the mind is terrible
thing to waste
one day at a time

she pours all of her time and effort into a guy who is foreign to the thought of love,
deeply rooted lays the never given,
he was never shown love,
what could possibly, make him give it?
she is upset all of the time,
probably cause’ daddy is absent and doesn’t bother to call either,
she rides the rollercoaster of life,
by “getting by”, searching for love in guys like him.
he likes her, but refuses to pronounce the words of his love,
too cold to show it,
leaves her to feel drowned out,
she is broken down, but still calls out for him,
her yearning drives him to be consumed by the tidal wave of love,
in the end, he and she are found washed ashore.
what do you call this?

Ah, the Spiritus Mundi,
The culmination of what I have searched for,
Finally you unveil yourself to me,
And it is all worth it.
In my dreams,
The world has gone to waste,
Everyone has gone sane,
And I am the one again left behind:
No different from reality.
I no longer care for structure or for rhyme,
Or if my words mean anything to anyone
But me,
For I am finally free,
From what seems an eternity,
Of torment by confusion,
A sentence from a past life,
If you believe that sort of thing.
Like the modernists of the past,
Stream of consciousness,
I am disillusioned, and
Yes, my vision is assisted
By drink, and by drug,
A revelation unplanned,
But not unwelcome.
I can only hope my rhyme
Scheme and my structure
Parallels the nonsense
That I am seeing,
And that it makes sense to some kindred spirit
Somewhere,
And I love them.

you know I’m complicated
always made you frustrated
you never got wasted
instead love is what you gifted

What
         A
            Waste
They say looking down their noses.
She used to be so skinny.
Pretty even, all those moons ago.
See
      Her
             Now
Fat, lonely, and ashamed of herself.
Her humanity disappearing with every bite.
No one could love her... not a pig like her.

Unsatisfied
and waiting
much too long,
my stomach growling
much too loud
for a belly full of something.
I'd tell you what if I knew,
but I don't.
I imagine if I did,
I'd be sitting around
wasting my time
with that,
instead of sitting around
wasting my time
with this.

Call it a necklace, noose, lead or leash
that we willfully wear
as under the poke and ****
of societies brand we still let it steer.

Living for Friday Saturday and *Sinday
throwing rain at the clouds
while we let time trickle away wastefully
out the hour Glass.

But when going against the grain
is like running into a sand storm,
we would rather let the days die
like they weren't worth remembering

Like a vapour, memories fade away
In a clumping mass of evaporating
                                                     ­      grey

                                  Then

call me a fool for standing in a sand storm
traping trickling time
in the hour glass
faster than it falls as I make
Many more colorful memories.

Gaze as I turn the dam ocean upside down
Repouring the rain I caught into the clouds
As I burn the tie
fray the noose
   loosen the lead
leave the leash round societies neck
And I burn it with my own brand.

I have a universe
in my pocket... and some
lint. The world
at my fingertips,
all knowledge awaits
and forty two cents
in change rattles next to it.
I have a universe
in my pocket and what...? I
use it to watch cat videos
and trade petty barbs
with fellow trolls under a bridge.