Like a ghost
they start to treat you.
Now you're useless
and, for society,
a form of vile life.

Everywhere what we see
is the past come back
the same mistakes being made
and the same lies being told.

Everything has suddenly changed
and nor children can be saved
Everybody has talked about justice,
but nobody sees the problem.
And each said word by them
is corrupted by this obsession.

Get rid of this holy book
and go live naturally.
Get rid of this fool thought
and say something inteligent
Please, get rid of this obsession
and stop being inconvenient.

I'm nostalgic about people,
because I lost a lot of them.
And since the first beliefs,
we were being controlled;
however, if they make you well,
I won't be who will prevent you
to believe freely in them.

The Institution speaks behind masks;
without apparent guilty or logic.
It's hard to breath corrupted air
and it's harder not to want to be alone.

I've got inside me
the idea of lucidity.
In my dreams
we're still pure.
In them we can choose
what had better suit us.

angry men who do not know I do not have a dollar or a cig to spare. Ugly irrefutable contagion-handed howlers. Angry mischievous heathens that pantomime on 6:00a.m. sidewalk, Wicker Park gallow stop-sign, choreographed gutter-punk drunk walk. And of all he wants and could ever want splits down his gooey membrane brain in the outline of a noun shaped fragment of a clause, "Couldja spare 80¢ for the train," but of course I don't spare on the ellipsis or the period. Semi-colons I won't! My rubber-bottomed leather boots lash out, heavy scraping sounds trail this mirrored shadow half an angle behind me.

*****!! Blonde framed sunglasses from American Apparel, a gift from my sister in a folded Ray-Ban case is scattered on last nights bedroom floor, my girlfriend has certainly not noticed, the gloom-coated morning sun spray has not noticed; but I have unzipped a fissure in the ocular lens. My heart skips a beat. Her bedroom might as well have swallowed them whole. Now the house can halt and have the shade, swaying in Spring air in 10:22a.m. shadows. The aviator himself Howard Hughes would strike me with his 488 aircraft. Edwin Starr in his invincible sinister calypso of War would turn me round. I was sturdy as a rock until I began to forget my forgottens. These unknown unknowns I knew I needed. I'm over a quarter-century on to noon going nowhere- and quite blindly.

But then, still she could stand upright and find me. Her neck crooked, looking onward through the East, the gristly roots of rhubarb buried in her searching fingernails. She's threaded worse, and of course if I could just tell her- this is the kind of nursing which requires acute temperament and flexibility. I am thus on a journey to strike nonsense and fear from the idiotic vocabulary that put this nonsense in my head. Split through me like a butter knife into my apotropaic. Perhaps tar water could cure my ails. If not, certainly a sliver of vanilla would set me straight. Or if could just rain rain rain all day, then I'd make do without, but she is at school. My pistons are racked and nervous, and I'm not going anywhere but my rucksack stoop. I am camped in midwestern Spring soup. Fog, rain, and shade. The nightmare of day.

Baucis and Philemon,
Elderly souls, never empty of
Love,
Opened their doors for two strangers,
Whom
Unbeknownst to them, originated from
Above.
Zues and Hermes, cloaked in the robes of the
Poor,
Were turned away from every household,
Until they rapped on Baucis and Philemon's
Door.
"Come in, come in, shed your cloaks, and warm your hands,
Baucis,
Go!
Use our last loaves, grab the roast, the ham!"

Never mind their
Poverty

Never mind their
Nearly empty
Pantry and Cupboards

Baucis and Philemon possessed the rarest trait,
One the God's most
Coveted.
And while the two strangers ate their foods, and consumed their
Wine,
Baucis noted their cups never lowered beneathe the
Brim Line.

"God's... Divine!"
Cried the two elderly
Lovers.
"Follow us up the hill, Baucis, Philemon,
Do not look back as you climb,
Only to each other."

The two followed the Gods, still cloaked in the garb of strangers,
Never looking back at their village
Below.
Until, reaching the top, and turning back, their eyes didn't fall back upon their
Home.

Zues had called forth a flood, sent to destroy the once ungrateful
Village,
But where Baucis and Philemons cottage once lay,
A beautiful temple had risen from the filthy
Sullage.

Their wish to take care of the temple was swiftly
Granted,
As was their second wish, one that was almost
Demanded.


"I must die, as soon as my love does, I can't ever be without her."


The rest of their lives were spent glorifying the Gods for their kindness and love,
And when the time came for them to take their last
Breath,
Squeezed hands and warm souls crossed the River Styx,
And their broken and withered bodies were
Left.

The wrinkles on their
Skin,
Were made brown, and beautiful
Again
As their flesh turned to bark, and their hair to
Leaves,
The two elderly lovers, became intertwining
Trees.

I want to be the stream of light in your life
That awakens laughter
And starves uncertainty.
That steals you from disaster
And gives you courage
To travel to the ends of the earth
For the sake of discovery.
I want to be the place
Where you hide your secrets
And pour out your defeats.
Where regret is swallowed up in ecstasy
Ever-present,
Translucent and pure.
Where deity does not run,
But holds us:
Holds us together.
Together we rise.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”
And while that may be compelling to some
I would rather wait several years worth of days
Than go to bed with just anyone

Because my convictions transcend my flesh
As my unknown beloved now treads
So I can bear prolonged loneliness
While I lie in my twin sized bed

*** is much deeper than skin grazing skin
It’s the beauty of souls intertwined
Mr. Herrick, your message, received by most men
Makes broken people, hollow and blind

At risk of dying with innocence in tact
I will reject your assertion that virgins must act