The system has failed
And I'm slipping through cracks
If the system can't catch me
Then there's no climbing back

They put it in place
Born to serve and protect
If the system can't catch me
Don't know what happens next

Sweet salvation lies in sleep
Make it dreamless, make it deep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep

Sweet salvation lies in naught
Away from memory, away from thought
I pray the Lord my soul forgot
I pray the Lord my soul forgot

Some folks are impatient
Some folks wait their turn
Some folks cut to the front of the line
Some folks never learn

Some folks put on sunscreen
Some folks don't and burn
Some folks get their skin replaced
Some folks never learn

Some folks keep their lungs clean
Some folks make theirs yearn
Some folks never get fresh air
Some folks never learn

Some folks get what they take
Some folks what they earn
Some folks spend their lives in jail
Some folks never learn

Mighty am I,
Standing over my kingdom:

The headlights beneath me are beneath me,
All the people beneath me are beneath me.

You've got it made is what they say,
And I look down at them from my balcony.

No stranger to heights am I,
And I have ascended to the greatest of heights.

No pity do I feel for the ground dwellers,
Though I have slept upon the ground many nights.

Hard work pays off, so they say,
And they say you reap what you sow.

These things I have grown, I once planted,
And I nurtured them so they would grow.

For all that I have I am thankful,
And all of my thanks go to me

For getting my knuckles all *****
To one day have a balcony

a man gets double vision when
he gets two pitchers deep
one eye sees a ski hill while
the other pictures sleep
one eye keeps the door ajar
the other sees it lock
neither one has any clue
what time it is o'clock

the  only sensation
more satisfying
than scratching an itch
that you just can't ignore
is the euphoria
which overloads
an insignificant little mosquito's miniscule brain
as it ***** that precious drop of blood from your insignificant veins

it starts to collect and grow

in

the ticking minutes post midnight

the first shadows of decay

the final rays of sunlight

the high speed crash which stifles

the laughter of every joy ride

the corners of the room where no one sits



cobwebs creep and cluster

causing claustrophobics to cling to one another

afraid of public restrooms

yet accepting of strangers embraces

as the blind man hears a train

and thanks god he can't see it

for some sounds look more hideous than they are



it festers as

the house grows lonely

the lawn becomes unkempt

the kids have grown and gone

the dog has died and decayed

beneath a short white post

reading in peace resting



it finds every home

and every bone

and every body

and every dashboard

and every beginning

and especially every end

maybe




everything will be better




tomorrow

rain drop dripping
leaking through the roof
sounds like clipping
a horse's heavy hoof
slowly sipping
from an empty cup
can't stop tripping
you come pick me up
now we're stripping
time to go to sleep
cold is gripping
water's getting deep
skinny dipping
ocean in the sheets
the CD's skipping
every note repeats
wind is whipping
branches beat the wall
now we're slipping
hope that soon I fall
playful nipping
you want open eyes
bed is flipping
love starts despise
now quick zipping
slamming of a door
rains still dripping
pass out on the floor

A decorative chair
(where no one's ever sat) stands
in a decorative room
(where no one ever goes) in a homely
half mansion
(on the main floor, just left of the front door)
and thinks to himself
all day, every day,
that his purpose in this world is
as of yet unserved
having never once provided rest
for the weary legged
and wishes to himself
once, or twice a day,
to hear a little ditty
from the decorative piano
(dust upon the keys no one ever learned to play)

You remember the afternoon
The little lass was found
Asleep without her teddy
Forever on the ground
Not much right is ever
Made from such a wrong
The boys put him away to stay
For
I can't recall how long


Workers the next day
Discussed it on their coffee break
In the wake of tragedy
Folks got lots of noise to make
"You heard the search is over?
A coffin door is open
Is nothing sacred any more?
What's left here to place hope in?"

The poets wrote some poems
The news was nothing new
The inmates got their three
                  free meals a day

A chef came close to starving
A dealer had a deal to do
'Cause on the outside there
                  are
                 bills
                 to
                  pay....

To keep a roof above one's head
To house the killer too
A room, no board, a bed,
           his, free to lay

Honest people sleep on streets
Does this not seem wrong to you?!
Cry for justice, cry for Her,
           join me when I say...

Bring                              Bring
Bring                              Bring
Back                                Back
The                                   The
Guillotine              Guillotine

A young man
Thougb not too young
Carved from flesh
Molded by experience
Came to the river

He'd crossed it before
Before his child was born
Many years prior to
His lover's death

Mother of their son

And his son
Carved from his own flesh
Hated him
Crossed the river on his own
Leaving our hero
To ask his reflection
Clear as a mirror
In the river
"What went wrong"

More than twenty
Centuries passed

His soul was never released
Never became free
As
As a young man
He'd hoped it would be

Our hero fell into the river
The water accepted him
The water permissed him
Join the current
And so he passed
Twenty some odd
Centuries
To become some one
Who hated himself
Who dreamt only of
Oblivion
An unfortunate slip of the razor

shaking from the cold
making gold from dirt
asking proper questions
raking fallen leafs
taking grief in stride
ironing a shirt
never thinking twice before
giving out beliefs

using all that's happened
painting a bright future

Wake up when the alarm goes off

    must have set it for a reason
    a reminder from the past
    there are things to be done today
    places to meet, people to go

    thought was put into its creation

    to ignore the persistent beep
    would only be disrespect to
    yourself
    for it was you who set it

    or have you become someone new
    a person who is angered
    by a stranger
    trying to wake you?

I love the loud
I love the light
And yet I choose
To live my life
Silently
At half past three
Inside a space
That's not my own
Inside a house
I can't call home
Deep inside the dark and quiet

My bed is free
That is to say
Has vacancy
And I don't pay
I'd invite
You for the night
If only my
Old mother's ears
Had lost their youth
And couldn't hear
Us breathe together
Crystal clear
In the dark and quiet

The radio
Will sing no tunes
The sunrise can-
not come too soon
Silently
At half past three
Is this how it
Feels to be free
Is this the Hell
I've made for me
Deep inside the dark and quiet

Henry walked through the park

The usual park

You know the one I mean

The one with the ducks

And the donated benches

With names engraved on them

"In loving memory of so and so...

here is a quiet place to sit"

And as Henry walked

As he usually did

Through the park

At the usual time

That is, the time that he usually

Walked through the park

You know the one I mean

The park with the rock

Near the North-Eastern entrance

The rock with the word

"****" spray painted in red

Well, Henry as Henry walked

Past that rock

The "**** Rock", some of the

Kids in the neighborhood call it,

As he walked past this rock

On this usual day

He came to the sudden conclusion

That the world

Despite all its pretty little ponds

Is an awful, ugly place

And on that day

At that otherwise usual time

Henry did something

Very unusual



A few days later

There was an article in the newspaper

About a man who had drowned

In a pond

In the middle of a pretty little park

You know the one

And there was nothing unusual about it

there is no adjective
to describe
the feeling
that follows
three nights without sleep

the swollen eyes
too much light
(even in the dark)

then what am I
to say when asked, "how are you
today?"?

"tired"

that in itself is a
tiresome response

try
to recall the number of
times you've posed
that question of formality
to an aquaintance, only
to receive
"tired" as a response, as if
that frame of mind is
the newest epidemic sweeping our
terribly exhausting society- seven
to eight hours a night,
that's what we need, or else our
train of
thought is likely
to steer itself off
the rails at least
twice per
talk

this poem is
trash
though I
tried
to be
thoughtful, and
to start each sentence with a
t
(besides the ones in parentheses)

******* insomnia
take a slice if you dare
teach me
the way
to shut
these
tired eyes


there is no adjective
to describe
the feeling
that follows
three nights without sleep

May your days be forever hateful

May your malice flow through pen

And allow all your pain passage

To the screening room

To the eyes of all of us apprentices

As you write of being alone

In a darkened apprehension

With heart, whose name you whisper,

"Broken," so softly, as if

You stand above its grave

And fear waking the dead

Aside- you are asleep

And need not remain silent

Nor deaf to all the shouts

Of the people in your room

Trying to get you up

From your coma, night terror,

Self contrived absence of light.

Your heart is not broken.

In fact, it needs a break.

The weight you put upon it

Is more than it can take.

I digress- may your days

Forever be hateful

And your nights filled

With the sweet fragrant perfumes

Of victory and love

As i Smoke the Day's last Cigarette
Animal Sounds all Around me

the Restless cat Scratches at
                    the Watchful dog
the Seagull squawks, Seeking to
                     Snack on the Frog
who Sings his Heart and Throat raw
                    Out in the Pond,
a Song for the Raccoon
                    in the Woods Beyond

and the Cat starts to cry,
the Dog gives a sigh;
the Frog sings along,
the Raccoon and Seagull die

Mother Sleeps while Child Writes, the Story
                          of so Many Nights-
the Animal Sounds All Around;
Crying, Sighing, Singing Dying,

Scritching and Scratching of Claw and Pen
As i Smoke the Day's last Cigarette

a heart breaks today
a mind is set free of lament
a libido churns

many months can pass in the chasm of creativity,
          each block spanning a quarter mile
on the desolate street which the writers call home;

and yet one lyric of a single song can cease the silence,
           breaking like a dollar bill into the
clamor of loose change in a poor peasant's pocket.

I finally got around to watching that Robin Williams flick,
           warranted by solemn respect for the dead,
his society of poetry, ripping out the pages of rules
.


WE are the dead; short days ago we lived,
and now we are food for worms,.

Today I caught a glimpse,
A reflection of a ghost
Beyond the wall of smoke.

I see many familiar spirits
And we exchange pleasantries,
Slaps on the back, hellos,

And, (just as important!) goodbyes,
Leaving one another to voyage,
Apparitions of the loved dead

Trapped between two distant worlds-
Ours of business, busyness, beaches,
The other of undisturbed rest.

The ghost I glimpsed today
Was caught in the reflection
Behind a wall of smoke

The street we had walked
A complete sun circuit ago
When we shared the earth,

Shared the wind and rain,
The stars moon and sky,
High above the April clouds.

But our journey was incomplete.
I sought life beyond atmosphere,
She wished for feet planted

Back on solid ground below,
The place love can bloom
Without freezing in the clouds

And turning to acid rain.
And so it was goodbye.
Eighty words could say less

Than the five we shared
When our glances strayed apart,
Beyond the veil of smoke.

I remember you, lovely ghost,
That's what I told her,
Allowing passage to the hibernation.

Before beginning something new,
One must know The Steps-

The first Step is admitting-
that this mess is not beautiful
beauty is an opposite (not an element)

that we cannot sit here for eternity
that it's all just a freckle on a giant plan

The second Step is forgetting-
everything that was said, heard, read
all the things that stayed a maybe

the revolutions that never got bought
the ones who shone brighter than the sun.

The third Step is moving on;
seeing what lies in the Far East
and giving away the last CD's

saying goodbye to ecstasies
pulling together, and turning around.

It
will be fun
they said, try
it,

jump, the old
train bridge,
signs say
NO
but they do
it
anyway
crashing through
the surface
splash

it'
s easy, they said,
close your eyes,
jump,
only twelve
feet to immortality,
they never ask
if you can swim,
they just
want you
to try
it,
want you to
jump

I used your old toothbrush
To ignite memories
Of how you taste

I used to have a problem with redundancy.

Now I have a problem with redundancy.

I used to have a problem where I couldn't finish things.

Now I

.                               -she pleas
Don't look at my knees
Praying that somebody sees

                               -she cries
Don't look at my thighs
I had lows where you had highs

                                -she goes
Don't look at my nose
I'll cut it off, feed it to crows

                               -she moans
Don't look at my bones
Hung 'em up beside the phone

"Please, please" she pleas

KEEPING THINGS WHOLE**

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

underneath me quiet and relenting
it meant much less than either expected

plastic bag tossed by the wind tracing cra-
zy shapes cyclonic and demented

like two giants shunned into a cave by
fearful villagers with pitchforks and torches

forks to tune the pitch to please the ear holes
torch in hand makes brave the claustrophobic

cables thick as thighs pressed under tension
snap and gives the tiny metal box to gravity

twenty one stories, each full of unfamiliar
faces and families and stories of their own

not much longer  'til the ground will meet us
one last kiss before our light is diminished

a last second change of heart, I pry
open the doors and throw you into the hall

why should we both need to crash together?
you suffer minor injury, I take the fall.

someone I don't know
grew up wearing my old shoes
two sizes too small

Misery loves company

and

Sobriety

loves a pick me up

She tell me that she magic
But I am not so sure
Cuz all the tricks she show me
I seen 'em all before

I tell her I'm a wizard
But she will have to wait
A wizard's always right on time
Not early, never late

She try to cast a spell on me
Pick me up and fell on me
She pulled an angry rabbit out of my hat!

She tell me that she magic
It couldn't be a fake
Won't it be so tragic when
They burn her at the stake!

To not do it is
As easy as it is to
Not be doing it


(a haiku)

particularly bad outbreak this year
slightly contagious
draining strength
causing hate of the daylight
"i miss you" are the hardest words to say

the sick are quarantined;
the month of love is almost here

someone i never met told me
life is lonely...
not if you live on earth

but for those who live on made up planets
we need to be taken
to places we've never seen before
to Heaven....
i'll carry you up the hill
"i miss you" are the hardest words to say

I seek the meaning of the glyphs, Inscribed
          upon the dark night's sky, The universe-
                     's  secret to achieving, The final
                               draft on the first try. That gloating sun with
                                     all his pride, Would blind us for his portrait
                                              days, But inconsistency made him weak,
And he always rushed to finish
                                               With all but good intend I stand, Channel-
                                   ling that boastful pride, And night's cold darkness
                              ere described, When Kodak moments go a-
                       way. The universe's secret to a-
                chieving, Will never be found in the stars,
        But in the portrait-esque blueprints of day,
   Which came out perfectly the first time, The
final draft on the first try

I seek the meaning of the glyphs, Inscribed
          upon the dark night's sky, The universe-
                     's  secret to achieving, The final
                               draft on the first try. That gloating sun with
                                     all his pride, Would blind us for his portrait
                                              days, But inconsistency made him weak,
And he always rushed to finish
                                               With all but good intend I stand, Channel-
                                   ling that boastful pride, And night's cold darkness
                              ere described, When Kodak moments go a-
                       way. The universe's secret to a-
                chieving, Will never be found in the stars,
        But in the portrait-esque blueprints of day,
   Which came out perfectly the first time, The
final draft on the first try

Aimless in wander brain chases feet
     a path this never was before
Break all the borders slave of the street
     tonight you sail the boat ashore

Fortune is written ye who believe
     may find it in a light dessert
Bakers of cookies aim to deceive
     tonight you stick your head in dirt

****** in practice gutteral mind
     to take the queen of clubs to bed
Or else just wander what can you find
      in the recesses of road head

Cruise ship grounded the ticket lied
     never got to Georgia strait
In missed encounters potential trips
     some company with to vacate

Break all the borders slave of the street
     or sit alone and count the days
Aimless in wander brain chases feet
     silence kills in many ways

Take me somewhere less conscious
By the hand
To la-la land

The rails sing a lullaby

Softly humming vibrations
Ambient song
All dark-time long

Coaxing down to sleep tonight

Bitter taste drains down the throat
Found heaven
three-oh-seven

Shut those eyelids one last time

Driving east on unmarked roads

We dance, we fight, we rarely speak

Wonders of an ancient world

The art is crippled, legs are weak



Modern medicines can shut
Racing thoughts
Forget-me-nots

The rails sing a lullaby

Salmonella sunset
  sets the scene for
moondance morrey
     into the mystic
Fool's ghouls haunt sunken treasure
Sworn protectors of
      the damages
      better undone
      Mandela's dead
Deaf men didn't get the message
"                                           !"
    a sad song it was!
Counting the days
        One a finger
waking up it's the same scene
           the world
That strange place
you Left behind
pigeons in the streets singing
"tomorrow will be like today!"




*and when that foghorn blows
I will be coming home

The first words to leave the baby's mouth
When he finally learns
The art of verbal expression
Are a solemn request for forgiveness
"I'm sorry" he says
"For the rivers of tears I shed

How many good dreams have I
Interrupted, three A.M. screaming,
Need you
Come pick me up,
I'm scared, or I **** myself,
I'm small, and weak, please help-
No more."

And he looks into his
Guardian's eyes, baby smiling,
How kind she was to raise him,
Time to return the favor,
Lifts her with his tiny arm,
And sets her down for
Her first good sleep in twenty years.

They grow up so fast these days

Within the realm of circumstance
You are a slave
To occurrences, a victim
Of probability,
A naysayer to God,
You speak prayers to chance,

Live thanklessly, not counting
The billions
Of tiny blessings, ignorant
To the little miracles,

Raindrops on pavement,
The soundtrack
In your all-seeing eyes, accidental,
A statistic, a probability,

As a blind man getting soaked,
Wanders home,
Happy for the shower,
Anticipating dry clothes,
Smells smoke,
And he knows,
A hundred percent certain,

Eight blocks before he arrives
At the front door
Blocked off by red trucks and news reporters,
That the fire is his own,

And he is thankful
For the symphony,
Grateful for his bones,
Glad this occured (it's all in the plan,
NOTHING happens at random)
And he never stops,
Smiling
Because he knows he's not alone

Hidden between the oaks and ferns
Where whispers slip amongst the green
Within the darkest depths of wood
There lies a beauty, stone cold sleep
Who never will awaken, lest
That one and only righteous prince
Crusades through the forest maze
And plants a kiss, to grow come spring

Comatose is
Overwhelming
To the wakeful, watchful, winter walker,
Who leaves her there
To hibernate
Continuing his aimless winter wander
Unrelenting
Continuum
No, time does not stand still in dream-born lands
The pendulum
Metronomic
Imprinting wrinkles on her dreamy hands

So she may sleep until the day
Her heart percusses final beats
And leaves the one who finds her so
With broken heart and bruising knees
Protagonist arrives too late
And turns love songs to tragedy
When beauty doesn't come to wake
After twenty eight years in a dream

Ambassadors of peace- practitioners of terror,
Alas, the fighting never will be done!
Their parachutes deployed- the cargo was destroyed,
Too bad there won't be chutes for everyone!

When we left on foot
We were right on time
Six steps to the beat
Five words in a line
For the day to end
Three would come to climb
To the top of this
One track state of mind

considering reflections!
spectacular expressions excited by vernacular action
spicy and exotic erecting complexity!
forgetting the selective dyslexia
mental anorexia like pecs flexing
lacking dialect donating directions!
elementary subtraction of expletives
what the heck do they expect!
exclusion unaccepted
best guess reckon you're a wreck
what the heck no explanation!

The thought of you brings me to my knees
At the altar of love I would cut my throat
And hang myself by the intestines

If you want my skin it is yours to wear
If it keeps you warm peel it off my bones
So long as you keep the skeleton close

My beating heart is yours and yours alone
And never shall the ticking stop
Kept in a jar on the tabletop

You had my tongue pulled out the day we met
Clamped between your feral teeth
No words have I been able to form since then

So here I rest, chained to the basement floor
Happy as an oyster unaware
His pearl was stolen whilst he dreamed of love

And here will I remain, blissfully,
Writing drafts of love poems on concrete
With the blood that pours from cracking lips

We all love to hurt         ourselves
At least         once          in a while
To pull the trigger         gun pointed
Down            at             our own foot

There is no better           reminder
Hello             I am          human
Digging your way         up and out
Grave            you           buried yourself

If I could stay forever
In blissful ignorance
I would fight the fever
What dances at the door

What burns me stings forever
What chokes me makes me sore
As I sit next to faces
Don't know me anymore

Don't share nostalgic places
Don't hold what we forgot
We've swapped out empty cases
For people what we're not

she cut me like paper
she shut my front door
she saw my true nature
don't like me no more

she heard out my story
she thought it a bore
she laid it out for me
don't like me no more

she took back the smiles
she gave me before
she went through the trials
don't like me no more

she ended the inning
she settled the score
she forfeited winning
don't like me no more

she bit through the madness
she chewed on the core
she spat out the sadness
don't like me no more