Press Pause on Monday
By Steven L Herring

Deep and dark
Spark the candle
Light the fire
and grab a handle
Turn the crank crush the hold
of the weekday doldrum mold

Grab a boat
Grab a paddle
Pull the water
and drop the worry
on the saddle
Glad ol' lad showed me
Life's better off the ladder
Life's cloudy, but not
on a weekend
**** work!
See you on Tuesday my friend!

Recycler
By Steven L Herring

Picked it up
Took it down
Let it go
And it ripped right out of me
Every time
Leaving me empty inside
Just barely alive
And oh so numb
I don't even know
How many times
I probably almost died
Shoulda
Woulda
Could
But couldn't hide
To myself
And everyone else
I lied
And lied
And lied
So ******* numb inside!
And drowning myself in sorrow
Stuck in a rutted rage
And a lame *** digital cage
Project defeat self and isolate
Eyes dilated
Thoughts mutated
Into something unknown
Trudging on and on and on
Into infinite finality
And death was my only future reality
My King a bottle
Hurtling full throttle into a
friendless
Bottomless
And endless void

I was the long face
I was the dead end…
and I'm glad I got the ******* that train
Deuces!

You're not so great
Look at how you treat people
Look at how you treat yourself
Actually, that's all you ever do
What's so important about You?

You work all week and visit me
frequently
You take me in your hands and kiss me
oh so deeply
Quickly taking me into you
Steady handed at first,
but how soon you turn sloppy

A ghost in the room
You're all but dead
No one remembers you,
But you blame it on me
See?  
I didn't come to you
I never sought you out
Not on Fridays
Not on long weekends
Not on bad days,
or just because days.

I never even told you we were friends
Nope!
You know what they say about the word assume
The only thing I ever did
was let your monster out
Oh!  He was already there
It's in all of you,
but most do a pretty good job at caging it…
til I come around with the keys to the kingdom

I'm still not taking responsibility though
No way!
You knew what I was when you were just a boy
Your father showed you,
but you forgot
It's okay
Everybody does, and it's not his fault

Look at yourself!
You're the gatekeeper man!
I'm just the ******* with the key
Don't let me in

Look at yourself and solve the problem
Leave me on ice
Unopened
Untouched
Let somebody else play with my fire, boy!
Keep that monster within, ya hear?
Keep the fire in the pit

Look at yourself….

Release and Recover
by Steven L Herring

Winds whisper words and disappear
Rain and tears
are maternal in the face of a tempest
Hot is the anger in your eyes
Tickling the tips of your ears red

Pain is addictive
Holding on to the reins
like you were the one in control
I read your face
and it tells tales of fears and resentments

Consequences buried
A helping hand should be very temporary
One that lingers hides a shovel
and soil to hide the body
You dug the grave for yourself!

Stand and fight
Turn the tears into resolve
Turn the fears
to One whose Hand
was made to take them
and wash the blood from yours

Let loose control
You never had it anyway
You never will
We're all just a couple
of bumps on a timeline
To let go is Divine!

Blood and liquor
Two barrels of sweat and tar
Five or six guys gotta show up in one car

Machinery and dump trucks
Poor schmucks
Pushing brooms and shovels
Down a road
with a story untold

And all the cars pass ******
Tempers short
Uncaring
Unappreciative
Suits and ties and brows left glaring

There's nothing like fresh asphalt under the tire's wearing
But the men and women on the road crews get ***** looks
For a hard day's  work,
While you drive down the road staring...

I can go for days at a time,
sometimes even weeks,
feeling great or even just okay.  

But then,
outta nowhere and for no good reason at all,
I just want to pull the trigger.  
And it comes and it goes just like that
(that being snapping fingers).  

I wonder if that's what happened
with that girl who shot herself
in traffic in Chesapeake yesterday?  
Was it one of those moments of weakness,
a millionteenth traffic ticket
on top of an end of a relationship cake,
dipped in confusion about her
newly discovered ****** preference
that she'd covered up all of her life?  
Was she in a program?  

Sometimes...
even if it's just for a split second...
I know her.  

Sometimes...
I am her and she is me
and all either of us really need
is a hug,
a kiss on the top of the head or on a cheek,
and a breathy whisper in our ear from
someone
anyone
who would tell us
"It's gonna be okay, child...
Everything is gonna be alright...."

I've got a bad habit
of tripping over my own clunky feet
I'm not used to it
I used to be so precise
so mechanical and
under control

But the wires
have all been severed
and the servos can't
read
the feed
back
and while I can feel my
windows are cracked
I can't feel the rain
in my heart
even though
I know
that it's now beating again

The rain...wet on my face
as it follows the furrows
and frown lines
feels so good on new skin

Looking over the wreckage
at my feet
feeling the lump in my throat...
There's a lump in my throat!
What a joyous feeling...to feel

Cans once riveted to
my hands now cleanish
And the work is piling up,
but I can manage
The lack of fire in my head
is a big advantage

The doors to inviting rooms
swing wide open
One day, my clunky feet will fall in step
and I'll win the prize of an honest
man's death
The metallic clank will disappear
from my stride
and I will become whole again;
well deserved of my Father's pride.
One day….

Rockwell's Burden
By Steven L Herring

Skinned knees
Peel the scab
Over
and over
and over again
Nothing ever heals
Broadcast
for the world to see

Never forget
Never forgive
Peel the scab
Peel the scab
Hold the pain
Comfort in anger
Peel the scab
and flash the message

Still life on a magazine
Cover up the dirt
with a moldy shirt
It's a flag print
How American!
Sand in the ointment
Rub it in
flashing colors
Broken power button
Who gets up
to shut it down?

Peel the scab
Don't go fast
Make it last
Perpetual pain
like an evening post
on a Saturday
Paper cuts work best
when the media is fresh

Is anybody out there?
I'm alone and scared
and all the lights are out
I reached out and everything
I touched was cold
I turned around twice
and realized that I had become old
and all the terrible things
I'd done to my loves
had turned on me ten fold

I found out that all the words
I cursed out loud were for nothing
and
something inside me was dying
The only sound I could make now
was sighing,
but I mustered up a shout
which came out
more like a shriek
or a screech

All the leaves
on the trees were turning,
but not like in Fall
My chickens were coming to roost
as I reached, but to no hand at all

I had given and fought for nothing
and nothing is what I had reaped
The blood that lay
in the ground at my feet
was not even mine

I am the wraith with rusty blades
and I sweep
and stalk my prey
While they lay in their sleep

I lurk in cobwebbed corners dimly lit
for chance to pay pipers back
and fill my soul the heart of sadness
I so selfishly spent my time to split.

I'm the devil who won't let go
the bull dog
with a locked jaw...
The clown shoes with a crease and long journey's bow

I'm the fighter with cauliflower ear
Beat up a thousand times
*******,
I'm still hear!

I'm not going anywhere.
Even if I croak,
Kick the ******* bucket
and die like a joke.

All that **** I wrote down is for you
You can read it, eat it, and **** it out your backside.
I put it down for you to read anyway.
You don't have to like it, believe it, or swallow it as real.
I know you saw it once.
Thanks for the warm feels!

Scars Are Beauty Marks
By Steven L Herring

Hush and be still
It's a quiet fight
On a cloudy day
or in the dark of night

Dust from a moon boot
Cunningly clean
close up
to a motor boat
or bleeding bright red blood
from a fresh cut throat

Roses

Bunched on a bed
with sanded sheets
hand in hand
on a distant beach
I tasted the salt on her lips
contemplating the possibility
of my fingertips
discreetly brushing her hips

Ever so lightly
Slightly sliding through belt loops
Never let me go

I let her go
She told me to go
she
told
me
to
go

I cut the deepest
with the rustiest
of razors
She put the brakes on
with the freshest
of erasers
and when I think of her
she's faceless
But the saltiness is all gone
and I'm tasteless
but my scars aren't
baseless

Bandaged up
Boots on
Get back in the game
We got guys on bases
and you're up to bat son

There's a field so fertile
that the grass grows green
in the driest of days,
and if anyone saw it,
they would stare
With mouth agape
and eyes full of gaze.

But no one will see it,
even if it's out in plane sight.
No one thought
to stop
and stare
or care
how the green grass would
grow
so
TALL.
Not one person
No one at all.

Nonetheless, I'd cut it every week
And
in return,
it would thank me
in such
subtle ways.
I'd see, and
smile
satisfactory
in my labor.
Happy in my secret service.

No one stopped and stared
No one even cared
But I did
Yes…
I did.

I was driving yesterday, and while in traffic
I saw a car with the word security
in big bold black letters
stretched out across the smallish white bumper.

The driver of that car went left,
and I switched lanes to travel right.
I didn't feel secure behind him.
I felt trapped in his presence.

The further I went away from security,
the closer I felt to freedom.
People get the concepts of freedom
and security mixed up in their minds

all the time.  While there is security in freedom,
it's the security of being free
and providing for yourself,
not depending on someone else to make you feel safe.

Security is the result of freedom that you fight for,
not the servitude you surrender to.
Do you want to surrender to security,
or do you want to fight for freedom?

Here lies a poet
who drowned himself in his own *****
Here lies an artist
who painted pictures with syllables
and couldn't keep
the ones he held dearest close to him
for fear of what MIGHT happen

Here lies a passionate priest
of words that fell on closed eyes
and ears already filled with noise
Here lies the black heart of a wordsmith
who died a penniless pauper
because he didn't do things
the way proper

Here lies the bleeding soul
of a man who could
hear lies
for miles and miles
and turn truth onto them
even if it broke his own back

Here I lie all broken hearted
I came to win big
but turned more into a wind bag
Who knows?
Maybe in my next life,
I'll take up sailing

Simmer
By Steven L Herring

What's better?
A flash in a pan
or a slow sun rising?
The sweat
and the threat
of a stranger's embrace
and a release
that leads
to emptiness
and a mountain built on lies
or the warmth of
summer's sun
complementing cold nights?

A cure comes crashing
A cascade of cleansing
water
Washing away the guilt
with reckless love
A purity perfectly imperfect

The smell of you

The taste of you

I just let go
and drift into
the thrill of you

The flash in the pan
is searingly painful
but the slow burn
of your rising sun
chases my demons
back into the darkness
they cling to

I'm a legend
of hearsay and circumstance
and you're an angel…
You light my days
and keep the soft glow
of a tank light
to brighten my path
in the dark of night.

If this is what dreams are made of,
then let's stay asleep…
at least until
the sun rises again in the east...

Welcome to Facebook, friends!
Table or booth?
If you'd like, you can belly up to the bar
and drink til your drunk
There's nobody here to cut you off
when you've had too much

Today's specials include
****** politics
out and out lies
misquoted so called experts
one sided arguments
ever-growing divisiveness
and unnecessarily spilled guts
with cat videos for dessert

Shall I start you off with
today's appetizer special?
We have fried butthurtedness
with a special guilt dip.
think about it, and I'll be back

We're ready to order sir.
We'll have the all you can eat buffet.
Keep the plates coming thanks!

Social Recliner
By Steven L Herring

Powder puff power trip
Words are weapons
and my two cents
won't cost you a dime

It's time
Let's climb to the top
of the digital podium
and break this soapbox
over the heads of anyone
who would listen
to the nickelodeon

A quiet man lives a quiet life
and I love him for it too
Too many traps yammering
and stuttering Stanley's clamoring
Keep walking and you'll
get **** on your shoe!

Trust me
I work for the government
I'm just here to help you
Grab a pen and pad
and gather round
the broken brick establishment

We are the embodiment
of eye stabbed with stick
in Novembers
and bitter winter cold
in December's ice slick

Sick and saddened summer's loss
Incarcerated in a Bradburian
*******
in an endless
loop like who licked
the back of this toad with my tongue, because I am TRIP PING!

Every day's dawn drowns dreams
and nothing hardly ends up
being what it seems
But in the end none if it really matters
Right, but we're still stuck wiping
blood and mud on our jeans

So yeah.
Say all the things!
I'm just gonna head out
because I spent the last
couple of years trying to untangle
but in the end I had to
cut all my strings

Missing
Maybe lost
Situation unclear
It's a mystery now, but I miss you
and I wish you were hear.

I don't know where you went off to,
but I'm okay
and I wish the same for you
Maybe we can hang out
again someday…

I see the world the same way
I always did,
except I don't expect to get my liver pickled
just to get some laughs and eat a burger
or ride a bike and catch some fresh air.
Sobriety feels a little bit like I've been murdered….

But maybe it's just growing up though.
Whatever it is,
I ******* hate it;
look like a stranger in my
own
home
town

It's not all bad.
I mean I still got my best friend sleeping next to me
and I still got
my dogs
my kids
my health
and a job to keep me busy,
so….

I guess this lonely guy ain't so lonely
I guess I'm just bored
I guess I'm just missing invitations.
Maybe there just haven't been any.
Maybe everybody's scared
that I won't react well to company
without being *******,
blacked out drunk,
throwing chunks of memory to the wind
and my life to the nine hells.

Well, at least I've got what I've got.
Some people have way less you know?
Guess I'll paint a picture smiling
Over reality’s frown.
Guess I'm just having an up day that's a little down.

Like luggage launched hastily,
haphazardly tossed to the ground
Back down
Feet in the air
Stripped of all my glorious hair

There's a fire feeding forks facing each other
upright like they were having a dual,
while two homies are having another
The third was an awkward brother
holding a sharp shaft, pointy at both ends

He poked and prodded at me
looking for a tender spot to push in
The cold metal burned me inside
as I was pierced, I cried
and thought I had died

All three picked me up like a sack
and threw me on the heated rack,
As the fire licked my skin
and burned my flesh,
they took turns turning me
Round and round I went
My goose was cooked
and I felt nothing left inside me at all

I wish I had stayed away from those three
I would never say that mom
didn't try to warn me.

I'd tell you about me
but then you would stare
like I grew a second head

Then I’d feel ashamed
and draw back inside
or tear out your eyes!

You wouldn't see
You couldn't see
that it was still me

You'd club me with your book
give me ***** looks
and hate me for what I am!

I'd suffer tears in pain
deep inside my brain
and every day it would rain!

So I'll stay inside myself
living on this shelf
Leaving my feet
in this water
chumming for sharks!

You're all just probably sharks

Teeth

Meat grinders of people
and my feet…

My feet are
made of concrete
and I'll kick in your teeth
when they grit on me…

Dark all the time
Let a little light in
from the sunshine
but I wear shades
like all the time
so the light is always dim
anyway

When it's cold outside
it's cold in here too
and you can scream as loud
as you want
but I still won't hear you
not over the knives in the drum
not over the teeth grinding
and the branches winding
around them
like little children
clinging to their mother's dress hem

The throttle is all the way up
Five for a ride
and the tank is on full
There's no rest here
No call for a break to hear
but if the machine breaks…
A girl can pray, dear

But nobody calls
and nobody writes
and these branches
just hang
lower
and
lower
the ground reaching up
to grip with all his might
to bury me
marry me
and hold my bones tight
like sand when water runs
back into the sea
and I'm all alone again tonight

That's okay
I'll lie here in spite
despite myself
I'll fight myself
and make a feeble attempt
to turn all my wrongs to…
Yeah…
right….

We're a nation of claws and one liners
Armchair quarterbacks,
pundits,
and unnecessary viciousness

We don't communicate
We spit venom with
thick black forked tongues
coiled in corners of the internet
like little electronic vipers

We're over opinionated
reactionary haters
and unhappy children
who didn't get what they wanted
from mom at the store

We lash out every chance we get
and cut each other up
on a daily like it was nothing
hiding behind a six inch
box full of plastic, glass, and metal parts

We're our own little versions of
our own personal prison's guards
and everyone around us
is an inmate whipping boy
What a wonderful world, eh?

I don't really walk anymore.
Not anymore I don't anyway.
I don't run or jump or play.
I guess you could say I drag my feet,
but they never really touch the ground,
so that's not true either.

I float, you know?
I kinda hover around
just trying to stay above it all...
just trying to rise above all the lies
just nodding my head here,
and shaking a hand there....
I hear, but I don't listen.
It's not that I don't want to,
it's just that I don't believe most of the words
that escape lying, filthy mouths.
You see, I've been down this road before.
See those boot prints right there?
Yeah, those!  They're mine man.
Yeah that's right.  
You're walking down a dirt road
that I cleared out a long time ago.
Matter of fact, I can still smell the smoke
they tried to blow up my *** long ago
like it was just yesterday man.
Oh.  Nah, man!  Don't clam up on me now!
****'s just getting interesting!
It's much more than a little entertaining
watching you squirm as you tell your silly story.

But don't worry, partner.
I ain't even mad, werd?
You must understand that I was
born for this **** right here.
No, man!
Not this job.
Not this skill set.
Not this family or city.
No, none of that, my friend.
No sir, I was born for *******.
To sift through ******* to be precise.
It doesn't really matter what you,
or he,
or she,
or anybody
throws at me.
I'm gonna take it,
break it,
shake it down,
and turn that **** into gold, man.

I promise you one thing though.
I won't share it.
I'll just keep on walking by with mine.
Dig?
True Story!
Ha!  But yeah.  Good luck with whatever it is that you're doing.
Hope it works out.
It won't, but I hope it does anyway.
Smoke-stained face from when it all blew up.
I'll just keep floating...just keep hovering right here...
untouched and alive....

Tension
By Steven L Herring

Quiet moments…
when it's you and your thought
and the struggle in your head
with the battle of wills
between you and God
that you've always fought

Who is right?
Are you wrong for who you are
and what you are?
Were men who wrote a book
thousands of years ago really
inspired by divinity
or were they scared
of their own humanity?

Can I really be me?
Can I stand tall and confident
without ridicule,
accusations
gossip
snickers
whispers
and judgements?

Sometimes the door is closed
but I heard
there's an open window somewhere
and I'm hoping it's for me
because I can't help
but have faith that God is bigger
than ****** preference and gender bias
from old dead hands,
tattered paper,
and fearful prophets.

God's grace is all I've got.
Faith that he's bigger than we can imagine
keeps me breathing
and loving
hoping…
always hoping...

Bury the dead
in a long winter's sleep,
but scour the hills
for the lost little sheep

The ones you let go of
from when we were kids
The ones that God gave you
as life's greatest gifts

Alive in your heart
they certainly must be
Buried between all the “I's”
and the “me's”
If you look hard enough
you surely will see
that innocence He gave you
was not lost in rough seas

Through whispers of time
and hands reaching out
With eyes full of tears,
there arose such a shout
that even those lost
could never ignore
Not even in slumber
or work
or at war

We've wandered a desert
alone and afraid
Yet somehow we've stumbled
back into God's grace
and arms that are loving
and out to embrace
all who would enter,
so for that we give thanks

The Conqueror
By Steven L Herring

There's a darkness
in the city lights
Heaviness sprays
like a firefight
Products
marketed and sold
boldly undercover of night
cast a shadow under lamp

Watch them scurry
Back into the shadows!
Back into the dark!
Fools will suffer fools
Makers make marks
As sure as the sun will rise,
the Son will set wrong to right,
and we will get our due.

A spider spinning down
On his face a frown
but when he landed on my arm,
through war's teeth sickly said:
I was cold, you gave me warmth
I groan with hunger
I will eat you
Crush the spider
Under palm and wear
his guts to dinner!

There is nothing new under this sun.
Nothing but cracks in the sidewalk's bend.
No kind, uplifting words from a close friend
that can stop life's promised bitter end.

There's an impassable gap in
your stairway to heaven's gates
you designed yourself,
so the buck stops in your own hands.

Shiny happy people holding chainsaws, handguns,
and sticks on fire.
All the better to flame up your funeral pyre.
All the jeers
mixed with all of the blood
and sweat
and tears
placed perfectly silent into your coffin and covered with dirt.

Yet one question never mattered in the end did it?
Who's the ******* president now?
Who cares?

There's a galaxy in Orion's belt
A cats paw
caught in a catchpaw
with a glass eye that sees all

Come one come all
Everybody knows
see saws are no fun alone
and a dog's day is destitute without his bone

Nowadays, nobody can
solve a problem
without a little help
from a smartphone

But back in my day,
phones were much dumber
and if you wanted to get a hold of somebody,
You had to hold onto a number
and keep it locked up safe
inside your head away from
all the other useless clutter

But all this technology
We're so proud of
has landed us in the same spot in the stars

We're all still standing here smiling at
at our tiny little screens
ignoring all of the rest of the world
with all of their silent screams
while the galaxy still sits;
safely tucked away in Orion's belt,
and we walk on by;
Comfortably oblivious
to just how small we really are...

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.

The Getaway
By
Steven L Herring

Some silhouette of a sad song
Quick as it came
just as quickly it was gone
The monster in the sky 
breathed its fires
put some glass in that hole
Peel tires

Chasing that blue sky 
til it gets away to space
The stars collide with the mountains,
only here to make their case
for quiet
for peace be still, child!
Feel that mountain air
or the hot sand on your toes
Taste the salty overspray
Smell the sun-screened skin
basking in the moment
Awaken the sleeper within

Put em down and feel the wind 
dancing in your hair
Tussled and tangled
Smile on your face without a care
Ever wanna pack up the car 
and go somewhere?
Anywhere really
Not to run
but just to get away from here
and go there

I've done it again!
But for the last time!
Frittered and fretted my soul
to its end
I've homed in and fired upon most of my friends
Awakened with bitterness, hands full of frayed ends

But I'll put it back up on its side
I'll fire the light back into my mind
Replacing the missing stars from my skies
Lowering the rudder back into rough seas
Resetting this course to the discovery of me!

Right all the wrongs on my side of the street
Bite on the bit to bare all of life's lashes
Wipe off the tears
Crush all the fears
Turn it around  before it all crashes!
because this is a fight against time
This is a fight against worry and mine
eyes are the vessels of all that can be
and I'll focus on the future that
I WANT TO SEE!

The air is crisp
and on the cusp of contrast
with our breath.
Leaves tell tales of sleep and dreams
and a temporary sort of death

Your hair and your eyes
and the way your hands
rest upon your thighs
make the corners of my mouth rise

You're quiet, calm collectedness
soothes me,
and when I can't see you
or hear your voice,
I panic and drop things

Basket case…
I know
Afraid to let these
feelings go

But it's down to the wire...
and I've wasted
so much precious time
quenching a fire
that could've made the sun look cold.
Should've never let love grow old

But if it's too late,
I'll sleep here
in this bed of my mistakes,
I'm getting old
and I'm running quickly out of slack to let
I'll happily hold on
to what you let me keep
and I'll take what I can get….

Rings
These little things
bind you
Change you
Take you out of town
and turn your entire life
Up
               side
down

It starts with car rides
to dinners with strangers
Miniature screens in the headrests
and fights over broken headsets
ENOUGH
Screams and fights over what's best

Nobody listens
and the dew
on the stalemate glistens
like the sweat on a can
and you'll do anything
to put ten down
and lighten the load in your hand

Heartbeats are mechanical
and feelings are enveloped
in aluminum now
Not a salute
Not one bow
Nothing but a glass tipped to tv
Nothing but a closed box
with someone trapped inside
screaming
“Listen to me!
Why didn't you just listen to me?!”

Silly!
You didn't listen to her
from the start
It was all set in stone from the word go
but you led out with your heart
when all you had to do
was walk away right then
Instead of automating
for the next five to ten

But no worries friend
I saw your shell fall away
miles ago
and
I really do feel that you'll
win in the end
And even though I still see a spark in you,
it's a flame from elsewhere
stoked by a Master's hand who knew
better than to put
you out of the race too soon...

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...

Run to the brick wall and crash
through an ocean of sheet glass
I'm a juggernaut
Whether I have a jug or not
Whether my brain is tied in knots
Weather reigning in my thoughts
or raining out like **** in a parking lot

All the wars I fought
inside my head
Should've left me for dead
Should've put me in a box for bread
or pine
Chalk outline
Powerful powdery fingertips
All the drugs so I could rest better
medicine for higher
Idiot for hire
This is your brain,
but mine looks better when it's on fire
Kinda like a used tire
Stuck in the mire

Oh…
how I love thee so
and all I've got to show for it
is this mystery ride
from hell
to home
dead phone
keep calling
and calling
and crawling
and clawing
my way out of this pine box
only to find myself in another one
til I put down this city
til I stay right here
I'll keep listening til I can finally hear
and all of the werds become clear
to steer me back home again

To the stars…
Take me back home again, Usil

This rock
Spinning in its orbit around God
With oceans full of souls
And souls full of
wishes,
wants,
and whispers
so shallow like a baby's breath.

I've toiled and fought
and loved
and lusted
and lived seething secretly
in a seemingly impenetrable fog
and once the sun came out
the secrets were all gone but not forgotten

They were carved into stone
and torn into the flesh of me
And while I sat
stuttering
and muttering
in a drunken mess,
the sun came out once more upon this rock
and showed the perfect skin
was nothing more than old leather
cracked and craggy and full of holes
So many holes that my rib fell out and tumbled away.

There I sat upon this rock
with God and sun and sorrow
There I lay dying with a wet face
and the belief that there really was no tomorrow,
yet a spark was still in me somehow
Or perhaps it was just a soothing thought
that gave me a sense of peace even if just for now
that even though my fate seemed bought
there were still more lessons I would be taught
and more things for me to do while dying.

No comfy couch
No chains to bind me
Just a road and two legs
With no one to come and find me

Got a staff
and a good pair of boots
Couple grey hairs in a bristled beard
Rudderless fits best when your chopped off at the roots

The road in front of me
Looks a lot like the one behind
Empty, baron wasteland of paint and asphalt
faces ahead unseen similar to the others distorted with time

No place to rest
My weary and aching bones
No one left to believe in here nor there
Never really was anyway so far from home

People are beasts
Weighed down by the burdens they bare
But I drag a wagon to carry them lightly
And pretend that I don't care

But my hands tire
From the heavy load behind me
So I let it go and carry on further and further still
For I am the traveler, and I have no teathers to keep me here

**** the life
right out of me
It tears 
the life
right out
of me


Happy
I'm happy
I swear 
I'm just
so ******* happy


Tear it down
We'll build anew
but all my parts
are broke in two


You never listen 
anyway
But I don't have
a lot to say
You never listen 
anyway


Your mouth,
it lives on
interrupt!
Your tongue
and lips
they flap away


But I don't 
have a lot to say
and I know
your answers 
anyway
so i don't have
a thing 
to say!


Not to you!
Turn your back
it's okay
I'm most at home
when you walk away


And I don't have 
a lot to say
No, I don't have 
a lot to say
All I have 
is hate to spray
so I don't have 
a lot to say
Trust me
It's better that way….

Budding flower
of happy hour
struck in a dorm room daze
just to wake with
somebody's junk in your face

Drug out dead animal
trailing across plasma
with more hits
than a pizza commercial
and all I got is Michael Jackson
eating popcorn
as we all take in
full frontal media ****

We got he said
We got she said
Hot and fresh right to your seats!
Roe v. Wade
delectably dancing in our tongue and cheeks

Is that all that matters?
Meanwhile the mud splatters
and reputations shatter
And decency scatters

Guy gets his ego elected
and there's a rise in his pants
like one day I'm a do it again
and the bar is lowered for men
and the victim is the villain
Again
and again
and again!

I think I felt a raindrop
as Jesus wept
and a scowl across God's face swept.

It's okay to be a blackout drunk in college
with your future on lock.
I wonder how many children learned this on the living room God box?

Three dogs and another one on her way
Two kids and a house and in-laws
Two brothers and their kids too

I'm the bomb
I'm the grenade
I'm the explosion
leaving nothing but death and destruction behind me

I sit in my sack cloth and ashes
with shards of a heart
still smoldering
Pathetic pity party over stayed its welcome.

Grief is a funny thing,
but nothing to laugh at really
Just something to trudge through
with muddied boots

Doing my best
not to drown anyone else
in my wake
I was the destroyer this time
Next time, someone else
can operate the detonator,
Because I'm done with it.
Next adventure!

I love original poetry, but sometimes I feel like poets ruin their work by doing weird **** with their form and layout.  There are a lot of poets out there who are clever enough to pull it off very well, but there are even more that just can't, and they sacrifice some of the best words I've ever read to a gimmick.  It's sad really.  Good poetry is art, but if you want to paint or draw, then do that.  Don't **** perfectly placed palabras with weird line breaks, spacing, and alignments that make absolutely no ******* sense and ruin the message.  It's all about the message, man.  You dig?!

Sharp words shouldn't be spoken
Nobody's perfect
When everything comes out broken
Choking on every syllable
Soaking up every last "I'm sorry"
like a sponge that's full already
Steady, aim, fire another round across his bow
Give her another volley of misunderstanding champ,
because your fowling out over fences topped with razor wire

Sometimes a simple smile seems better
Than a string of wrong words that leave your mouth bitter
Sometimes still tongues touch more hearts
and wagging ones turn burnt ears into quitters
Sometimes stepping out's better

Why stick around and frown?
Why let it all bring you down?
Needle and thread your squack box
Turn keys on locks
And give it up, will ya?!
Try it again tomorrow
There'd be a whole lot less sorrow....

Bring me my wretched
Bring me my people
and I will shower them in love
and hold them in my heart beat

I will lift them up by their arms
to their feet
and clean the dirt
from their cheek
with my own tears

For I am my Father's son
and I am here to love
the unlovable
and free the oppressed

I am here to crush
the doomsayer so take heart
and hear if you've ears to do so!
Let go
of those chains
and walk like men do

Come up from your knees
and stand tall
You no longer have to fall
I've got your back
and I'm here for you after all!

Wet palms
The sweat
beaded up on clavicles
and dripped out from
under arms

Nothing quite like the feel of skin
the way the soft supple tissue falls away
underneath running crimson nails
hunting moans and wails
making you scream out from within

Whether weather is cold or balmy
those lips
those lightly colored fingertips
started a war inside me
and I can't think of one single place
to run and hide me

Your breath upon my neck binds me to you
and I breath you in like Summer's
warmest mountain breeze
Then I smile and put you away
I'll be back to you someday
Til then, I'll have to revel in just the thought of you.

You walk around with
your finger on the trigger
Dominant eye half way
between front sight and scope
The conversations are loaded
like magazines
with one in the chamber

What's it like to live on edge like that?
What's it like to live one sentence from
a preloaded resentment
and a heart-shaped
bullet hole in your sleeve?
What's it like to
stand in a crowd so alone?

But alas…
I reproach you rhetorically
because I know already,
my sweet grey cloud!
You're a fog
just waiting for the Son to melt you
just waiting for someone to help you
all you have to do
is rest your flailing hands
and take the ones that reach for you

You don't have to rock so tough
because I got you
I get you
I'll turn my cheek a thousand times
but I can only take so many slaps

Take it away
The descriptors
The labels
Oriented sexually moot
Identity is an argument
best left in the closet
behind old winter coats
and underneath the carpet

Outliners of new think
A shapely figure shall
remain without words
And all compliments from now on
will remain unheard

We are a new breed
A silent society saying nothing
without a signature of compliance
because anything less
would be an act of defiance

No men
No women
Only people live here
Animals at best
Simians sizing up semantics
through troubled waters wading
all the while waiting
for the fan to spread
the feces
to the species

I can't help but wonder
about a face-palmed deity
with his son at his shoulder
God through gritted grill
all but spitting the words
“Soon, my son!  This will all be over!”
And Jesus laughed

I walked
with a wounded
woman down
a hallway
with a
nurse at
the end.
He was not
my friend.
He was
not her
friend either.
He was
just another
***** ***
mouth breather.

I don't need a lot
Just a small corner of you
Just a small room with a view
To all the stupid things you say and do

I've been judged my whole life
and I no longer care for what you think
about what I think
Your words are rotten and you're starting to stink

All that stupid **** that you spray
Tongue wagging around like a worm
Your pompous piety has you twisted up with your jaws set on stern
You're not even real, you're just another Ferguson
First name ****.

Keep your eyes in your head
Keep your mouth on pause
Keep your scorn towards the beliefs of others written in a book
Unpublished
Unseen
Never heard.

But for real though
******* man
You're not a real boy,
But you're a real *****
Mouth moving a minute mile
****!

At the end of the day,
nobody ever gave a **** about what you had to say
Ever!
So just give me a piece of you
Please!
I'm begging!
I'll tear you all apart,
Set you on fire,
And watch you turn crispy,
Critter!

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...

In a country where the shelling never stops
Where the winter's winner won the war of words
When the anger blows better than the strongest winds
We will work; our fingers cut right to the bone regardless

You're a fighter fighting fists you cannot dodge
Like running recklessly through forests with eyes closed
Its all downhill from here
Slippery sloap; soaked with blood
Hurdling towards the wood cutters wedge at the bottom

See the snakes on either side
Keeping you in check on your descent
Gore fills the bottom's torment on either side
You hear the weeping willows cast their final tortured cries

But now you're waking up
Your bed is soaked salty sweaty from nights cruelty
Your fighting once again
Reality's grasp settling slowly in your mind

You raise to shower to do it all again
This is the hour to join the work of men
To climb that hill and push your boulder to the top
To go back home and fall asleep and dream the end