you can be stopped two ways

by giving up
or dying

that’s it
get it?

you can do anything
if you don’t stop or
you’re not shot

funnily the first stops more people
than the second does

so your
mad,
because someone was
bad,
well that makes me
sad
but I guess I won’t
add
to this like a bad tv
ad
and just let you indulge this
fad
and that’s all I’ve got to say because I’m a
tad
glad

1
2
1
2
3
4
5
(how did you read this?)

I flex my hands for my eyes
to see; each tendon stretching
and unstretching while the
world seems to sink all around
me

I float upwards as if the air
were an aquatic pool

my feet leave the ground
my body feels weightless
my mind strains trying to
comprehend

then it stops
stops cold as death
and I smile;
I will not
question
this

+

the hooks flew out of nowhere ,
slashing my skin and clothes
and pulling me down against
the force lifting me upwards

I was frightened for a moment
but upon gripping the ropes of
the hooks firmly all fear drained
out of me as the color returned
to my face

I pulled on one hook,
jerking the holder up into the air
and I saw it was my enemy, the
one who hated me without reason
but who scurried away with what
was left of their devilish tentacle


Next I pulled on many hook,
out came the people I did not care
about much; my boss, my teacher,
my acquaintances, my co-workers
and they too scurried away as the
ropes snapped and the black hooks
dissolved

there was but one hook left,
and I felt the pull of my up-
ward force more than ever.

but this hook was different,
its rope was not weak and
its gravity was greater than
all of the other hooks combined

I tugged on it,
it bugged but
did not snap

I pull hard,
grabbing hand
over hand,
trying to see
what black
thing weighted
me down so
much

with one final pull it came up,
lunging at me in fact,
but time seemed to slow
as I looked in to the eyes of that black thing
(as I looked into the eyes of my dearest friend)
but without thinking,
as if it were meant to be,
my hand ****** out,
reflecting the beast
and sending my friend
on dive towards the
earth

+

I watched it fall;
that beast,
that friend of mine
but the force moved me faster than ever
and what was left of it
quickly faded away

+

When I stopped moving I had reached the clouds
there stood a throne, decked out in gold
and I approached it, wondering who it was for

No one was around,
no one seemed to be watching,
so I sat in that throne,
just as if it were for me

It was funny then:

I was so high up,
yet I felt lower than ever
why did all those people
throw their hooks into me?

was it jealousy?
was it rage?
was it hatred?
or maybe even
love?

what do they know that I do not?
what is this throne?
what was that force?

I can see the world I just left
and I can see the new world
I have just risen too

this chair is too big,
this air is too cold,
this world is too empty

I hang my head
I look over the edge
my foot inches closer
until,

I fall
a blissful smile
masking the
terrified
child
inside

just look around
there’s something there
learn to love it
learn to hate it
learn every inch,
every molecule.
learn it like your life depends on it
and then you have a purpose in life

It’s been awhile since I looked around here,
at the hats, at the socks,
at the tv, at the books,
at the chair and the bed,
the pandas and the globe,
the mirror in the bathroom,
and the boxes in the closet.

there’s something odd about
all this ordinary stuff, even if
at one time it didn’t feel
ordinary

like this computer I type on now,
at one point it was a foreigner
to both this space and my
fingers

and yet there are hidden things too,
even they feel ordinary,
now.

maybe you have something you hide?

like:

the letters from lovers, the
diaries in drawers, the drugs
you keep secret, or the obsessions
you wish to hide

I have stuff to hide
(though none of it’s
on that list)

no,
what I hide is much
closer,
much more
dangerous
but harder to find than
anything in here

everything about my life
is strewn about this room
and I look at it all with
fresh eyes

I count it all up and think
perhaps this is my whole
life

except for a few things;
those I keep locked up
in my mind

those things

like:

what I really think, how
I really feel, why I really
write this poem, and where
the key to my heart and mind
really lies

Two men stand on a corner
Two men stare at one another

One man thinks that there must be a conflict
One man thinks that he would like to move on

One man raises fists to his head
One man raises open palms

One man swings his right fist
One man sweeps the other’s feet

One man catches his fall with both hands
One man kicks his foot into a rib

One man holds a hand to his torso
One man holds open hands in defense

One man glares at the other
One man scolds with his eyes

One man stands and faces the other
One man backs away with his rise

Two men stand on a corner
Two men stare at each other

One man runs away from the place
One man walks away guilt

Arches tall lead from
Little dividers keeping
Some out and others
Trapped inside

Pink birds with weird
One leg stances stand
In clumps taking wonder
From the people that
Come and go like farm
Cats

Black and white bears
Lazily pick away at hard
Bamboo sticks and are
Content with being the
Last of their kind

These are the beast of
Far away and this is the
Ark carrying them over
The sea of life

For they
Have lost their
Fight

Their instincts
The things that make them
Animals

They are the peaceful wonders
Staring out of fish bowls and
Wondering why people come
And stare at their simple lives

All they have is time
The lion sleeps softly on a rock
The tiger swims, but with no prey to catch
The elephants walk about seeing the
Crowd’s shock with each of his
Thundering steps

The monkeys swinging from artificial
Vines not caring that we (their brothers)
Have given up our childhood games we
Used to play

Opting, instead, to walk lazily in the hot
Summer day and stare agape at the beasts
Who are not beasts that wonder at our
Funny ways and the food that appears
To them each day but who do not care
And decide to sleep instead

Boy sitting next to me
I see you
there
writing
drawn out lines
and a key in treble and
bass
what are you writing now?

I’ve heard of your work
never heard it
I don’t think that’s that
uncommon
But I say to you
don’t stop
keep writing!
for composer to my right
Creativity is
key

More so
than ever

Peaceful songbirds
The innocent masses
The little kisses that mean so much/so little

The dagger black
The rare jewels in ancient tombs
Dead bodies leaving gaps for others to fill

We see them in silence
Quietly hiding away the lives we live
The smirks on our faces enhancing the lie

The reaper laughs his hallow laugh
We are blind to our enemy/focused on false goals
A blade ***** away our life

An imaginary shroud removes our whim
We dissolve to animals
These are the last days

I use a pile of lies, tricks, and hypocrisy as a throne
Some men scoff at me
Many more scorn my birth

One asks me
"Why use this as a ruling place?"
I chuckle

And answer
"Have you ever seen one made of something else?
I just don't paint it up in gold"

Ring-ring
Hear the bell? Understand
the meaning? Are you on
edge? Gotta move? Gotta
jet? Get where your going,
before the next one comes
round?

Ring-ring
The gates are open but
where does this go? You
don't know, you don't
care, but you know the
feeling of get up and go,
to run like a chicken with
its head cut off

The maze is our whole
life, our whole purpose,
everything we do

Ring-ring
ring-Ring

Your days are winding down
and your "friends" and "family"
and "teachers" and "employers"
and all the "people" who you
thought loved you is bearing
down,
telling you
"go, go, go"
when all you can think is
"no, no, no"

We are at the starting lines
of our dreams
(of our lives)

Ring-ring
A pistol goes off at birth
and we sprint away

Bodies litter the track
as you run faster, faster

Ring-ring
Times up

Ding
A different sound
Have you made it on the pedestal?

I'm in the stands
watching fools with ****** hands
and feet run in circles

Once
I was down with you
Thinking
"Go, go, go"
But realized
"No, no, no"
Where are we going?
To what end?
For what purpose?

I looked up from my dusty shoes
And saw the audience that had always encircled us
I saw old racers clamber up into the stands
And realized
"That's the where,

why waste my life trying to be recognized,
when I can just jump up
(in my youth)
and enjoy this
"prize"
without the
"effort"

Ring-ring
Hear the bell? Understand
the meaning? Are you on
edge? Gotta move? Gotta
jet? Get where your going,
before the next one comes
round?

Ring-ring
The gates are open but
where does this go? You
don't know, you don't
care, but you know the
feeling of get up and go,
to run like a chicken with
its head cut off

The maze is our whole
life, our whole purpose,
everything we do

Ring-ring
ring-Ring

Your days are winding down
and your "friends" and "family"
and "teachers" and "employers"
and all the "people" who you
thought loved you is bearing
down,
telling you
"go, go, go"
when all you can think is
"no, no, no"

We are at the starting lines
of our dreams
(of our lives)

Ring-ring
A pistol goes off at birth
and we sprint away

Bodies litter the track
as you run faster, faster

Ring-ring
Times up

Ding
A different sound
Have you made it on the pedestal?

I'm in the stands
watching fools with ****** hands
and feet run in circles

Once
I was down with you
Thinking
"Go, go, go"
But realized
"No, no, no"
Where are we going?
To what end?
For what purpose?

I looked up from my dusty shoes
And saw the audience that had always encircled us
I saw old racers clamber up into the stands
And realized
"That's the where,

why waste my life trying to be recognized,
when I can just jump up
(in my youth)
and enjoy this
"prize"
without the
"effort"

There were three men
These men were friends
They played, they worked
They spent their lives
But in their age
And pockets empty
The three men agreed
To do something naughty
The three men did
Near succeed too
But a man-like monster
Did stand in their path
Little is known of the three men now
Except for their friendship and plot
But it is said by the young and old
One lies here
One lies there
And one flew away
Their lives unshared

I once almost cursed
the final performance
of a wonderful play I
had the fortune of being
a part of it

The play was Romeo and Juliet on Verona Street
Set in the 1930’s
I didn’t do anything important
Carried two bodies
Got in a fight
Smuggled some beer
Called a mob boss
Delivered a package
and
Investigated two dead bodies in
mime

but waiting on my final role
during the final performance
of this oh so wonderful
production I reached out to
a friend of mine (his name was
Paul but he played the Prince)
and told him

“I’d love to direct
MacBeth”

He did a double-take
Asked me what I said

I said again

“I’d love to direct
MacBeth”

“You mean the Scottish
Tragedy?”

I held my mouth in shock
I knew better
That name was cursed

Paul told me all was not lost
there was a way to reverse the curse
just listen close he said

Take your fingers in a peace sign
Spit between them
Swear (I said “*******”)
Turn around one,
two,
three times
Then leave the dressing room
And come back

I did all
and Paul was relieved
but Romeo chimed in
“well you know we have to circumcise you right?”

Paul added
“Yeah, with a Claymore!”

Don’t ever wish me luck,
I might break my leg!

I still want to direct MacBeth
and to show I’m serious I even
bought the script!

All that’s left is to get a stage,
and some money, and some
actors and maybe some talent
to go with my almost obnoxious
amount of luck

take the drug
our fatal fusion
the peace and
the peacock
are one thing
but completely
opposite

the goal is to
killing what
juxtaposition
is to carpenters

the artist and
the fisherman
share their the
same trade

blocked by
so many in
realization
of the poison
but you can
not stop the
flood of idiots
as they come
like a tsunami

the ****** solution is to
dumb down and keep
happy

your keeper is the warden
the warden is a fish locked
in with a net

keep your drugs
I’m good
(or I’ll pay)
your solution is not mine
mine is the tap tap tap of
the keys of my computer
mine is man lacking a so
happy future that to be
lonely is to regret my
death

on the board-walk of savannah
where the black men sing gospel
tunes and the white men play a
hearty banjo, the boats float lazily
on the industrial river and the
sun shines through the blue sky
with only wispy clouds to accent
the calmness

on the board-walk of savannah
there are stores of every shape
and size selling a billion things

on the board-walk of savannah
there’s an open air market where
a man named Ligel lives

on the board-walk of savannah
a boy starts a collection with a
single piece of art-work named
“On the Jazz Piano”

on the board-walk of savannah
the boy smiles and takes a
business card but says he won’t
pay $10 for the same piece of
artwork with Ligel’s name on it

in the Marriot of Hilton Head
the boy sits and lets the words
flow from his mind down past
his fingertips

the boy smiles in the mirror
the night is dark outside
a man with orange arms and
blue fingers plays the piano
but all the boy hears is that
this too shall pass

his name was Hamilton
my name was Caleb

the dude was on the outside
inside was more from his film

also in the bunch,
the duke, the doctor,
the fab 4, the dogs
in neon and inverted
colors

it was not all Hamilton’s
but his work was some of the best

weird stuff on the back wall
but still some awesome pieces
from a man obsessed with
movies

Hamilton was my friend
If only for my visit
Hamilton was my dad’s friend
(My dad’s good at making them)

but in the end
I was there for
art work

and though I bought something not of Hamilton’s
I think he appreciated me and my dad and my mom
(she likes the dude too)

but Hamilton told me
I’m looking to propose to a lady like your mom
and I laughed
that’s good
but Hamilton
we’ve got to
go

thus is the fate of the artist and the
customer

I stir the pool water
with a basket attached
to a stick

little whirlpools form
where I once was,
disturbing the even
distribution of tiny
white particles on
the water’s surface

the whirlpools *****
them in, but does
not drag them down  

I smell chlorine on my hands,
a deadly poison I deal with out
of necessity

I smell the honeysuckles growing
on the chain link fence, a beauty
to every sense

the sky is gray and turning dark
with night

the pool is blue and cold with it’s
lack of sunlight

the trees are green
and their wood is
brown and while I
stir tiny whirlpools
in the pool floating
with tiny particles
I take a deep breath
and decide I will
enjoy all of this

the fan
whirls
about
at 10:
46 pm
and I
realize
that I
can make
the whole
world
silent

what is the sound of
silent?

nothing?
but that’s not
something

is it the sound of forest
undisturbed by the ever
-reaching tentacles of
man?

is it the sound of the ocean
washing away the islands
that come and go like it’s
no big deal?

is it you and I as we stare
into each other’s soul as we
think about what we have
done?

is it when the mind stops?
is it when the body stops?
is it when the heart stops?
is it just one last big burst
of sound and then:

nothing?

silence is the golden tool
we humans have used to
keep ourselves sane

a man borne into the cacophony
of so many other men will only
add to the white noise and never
seek to know if there is something
else, something
better

noise is nothing
to music

music is nothing
to silence

silence is nothing?

where does that
leave us
at 10:
52 pm?

it leaves us
at the tv turning
back on,
the music coming
back to rhythm,
my peaceful world
suddenly evaporating
away

sitting in my room on this
cold, dark night
I see that we humans,
are all one

and all
brothers
and
sisters
in this
ride
we
call
life

we have been measured throughout time by
the amount at which we separated ourselves
or
how much we overcame that and brought ourselves
together

on this cold, dark night
I have realized that I am
human, we are humanity,
and the whole of our
species is more than
the parts we have
made separate

may my sister rise,
her arts bringing new meaning to the world
may my father rise,
his wisdom sharing with a new generation
may my grandmother rise,
her love fostering that which I believe in

but also

may my brother rise,
even if he is not my blood
your talents are meant to help all of us
may my mother rise,
even if she is not my blood
your wisdom is necessary for my survival
may my grandfather rise,
even if he is not my blood
your love is needed to show the light in
all this black night

may every man and woman and child rise,
for you are needed somewhere,
by someone,
and for your strengths I will love you like my own
even if by all accounts,
we are opposites

We are Humanity

we are the blacks
we are the whites
we are the arabs
the chinese,
and the indians too
we are the austrailians,
and the germans,
the nigerians,
and the brazilians
we are the thinkers
and the builders
we are the helpers
and the leaders
the keepers
and creators
the holy
the unholy
the vague
and the defined
the me
and the you
and the they
and the us

we are all humanity

I sit in this room on this
cold, dark night
and I see that we humans,
are all one


we are all equal
in the end, the
final end

and it must be understood
that I am human, and you
are human, but we together
with everyone else, that
then is when I declare:

We are Humanity

the electricity shoots through your brain
the boom blasts through your body
the gentle fall of the water brings you
back

the lightning
the thunder
the rain

the men shivering and cold
the men lost as home seems further and further away
the men are you and I

crack
boom
shush

the lightning
the thunder
and
the rain