A naive missionary
Trying to be visionary
Did something real scary
He went to North Sentinel Island
A place inhabited by lost savages
And now nobody can find him
Because they violently ravaged him

He had visions of healing
And also God revealing
He was worth revering
After the savages hearing
His apocryphal cheering
Would stop their spearing
Causing societal endearing

But he arrived on the shore
For a one sided war
Of blood and gore
Until he was no more
This man of God
Saw man as flawed
And looked for applause
By teaching glorious laws
Of his divine cause
But met flying claws
He couldn’t pause
Their brains were too narrow
Much like their arrows
That flew like war sparrows
Into his bone marrow

Spreading God’s love
Without safety gloves
Leads to push and shove
Instead we must look above
While giving others space
Treating them with grace
And not seeing it as a race
Where their lifestyle must be replaced
Or their brutal culture erased
But be aware of the problems we face
When we start to desperately chase
Moments of transcendence
And fame
That will ultimately end us
In shame

On a garden tree of hardened leaves
slithers a centipede anemone
claiming to be a friend of me
sprouting wings splendidly
flying to the Nth degree ahead of me
until I can no longer see
where the wronger flee
behind a Chris Pronger screen
giving me the stronger steam
to bomb the seed.

I stand in the mud
To guard from the flood
Of parasitic bugs
That try to steal blood
But I’m not an evil vet
So I try to use mosquito nets
That can’t match the torpedoes set

The passing of time
Develops nasty grime
Through blasting crimes
As the lasting mimes
Understand ***** dimes
Fall to those in line

After a while the painted soil
Becomes black from sainted oil
Acquired through tainted toil
To the wealthy go the spoils
Saying it’s healthy to be royal
While our dying planet boils

A tar pit
Carpet
Car drift
Scar gift
Guard shift
Charred rift
Bars lift
To heaven’s gate
So instead I deflate
To a second rate
Panicked state
As the Devil’s mate

Drowning in quicksand
Certainly won’t fix man
But I’m out of tricks planned
To cross this split span
That’s a crypt can
That clips lambs
Who withstand
The whip slams
In this strict land
Where kicks ram
The sick ******
Who picked scams

This tower of dirt
Built by our hurt
Has crumbling girth
So is it really worth
All the pain we birthed?
Like a plague on Earth
Where we play the perp
There’s no way this works

A butterfly hangs from a tree
inside its formative cocoon
a cold front blankets the ecosystem
bringing predatory desperation.
A spider escaping certain death
crawls in the cocoon to survive.

Silk womb Christ-like chrysalis
the spider is an honorary pupa
finding safety with another species.
The time of snow angels passes
frozen doors thaw revealing freedom.

The butterfly an involuntary good Samaritan
nightmares of treachery tinge its antenna
fears of graceful charity being repaid by the ungrateful imperial
shake the inside of the inside of the inside.
Moment of truth, of reckoning
will the arachnid drifter show gratitude
or will nature conquer itself?
In order for flight to emerge
we hopefully rely on the benign gratefulness of the venomous.

I need my employer
more than they need me
but our employers need us
way more than we need them.

I caterwauled down the catwalk
meowing and howling
to drown out the call of the void
letting the cats now I'm a catch
to be a pet they could pet
but once I saw the miles to the aisle
I ran way down the runway
setting a manifest for the planet next
unable to be able
to sit still on the window sill
and take in what I've taken on
staring at stars or caring about cars
I pick a solitary peak to perch
and look down on more content creatures.

I need to express myself
For my mental health
Not to melt
But I don’t make art
Because it’s torn apart
Like a bleeding heart
Eaten by seething sharks

In a match of the friendless
Versus the defenseless
It’s the pretentious
Who condescend us

They hit all
The pitfalls
With wit small
But sit tall
Behind thick walls
Of vitriol

They see examining art
As a way to prove they’re smart
By blindly rejecting what others like
And enjoying the obscure
As if being different makes them right
Which is obviously absurd

On a plane where opinion
Is treated as fact
They claim dominion
Over the artistic track
By shooting black flak
Until I angrily react
And flies I attract

You might take the angle
I think everyone is painful
I’m not saying there aren’t angels
But there are definitely demons
With no explainable definite reasons
Why they call some artists heathens
Based on the nonsense they believe in

Pretension and ignorance
Have a large difference
But both are carnivorous
Most of their comments
Aren’t very honest
Nor are they modest
They just burn the hottest

Their judgment stuck
On calling everything putrid
The best filmmakers ****
The best musicians are stupid
They can hardly be called lucid
Trying to be the negative Confucius

Their hate reaping
Gatekeeping
Breaks peeking
Artists seeking
One day reaching
Public preaching

I start to withdraw
Once they’re near
My heart won’t unthaw
Frozen in fear
The crowd is suggestible and fickle
So one negative trickle
Causes an avalanche of icicles
Knocking me off life’s bicycle

They discourage people from putting themselves out there
As they turn culture into a doubt fair
Only producing shout air
To reroute stares
Away from emotional expression
And toward themselves
With their rhetorical aggression
They put us in hell

Your beauty
Shot through me
Assigning a duty
I knew I'd be losing
So I made an advance
And you declined
I knew I had a slim chance
But I was still losing my mind

I felt stupid
I felt weak
Why did Cupid
Make me weep?
From behind the gate he keeps
He shot arrows penetrating deep
That made me fall for the elite
Only to be trampled by feet

I saw perfection
Feed me rejection
I cursed my reflection
And avoided detection
After losing the election
You could tell I was bitter
So you left me to wither
And call you a sinner
For not eating my dinner
Feeding damage inner
Rotting my liver

I was gobsmacked
By the odd lack
Of contact
With your fond laugh
Sitting there seething
To white noise on the TV
Sounding like the rain heaving
Or a pack of coyotes eating
My still beating heart
You're the fleeting spark
That leaves me dark

I wished there was no one on Earth
So you could be as lonely as I
After you took all my self worth
And left me to die
I reached for a piece of the pie
Then you made me reach for the sky
Using the pistol in your eyes
You made me reach for the sky
It hurt then but looking back I know why
God put you in my life but not by my side
You made me reach for the sky

This place is inhospitable
Misery is the daily ritual
And pain is habitual
Ugliness the visual
I beg for early retirement
In this deadly environment
Where the entire tent
Is a sulfur fire vent

I deal with harsh fellows
While in a marsh mellow
Their dark hell glow
Makes a swell show
But it pervades the air
And light can’t be shared
I foolishly use a flare
To illuminate the lair
Full of grizzly bears
And nifty mares
With shifty stares
Gifting tears
While no one cares
So I retreat to the dark
Of this crime-ridden park

The mud starts to stack
Once the swamp is black
For it’s vision I lack
So mosquitoes attack
Stealing my blood
With microscopic bites
They come in a flood
In the absence of light
After I lost my might
Attached to my sight
Parasites took flight
Like killer kites
In the cover of night
Millions of mites
Entered the fight

The bugs grew bolder
So I grew colder
A subzero soldier
Environment molder
I sparked it
Arctic
Killing the invasive insects
By lowering the heat index
But they leave a heated hex
Leaving me vexed
By the ghostly hiss
Of loneliness
Hoping bliss
Can coexist
With frigid fists
Is a ******’s wish

This tundra provides no nourishment
Only death’s encouragement
I need heaven’s surrogates
To come sing my dirges
Until a flower flourishes
Granting my cure wishes
By eliminating the vicious
Cold air biting malicious
But the locusts in ditches
Start reclaiming their riches
And this endless well
Of go to hell
Show and tell
Rings a bell
Starting a new round
As bugs in the ground
Are lost and found

I don’t know who I am
I don’t even feel like a person
maybe that’s why I enjoy *** so much
to receive attraction
a validation of existence
proving a planet exists through its moon’s orbit.

I’m a ship prepared to sail
Through aerial gales
To live a fairytale
Above scary jails
That sadly prevail
Below my trail

I look below me
To see hatred growing
While the lights are strobing
From the guns they’re loading
That are my foreboding
If I ever start slowing
I’ll hit the ground lowly
And the bullets flowing
Will get to know me

But I have protectors
Against those who hector
They watch my vector
And disarm the projectors
My protectors are my friends
My protectors are my colleagues
And my flight will never end
As long as they will follow me

Enemy insurgents
Become a disturbance
Creating turbulence
As they herd the dense
Until they’re furious
And shoot the breeze
With RPGs
Until my army sees
They’re harming me

My friends flank me in jet fighters
To protect me from the assault
And my squad keeps getting wider
By adding those I exalt
I fly in the clouds
With my friends all around
Breaking the barrier of sound
While never going down

Foes shoot missiles
Of dismissal
With words visceral
To make me miserable
But my valiant defenders
Shoot down the offenders
With consolation rendered
In their care so tender

We employ evasive maneuvers
To avoid the pervasive losers
And the invasive abusers
All of whom are cruisers
Flying low
Dying slow
Blinding snow
Lines their nose

But the enemy fleet is approaching
Our territory they’re encroaching
While we’re somberly toasting
Seeing the numbers they’re boasting
We try to fight
With all our might
But day turns to night
As I gain a suffering plight

The hovering helicopters
Shoot distracting flares
With tantalizing offers
Leaving my targeting impaired
So I veer off course
Like a lost horse
In a frost force
Of top torque

Once my squad is separated
The enemy is elevated
Showing the hell that waited
While my friends designated
Me as venerated
Like Satan irrigated
The peers I hated
Just being patient
Until I use a spaceship

The demons chase
Me into space
Until there’s no trace
Of the Devil’s face
But I can’t eject now
With space all around
While my crew starts to leave
Between asteroids I weave
While trying to grieve
My group disintegrating

They float into the nether
Quiet as a feather
As my ties are severed
They float away forever
And I start drifting alone
Drifting becomes my home
Drifting into the dark unknown
Depression drifts into my bones

You’re a disembodied voice
only appearing in mirrors
like the Candyman.
Sometimes I look into the mirror
and say your name three times
then finish jerking off.

The bass player for Korn
Reginald “Fieldy” Arvizu
Plays in a distinctive style
Using the slap bass technique
By down tuning the bass guitar
To the point where there is enough slack in the strings
That they hit the fretboard while playing
Slapping the bass
He also increases the treble significantly
Accentuating a recurring clicking sound throughout their recordings
Some people view this positively
I feel it gives the music more texture
Like putting a little pepper on the song
But some hate it
They say it makes Korn’s music unenjoyable
And annoying
A little clicking noise
Makes their music instantly horrible

For some people it’s never good enough
They will always be listening for your small clicking noises
And demand you change at their whim
Ordering you to tighten your strings until they snap
They say Fieldy *****
They say Fieldy is a ****** bassist
While never putting out any content themselves
So they can throw rocks from the dark
Forcing one to ask themself
Who am I making this art for?
The fickle and ignorant masses
Or the jaded and pretentious elitists?
The answer must be neither
Art must be made for the self
With the hope that others will be able to relate
And whatever your craft is
Some people will appreciate the hard work and dedication
And some people will hear a small clicking sound
You just have to slap their face
With the way you slap your bass

I live in a berserk moor
During a nasty dirt war
Life now the worst chore
So I enter church doors
But somehow hurt more
Once I’m alone on the floor

I sit in a pew
With nothing to do
For I’m one of the few
Not up on the news
Or part of the stew
So I sit there and lose

Should I just give in
Because I don’t fit in?
Or is that I sin?
It seems I can’t win
With my glass chin
And mask of skin

The church is a microcosm of society
And my acceptance a sign of propriety
But I feel anxiety and paranoia biting me
While everyone else gets along delightfully
I sit in the corner
Like a silent mourner
Or Christopher Dorner
An unwanted reformer

I get so nervous
During the service
Did God serve this?
Do I deserve this?
Or can I swerve this
Feeling I’m worthless?

If I could just be myself
They could probably help
But remembering pain I felt
I put my personality on the shelf
Avoiding similar welts
To the ones I’ve been dealt

I live among prying peers
Telling me which way to steer
They’re all I can hear
So to garner cheers
In their direction I veer

I thought if I stayed still
They wouldn’t see me
So I took a pill
So I could be me
But that didn’t free me
Once I was needing
Constant feeding

So I join civilization
And see their indications
Pointing towards temptations
To provide societal placation

They send me
To the trendy
Intending
To amend me

The conformity
Is informing me
Changing horribly
To what I see normally

My confirmation of conformation
Is in observations of obfuscation
In this iteration of integration
Where I conform for calibration

I’m willing to be wrong
To belong
Can I be strong
Singing another’s song?

I want to fit in
So I sit in
Places I’m whipped in
Hatred I’m dipped in
In a crazed conniption

I’ve had a painful life
Under their knife
Giving me strife
To make me right
In their light

Consumed by conformity
Society absorbing me
Changing enormously
To the form I see

I hate what I’ve become
At their behest
So I load my gun
And join the rest

I’ve become an automaton
Building atomic bombs
To drop on the calm
Who don’t sing my song

I don’t want to live as a loner
So I become an ***** donor
Words compose my heart
I develop into art
That I impart
To those looking for blood
And those looking for love
While both push me in mud
Until my insides are no more
Through the divide I soar
To implore for the end of war
But the world keeps turning
Like the people lying on gurneys
Who’s depression has them hurt me
So I try to give them my eyes
To keep them alive
But much to my surprise
They say they want to die
When the whole point is to survive
So I offer them my legs
To help move them ahead
But they just lie in bed
Wishing they were dead
So I offer my exhausted lungs
To help them breathe
To climb the ladder’s rungs
So they’ll be set free
But they don’t want my disease
And prefer to wither in the breeze
On a time killing spree
Lamenting the life they lead
To me it’s kind of funny
If I offered drugs or money
They’d be jumping like bunnies
But instead they hunt me
For telling them what they don’t want to hear
That they’re the driver and they must steer
So I offer them my ears
That ignore their fears
But since it’s not what they want
They claim I tease and taunt
Saying I’m giving them lip
Without the quips
Just the whip
In my insensitive grip
But I’m trying to give away my brain
To block the reality show refrain
That numbs their pain
Making them empty and hollow
My shell of a body will soon follow

You’re a shooting star
Disappearing afar
Once I realize what you are
From inside of my car
Traversing the tar

In an ocean of dark matter
The monotony you shatter
Then just as quickly scatter
Leaving my world flatter

Your aerial displays
Through varying ways
Are like bullet strays
That leave me phased
Missing the sun’s rays
In a delirious daze

You’re like a lit cigarette hitting the ground in space
And your embers fall like freckles upon my face
Burning my view of the entire human race
After you disappear without a trace

You’re a diamond on fire
Flying somewhere higher
Somewhere I’d expire
I say you’re debris in the air
So I don’t have to care
You won’t allow my stare
Towards your elusive flare

My understanding of you is slippery
When you’re always in my periphery
Acting like a total mystery
In an atmosphere differing
From mine here on the ground
Living in my desolate town
Looking like the moon all around
Inside a vacuum of sound

I yearn for the beauty
Of seeing you shooting
It’s somehow soothing
But also dooming
With no one clueing
Me in on how to find you
Or even how to define you
But I imagine the divine choose
And that’s how I know I’ll lose

From a monstrous storm
A monster is born
With monstrous horns
In a monstrous form

The genesis
Of my nemesis
Who venom spits
Left me with
A hefty myth
Of demonic gifts
Through which to sift
In that dark abyss
I found I missed
A beautiful kiss
To unclench my fist

I give monsters a wide berth
As wide as the Earth
To avoid all the hurt
Of being buried in dirt
Once I learn my worth
To them is the worst

Through the monstrous night
It takes a monster to fight
Against this monstrous plight
When the monsters have might

Don’t tell me I’m fine
Or tomorrow’s a new day
Just say never mind
And send me on my way
Into the world of grey
Through which I wade

My inevitable metamorphosis
Put me on negative courses swift
Now I can’t abort this
So my phone cordless
Provides a rather short list
So when I try to import bliss
I receive misery’s scorched kiss
In the form of crippling loneliness

I see the end of times
From severed ties
And clever crimes
In my never mind
I forever climb
While I’m left behind

In this monstrous land
I become a monstrous man
Because of the monstrous sand
Falling from this monster’s hand

I live in the drain
With runoff rain
That unlocked pain
Inside of my brain
That’s a dying flame
From mighty shame

This life is draining
Never obtaining
The proper training
Or someone explaining
Something worth retaining
As time continues waning

I live life in the gutter
When my relation to others
Is either finding a lover
Or running for cover
No middle ground under
My path quaking asunder

My life is leeched
And washed in bleach
As I drain what I preach
Focusing on what others teach
So I may one day reach
A tranquil beach

They drained my spirit
Because they fear it
But now can’t hear it
Or see its appearance
Since its draining clearance
After outside interference

My energy sapped
From their attack
I join the pack
Not looking back
Down the swirling drain
Used to put me in chains
Becoming my barrier bane
That carries the pain
Of having nothing to gain
For I can’t handle the strain
Of living life in the drain

Fasten your seatbelts
For the ice the heat melts
Will be dealt
We’ll receive welts
From Earth’s belt
Her pain will be felt

Crazy cancer
Lazy dancers
Don’t have answers
But as enchanters
Conjure banter
Of absurd slander
And crowd panders
To darken lanterns

Flooding the gate
Money to make
Muddies the stakes
So they act fake
To catch a break
Becoming snakes
With stunning rakes
For nature’s ****

Carbon emission
Cancer remission
In need of incisions
To heal our decisions
Yet denied permission
By a wealthy commission
Utilizing superstition
And pure fiction
To ensure friction
Fueling oil addiction

The hurricanes
Assuring pain
Are curing stains
Of carbon shame
Until what remains
Stays in nature’s lane

I hide in dreams
From Poseidon’s screams
At polluted streams
From brutish teams
Of the crudest greed

To break our code of mourning
We need the noble forming
A case for global warming
Against the vocal storming
Of the slogan storing
***** adoring
Public scorning

We need Atlas here
To fix the atmosphere
As those here
Impose fear
Against peers

Their success equals destruction
So acting responsibly is obstruction
Pushing the planet to an eruption
Of cataclysmic disruption
Due to cynical dysfunction

A tidal wave
Of vital days
To fix our maze
Sits in a haze
While we’re slaves
Digging graves
For the brave
In their way

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.

I’m starting employment
And ending enjoyment
To pay a boy’s rent
Despite annoyance

I’m a lowly novice
Taking the oath of office
With a loathing toxic
Making me noxious

My paperwork
Pays for dirt
Removing smirks
Where I lurk

Their affidavit
Clearly stated
I’d be slated
To be deflated
And degraded
While placated

It taunts me
With the daunting
And haunting
Task of bonding

Floor tiles
And files
Drain smiles
Until I’m defiled

In a complete trance
I stare at sterile plants
And dance a feral dance
With a domestication chance

The trite lights
Are quite bright
And smite kites
To fight flight

They know how to handle a vandal
Just make him wear sandals
To discourage scandals
And extinguish his candle

The timeless
Shineless
Sign says
Clear your table before you leave
To keep the cafeteria clean
So garbage remains unseen
In this horribly sanitized dream

I’d like coffee
But that’s not me
I’ve become Ghandi
A passive zombie

Eventually I figure let
Me have a cigarette
Waiting in the bigger net
Until the trigger sets

They steal my soul
Once I’m told
I’ll get gold
If I fold

Stuck in the clutch
Of a financial crutch
Without any touch
It becomes too much

The walls are caving in
This place I’m slaving in
To avoid my lazy kin
Becoming a crazy djinn
Conjuring sin
So evil wins

I can’t pass this test
At my desk
When the best
Bet on themselves
Putting products on shelves
While I’m stuck in this cell
Of an office hell

Living in the moment
Is where I gain my power
This is my hour

I have interesting thoughts
In the shower
This is my hour

I look outside
And see flowers
This is my hour

I have no time to cower
When this is my hour

This moment
I must reckon
Just for a second

I feel life beckon
Just for a second

I start to feel in it
For a minute

I feel queer
For a year

This lifetime
Builds a tower
But this is my hour

Christians are concerned with who is and isn’t saved
Maybe they should focus on the road they pave
If they really want to know why people run away
While they persecute those who are atheist or gay
They should try to relate
To the people they hate
But their emotions break
When their notions deflate

No free thought
Or love
Just breed a lot
And shove
The meek you’re supposed to admire
Because they’re not in the capitalist attire
Of a suit and tie to show that they’re higher
The weak are only interested in being consumerist buyers
Even if they have to team up with holocaust deniers
Who are seeking to ignite funeral pyres
It doesn’t matter how many bodies are on fire
As long as their own situation isn’t dire

They say ignorance is bliss
Following Jesus through the mist
But they clench their fist
Once they’re really ******
There must’ve been a lesson missed
Like the ones involving politics
Yet they add their hollow wit
To the country’s rhetoric
While they’re not ahead of it

Christianity develops a nasty reputation
Of being closed minded
Because all they add to the conversation
Is that they can’t find it
No matter how much they’re reminded
They walk around like they’re blinded
To not see what’s unclean
Like Christians who are viciously mean
Tearing society apart at the seams
Missed by the blindfolded team
Following signs as old as He
While ignoring history

I isolate myself in a community
So I can act with impunity
Once nothing gets through to me
I try to get the Jews to see
Their blasphemy
Unattractively

Not wanting to follow these roads
The congregation is leaving in droves
Searching for more peaceful groves
Or thoughtful treasure troves
Where they can follow the flow
Of not being told what to know

Christians must stop imposing their will
They must stop the self righteous kills
And pushing counterproductive bills
And take the red pill
Of peace be still
To abandon royal shills
Who sell toil filled
Oil drills
To follow Jesus’ path
Not enacting God’s wrath
By using subtractive math
That makes Satan laugh

Standing on a narrow bridge
above heavy waters
holding a bag of rocks in my hand
rocks collected during vacations and at bus stations
are dropped to see the splash they make
for a moment, there is peace and stillness in the chaotic maelstrom
as the water separates to avoid impact
like Moses parting the Sea of Reads
the rocks only feel air on the way to the ground
the satisfying splash turns out to be a disappointing thud.

My brother and I explored a ravine
in our younger years. A wooded
labyrinth where the auburn
mist of fallen leaves
covered the floor
like a Burmese
tiger pit.

My brother
and I discovered
a lake, which became
a creek, which became
a swamp. I must've found
something exciting, because
I began sprinting homeward in a
juvenile fervor. Penetrating the
leafy shroud with my eager
feet. Unaware of traps
set subtly for those
tramping  through
the wilderness.

A nail,
I stepped
on a nail in my
recklessness. My
tennis shoe armor proved
futile against the steel weaponry.
Completely exposing my vulnerable
sole, the spiked interloper sank
its lone fang into me. The
pain shot through my
foot until ambulatory
abilities all but
vanished.

I didn't watch
where I was stepping
and landed on an inadvertent
weapon.
I should've
known the pollution of man
would stab me in my
outstretched hand.

A lesson was
learned about
paranoia and why
it exists. Even if I watch
where I'm going, polluters
will slit my wrists until the findings
of the swamp are forgotten in favor of scars.

Kentucky nights bring stillness
but not silence

tranquility shrouds creatures of the night
their symphony betrays that.

Grasshoppers and crickets chirp ceaselessly
microorganisms making music of magnitude

introducing dusk to night
with unintelligible cheering.

Timid critters make their presence known
using the anonymity of darkness

raccoons and opossums wail in the distance
their cries aren’t a call to action but a wild expression

they could be dying—they could be giving birth
it’s always one or the other.

Vulnerable bellowing brings out the dogs
for a canine crescendo

projecting power into the air
raised hackles raise spontaneous barking

echoing through the ravine
alerting newts and neighbors alike.

The noise is paused as dogs are brought inside
the faint murmur of scolding replaces them

like an aria without an aside
the air is still again

until a pack of coyotes complete the satz
finding their prey as the night’s finale.

You say you have chronic fatigue
I respond with so do I
You say I’m not in your league
The difference is I try

You say you have a disease
So you can stay on your knees
And beg and plead
For sympathy
Then you gatekeep
Based on sleep
So I can’t make a peep
Unless I’m curled in a heap

You have problems
But you abuse this
When you don’t solve them
They turn into excuses
You’re a hypochondriac
In a cycle so black
Your mind is cracked
From panic attacks

I’m not here to jeer
Those paralyzed by fear
But once you are near
I meet your whiny leer
As you show a clear lack of empathy
Saying no one else understands depression
I constantly feel it enter me
I just don’t make the same concessions

I don’t mind if you take medicine
For your head to win
Against the grim
But don’t tell me you have it worse
From your self imposed curse
Living in the back of a hearse
Because when I say you should stop running
I see a shitstorm coming
With war drums drumming
Showing energy that’s stunning
I guess it was reserved for hunting

Yemen is a floating failed state spinning in the maelstrom
of flu, COVID, diphtheria, and cholera on one side
and the US backed Saudi coalition on the other.

They float there
like an abandoned oil tanker
floating off the coast in the Red Sea
threatening to spill 1,000,000 barrels of crude oil
until entirety turns black—
a sticky substance that’s hard to clean off.

It floats there as a deterrent—a ***** bomb
Houthis hold hostage future generations
with an IED that will injure all of our children—
why have Houthis weaponized the destruction of our planet?
Could it be that we’ve taken their world from them?

The people drop
like a bomb from the sky
in the Shada area of the Saada province.

The country explodes
like a car of 13 Houthis—4 children—
sending shrapnel to every corner of the Earth.

How many children is a terrorist’s life worth?
Keep in mind terrorists could hurt children
or those children could grow up to be terrorists
or a defense contractor could go out of business
so what’s the price of a child relative to those scenarios?

21,000 airstrikes in 5 years
5 years to do the math
every time we try to solve the equation
the answer comes out negative.

I want an exclusive relationship
but I don’t know why
I try to tell myself I don’t want a disease
or that cheating would prove you don’t love me
but if I’m being honest with myself
I’m afraid you’ll find somebody better
either better at ***
or better at caring
or better financially
whatever it takes to be better enough
to make me an unacceptable option
and our relationship an exclusionary one.

You’re gone and not here
by God that was my worst fear
as I sob my heart hurts the worst here
worse than anything since my birth year.

They say you had a good run
they say you had good fun
I want to buy a good gun
to **** someone for saying something so dumb
I guess it’s better than saying so what
but this pain is driving me nuts
but it’s all I have left of a tie that was severed
all these moments I remember
are my ties to the nether
at least I was telling the truth
when I said our ties would last forever.

Constantly confounded
monsters have mounted
problems I've counted
groveling grounded.

The constant confusion
from deficit delusions
create definite illusions
of excrement infusion.

The continuous questioning
can be quite deafening
lessening
the best of me.

I use a thought shield
so I cannot feel
like the locked steel
of stopped wheels.

F in the chat
for the death in my hat
I'm left with a lack
of discerning tact.

I'm living a lie
by not living with why
but idiot I
just sits down and cries.

I haplessly hope for a lucky guess
to get me out of this ******* mess
but I haven't seen nothing yet
except my own lonely death.

I drive down the slippery road of life
Where constant sliding is my plight
As rain pours onto the road at night
Encouraging my car to take flight
To extinguish my headlights

I can’t see through the rain
Hitting my windshield pane
Becoming my banal bane
Inside my flooded lane
Causing a sedative strain
Until only the vigilant remain

Eventually the tread wears off my tires
In this slippery mire
My situation dire
I want to retire
But can’t find a buyer
Who can help me get drier

I start violently hydroplaning
Forgetting my entire training
When my tires are skating
My white knuckles aching
As every moment is taking
An eternity of shaking

I still think I’m driving
But really I’m sliding
Chaos abiding
Uncontrollably riding
Through God’s designing
While never arriving
To the place I’m pining
Before I started finding
This road to be so winding

May 5, 2021 Madison Square Garden
Washington Capitals vs. New York Rangers
there is a tense atmosphere after a fight
between these two teams in the game prior
the Rangers are looking for revenge
against the Capitals and the NHL
and are only interested in fighting
but there is a quieter storyline developing as well:
TJ Oshie returning to the Capitals lineup
after being out for a handful of games
while grieving the loss of his father
so nothing was expected from him except getting reacquainted
with the game his father coached him to play
between baseball, football, basketball, and golf
and pow wowing with their native Ojibwe tribe
while living with NHL forward Henry Boucha
to the point TJ called him coach instead of dad.

With all the history and backstories
the actual game had to start at some point
and it started with three fights in the first second
there would be more fighting throughout the game
TJ Oshie had never been too interested in fighting
he was interested in playing hockey and that's what he did
in a game where the other team was trying to
teach the league a lesson
by attacking the integrity of the sport
TJ Oshie taught a lesson
by maintaining his own integrity
by playing the game his father taught him to play
instead of playing into the negativity and violence around him.

The first period had six fights and even more penalties but no goals
the game had become a sideshow to the sideshow
but Oshie came out of the intermission determined nonetheless
scoring a goal in the first twelve seconds of the second period
it was clear he was thinking of his father as he wiped his face
some of his teammates offered their own brands of support
and then he went to the faceoff circle for play to resume
but had clearly angered the Rangers
who would challenge him to a fight
that Oshie would turn down
to the boos and jeers of a rabid New York audience
but that decision paid off
when Oshie scored the second goal of the game
midway through the second period
and although this lacked the emotion of the first goal
it was a productive way for Oshie to pay tribute while playing.

By the third period things had calmed down
enough people had been thrown out of the game
that both sides didn't want to push their luck
and were on considerably better behavior
and seemed like they were just waiting for the game to end
but TJ Oshie's legs had been moving all night
and they continued moving
pumping through pain and loss
scoring one more goal wasn't going to bring anybody back
but this wasn't about resurrection
nor was this about scoring
this was about being
somebody who puts in maximum effort
and one more goal came as a result
creating Oshie's fourth career hat trick (he has five now)
and as a couple lonely hats fluttered to the ice
Oshie was embraced by his team
congratulating his accomplishment
admiring his resiliency and capability
before returning to their spots on the bench or ice
leaving Oshie alone on the bench
putting his head down
to silently reflect
on Henry Boucha
on the Ojibwe tribe
and on the game he played tonight
and the way he played it
and the coach who gave him all of those things.

I admit fault

All I can say
Is I’m sorry I swayed
During the fray
I swerved in your lane
I could’ve said it was rain
Or my brakes were restrained
Instead I accept blame

I was once rear ended
By a peer who pretended
I purposefully meant it
Like my car was rented
So I became the defendant
Against the non repentant
My heart couldn’t be mended
From my trust being dented

So I admit fault
To close the vault
Of paranoid salt
For confusion to halt

After harmlessly crossing your border
          you take our friendship hostage
guarding your perimeter with sandbags of arbitrary etiquette
a no man's land of manners separates us
   you snipe from your defensive position
              so I retreat and start strategizing.
Consulting my generals to discuss your tactics
  they advise me to start stockpiling weapons
                and to start looking for weaknesses.

There is a counteroffensive to your intentions.
            While you were destroying my satcoms
a successful infiltration of your command center was accomplished.
Once your defenses were understood
           your flanks appeared vulnerable.
                      Blind spots were revealed.

You only sign a treaty once your resources start depleting
then you ignore the rules I'm reading to give me a beating.
          So I'm building up my arsenal and
enriching my uranium in this centrifuge
                             where we spin in circles.
My nuclear option is prepared and capable.
                  Pacifism is more appealing than violence
     but when you try to erase who I am I must take a stand.

Armed with an ability to attack
I get a warhead on my shoulders
               found from old schematics
you shared with me while I fought your enemies.
               They were never thrown away
now they're dusted off and revisited
to make your walls crumble
and incinerate you flag.

Your nation starts hiding from what they were once confiding
                              after my nukes obliterate your infrastructure.
Rebels and runners fill fallout shelters and basement bunkers
                                         hiding from the radioactivity in the air.

Everyone's death equals success proving I'm best
        so I develop a permanent wartime economy
                                      and fire missiles mercilessly.
There's no difference between fighters and civilians
             because some insurgents are chameleons
                                      so I **** them by the millions.
                        The more weapons I get
                        the more needless death
                        until the only nations left standing
are those that have stockpiled weapons of their own.

Should a poet consider
what their work looks like in portrait mode
and adjust their lineation accordingly?
Or should the responsibility be on the reader to use landscape mode?

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.

It’s clear to see the disarray
like a raccoon wandering during the day
in the wandering fray
its wandering may
lead it astray
that’s the way
wandering days
sunder our stay
every second a blade
cutting into our DNA
we speak to say
words before our grave
that fall on deaf ears
until we only see death here
and look for someone to rest near
after we’ve extinguished our best years
for a disarray distraction
and repeat this action
in coupled factions
to face the disarray
together more brave
drawn by attraction
we call the spayed a *****
no more attention paid
underneath the waves
we need others to wade
so some of us are just here
wandering the disarray sphere
not playing with peers
facing fears
alone
go home
nobody is there
life isn’t fair
and some must resort to stares.

There is an objective truth
we all live through
that doesn't always give you
the answers you want to hear
which is always a fear
but we persevere
and adapt to the new information
or ignore it for mind incarceration
and see how this can tear apart a nation
of usefully dumb
and emotionally numb
people stockpiling guns.

The deniers and deceivers
give birth to true believers
spreading indoctrination fever
like broken breeders
following Loki leaders
claiming the Earth is flat
Covid is whack
white is better than black
commanding to attack
the different ilk
like Harvey Milk
their army built
only blood spilt.

This mind state
might make
the crime rate
climb great
when murderers believe that they're saviors
because the oppressed are framed as slavers
making mass shootings answer the prayers
of lambs led astray
guns, god, and grenades
pave our tumultuous grave.

Preacher sees in black and white
So preacher sees he’s right
Justified by God’s light
To judge on sight

Preacher says secular music is evil
Not meant for holy people
He’s not even talking about Slayer
Or Jay-Z rapping about being a player
He uses Led Zeppelin as an example
When more relevant options are ample
My musical taste is trampled
Like some shameful scandal

He tells me not to listen to Crazy Train
So I think he has a lazy brain
That didn’t listen to what Ozzy was saying
That song wasn’t about foxy ladies
Or boxing babies
Or buying a Mercedes
Just diagnosing the rabies
Of a species in training

If I don’t listen
How can I help?
It sounds like a mission
To focus on myself
Instead of pain that is felt
By those who have welts
That kind of life seems reductive and boring
When outside it’s storming
And everyone ignores me
The music is God performing
Just for me

Preacher wants to delete
The musical elite
Until only gospel plays on repeat
At that point I’ll take a seat
Saying that’s neat
But I’m looking for more
Like opinions on war
And the dominion formed
Through judgmental scorns
That leaves our culture torn

The church is a microcosm of society
With the preacher dictating propriety
Saying ignore the secular entirely
To not live so direly

I found the divide between the secular and religious
When both take their culture to an extent prodigious
They start acting vicious
Once they’re comfortable in their niches

People live on the ground
That’s not where I’m found
My head is up in the clouds
Looking down on the crowds
Circling round and round
Until they slowly drown

The vertigo
From the hurt I know
Punches my nose
Crunching my bones
Snuffing like snow
My candlelight glow

I’m the saddest here
In the stratosphere
Where only bad appears
But I say status clear
To my static peers
Avoiding cactus jeers

An airplane’s
Scare game
Shares blame
For spare pain
In my bare brain
Ensnared in shame

So the sky is my home
That’s why I’m alone
Up high and unknown
A guy on his throne
That flies over tombs
That hide all their bones

I can see space
In front of my face
Slowly erase
The Earth’s trace
And God’s grace
As I waste

I’m floating away
Hoping I stay
Stoking a flame
Choking in waves
Of water that rains
Until I’m insane

I can’t hear love
I can’t hear God
I steer above
To see I’m a fraud
No one will applaud
The hovering flawed

Success beckons like a flippant ******
offering pure triumph
the nectar of glory flows in her.
Attempting to approach I find I cannot move.
stagnant hands emerge from the depths grabbing my ankles
looking down I see they're my hands
holding my craven climbers in place
I look back at my arms to see my hands missing
who needs Kurt Angle when I can put myself in an ankle lock?

I've got a hold of me and I won't let go
escape attempts are thwarted by preemptive remorse
plunging me deeper into the depths.
The knobs on my arms can't undo the harm
of the disconnected hands of the ******
that paralytically punish
tools supposed to help me give me a belting
while the lady in red leaves disappointed.

Tired of struggling against myself
my third rate fate accepted
I'm learning to love the view from where my hands plant me
no view of outside
at least I can see a window.
                                                         ­                                             
A siren's song echoes in the wilderness distance
beautiful serenades are muffled by walls
muted singing is enjoyed in solitude.

My dismembered hands dig into my brain
until things are rearranged
there's a paradigm shift
a paradox gift
beauty becomes ugly
so no one is above me
I can look in the mirror in the eyes of my peers
and see myself standing alongside them
when they're beauty makes them uglier than me.

They don't know pain
they couldn't understand
plutonium thoughts decay vision
replacing it with radioactive judgment.
I surmise negativity is just part of my personality
I surmise success is a ***** who picks the undeserving more
life goes unexamined
while wondering why insanity swirls.

Nagging depression firmly scratches the back of my brain
all that was avoided punches from the past
an explanation of my condition is given to my mistakes
like a father excusing their son's bad behavior
words fall on deaf ears once deeds have been done

failure doesn't care about my excuses
excuses completing a self-fulfilling prophecy
by hands from the depths burying me stationary.

Alex Smith is a quarterback
more importantly a husband, son, and father
who is cut no sort of slack
in a sport of slaughter.

West coast offense
almost always softens
someone in the pocket
used to quick tosses.

A deserved demotion to backup
made his life increasingly harder
all of the mistakes and bad luck
called for a new start for the starter.

Washington by way of San Francisco
he wasn't high up as far as the list goes
Alex Smith got his wish though
and was back in the fishbowl.

Alex Smith was used in
a game against Houston
and was rolled into a compound fracture
from a double defensive back compactor.

His trip to the hospital
wasn't quite optimal
and it kept getting worse
opening the door to a hearse.

The doctors detected
the wound was infected
Alex had become septic
with bacteria interjected.

Blood pressure dropping
and a fever rising
you know he wasn't flopping
by the way he was writhing.

The leg was turning black
and developing huge blisters
the knowledge they lacked
to heal the maimed mister.

His wife was worried
so were the physicians
to surgery they hurried
on a life saving mission.

The doctors discovered the issue
was necrotizing fasciitis
infecting skin and muscle tissue
like a black King Midas.

Daily debridement
helped with askew alignment
but the bone still looked like a trident
and the infection was the only assignment.

Should they take the leg while they can cut below the knee?
Is wanting to live your life a form of greed?
Does a steed consider its ambulatory needs?
Alex just follows the doctor's lead.

Eight debridements leave the tibia completely exposed
but the necrotizing fasciitis is gone
yet once one's legs explode
how can they move on?

Replacement skin comes from the quad
despite the risk of failure
the doctors took over for God
as epidermic tailors.

Intense physical therapy
is better than sitting scarily
or holding onto life barely
so Alex proceeded merrily.

Eventually healing
getting back to wheeling
this game didn't end in kneeling
when there was extra time to be stealing.

He was told he wouldn't play anymore
he was told he'd lose his leg
now the doctors have nothing to say anymore
and he's only looking ahead.

Playing with no team name
it was definitely no dream game
two teams that were three and seven
but for one quarterback this was heaven.

Two years after getting injured
Alex beats a divisional opponent
something no one would've inferred
back in that pivotal moment.

Deep underwater
we blow unwilling bubbles
pockets of blue air

Friends forever
Doing drugs together
Until I pulled a lever
And tracks were severed

****** barreling
******* caroling
That would make pharaohs sing
Now memories embarrass me
From negativity that shined
I thought fit me fine
But I crossed the line
Of wasting time

End of wits
Tracks were split
Dodging a candlelit
Snake bit
Break pit

Years passed
Pain amassed
Trampled grass
From feet so fast
Things don't last

Now I'm gay
And he's a ****
What can I say?
Maybe it's our posse?
The change I did not see
But pain it has brought me
My sinful past has caught me
Returning shame that had fought me

Show and tell
Sowed in hell
A golden well
Sold then fell
Into two paths
One of laughs
One of wrath
I need a bath
To undo this math

This guilt built
Quilt kilt
Tilts
My mentality
Of congeniality
Back to reality
And functionality
Which devours me
Powerlessly
Struggling to get free
From this depression disease

This bullet train
Bull of pain
Calls my name
From the grain
Of the game
Of my blame
For what remains

Take my lifeblood
And my night flood
Be my right bud
Instead of plight mud
Become invincible
And principled
Not instant mold
Born from cold

There's a track mark
Left from the dark
Of my regretful ark
That seems so stark
It spreads through my body
Making me feel so naughty
Doing mental karate
To say it's not me
It's not my fault
But my complicity
Opened the vault
Filled with salt
Festering inside recovering scars
So even if I'm discovering stars
I'm still locked behind bars
For crimes committed on Mars

Back cracking
Backtracking
Packs stacking
Tacks lacking
Any relent
To my lament
For what I meant
Versus what I sent
But tracks were set
And stations were met
Now I can't pay this debt
When the only way is death

Life is about running in circles
And making those circles as big as possible
But I only run with the hurtful
And my circle is an obstacle
I must hurdle
To live optimal
But I hide like a turtle
In my tortoise shell
Sort of hell
Where a flood fell
Filling the blood well
That is my circular cell

My route to south
Roundabout
Gives a frown devout
And I can’t get out
When the other drivers block me
In this game of circular hockey
The other skaters try to knock me
Until I’m not me

The difference is stark
Now I’m a circling shark
Looking for prey to eat
To join in my defeat
I tell myself I enjoy pain that’s visceral
Because I’m so miserable

After all my sinning
The circle is winning
As my head is spinning
From a hurricane
Ensuring pain
In my fury brain
With an impossible game
To tornado tame
The circling drain

So I find this circular saw
Has a surplus of flaws
Living by primal laws
I use tiger claws
To follow lion laws
While they gnash their ****** jaws
I just look down at my circular paws
Wishing I wasn’t following frauds

My life is an O
I don’t know
Where to go
I follow the flow
In a circular mode
My life is a 0
So I look for a hero
I only find fear though
Making me veer low

After countless searches
I find circles of purpose
That can’t be purchased
With something like money
But a way of existing
That demand I stop running
And I stop resisting
Fear grips me
As changes trip me
As my new way strips me
Which was part of its gifting
To end my circle sifting
With a cross it lifts me
To end my drifting

What is Free File?
Not someone sexually attracted to the inexpensive, that's a freephile.
Not the potions you start Diablo with, those are free vials.
Not a useful new shower pan, that's pre-tiled.
Free File is a deal between the government
and tax preparation companies like H&R Block
for the government to not create its own tax prep software
this software could be released for free
and the uniformity would benefit tax processing
but this would hurt—maybe destroy— the tax prepping industry.

The government capitulated... obviously.
The government asked for a concession from the tax preppers:
offer free tax prep to people in lower tax brackets
but clients are marks for siphoning
and the poor contain the largest pool of marks
so of course these financial advisors did everything they could
to hide financially beneficial information from their clients
of course Intuit just got in trouble for hiding TurboTax Free File
adding code to block it from Google and other search engines.

What is Free File?
A capitalist's answer to subverting capitalism
their product is antiquated
so they anchor down society
so it doesn't pass them by
multitudes of businessmen halt progress for selfish gain
automation frees us from soul-draining work we need to live
to pay bills to shysters who nickel and dime us.

In this age of hypercapitalism
where entire industries are built upon
lobbying the government to make progress illegal
the government's solution
is to ask these capitalists to sell their product for free.

We’re all born in the same place
Ourselves
And we all run the same race
To hell

Born into a world already turning
My feet start urgently burning
Before my brain begins churning
I ignore what I’m learning
For my movement yearning

Now that I’m of a reactionary fashion
It’s time for social interaction
I’m told to pick a faction
That’ll be my infallible bastion
I’ll defend with blind passion

My need to know more
Brought the conquistador
Who had the keys to my door
With no reason implored
He beat me to the floor

He comes from society
To check my propriety
Conquering through anxiety
Or straight up fighting me
Until the pain starts piling
From his constant defiling

I’ve made a million mistakes
So I don’t deserve any breaks
But all he does is take
Everything at stake
My life he shakes
To make me fake

Through the storm
He screams conform
Until my soul is torn
After I adorn
His demon horns

I adopted his impersonal sensation
So to avoid my temptations
I commit self immolation
For the hellish integration
Of society’s placation

But he keeps demanding more
He keeps demanding war
And me to be ******
Until I’m not sure
If I can be cured
Or even endure
When they obscure
The path of the pure
With their malice lure

The safety of sedating
Keeps me from hating
So life becomes waiting
Avoiding their blading
And incision trading
Which is why I’m delaying
And the conquistador is staying

I can’t wake up
After I ate up
The tryptophan
Cryptogram
Sold to man
Turning ******
On the lamb
From the sham
Of Uncle Sam

I observe and record
The undeserved discord
Implored
By dim bores
While indoors
Sins are born
I was warned
But I formed
A sin scorn
Once forlorn
In the storm

The abhorrent
Sent a torrent
Of torment
To the dormant
Informant
That went through my mind
To become realigned
Into something that rhymed
To take up my time

The extension
Of the tension
Met the unmentioned
Intention
Of detention
By hedonism
To see the schism
That reads like a prison
And bleeds with the rhythm
Of a needle's incision

The exclusion
Of my collusion
With my delusion
From night's illusions
Ended their nuisance
By taking a new stance
Of a mute dance
Of loose chance

This war I wage
By turning the page
Has me burning with rage
Learning this cage
Is churning my craze
Yearning to age
To master this maze

This paper cut
Safer hut
Replaced my rut
Graced by trust
On pace for bust
I trace my fuss
To place a plus
On this race to dust

Surprising lane
Transcribing pain
Describing shame
Arriving like rain
Inside of my brain
Extinguishing the flames
With a grammar game
Of a semantic strain
Making my refrain
A poetic plane
That acts as a cane
Instead of a crutch
Removing the mundane
That's why I love it so much