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)

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

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

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

.                               -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

Maybe.

Maybe things will be better tomorrow.

Maybe is what is wrong with us.

Maybe means maybe not, and
maybe not means it may not be.

Everything that could be, would be,
If only not for maybe.

A tree does not pause and say
"Maybe I should stop growing."

The wise man does not stop and think
"Maybe I know all worth knowing."

Everything may be,
But nothing will be with maybe.

"Things will be better tomorrow, maybe."

Remove maybe,
And things will be better tomorrow.

Remove tomorrow,
And things will be better.

Remove better,
And things will be.

Better. Tomorrow. Maybe.

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,.

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

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

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?

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

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