I woke up again
which means I’m still running
and you aren’t here
which means you’re still running
so I wonder how to get you back
…my mind is still running
yet I can’t feel anymore
because my heart is still while you’re running
and I can’t think anymore
because my brain is still yet running
our race is over, you ran faster
but I’m still running
to catch up to you
to prove I’m not still running.

When people say “it’s ok to be different”
what they mean is “you have to be different”
in the ways they want you to be different
which are pretty similar to everyone else.

Just because you’re oblivious to something
doesn’t mean you’re above it.

Birds chirping                wind blowing
doors swing open                   floodgates of chaos
noise                  people                          beeh­ive buzzing
unease               uncertainty                                           unable
customers noisy as dishes clanging                                       in the back
focus                  obscured                             ­                  insecurity
offensive presence                                 apologetic demeanor
forgive me brother                  for I have sinned
optical trajectory                     floor
please                          thank you
hands                 pockets
forgive me.

I just thought you should know
it doesn’t matter if you stay or go
we live in a grave of souls
as slaves in tow
behind time and weather
like free floating feathers
slowly turning into leather
until we can float no more
like a boat with no shore
submerged underwater
with no dirge for the slaughter
we’re just purged to the bottom
as we swerve down this slalom
to the base of our column
where we find the mystery of death
before figuring out life
the whole time we’re in debt
until we see the light.

Transcendence is a lie
you’re not above it until you’re there.

Hedonism is a lie
once the costs start to add up.

Altruism is a lie
when living for others is living for the self.

There’s nowhere to turn
once it’s your turn.

Is there any way to save us from life
other than death?

Yin/yang
order/chaos
discipline/freedom
cops/robbers
inescapable paths are familiar routes
subjectivity shrouds relation
reciprocation obfuscated by morality
relativism is an ocean the lost can drown in
but those who are properly equipped can see below the surface
until industrious capitalist tycoons spill oil
then it's a matter of faith swimming through blackened waters
oily ripples turn into waves
continuously crashing into itself
the sludge mixes into a consistent composition
the ocean gets a little darker.

Bitten by rejection, I became a wereman
I'm a dog by day, beaten if I don't fetch
but at night I become a man, and enter the world of men
I become a human, or at least a humanoid
I'm likened to a lycan, yet I stand on my own two paws
searching for a fairy's tail to hammer in my coffin's nails
the sphincter of the sphinx is the ***** of my cat
my clothes tear off as my body starts changing
howling at the moon as my elongated limbs bloom
salivating over the feast of flesh, hackles raised
shackled slave of the bite, I tried to stave off the night
with a witch's brew but my twitches grew
at the sight of a full moon reflecting off the eyes of a lamb
reminding me I'm a man who needs to eat
or maybe I'm just a dog in heat.

In the American justice system
there’s no such thing as an “open and shut case”
unless the defendant has no money.

There's a moat of sand
it's a bulwark for a prosperous kingdom
beyond the Rio Grande

treacherous trajectory
through an ocean of heat
on the way to their rectory.

There's a moat of sand
turning refuge into risk
dividing two brands

predators look to make one suffer
an ATV piranha's snack attack
tases pregnant mothers.

There's a moat of sand
on the journey from hell to heaven
where the blessed meet the ******

gnawed to the bone
by roaming coyotes
while searching for home.

There's a moat of sand
guarding providence
the bountiful land

just when you think it can't get any hotter
you see a shrine for the dead with a sign
saying they didn't bring enough water.

There's a moat of sand
that's unforgiving and cruel
so it's used by man.

I have a leech on me
and I can't get outside of it

I work hard for the blood I've given
to sustain my captor

I leech all I can from it
as it leeches all it can from me

reciprocated bloodsucking
a competitive transfusion

blood goes in me
and out the other side

cascading off the hospital gurney
belonging to my polyamorous annelid

who brays in good fortune
as the blood leaves my body

spilling on the floor
to be pushed down the drain

where it becomes nourishing water
rejuvenating sulfur-scented cannibals.

Some people think animals don't feel emotions
perhaps out of a lack of empathy
or a backlash against anthropomorphism
either way I have a hard time agreeing
because dogs seem ******* when they growl
and there has to be a mechanism to trigger that.

Factors like language and cognition
differentiate humans and animals
so I don't think a dog wonders why it's relaxing on the floor
while a buck's head hangs from the wall.
But I do.

I wonder what goes through the mind of a doe
as it watches its fawn get hit by a car
it may not feel the same depression as us
but it had an instinctual obligation
that has been abruptly removed
there must be some friction in its mind
between what is and should be.

I've felt that friction for animals before
like when I was at my friend's house
he saw a big spider (by Kentucky standards)
and crushed it
dozens of tiny spiders crawled from its corpse
shocked and disgusted
my friend started stomping on all of them
as I watched I felt bad for the spider
she was a mother
that failed her natural duty
due to forces much larger than her
all it took was the wrong place and wrong time
for the result to be crushing failure.

I wonder if animals are more like humans
or if humans are more like animals
because there are plenty of people
that make me wonder if they feel any emotions.

My employer is leeching all it can from me
and I’m leeching all I can from it

it’s a competition
a gentleman’s game

where the stake for me is my life
and the stake for it is like 37 dollars.

Parody of Squeez®  by Shawn Wasabi and Raychel Jay

The legal code been looking kinda murky
If you want it I can shake it
I can stir it
I could gore you some

I can make it kinda *****
Put some trim upon your body
And I bet ya I could get you cuffed

We're the vultures that'll take your future
You're lookin' like you're black
Let me take your picture

Wake up in the prison and I'll still be with ya
With ya, with ya, wi- wi- with ya

We can ****
Then get praised
We're for sale

I can't wait
'Til you taste
My **** pain

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

If I'me being honest I can barely pay the rent
So I'm meddlin' in crime
And I'm meddlin' in ****

And I think I want your money like a million percent
So I'm meddlin' in crime
And I'm muddlin' your
Ha

Lick my lips of donut syrup
You're lookin' for a crime ring
But we ain't that serious

Take a sip of power and we get delirious
-lerious, -lerious, -le -le -lerious

We can ****
Then get praised
We're for sale

I can't wait
'Til you taste
My **** pain

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

The legal code been looking kinda murky
If you want it I can shake it
I can stir it
I could gore you some

I can make it kinda *****
Put some trim upon your body
And I bet ya I could get you cuffed

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

Cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
Cop cop cop cop

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
Cop cop cop cop

Freeze
Freeze

I’m being tickled to death
begging not to die through laughter.

Quite a draining journey
traveling through this drainage tunnel
groping my way through the disorienting darkness
arms of lifelessness reach out from the walls
constantly tugging at my shirt
it's my health that they hurt
when I try to run
they grab and stun
forcing me to buy movement
at the price of energy
they hold tokens in their hands
inscribed with the drainage brand
like the hair from the drain in my sink
or the phlegm drained from my sinuses
I wade through the **** of stomach minuses
moving through a drainage tunnel death funnel
aches develop in my feet
as well as my back
I can't handle the heat
or how the inside is black
I start walking slower and slower
as the ceiling gets lower and lower
the backbreaking pressure
makes my height lesser
so I crawl through the filth
of all this drainage I built
the hands that hold me down
are now my only company
their frustrating grabbing
now feels like a lulling caress
coaxing me to stay in this tunnel
all other voices are muddled
because of the drainage in my ear
blocking communication with fear
a wall of wax
that won't collapse
creates an axe
to cut off my head
from suffering dread
wondering when this tunnel will end
because there's no light to be found
in this tunnel I crawl down
gagged and bound
from the hands all around
grabbing at my brain
to push it down the drain.

I had that dream again
the one where I'm floating in space
stuck in a box that looks like where I sleep
I can't control my container's course
as it floats towards a black hole
I try to push my cell in another direction
but I just make the room spin
faster and faster
until I'm holding onto the floor for comfort
then I look over and see you
laying next to me
making me feel safe and warm
we kiss and cuddle
forgetting the spinning cosmos outside.

I know you're not real
you're an amalgamation of everyone I know
friends, family, suitors, lovers
you may not be real
but the safety you provide in my nightmare is
so I thank you for that
and for spending time with me
which is how I know you're not real
but I enjoy our nights together all the same.

There’s a message
under the last text I sent you
that reads Read Yesterday
my heart was red yesterday
my heart you read yesterday
my heart had bled yesterday
so my heart has fled yesterday
into today
the sun’s rays
cure the dumb craze
brought on by that one phrase
that reads Read Yesterday.

Frozen and packaged
then pulled out and ravaged

put on the grill
to give them their fill

flipped and fried
on the more tender side

pressed against the surface
for a convenient purchase

throw in some sauce
to cover up the flaws

put in a bag
that’s easy to grab

eaten and discarded
as someone jokes that they farted.

Born the son of man
made in his image
losing humanity
following the ways of man
I bet my life
putting it all on black
until the red filtered through
and I became a man.

Being a man is effortless
but being two men is impossible
getting through to men somewhere in between
men mourning every day storming
incapable of sight after being dehumaneyesed
men must come together to make man
palliation for a lifelong abortion.

Vultures perch on my body
saying "we've got a live one here"
devouring my finger off the pulse
their tasteless tongues
receive no sustenance
from the known nothingness
of the cycle of life.

The price of membership is dismemberment
paid for with pieces
that are swallowed whole by the hole
man puts in his head
donning the cloak of fatherhood
concealing the void while claiming purpose
making someone in their image
before dying as the son of man.

I’m afraid of heights
not because I fear falling
but because I fear jumping.

I have to find home
to get back to the grindstone
but the lined clones
are where my mind goes
until wasted time shows
that I'm dying slow
in the blinding snow
of finding glows
whose fleeting blinks
give me clouds of pink
that start to sink
and then disappear
leaving me here
wondering what I did wrong
smoking a ****
and singing songs
to get along
with myself for my health
otherwise I give myself the belt
when there's gold I can smelt
sitting in a laptop or a notebook
I need to hit the blacktop and go cook
instead of waiting by the phone hook
I just hate the way being alone looks
but every time I try I get my dome shook
grinding my soft heart into stone
so I need to get back to where that heart is
before I'm grinded down to bone
on grindstone marches.

I was fine enough on my own
and then I met you
who animated my heart of stone
then turned it blue
wondering what I'll do
when this thing is through.
I'd swim through tides of the apocalypse
just to reach your apocryphal hips
but my cacophonous wit
tells me I should probably quit
because you're better than I
so I fear you'll sever our tie
then I'll pull a lever and die.

I try not to think
I try not to sink
I try not to blink
after the Kool-Aid I drink
casts an enchantment
of life enhancement
I couldn't have planned it
so I just say **** it
flying to another planet
with an atmosphere uncertain
I can't see past this dumb curtain
made by time
my maybe mind
makes me whine
that it's not fair
that your soft hair
has me locked there
waiting for the final judgment
wishing for your sublet
guessing I'll be upset
at another lonely sunset.

Please don't mind me
I've just been alone a long time
seeing the signing
that for a home there's a long line
and I don't have a ticket
to get the biscuit
I jest I missed it
because I blessed a misfit
which stole my youth
and made me uncouth
I couldn't regroup
and then I saw you.
I feel loneliness so strongly
I search for a sense of belonging
but might be doing so wrongly
when I think that anyone on me
will provide an awning
for the fear spawning
over existential odd me
who thinks servile fawning
will leave people wanting.

I wish I could pull a ripcord
to ignore
the dim floor
implored
by inner discord
but I just described you
a conundrum it's true
you create room
for thunder and gloom
then sunder it too.

You **** me
I **** you
muslims I see
killed by jews
no one is clean
muslims **** too
when will we be free
from this dogmatic glue
asking us to pick and choose
who we should kick and bruise
until we're sick and lose.

Neither side is too witty
doing the war machine's bidding
fighting over a magic city
for their brand of madness to be winning
the wheels of capitalism spinning
which has arms dealers grinning
due to population slimming.

I sit on the sidelines
wishing I could buy time
to write the right line
serving as a lifeline
to end the Palestinian oppression
and both of their aggressions
but I get the impression
there's no single lesson
that will cause deflection.

I honestly don't know why
people feel the need to pick sides
right wingers **** ride
everything the Israelis try
while some on the left decide
the Palestinians are great guys
I'm just tired of the blatant lies
based on each given state's size
the way both those snakes slide
to sympathy saying their victimized.

Neither side is a gracious host
both sides create hateful ghosts
for control of the coast
for control of the most
for control of the boast
of which religion has dominance
and which one is toast
not receiving the world prominence
of United Nations votes
so they build their moats
and block the other's boats
fighting over a hill like goats
people ask me which side I dote
and I just say **** them both.

To the person who's sexually attracted to children
but has never acted upon that attraction:
Thank you
it's not always easy doing the right thing
and I understand the stigmatization you face
in a society where advocating killing you is socially encouraged
for the forced productions in the privacy of your mind
usually stemming from traumatic childhood abuse
but don't let them stop you from getting help
for the misery and frustration associated with
constantly denying one's ****** urges
for the sake of others.

Nobody is born an angel or a demon
walking along we pick up horns or halos midstride
often confusing one for the other
often trading one for the other
often naming one for the other
until heavenly hellspawns
attack with horned halos.

To the person who perpetuates the stigma against those people
through edgy internet posts and comments
like it's some sort of controversial sentiment
that isolates those people until they crack
usually just so you can virtue signal militancy
so you can feel good about yourself through persecuting others:
*******.

It was another day at work
filled with pain and hurt
looking for ways to shirk
my responsibilities
because of the loneliness filling me
I wasn't that way willingly
and I saw constant reminders
so I started browsing Grindr
looking for comfort
or at least attraction
to get out of the dumpster
of my own inaction
then I saw you on there
like a solar flare
in which I was ensnared
your beauty had me impaired
so I wanted to take you to my imp lair
sending a message "Hey how's it going?"
and you actually responded
now the onus was on me to be showing
that I wasn't too despondent
so I tried to focus on the conversation
which was actually pretty nice
but then you maximized temptation
by mentioning my favorite vice
asking me if I smoke trees
I responded with ** please
you should come to Kentucky
we'll smoke until there's nothing
then turn into men *******
to which you agreed
and I was relieved
leaving work early
with different thoughts swirling
between love and ***
or a ****** hex
I hope you're not the latter
although I'm just flattered
you'd pitch to this batter
who wanted you so badly
I was willing to gladly
drive to Cincinnati
to take you back to my place
after taking a blunt to the face
this isn't a hunt or a chase
just a request for grace
which I definitely needed
after a cop pulled us over
the speed limit wasn't heeded
and oh yeah we weren't sober
made clear by the ***'s odor
so I was hoping I'd just get a ticket
and then be sent on my merry way
but then you added thorns to the thicket
by mentioning you have a warrant in play
I didn't know what to say
about the likely arrest to be made
and our total time that would wane
the cop approached and asked your name
and that's when I first heard it
Anthony
I didn't think I'd get served it
answering
a cop who would pull you out of my car
and put you away like an old guitar
I had enjoyed our time thus far
but now it seemed like a scar
so I couldn't let it end like that
in the lonely car I sat
waiting for bond to be posted
so I could be hosted
and we could get toasted
I called around for advice
but was only told to slice
that out of my life
which I couldn't accept
so I went down to the jam up jail
I hoped you hadn't left
because that would mean I failed
and could've just slept
never meeting anyone I like
because of the threat of adversity
never trying to figuratively fight
because of the depression hurting me
so I wanted to see you certainly
posting a meager bond
to give the pigs their slop
hoping I'd see the dawn
and the night would stop
they let you out
while I was in
we won our bout
and now could sin
kissing and smoking
after all the hissing and coping
you going missing had woke me
making me feel alive
for a much smoother drive
back to the Ohio side
where we got into bed
exchanging head
you rocked me to sleep
your secrets you can keep
we don't need to talk too deep
I'm just glad you got me to leap
back into my brain
I eagerly await our refrain
but don't want to be a strain
on where this is going
I have no clue
all that's worth knowing
is you erased my blues.

We are at the mercy of blood alchemists. They turn lead into gold and war into paper. Their sacrifice based sorcery transmutes our possessions into theirs. They just need death in the equation as well as our placation.

The blood alchemists defeated the defensive zealots to establish a new leader. Their new leader had devised a formula for turning bigotry into power at the expense of sanity. He crafted a potion to control the minds of the malleable that poisoned his brain with paranoid fantasies.

In the fascist alchemist's perception, all protesters become demons in need of exorcism. Transformers and electromagnetic waves carry his insane demands to Ukraine. He demands the death of a statesman expressing contention. This is the formula for turning dissent into fear. This is the concoction that turns power into silence, he seeks to suffocate his enemies in dirt.

Followers of the fascist alchemist believe he's a god who can do no wrong. Townspeople see through this facade trying to explain he's flawed to mind controlled dogs. His spell is stubborn so citizens start sticking to strife after he obfuscates what's wrong and right while a politician's life hangs in the balance.

Conflict is conformed into cover as he uses fear of the other so subjects won't see his gunners killing our Yemeni brothers. He buries our problems in dust, that once unsettled, erupts into a noise so loud we can't call him corrupt. Ignoring the will of man he'll even **** his clan if they still his plans. His henchmen drenched in blood are as expendable as the foes he shoves. Summoning a power vacuum, a portal to autonomy, all the cronies crammed in his chaos cabinet are ****** out one by one.

So this attempted assassination is the final straw once the magistrate catches wind of his shockwave sins. The blood alchemist must attend a hearing where enemies and allies alike adjudicate his egregious actions. The hearing will be dictated by what seers see for our future. The verdict will be determined by the brain washed judging the brain washer. Before dissent could materialize into resistance, the blood alchemists slowly eroded justice until a force field formed to protect the trickster's horns.

When conversation
is about competition
or condemnation
rather than contemplation
we all lose.

I'm haunted by a ghost
who won't text back
I need it the most
but it only gives black
this ghost from a heart attack
leads me down a disheartened track
of perilous cracks
so I can't relax.

Your Danny Phantom
threw our new tandem
off like Drew Stanton
giving me a true tantrum
tramping to the netherworld
to find a bed of pearls
instead of twirls
in dead end whirls.

I stare at people talking
in my mind I'm throwing ****
sounds like the gun cocking
right before the trigger flick
killing me quick
in a ghost's grip
instilling gross and sick
voices telling me to quit.

I want to go to the astral world
to be in your presence
I want to be your astro girl
then extinguish your essence
to get my revenge
after getting incensed
from the haunting intense
of a ghost with malicious intent.

Your apparition isn't an aberration
plenty have seen the line of demarcation
between relationship adjacent
and my next replacement
so I hide in my basement
people wonder where my face went
a ghost set it to its blank placement
to cover up the rank grave scent.

The spirits of the undead
notice that I'm unfed
repeating that I'm *****
until I've done bled
they cackle with triumph
after I've run
for someone
to see the sun.

So go chill on your ghost ship
with your ghost clique
whose locust lips
give you focused hips
just stop haunting me
I view recovery dauntingly
because for a while I've got to see
every person as wild ghosts mocking me.

I need to save you from writer's block
before you're outlined with chalk
so I outline a prompt
to lift you off
but I don't know what to suggest
your next project a must
my advice you trust
I hand you dust
which isn't much to work with
won't make any short lists
after your ignored fists
abort this
failed attempt to help with ideation
your writing equals my elation
so talk about migration
or my nation
just don't let that shining sun set
I'm sure you'll become unvexed
once you're creating subtext
after finding a subject.

I wish my life was more like a hockey player’s
where all my shifts are forty seconds long
and my stick touches the ground
while I glide on top of the ice
skating across the surface
but I just sit in the crowd
appreciating the game
and a time when I was younger
when I once played.

At the height of your hunger
you settled for a snack
eaten between actual meals
convenient sustenance
consumed on the go
and easily discarded as waste.

They fingerpick on the guitar
while I toe pick on the ice;
my equipment doesn't fit as well
as each note in each composition they write.
After building brick walls in front of the net
their slapbass slapshots destroy my defenses
until their goals plague my crease.

While trying to set focus on my own game
loud cheering emits from various venues
for Mozart writing his first symphony at 6
Orson Welles directing Citizen Kane at 25
Johnny Depp originating that last line at 31
and Patrick Mahomes, whom I'm older than.

Competition is healthy, functional
until the unstable heat of boiling envy
releases the steam of resentment
building pressure in the machinery
until the screws pop out like marbles
knocking each other out of bounds.

Daftly defining ego as the self
and success as superiority
and achievement as relative,
I race against relatives;
each pace they gain
is a slap in the face in the rain
stinging while slipping while
blaming the elements
precipitating my demise.

Gripping graphite too tightly
vulcanized rubber goes wide
shattering through plexiglass
and into the rib cage
of an innocent bystander
dropping his concessions
to climb the stairs to the sky box
while I wait for repairs to be made.

I used to see cars individually
not as parts but the people inside
those people would be driving around me
and we’d wave to each other
while navigating clear roads
I would recognize their car
out of familiarity
the city has grown since then
I don’t recognize cars anymore
just brands and colors
creating the traffic jam in front of me
as my engine overheats.

The next movie you watch
consume it explicitly
thinking conceptually
consider what the writer is trying to convey
asking yourself
why is this story being told?

The answer lies in your own personal interpretation
considering the different aspects
like subject matter, plot, and aesthetic amongst others
along with more specific elements
like themes, humor, and symbolism
and how those relate you to
the world around you
that uses those to relate to you.

I heard the best way to hear yes is to ask
but that’s not such a simple task
when the chance for yes is last
behind taking off my mask
and considering the past.

A king withdraws into his castle
his eyes drawn out while sitting on the throne
now I'm not a king I'm just an *******
but I do know what it's like to sit at home
not knowing what's going on
a court jester growing con
shows I don't belong
to the awaiting bombs
so I move along.

I need time
and space
I'll wait in line
there's no race
just a loss of grace
that needs to be replaced
this isn't ideal
but I need to heal
from the hamster wheel
of ample feels
like despair over what went wrong
shame which is my only law
pain is there and is raw
so I withdraw
like a sick fawn
without its skinned mom.

The doors to my eyes are shut
as long as I'm stuck
in this lousy rut
building walls of muck
as blinders for a buck
who isn't racing
only running
from those chasing
and gunning
but there's no way to dispel
Satan himself
a turtle withdraws into its shell
laying precariously on the freeway
it knows what awaits is hell
but it can't peel away
because it sees a way
it can be in play.

Seasons slink
I need to think
while on the brink
of an overcast downfall
I put up a sound wall
to ignore the ground's call
asking me to withdraw
into its halls
where I'd switch all
the things I've acquired in life
for eternal night
an infernal fight
to do what's right
and keep the damage inner
temptation says come hither
that wily wyvern
always gives burns
but I never will learn
that my plans of stillbirth
cause a fiery chill hurt.

I'm in a delicate state
and need to deflate
no need to debate
please for my sake
give me a break
I need to escape
the chaos
in which I'm way lost
like the sky that is grey glossed
and the ground made of clay frost
we all have the same boss
whose favorite move is a flame toss.

The withdraw gets worse
turning into a curse
I'm living in a hearse
willing to see the dirt
I feel it flirt
beckoning me to my reckoning
everyone else is seconding
that motion
so I withdraw into an ocean
made entirely of land
the soil I scan
only to find desert sand
passing through my hands
to show I'm ******.

Time goes by
as withdrawn I
had delusions I could fly
they were just withdrawn lies
to make me try
despite belonging on the ground
completely covered by the color brown
with a scent that could gag a hound
so when I finally look around
no one is there
they've withdrawn into pairs
making me stop and stare
yearning for tender care
so I shoot a flare
into the air
but it withdraws back into my gun
like the blacked out sun
telling me I'm done
and the withdraw won.

Some people still don't understand the power of the internet
nor the consequences of social media
they're incredulous when society reacts negatively to someone
if it's someone they like, that is
then that incredulity fuels their perpetual outrage
little things like buzzwords change over time
political correctness becomes cancel culture
and those people say Tropic Thunder couldn't be made anymore
but those people were saying Tropic Thunder couldn't be made
when Tropic Thunder was made.

Those people have truncated perspectives
and provide truncated answers
to non-existent questions
then wonder why filmmakers don't respond to the criticism
of someone who watches ten movies per year
and their half-baked commentary on the film industry
that has more to do with their political agenda
rather than any real concern for creative liberty.

You came from Korea to start a farm
not to do any harm
just to build your barn
under Arkansas stars.

But you underestimated the pressure
of being considered lesser
in the land of western
hopeful investors.

All of the stress
to be the best
made you less
in this game of chess.

When the rain grows
one must lay low
by a tornado's say so
which is a brain blow.

Missing the old ways
your mother comes to stay
but you hope she doesn't sway
your children today.

Mother planted minari
where once there was none
it may not be a Ferrari
but it grows in the sun.

The innocuous plant isn't appreciated
when financial burdens aren't alleviated
the American Dream is steely gated
despite what it's really rated.

Mother had a stroke
the others couldn't cope
as lost lovers said nope
to their one true hope.

Surrounded by Christians
you concede your intuition
for American superstition
promising a healing prescription.

After the hard turn
of having your heart spurned
you watched your barn burn
like a form of heartworm.

You look at your wife
and she looks back
you see in your life
it's she you lack.

Now you understand what's important
and it's not business
you used to want to be a foreman
now just a witness.

I'm a machine-
gun wielding ******-
path of destruction
scorched by hatred
plumes of resentment
billow into the air above me.

Kidnapped
at an early age.
Given straps
and a surly rage.

I have a vicious commander
who wants to get even
so I find it odd
I should call him God
but that's the law.
My arms
an extension of his will.
My mind
an extension of his mouth.

I see my life chiseled in stone before me
it's defined by a maniac's brutal orders.
So in order to avoid misery
I embrace it.
My value is in violence
so I say carpe diem
and RPG them.

I mitigate my murderous misery
through ****** and methamphetamines.
Saccharine civilians deal with life
through hope and faith.
I resent them
for the life they've lived
for the hope they've maintained.
I wonder if their hope and faith will survive
after being ***** by a child.

I found you this rose
it's the color one has to see to win a fight in jail
as far as fighting goes
I don't think I'll ever prevail
fighting tooth and nail
against brutish males
of which you are one
holding my rose like a gun
which was set to stun
and now to ****
you get your fill
removing my will
by sitting me still.

I gave you a red flower
with thorns
it gave you power
and horns
adorned
above your scorn
looking down on me
a coyote howling
amongst the evergreens
that are never seen
and an ember means
the death of trees
so the creatures leave
at the sight of steam.

I'll respect you
I'll treat you right
so I expect you
to leave tonight
while keeping my rose
to keep me feeling low
to keep me on my toes
to keep me on the go
in fact the only thing not worth keeping
is the man who just got done speaking.

There's a dead cat on the road
second one this week
I shouldn't be writing about other people's dead cats
I should be writing about my own
passed away many years ago
still occupying my memory
even as people have come and gone
—mainly gone
I only come once everybody's gone
everybody comes once I'm gone
they move in next door
leaving dead cats for me to worry about
while speeding off
frustrating me with blatant recklessness
we hurt one another and feel remorse—
never changing we continue to do so
the speed limit goes lower
because we keep going faster
painting the road with deer and auto parts
the lines on the road become hard to see
when smoke is the only signal visible
all I can do is pull onto a shoulder
and curl up for a catnap.

I want you to know how I feel
but my words don't reach the extent necessary
to let you know what is real
that I want to be your emissary
but I act so wary
like an actuary
with a knack for staring
judging passing cherries
as cassowaries.

My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth
because of the fountain of heat
that lies beneath
my sword in sheath
melting through its protection
bleeding from the rejection
of your outward inflection
thwarting this coward's intentions.

I miss you but I don't even know you
I want to kiss you and hold you
but the issue to that bold move
is that I don't know if it'd go through
like Father Time's sand
passing through my hands
******* I'm an old man
from your cold canned gold jam
I'm sold bland then soul slammed
by Conan
The Barbarian
in my solarium
solitary terrarium
where nary a sum
equals more than one.

Sometimes I think about going back to ******
but always end up realizing I can’t
because that world would break me once more
because I’m too soft
I guess everyone is too soft
especially when they start using
many think they’ll be a bulb of light
illuminating a dim and darkened room
until the deader bulbs take advantage
draining the once bright bulbs
until they’re fragile shells.

Do I capitalize the g in God?
I guess my answer is self evident
I don't think I need to dot my i's
To receive God's love
But he also wants me to mind my p's and q's
So I can know His word
And understand His scripture
But society's an encryptor
Feeding me tryptophan
Until this cryptogram
Leaves me ******
By turning the Bible into a crossword puzzle
My only chance to prosper is muddled

I'm sorry to say
Things didn't go your way
Chalk it up as dues to pay
Just please don't lose your faith
You must wrestle sin
Don't let it in
Or let it win
Or you'll get grim
On a lonely limb

Despite a deluge of hope
You yell lose and nope
You can't use a joke
Singing the blues to cope
24/7
You feel threatened
Before I finish my sentence
So our contact is lessened
Because your empathy deafened
Always puts me in second

You become negative
Ignoring relatives
You have hell to give
In the cell you live
Where it's dark
And barren
Bitterness is stark
And apparent

You expect me to save you
From what Satan gave you
But he's totally enslaved you
You need Jesus to bathe you
Because I see the same you
And will always blame you
Using a shame tool
To change fools

I hate to slice ties
But in your eyes belies
A sinister surprise
That'll bring my demise
That's sitting on ice
Precariously waiting to melt
To release your anger
So before any damage is dealt
I turn into a stranger

You might be on ****
if you run over your own transmission
pushing your car as hard as possible
because Tik Tok by Kesha is playing.

You're definitely on ****
it afterwards you pull into a nearby parking lot
and decide to just shoot **** there
for the next few days.

You're not on **** anymore
when the business owner is fed up with you
and you're falling asleep talking to the police
who only find empty bags and tell you to leave.

The lines become blurred
when you're six months sober
and a psychosis has developed
to the point where you're hiding
behind your couch from the shadow
people with ****** rifles outside.

Desperate and lonely
you need someone for holding
but that's not how you know me
so you just call me homie
when looking for comforting company
to give aid to your conforming country
then you just start hatefully hunting
to prove you are... something.

You say get in the whip
like you're cool and you're hip
you sound like a **** that is dip
but I need your script in my wrist
so I hop in your motor vehicle
hoping for a hopeless miracle
that you'll stop acting satirical
and break out that bag that is spherical.

That shot must've not sat right
you've been looking for a fight
all narcotic night
your sardonic sight
has been on pointed humor to get me annoyed
but I don't feel like Robert Downey Jr. or Pink Floyd
when you interrupt my ****** stupor to argue like boys
I just want to be a user drama devoid.

You spit and stunt
telling me if I don't roll the blunt
I can get the **** out of your car
I ask why you're acting hard
is it emotional scars?
Or Xanax bars?
This planet's marred
with cancer hearts
you play your part
by trying to act cool
thus making the world colder
you look like a piece of stool
but think you're a soldier.

My shoulders shrug high
saying I don't want to be Drug Guy
so there's no need to be unkind
we can talk about this sometime
once you're unblind
but until then
see not me
with your peacocking
you seem cocky
but scream softly.

You call me a *****
I say try me and you'll see
it'll only be fueling
an endless cycle of dueling
but you want to be the crazy one
so your choices are hazy ones
and your ideas lazy ones
like playing nun
for gaming funds
then regarding yourself as a mature man
everyone can smell your manure ****.

I’m roadkill with a glint still in my eye
on the blacktop I lie
before the arrival of flies
who finalize a demise
that seems more like a prize.

A colony of Atlas Stones
defends itself with heavy handedness
intercession relies on physicality
only power warrants movement
and only movement measures success
pushing what's in your way becomes a master key
to move through a locked down nation
a girdle is worn on America's underbelly
bloated by an autoimmune disease.

The Atlas Stones reproduce
tiny innocuous pellets that take an edgier form
filling up the feed trough until they're mature
enough to buzz like flies over the deceased
burrowing inside anything not made of concrete
turning their reluctant host into stone
a facsimile of a fairer, freer fossil
these stones infect everything with their heaviness
so we must remove the concrete and steel inside.