
I cry out for help

Time is a watery reflection of the universe
give it to me straight and drink with me
hold my hand and walk with me
into the steel-toed footsteps of society
my heart's supposed captor
the director of minds
the decider of dreams
and the definer of happiness
who lead your eyes to my soul's window
and allowed you to see so clearly
what I desire?
was it I myself
when i let slip
through trembling lips
all that was left of what I was
when the light threatened to expire
with words that shook the stones beneath our feet
with iron tones the empty street
with my word rings
and like the footsteps of ancient kings
can be heard for miles
echoed by the voices that dared to speak them again
my words find their rhythm
they don't need me
I'm part of a chain of speakers
as long as the hands of humanity
reach back
and longer still
as heavy as the rain that beats
growing stronger
i speak to that beat
the beat that breathes
the beat that lives
the beat that leaves
traces in our blood
like tracks on a road well-travelled
like a river after a flood
like poets of old I cling to the grass
and speculate on its origins
wishing for a moment to hear the voices
long silenced beneath its feathered stalks
I read immortal words
etched on paper as if on bone
they inspire words like the desert sun inspires thirst
no longer a passing interest
but a necessity
a sonic perscription
I watch those used phrases like clouds
forever morphing themselves into new shapes
born again to the imagination
the waters of diversity rise
bursting through the floodgates of human limitation
I put my stamp on an unsealed letter
and send it in desperation to the earth
I don't know you-
I don't know you.
but allow me to be for a moment
the page that catches your falling words
as you shed them to grow your soul anew
and i might know a piece of you
and take it as my own
I'll add my name to the list of people
who look at the night sky
and in uncertainty find themselves not alienated
but surrounded
and think their eyes too weak
or their souls too young
too see that which
in undue haste
to surpass the insurmountable
has gone to waste
and left us spinning
trying to shove meaning
into the hours during which we cannot see the sun.

You, yew and ewe.
New, knew and gnu.
Two, too and to.
Do, dew and doo.
Your, you’re, ewer and yore.
Sower, sewer and even sore.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.

For, four, and fore.
Poor, pour and pore.
Bear, bare and bayer.
There, their and they’re.
Sure, sewer, shore and shower.
Censor, censure, sensor, censer.

Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

Shoulda, coulda and woulda,
Wanna, hafta and hadda.
Pitchers painted of pitchers
Ree-lutters instead of realtors.
Pertecting you with protection.
Prescribing you a perscription.
A different kind of differnse,
For instance, gimme a frinstance.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.