We all sat around some fire once
We all laughed and drank too much
At least one of us sang a song
At least one of us did.

Somebody was wise
Somebody else was blunt
There was a sad face amongst us
Somebody was laughing hysterically.

Someone was vigilant and kept us whole
Another one kept us informed,
While most of us laughed and carried on
And yet...time went on....

We never got a chance to all hang out together
That always brought a tear to my eyes.
But I was able to spend some time with all of you,
And it was always a bright spot in my life.

We were, all of us, together once
In a bed, a truck, a stand, or some water somewhere.
Maybe a grade school classroom
or in a kitchen elsewhere.

I'm tearfully happy to know each one of you personally
My life is complete
A fisherman at twilight
A full net of irreplaceable fish
Who I happily cast back into the sea
For the very next lucky old me.

The weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
There's nowhere to go
Nowhere to run
You're the dead they're bringing out

It's an apocalyptic utopia
Built with warnings of war
Glossed over with lies and contempt
Shrugging shoulders
Rolling eyes
Broken promises
And starving people

It all disappears with the flash
Skin falls to the ground
Sizzling
Burning
Disintegrating

We're all grease spots and shadows
Permanently painted on a page of crumbling concrete
No feet to run away
The warning call drowned out by selfishness
Frowned on by paper tigers

Then we're the glass
We're the ******* parking lot
We're the ****** ones
I paint a ***** picture, kids

I know you're rolling your eyes
And that's okay
They'll be dust soon too
The Walking Dead will be everyone else

Man!  What a way to ruin the day, eh?
What a way to sour the mood!
But I'm not laughing.
No!

I'm sad
Your so stuck in trying to stick out
You're so ****** with your history
You can't help but trip over your own feet.

You're shadows on a wall
Just as shallow
As you are fallow

I just hope the next group doesn't **** it all away
Like you
Like all the others do

I watch it time and time again
I have little hope in God's children.
Enjoy the taste of metal in your mouths again...

You're curious
Nosey
Beak cut off
Face caught in spite

I'm honest
Captive of sincerity
Only time you cared
Was when I plucked your nerve

You thought it was a feeble  finger
Talon
Knifes edge
Now you're spinning
Now you're reeling against me
Like a child against an intruder

Spinning your web
Eight legged freak
I'm a gun without a safety
Smooth criminal
at the trigger
Who's tired of your lies
It's
not funny anymore

There's no begging
There's no pleading
You're a liar
You're the liar
You are the liar
YOU!

**** your approach
You're a great way to end it all
Hide your intentions
Hide your dripping rhetoric
Behind "were not so different"

I am the epitome of difficult
And you're an atheist
I'm lost, but you're unnecessarily nihilistic.

Huh
And they call me a devil
Just because my teeth are sharper...

Maybe I should just stay at home today.
Maybe I should just throw my phone away.
I'll hide in an over grown bush
Away from all the people who push

Keep your grubby paws off me
Your sideways glances and sneers make it hard to be
Happy and so easy to be hateful
And lost; unfaithful.

I have no faith in anyone or anything but failure.
Everything we touch is another broken thing to fix.
As the days go by, my thoughts become much darker,
Because all I see is a world filled with ******* and ******!

As I sit here in my morning thoughts,
All the damages surveyed
All the ***** holding tightly in their pots
There's only one recurring theme conveyed

We'll have our cake...and we'll eat it too
We'll see this through
**** the cost!
Selfish and ******...
Anything but true....

Sitting here in my living room
It's early
Kids slumbering in their beds
Wife's at work and dogs are at rest

I've got my coffee and my phone
The television is on, but muted
Other than the din of the freeway
And the gurgling from the coffee ***,
It would be completely quiet,
Except for my thoughts

Yes!
They're a freight train
Steaming
Streaming
Barreling down some unseen track in my mind

Sometimes they come to a crashing holt
When the house settles or a dog yawns
But then they start right back up
Without so much as a warning

They switch tracks and rewind
Second guess
And remind me of something I forgot
They're loud and obnoxious
They're unruly and cacophonous

They slow down
They speed up
Shifting
Swirling
Swiftly and softly moving through me
And then spilling out of me
Out of my mouth into the air
Or out of my fingers onto a screen

Sometimes I catch them before anyone sees
Sometimes I let them hang out for all to see
Sometimes I wish I could take them back
Cast them back into the dark pit they came from, but I rarely do

It's quiet in my living room...but it's never quite silent.

Beauty painted on
A silky, silver-blue sky
With jungles
And forests
And oceans
And plains

Every creature and every living thing
Perfect in its own way
With humanity at the helm
Earth's greatest flaw
Her greatest disease
Her infectious melancholia.

No worries...
Our mother knows how to fix herself
The clothed, wretched beast
Wollowing in its own self righteousness
Dreaming that it was in charge
Ruling itself as if it were King of the universe

Who lied to them?
Who is responsible for making them feel as if they were invincible?
Perhaps it was self imposed
Perhaps they dreamt it or read it in some book they authored themselves
Perhaps their ever expanding technology
Coerced them into appointing themselves as overlords

Beautiful world
Ugly humanity
A pity
Really
The possibilities are seemingly endless
Yet they bend themselves on destruction
And selfishness

Well...
It's almost over anyway
They will be reminded
Of their own fragility soon enough
Or is there hope still?
I think there is
But only through catastrophe
Such is their way....

Poetry is the devil on your shoulder
who shot the angel by your left foot
and crushed its body underneath a boulder

Poetry is a cold blade against hot skin
it screams for BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD
when all you want to do is surrender

Poetry isn't love
it's violence
it's the tourniquet,
the ******,
the flash,
the sleep,
and the cold silence

Poetry is the lust you can't escape from
when you couldn't keep your hands off
each other;
when you woke up alone in an empty bed
and a cold spot on the pillow right beside you

Poetry isn't cute or sweet or pretty
She's tattooed with black hair and a whip
and leaves you heart broken, cold, and begging for
one
more
sip

What is poetry?
Trust me, you don't want to know her
She'll leave you standing in a median begging for change
while your friends stare at you sideways
and talk about you behind closed doors.

I wish that ***** would leave me
I wish she'd never left me
Baby!  Please don't ever leave me again...