A sea of ivy engulfs -- the house has grown comfortable in its plot
The specters are horrific even in victory
The door hangs heavy in hand
Idyllic -- I am a twisted tornado of hope  
We’ll scratch the pyrite off the laughter when we're  done

A conveyor belt --
Plate fork knife
Knife fork plate -- a hedonism of silverware
The shift and rise of the fear
Confident and full of splendor
Dancing on the edge of a dime between Cool hearted emptiness and the heated vitriol of truth
The dime continues its dance

Plate fork knife
Knife fork plate
We were here once long ago
A grandiose thought and a barren action
I was you once, once until the river flooded
I would be you again and that's a promise you told me
This maze outside our house is filled with friction and of our own design
Bolts and warped wood are the entry to our kingdom

Always entering the field of battle with stone in a field of steel
A warrior of words meant to leap the abyss between your joyous abuse and her scathing affection
Crumpled letters stapled to shields
Their words --
The hope they have is false -- the promises destined to go unfulfilled
The iron rises from the field and fills my mouth
It soaks and stains my smile
None of the enemy combatants can be trusted
There's blood on the table
There's blood on the table in all its grandest forms  




We're all in this separate reality of our own design
No one exists in here it's just us and that is the truly terrible part of it all
No one else wants to watch because we don't want them to

This is for us -- our amusement our self-hate our deep dive down into the mundane complacency of it all
This is ours -- our pain and sorrow and joy and false hope our faith -- our sit there smiling and laughing and talking about how your day was and who you are and how you have been. Remember that time when ... no, I don't remember and I never want to again because all of the laughs have been cheapened by your artful lies and the threat of your anger and the hulking shadow of your violence.

Accustomed to staring straight ahead, the color of your eyes the curves of your face I have forgotten them all. Your voice is mine and without it, I don't have one of my own.

So here is my great proclamation to a table of ghosts with shattered silverware and rotten delights.
I've tried and been true. Failure has come far more often than success and yet I celebrate you all. The wrong you have done has made me stronger. The right you have been having made me kinder. The hate in my heart will die and fade. And a man willing full of this world's wonder will remain.
And although....

Our imaginations have long since fled this land and all we are left with is our cold ****** selves and the fogged glass of our memories. We are one. We have shown up here in this world -- ready and willing to do and be something.  

Make no mistake we have all failed -- and maybe there lies the true miracle -- the true beauty behind all of this wretchedness that hurts so **** bad.

But then again, I excuse when there is no excuse to be had. I proclaim the guilty innocent and those that are innocent enough to stay by my side risk the cloud of my wrath.

And so maybe, maybe just this once I will fade off -- I have retired my horse and there are no sunsets left for me. In the best possible way, I hope to become the ether -- the nothingness that the universe has yet to put a name to.

come one, come all.
gather 'round, gather 'round the table.
you'll find your invitations—
corporations' coupons—packed
between stories of Indigenous
People, shot by militarized cops in riot gear.
Water Protectors defending the river
while a black snake rears to poison the well.
tear gas, rubber bullets, and concussion grenades
replace ragged blankets draped in smallpox.
a tradition rooted in genocide
upheld in frigid North Dakota.
no need to ponder
the lasting legacy
of a leader who campaigned
on "hope" and "change." a hypocrite
continuing a tradition of colonial
aggression, lying by omission.
just another facet
of his presidential profession.
so drown the news of a fascist's
election in gravy and eggnog,
viscous substances to gorge
yourselves on. Nazis vandalizing
black churches with swastikas
must've escaped your notice.
vacuous, preaching
that Jesus is the reason
for the season, but i think
your savior would flip
your Thanksgiving Table over.
flimsy pretenses of gratitude
discarded hours later, chasing deals
before your stomach could even settle.
your brand new 4K TV
cost you over $4K, but couldn't give you
a clearer picture. you continue to disregard
the smoke signs and headlines,
pursuing the material.
consume!

this is the third thanksgiving without you.
this is the third thanksgiving without your laugh.
this is the third thanksgiving without the question "are your still playing?"
this is the third thanksgiving without that faint tobacco smell following you.

this is the fourth thanksgiving without you.
this is the fourth thanksgiving without you yelling at my uncle for his hair.
this is the fourth thanksgiving without you're criticisms about the soup being salty.
this is the forth thanksgiving without your two cents about politics.

i hate having two less seats at the table.

I’m thankful for the times
That I have what I need
And everyone brave enough
To fight against greed.

Thankful for the roof above my head,
And the socks on my feet
And all the great food I get to make and eat.

Grateful for the love I’m able to give
And even more, the love that I get
For all of the places and faces
I’ll never forget.

Memories of rejoice,
And those that we mourn.
I’m thankful for everything I’ve got
And so much more…

Falling leaves
Rising memories
A feast for the eyes
We serve one another
Love and understanding
It is the day to give thanks
For the many blessings of life
But to those who can only weep
We pray for your deliverance
And the harvest of your faith
Even though we always fall short
Because perfection is not purpose
But instead it is in how we forgive
And I too have failed my friend
As impossible as walking on water
To shower love upon my neighbor
I confess how I am unable to do so
Still I find myself sheltered in comfort
And though you have done no wrong
You have felt the sword of a mortal fate
But by the depths of your heart and soul
Your place among the blessed is reserved
For in every smile you pass along the way
There is a sadness not unlike yourself
They have not found the meaning of pain
Only the way to soothe a broken heart
In earthly treasures and a poison glass
And so from my own sadness I will ask of you
Is it the will of your smile to forgive a sinner?
For what is in you knows the weakness in me
And what is in me wants to love what is in you

Golden cockleshells grace the trees,
Encrusted with the sweet smell of day,
Crackling sounds amongst the bees,
With warnings you'll soon be away,

Cranberries and gravy guiding you home,
To give thanks with your family near,
Here i'll wait for your words alone,
Praying for that day you'll appear,

Biding my time till the festivities end,
Grave anticipation of your return,
Out of sorts and somewhat mad,
For your words i've began to yearn,

This thanksgiving the feast is absent,
As I lurk to feed on the words you grace,
Perhaps some distance may do us some good,
For i'm hungover on your taste,

But I can't deny this addiction,
Transported by the sound of your voice,
My soul captivated without restriction,
A sense of joy looms without choice,

So here is where I bid you farewell,
Think of me and return home soon,
I'll dream of the words that you did tell,
Of how we'll meet under the light of the moon,

We are told to give thanks for the harvest,
But I think this year i'll give thanks to you,
The light within me you've been able to harness,
With the slightest thing that you do.

I'm thankful for an awful lot
But where do I draw the line

I'll be thankful for my family
I'll be thankful for their memories

I'll be thankful for the friends I got
I'll be thankful for the things I've been taught

But where do I draw this line
When people tell me what to be thankful for

To be thankful to live here
To be thankful for freedom
To be thankful we're better off than some
To be thankful for things without considering the cost.

In good conscious. I cannot be
Thankful at the cost of misery

I will not be thankful at the expense of innocent lives.

I will not be thankful that things could be worse

I will not be thankful for this complacency

And while I'm **** sure thankful for the miracles in life.

I do so ever aware and never neglecting the cost of such things, that I am demanded to be thankful for.