Today at the train station

A stranger came up to me

And asked for directions.

I had the sudden urge to give him the wrong ones

Or take him behind the stairwell and

Gut him

And let his family watch as stomach and liver

Flobber out over slipping intestines, or simply

Grab him and throw him onto the train tracks

As the half five train approaches.

It would give people a reason to

Remove their sunglasses,

And possibly even their iPods,

Headphones dangling uncomfortably

As they fumble to save a pointless

(As well as futile) situation.

Maybe they would film it with their phones.

Maybe I'd be famous.

Instead I just sigh and give him the right directions,

Tell him the correct train to travel on,

And slowly smile as he waddles off

And doesn't believe me.

Her eyes said "yes" when they first met mine
Her smile said "I want to know more"
Her laugh said "this guy seems quite nice.
Who knows what the night has in store?"

My mouth said "Jesus, I'm being a bore"
My heart felt recurring themes
She walked away, and into the night
As my brain said "just in your dreams"

there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
& ready.

there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
seedling.

sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
yolk.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is ours.

is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
good dreams.

meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we begin.

we end.
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.

thus
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
we daydream.

Maybe not...
     He did bought me bouquet of roses,
     Or a box of expensive, assorted chocolates;
     I know I just need a piece of flower,
     He picked from the ground when we were together.

Maybe not...
     He did drove me on our way home,
     Every night when we thought every place was our throne;
     He was my king and I was his queen,
     In our world full of sweetness and beam.

Maybe not...
     He did so much effort for me,
     I knew it was and will always be him;
     Those sincere, dazzling eyes looking at me,
     With a promise that I will always daydream.

Maybe not...**
     We were always in aptness and peace,
     On days when we thought our liaison would split;
     Anger was spilling right out of our mouths,
     But still end up together among of all crowds.

What else there is in life
Other than our struggle to thrive
The rest are just bluffs
By those, who are not worthy enough

Unworthy enough
To face the world's ravaging
But worthy enough
To sit tight and keep dreaming

To keep on dreaming, and dreaming
By their sleep in the night
By their wake in the day
Comes silently screaming, and screaming

They want change, difference, recognition
Things they don't possess, nor see
Which they will achieve and be
With the might of their creation

The dreams they dream, are different
The dreams they dream, are irrelevant
They escapes from this darkness
Into a world they created, upon the rubbles of their sadness


Pain, misery, disappointment
Carved in, like a mine of silver
As they keep on sitting, sleeping, wondering
As they keep on dreaming, and dreaming

They have power over their world
They have control over their universe
They are the gods of their own
They are the ones we ignore

pummeled down by society
abandoned their own sanity    
But they will live on
Oh, yes, the daydreamers lives on