I want to write without writing.
Try without trying.
Speak without speaking.
Fly without flying.

I want to smoke without smoking.
Cry without crying.
Love without loving.
Die without dying.

I want to live without living.
Lie without lying.
Hope without hoping.
Sigh without sighing.

I want to escape without escaping.
Be without being.
Leave without leaving.
See with out seeing.

Energy is all around you, and with in you. Some people need to put a name on this energy. These names have often brought about negative energy and been topic of heated debate. That is the power of people.

Well you wanna go out dancing.
I don't wanna leave my pad.
I won't loosen up this necktie 'til my head falls in my lap.
               Then you'd be lapping up my words
               that are
                     curdled,
                     soured,
                     absurd,
purchased with inflated currency
and sold off for a herd
               of sappy sentiments
          for worn-out, bought-up malcontents.
Yeah, you're believing anything these days...

And I'm far too good a liar
               selling real estate
          on toxic, poisoned ground.
Filling in all of these forms
and putting dumpster fires out.
               Standardized.
               Attracting flies...

Follow darkened circles down...

To my parlor. Find me cutting up and dealing
               out my cards
and doubling down on all the reasons
I've been feeding you.
               Repeating 'til it's my turn
               to start eating plates of crow.

Now you won't take any chances.
I'm a golem made of ash.
I won't fire up the big band. You won't come sit on my lap.
               I've been dishing out these words
               that are
                    used up
                    barren,
                    burned
far too long. The chafing dishes cooled
and all our vittles turned.
               Buffet line sentiments
          for naïve, hungry malcontents
starving to believe in anything these days.

Well you wanna go out dancing...

I'm not gonna leave my pad...

could you please
preheat the oven
to 450°F?

thanks!
now
can you please
shove me in there
and close the door tightly?

I'll probably scream
and flail
but,
ignore that

I need a fire to be lit
under my ***
since I clearly
cannot light one
by myself

Lack is not
What denied me luck
Rather luck is what I lack!

Yet I craft poems a lot
To change  my lot
God willing
One day to hit
Poetry contests' jackpot!

If it is not a popular dream, they will dispose of it.
About the only thing this country has ever proven,
Is that on their best days they are about this:
A straight couple, with children, sitting in a
"Brady" home with their girls play with dolls,
Boys play with toy soldiers and football,
This is it, everyone!
The death of the Progressive Era, may we all become drones,
In the best known words of the Borg in Star Trek, Next Generation:

"RESISTANCE IS FUTILE..."

And we'll all be assimilated.

My drug, my escape
my gravity,
You are what I lean on
when wind beckons
shrilling of the whole world
amassing within
such small confines.
My air would still
upon silent panics
without you
my constant dosage.

My head is the mount,
my ears the hungry mouths
voracious their appetites, finicky
their tastes.
A hungry duet
yields no isolation.
Fuel the diet
or suffer endless
distraction.

My solitude
won't arise
from elusive
silence, only
multiples of white
noises shall supplant
the unknown absence.
Prepare these notes
as artists do
strokes on a painting,
each their own masterpiece for
the uninhibited mind,
deliver me
a melody, and abstain
the malady.

Grace will unfurl
to and from
when the blank that is
limbo besieges.
Remove all, allow
me to nurture my own
joys of rainfall,
sorrows of sunlight
so I may be spared
relentless storms, those
sandy blizzards,
for their pain
is mere
chaos.

I am a very sad and tired little boy, with little to look forward to. Not  a birthday, not an adventure, not a curiosity.
Everyday I realize what I lack, or I don't.
I'm only taking what is given to me, and trying not to look back.

Floating out in infinite space
Far above the sadistic human race
Drifting in the cosmic flow
No knowing which way I'll go
But I'll be free
As the galaxies

Way past Neptune
Out in space I'll be immune
From sadness and corruption
Way out there, there will be no interruption
From my happy thoughts
From all I forgot

I'll keep on sailing through all the galaxies
I'll do as I please
I'll dive into the stars
Resurface by Mars
Backstroke through the cosmos
I will swim to the utmost

Will I come back
To feeling like I lack
I doubt it
Not without a fit
A fight
Till this world fits right
Till then
You find me on a heavenly wind
I might never come back again
Unless it's on a whim