Fingers cut palms as hands turn to stone
And a catapult hurls the projectile home
Knuckles collapse from bone meeting bone
Down in the alleys where miscreants roam
Suggestions of violence fill gutters with blood
Fill heads with the sense of nefarious thrill
Their skin turns to ash and their brains into mud
Rage in the kingdom of eager to ****
The children are soldiers who train everyday
Cowboys and Indians, Robbers and Cops
****** is plot and the actors will play
Portraying the place life will come to a stop
Violence is cancer, and love is no more
Edge of our seats waiting for the next war



*Dedicated to the deceased and forgotten, Love and Peace

twenty years making
          sixty eight seconds
precious abandon

steeping on the stove
          heavy metal ringing
singing in the kettle

diamonds in the gutter
         sixty twenty gone

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


(a haiku)

7 AM
End of nights
Beginning of mornings

The city falls asleep,
Awakening
From its slumbers and adventures
Of the night before

The joggers jog,
The lovers fulfill hand-in-hand harmony
And the fisherman stands
Alone

Content in solitude he plays
Catch and release with the
Creatures of the creek


Are they, too, awakening,
Or yet to fall asleep?

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!

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

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

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

So much time
So little to do
It's cozy on the curb
In a big green bag

Days pass
And I rot
Stinking in the sun
Waiting to be collected


Waiting for the trashman

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!

The day we first met
It was koi no yokan

You were a mountain
I wanted to move

You kissed me two times
The first I was scared

The second, I felt it
I knew it was love

You taught me a lot
I learned to let go

Don't pick up flowers
Let them... Let them grow

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

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

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

Misery loves company

and

Sobriety

loves a pick me up

I traveled West in a rowboat
To discover the world is flat
And all the people who live there are flat too

So when I reached the edge
I paddled harder still
Into the raging falls of nothingness

Floating in infinity
The Earth now far behind
I waited for somebody

To notice I was gone

No search party was sent out, no posters put up,
My face never made the milk carton

My Earthly doubts were verified
I could not be flat,
Flat like the rest of them

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

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

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

If I knew
Things would improve
I would build sandcastles

If I knew
You needed me
I'd be a mat at your front door

What is in store for
Me and
You?

I cannot
See through my window

Clear glass made hazy with
Years of shallow breath
Rusted closed? no-
Bolted shut!

If I knew
My light still cast
Neon glow through the pane

If I knew
Mosquito lantern
Was my second name

Then I would catch
All those tiny bloodsuckers

And I would put them in jars
To keep in my pockets
Never to be
Alone again

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

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.

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

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

ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD
ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD

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.

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

burns throat on the way down

raging chariots of fire

bitter salts but solemn

vengeance of the empire

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!

Three in the morning
My name is Jack And I jump
Trying to reach bed Fastened safely to The ceiling
Out of arm's jurisdiction By the length of a leg And the dissolution of Mass produced tired

Wakingness has become My dream I could bend buildings And fly if I tried But I'm too preoccupied Playing the same old games And jumping for Sleep Why won't you Be mine Fair lady who Shuts eyes and kisses Goodnight on the lips

The words are on My lips Lost in the traffic that Spews from Mouth into webs Unable to catch the Flies I once thought were At my command

As I was their lord As you are mine I'm begging be merciful and Sew shut my peepers Before I break for The six hundredth time since I started keeping track Tonight

When the celebration comes
   to an end,
And we both lie
  satisfied,
I start to feel
  three-feet tall,
And you cover up.

I try to take it all in-
    the flies in your bedroom,
    the moon in the window,
    the faces in the pictureframe,
    the woman in your bed

It's all so foreign
   to me now,
Our celebration
   once a year.

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

You left for the summer, didn't come back in fall
I don't know if your words were true
I'm trashing your memory and burning all
Of the things that remind me of you

I'm bored and alone, got no one to call
This house holds nothing to do
So I'm moving along and burning all
Of the things that remind me of you

Breaking a heart's not considered a crime
If it was, I would probably sue
I'd get an attorney and he'd help me burn
All the things that remind me of you


You say you'd prefer
We don't stay in touch
I figured that someday
You'd figure as much

Off to better times
Without a bitter end
I still can't comprehend
Why you won't be my friend

We never went camping or conquered the world
Seems that all of our plans fell through
Now I'm kicking the flames, choking on ashes
Of things that remind me of you.
They went up in a flash, now I'm choking on ashes
Of things that remind me of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

Lightning can strike twice in the same spot

Who would have thought I'd still be

Standing here? Pavement

Speaks to me.

It has

Helped me learn

I've fixed too many bridges

That I should have allowed to burn.


I guess I was out fishing when I saw you today.

I half-hoped half-expected to see you,

And half-had something to say.

I've never been better

And I'm forever

Indebted

But like leaves

         In a breeze we are

                     Destined to drift away.

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.

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

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 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

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