with the steam raising off the
darkened roadways after hours
upon hours of quietly violent
rain, there is a peace in driving
alone with yourself, observing
only the night

with no end in sight, we can
only drive alone, hoping that
somehow, the morning will
come, bringing with it a change
in the weather and somebody
to listen to the radio with

sometimes you can’t believe what you’ve
done

your mind wanders back in time
looking for the moment you shattered
or built, changing the flow of our
collective future

the bird flies across your window for a reason
the soldier dies in a fight for a reason
the is poem is writen for a
reason

and we shouldn't know what the reason
is

if you do,
I’m sorry

watching what becomes of your
actions is terrible and mystifying

it hurts
or
it stuns
or
both
or
worse

I fear myself as I dip my oar into the river of time
I fear that in my wake a flood will come

you are my sunshine
my only
sunshine
you make me
happy
when skies are
gray

you’ll never know,
dear
how much I love
you

please

don’t take your
love away

lean back kid
it’s important to take
these moments in
like a fine wine
taking little sips
and experiencing everything
that it has to offer before
sipping down another
gulp

don’t worry about it
either kid,
it’s important to be
here, experiencing
this

lean back into it kid,
feel the power rumbling
through your veins
don’t get distracted
don’t rush through it
too fast

you’ll never know
the last good time
when you see it

well I wish I could be happy like all of them
so full of childish glee and blind elation
but I am man too deeply rooted in his logic and his thoughts
and unhappiness is often the cost of intelligence

I desire to enjoy like they enjoy, lust like they lust,
feel like they feel, so fully, with all of their being
but I am a man too harshly in touch in reality
unable to turn off my mind long enough to enjoy
even the simplest pleasures of drink or another’s
company

every morning
I wake up to blaring
of my alarm clock
yelling wake up!
wake up! wake up!
time to go! time to
go! time to
go!

******* I say
as I slam my hand
down on it till
it shuts up for
ten minutes

but it always comes back
yelling get up!
get up! get
up!

and I hit it
again
it shuts up
again
and in ten minutes
it starts blaring
again

and this is my morning,
every morning,
till I wake up
and get on with my
life

I took in a deep breath today,
inhaling in the cold air
of the coming winter
through my mouths
and
through my
nostrils

as the volume built within me
my chest grew

outward
outward
outward

my chest went

deep within it
a bubble of confidence
and enlightenment
floated about,
flooding my mind
with its
intoxicating
gases

the high was marvelous

the deep, if fleeting, unity
with the universe that comes
as one stands, eyes half
closed, and breathes
in the gray clouds
that seem to go on
forever

taking one last whiff
of all this greatness,
I breath out

in one short gasp
all that ecstasy escapes
as white, foggy
haze

it disappears instantly,
leaving me only with a world
in need of fixing,
one which I can only change
within the confines of my
seemingly all-powerful
imagination

I wish I was a praying man
so that I could tell you it’s for the best
I wish I was a thinking man
so that I could give you some actual answers
I wish I was a loving man
so that I could prove that there’s still good in the world
I wish I was a better man
so that you would know it’s alright

I wish I was a younger man
that would jump up and show you the starry future
I wish I was a jovial man
that would smile and infect you with happiness
I wish I was a weirder man
that would cross my eyes and still be so pleasant
I wish I was a better man
that would make you know it’s alright

I wish I was something more to you
but I know that I still mean the world
I wish I was an answer for you
but I know that I can only help you so much
I wish I was a closer friend
but I know we both have our separate lives
I wish I was a better brother
but for now, this is all I have to give

the bodies transform
as the electricity of
their ears reaches the
brain and wakes it
from its eternal sleep

as the horror washes
over them, the pupils
dilating and increasingly
gaping mouths, the
faces freeze as if stone,
so much more an
imitation of death

each time now,
the increasing beat,
brings only more
to the suffering of
these human-esque
forms

but that first sounding
always has the most
power, for even the
mountains, mighty as
they are, cannot deny
the shaking deep in
their core which can
turn them to rubble
and, in respect, they
always turn to face
it

back again
back again
back again

here

here is…
a crater of
failed
ambitions

here is…
a field
of dead
dreams

here is…
now,
living in the
pain of the
past

hurtling and
yet not moving
my bright lights
make no
noise

dead before even
beginning,
the end read loudly
before the first word
pronounced

back here,
again,
in the world
of despair

I whisper quietly
the injustices of the
world
while the vanity
of my existence
corrodes my heart
and my mind,
now petrified,
wears away with
the whims of
time

if I were a cactus
would I be easier to take?
because you could see
where my spines were
where I could hurt you
and you could hurt me
where I get my food
and where I lay my roots
so that you knew everything
and I could only steel myself
would you like that?
to be in command?
fully-responsible?
just remember that I can wait
through the longest droughts
and only die when the rains
come

going to try
pen and paper
again

starting with
a piece
transferred from a loose slip
during english

so
I wonder

what can I do with this?

perhaps,
a hundred poems
in this little
red
book
will appear
for my eyes
or for
others

I’ve opened up
to the possibility
of being

of being something different
of being something new
of being something nobody
thought I could be
of being something beyond
recognition
of being something beautiful
of being something wonderful
of being something I am proud of
for once
of being something above
what I was before

I dream of this
I wish of this
I know of this
I act on this

I dream to be a singer
of unimagined tunes
I dream to be a winner
of contests unknown
I dream to be a leader
of people without
the ability to move
forward
I dream to be a teacher
of unspoken things
I dream to be a successor
of every free-
thinker and
innovator
I dream to be an original
in a world bent
on unoriginality

I want.
I will.

be.

all of this.
every last bit.
I will be.

I will be.

I am being,
all of this.

all of
it.

too proud to quit
too proud to improve
the noble poet died
as quietly as he
could

we each tried,
and some succeed,
but failure always
surrounded us and
tales of catastrophe
were always on our ears

and for a brief moment,
at the height of it, when
the fear almost made us
stop trying any more

and that was scariest
part of all.

how
does one put
into words
the infinite beauty
of love?

eyes darting one way,
try to catch each other
when no one else
is watching,
smiling when it happens,
giggling inside our
heads,
thinking:

*oh yes
this will be
fun

this show I just finished
was a tough one
for sure

neophyte actors
big cast
weird script
and the ****
“KYLE’S”
sign

this is the first show
I’ve been allowed to direct
in a while
and,
for that,
I’m thankful
but,
at the same time,
I’ve hated
it

in a show about robots
willing to fulfill every whim
and fancy of the owner,
it all came
down to me,
I feel

my blood, sweat,
and hard work made
this thing come to
fruition

a truth that
shouldn’t really
have to be

at the end of it though,
Property Rites
(as it was called)
is probably one of the best
shows that’s been put
on in years
by my
theatre


for that,
I’m proud
but,
at the same time,
I’ve hated
it

everything came
down to me

I’m not afraid of having
the world on my shoulders,
but I am tired of being the
only one pushing it into
the future

the **** “KYLE’S” sign
sums it up the best

up above the stage,
high above the heads of the girls
playing robots
and the guys playing repair men,
and business people, and a pathetic
**** fool,
was supposed to be this big red sign,
done up in lights,
spelling
out:

K Y L E ’ S

(that’s the name of the guy
trying to sell the robots)

I was the only one who could see it
I was the only one who could write it out on board
I was the only one who could pester our teacher to cut it out
I was the only one who could paint it right
I was the only one who could drill the holes for the lights
I was the only one who could plug those little lights in
I was the only one who could hang from the rafters
I was the only one who could get anything done with it

at least that’s how it seemed

it wasn’t a hard job
but at the end of it
I said
**** it
let the sign rest back-stage
as the show went on
and
forgot that I ever even
wanted to have it

I was the only one willing to finish it,
even as everyone loved the idea and
applauded me with each new way it
could be used

I was the only one pushing
this unnecessary but grand
idea forward

I was the only one,
and when I decided
the work was not
worth the ends, no
one could say any-
thing when I said
**** it

this last couple of months
have been a tough few
for sure

just trying to survive
has felt like going above
and beyond

trying to twinkle in a world
full of darkness and gravity

to paraphrase a much wiser soul,
“we are a part of the universe
grown self-aware”

and I think the lesson here
is that we are not alone

for when we breath,
so does the earth,
the stars,
the galaxy
the rest of the universe
expanding so widely
that we can hardly
perceive our
movement

we,
the earth, the stars,
and the universe,
are a singular being
spread across reaches
beyond reach, who
separates
but
is never
truly severed.

the guilt
of these weeks
slacking leaks
out of my eyes
and ears and
fingers

the sludge
pools before
me
and as it
builds higher
and thicker
I feel my strength
returning,
my fortitude
relaxing,
my will
bending and
cracking with its
new found
freedom

the black goo
lies in a heap on
my floor
as
I go grab
a shovel and
toss it out
the
door

for now,
that poison
is gone from
me

but every
relaxing Friday,
when I let
this
poison from
myself
I notice my
features more
and more
in the viscous
creature
that leaks out
of me,
each time
I see more of
that tar in my
very own
face

how soon will the roles reverse?

never again
will there be
a chance like
this

so it’d be such
a shame to die
in this moment

but the prospect looms and
the future moves and about
tomorrow I can promise only
that there may be an answer
or, just as likely, there might
not

if knowing everything
is key

having nothing left to learn
is the fastest way to
enlightenment

Men go on saying
and doing
everything
not to die

But to the
ghosts and
zombies and
etc.
what really
happens?

Do you try to avoid it?
or
Embrace it?

What’s the other side?
of
The other side?

Does the cycle go round to
turn back into life?

Tell me ghosts
Visit me in the black night
Whisper to me in my dreams
I want to know
Don’t I?

I’m going to a play tonight
don’t know the name
but I know who made it
(Me,
in a way)

I’m going to a play tonight
one I made possible,
I proved it could be done
but this is a fire created not by me
but by the torch I handed off with a smile

we are all the **** of the earth

we are murderers and thieves
we are behemoths of waste; spoiled with desire
we spit on intelligence
forgo warning
think not
worry not
we consume always
we make gods out of bigots
and worship ourselves
we are the ****
the trash
the throw-outs
the refuge
yes, yes we are

we are what we like least,
what we need least

what will get us (in the end)

when the world finishes
when the curtain clothes
when we are swallowed

the hand behind the blade,
the assailant responsible,
our murderer,
our killer,
our horsemen,

will be us.

suddenly filled with confidence
I forget the turmoil of that past hour
I rage with a pulsing desire for activity
and jump and finish quickly my tasks

suddenly filled with an itchiness
I want to accomplish like an emperor fresh to his throne
I lust for a chance to prove my worth
and I look for all the possibilities of this world, now mine.

red flashes
to
green
and the pedal
sinks into
the
floor

quiet, soothing
jazz seeps out of my
speakers

speed goes to 10
then 20
then 40
then levels out
at an even
50

(5 miles over the speed limit)

my head is filled
with everything but
the task at hand

the DJ on the radio
apologizes for a mess-
up in the music

(we now return to
over the rainbow)

my mind is like
the road ahead

dark, lightless,
but there

it is borne of truth
and the future
but tainted by
the path
itself

(I almost have a head-on
collision as I try to make
a left turn on a green)

I get to the gas station
with my heart pumping

I see the lights inside,
the soda, magazines,
candy, cigarettes, and
day-old donuts

I quietly get out
and walk to the door
get an ice cream
and go back
to my
car

I take a deep breath
and ignite the engine

rightfully so
we were to be fearful
in the days
when tigers
roamed the
night

but now,
with our computers
and our Big Mac’s,
is there anything else
we really need to
fear?

I am a man without faith

no god
nor construct controls me

and I cannot be fazed
by threats
or warnings
about the after-life

there is life
and there is death
and if there is another life
there’s no way we know
about it

I am a man without faith
I am a man without the answers
that keep many up at night

as I drift into sleep myself
I do not wonder what will happen
if I do not awake in the morning

I know that if I do not awake I cannot be woken
and I know that if I do awake then I have the day
ahead as my concern

for now,
I drift aimlessly
not knowing why I even exist
or why I should continue to
exist

I exist only on the faith
that there isn’t a reason
for all this

that in not knowing

I,
in fact,
know

I am a man with the faith
to have no faith

shush,
quiet,
silence
now

now,
we wait.

we calm our bodies,
freeze our eyes,
stop our hearts,
and

listen.

we exist in a
bubble,
staring out
at the world
for a moment,
and it’s not
beautiful

the people of the world
are greedy and ignorant

the forest are charred
and ****** stumps

the oceans are full of
the dead and the dying

the future and the past
mean nothing

shush,
quiet,
silence,
now.

now,
we listen,
trying to find
a reason,

any reason,

to preserve it,
to maintain it,
to keep living,
amongst this
hell man has
brought to
earth

it is half past midnight
and I am stumbling around in
the dark of enlightenment,
trying to find the lesson
it has for me this time
so I get the hell
out of
here.

it’s a funny thing,
knowledge,
one of the trickiest
of the trickster
gods.

the one with the sickest
sense of humor, that’s for
sure.

but he seems
to know what he’s
doing.

he always helps me out,
eventually.

but come on man.
I know what you’re doing.
stop ******* around
and just hit me
with it.

neither you nor I want it
but I’ve got to have it,
don’t I?

so hit me with it:

not in the shins with the coffee table,
not on the back with the arm of a coat,
but right in my face, with the full brunt
of your force.

I want it.
I need it.

it’s half past midnight
and I’ve got **** to
do.

we wake at 7
pack all our bags
in the back of
the family car
and ride off
into the dawn
the sleepiness
not yet shaken
from our eyes

I listen to
a little imp
inside my head
who hates my heart
and loves my body

he knows the treachery
of letting me run amok
with women or pleasure
or pain

he says no,
no no no,
that’s stupid,
you’re stupid,
I know what’s best
you know that.

I hate that little imp.

I hurt my back yesterday
and it ached and ached
and ached today
so I laid flat on my back
and twisted myself
all around
but nothing made it
better.

I took some pills
and I took a nap
and had my girlfriend
rub on me
but still nothing made
it better.

I got angrier and angrier
and angrier still,
at this aching
in my back,
so I flailed about
until I couldn’t anymore
and now I still hurt
but it’s been so long
that I forget what feels like
exactly.

I twist myself once more
and feel no relief,
so I turn back around,
slouch into my chair,
give into it,
and turn on the
television.

something died
or
something was born
after something died
or
something was born
from the something
that died
or
something has changed
and I feel like I’m newly
born and yet as if I have
died at the same time

something has changed
is all I know

something snapped
or
something broke
or
something burnt up
or
something exploded
and is still raining
down upon the land

something is different

something has changed

but the world has not changed,
there is a comfortable fear in
that

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

what comforts can you offer
to a person who smiled
when he was told

“you’re dying”

and he lived?

they warned us
they would
come

soon,
they said,
reeling from
our stubborn ability
to resist
them

but no one
suspected their return
as they came like ants upon
a bread crumb
or like an ocean
broken through
an aging
dam

black night all around me
I laugh a deep and terrible
laugh and then yawn

again,
here I am
alone at 11 pm
with nothing to do
but write and
watch tv
again

interesting how little I care now
achieving so much
and yet taking so little pride in it

I need something to bring it all back
the spark and life in this is gone for
now

I’m angry at it
but I’m not angry

tomorrow I go on vacation

perhaps I will find the fire
there

it would be a quick
and beautiful death

out the rift in the space ship’s hull
and into the cold black abyss
a few instants of breathlessness
of desperate lips gasping
of wild eyes searching for
a reason
and then the calm
a reunification with the universe
that brings with it the realization
of how quiet it is out here
how far the void extends
in every direction
and how small
you really are
in the face of even the tiniest
cosmic body

then you will be torn apart
so quickly, you’ll never even know
brought back to your natural state
tiny pieces without order
atoms flying erratically
through the chaotic darkness
and though you may will to fight it
I much advise using
the second or two you have
to make peace with your existence
and be happy to be part
of something
so much bigger
yourself

forget it
we’re going to do this
the world awaits us
and I’m not going to start disappointing
now

don’t think about if,
or should,
or can.

we are
and so we
shall.

tonight
we’re taking it for it ourselves
and making a footprint
so deep in the earth
that even god won’t be able to erase it,
that is,
if he wanted to.

we will be hated for it at first
by all the peoples of the world.
because they are jealous
and scornful like humans are
but time will love us
and it will teach them what we did
was the right thing,
the thing that should’ve,
no,

needed

to be done.

we’re going to do this
stunning the world is a side-effect
but it’s definitely not collateral damage

we are going to love.
each other.
tonight.
and we’re not going to wonder about
if, ands, or buts

only thinking about the now.
the very next step in our path.
about the jokes to make.
the flirts to pull.

that’s it.

goodnight.
goodbye.
we’re doing this.
no doubt about it.

there is a tragedy
in life

a pointlessness

that’s what religion is for
I suppose

or philosophy
or politics
or tight nit
family

but I don’t need it
why should I?

most need something though
apparently

so I suppose they know
the tragedy too

they know the
pointlessness

but they go to bed crying
and I wake up to brighter day
every morning

from silent thunder
breeds thunderous
sound

the rain is following
like I feel it should

there was a day like this once

perhaps the most
important day of
my life

but that day is gone
and so is the feeling,
the happiness,
and the
memory

the rain was just
like this

I was just like
this

lost,
alone,
unsure

so there’s the rain

unforgiving,
unforgetting

to you,
my old friend,
I bid goodnight
and good
thanks

are you hungry?

no,
I lie

I sit alone on the floor of my bedroom
shame running through my veins

I am forced to punish myself
and I will do it
to the full extent of my power

no more diet coke
they said
and I made it four days
before I was sneaking them
at restaurants
two weeks
before I had them at school
just days after
before I stole them by the armful
from the limited supply
holed up in my parent’s
room

this is a confession
a begging for forgiveness

I shall lay the whippings upon my own back
and
I shall be the one who recommended the whippings

are you hungry?
they ask
and I stare
blinking silently
lacking the ability to answer

no
I might say
if I was more of a
coward


but for now I am a criminal awaiting trail
and not a single soul doubts I am my
best judge

a single,
red
leaf
hangs with all its might
to a branch outside my
window

it holds on strongly,
not wavering,
and certainty not
falling any time
soon

but it’s green brethren
hang to the tree
with the same strength
but do it with considerably more
ease
and
grace

yet that single,
red
leaf,
hanging on for dear life
as the first causality
of the impeding fall,

seems so much
greater
than those
green leaves
that surround
it
and who do not
struggle
to do the very same act
as the red
one

I’ve had a lot on
my mine lately

too much really
about too many
things

difficult,
unsolvable
questions

constantly vexing
me

sitting in my new chair
I wonder what I should
do

I get up,
take a ****,
and
come sit
back
down

it’s bit cold
and it’s Christmas
so I decide to go
find something
to eat and
leave
the questions
for another
sleep-less night

you want to talk about a good day?

well let me tell you then

a good day is
getting to use notes on a test
and having those notes
but not needing them

a good day is
burning stuff in chemistry
just because we need to **** some
time

a good day is
eating your lunch,
comfortly in a private space,
when all of a sudden
she
walks in
and decides,
for the next hour,
that’s it just going to be
the two of us
talking,
chatting,
and having a good
time.

now that is a good day

one that I’ll hang onto
for a long,
long
time
and my glow from it
will continue until
either
a
******
or
a
destruction

talking to my now-
girlfriend I’m slowly
realizing just how much
stuff I’ve ******
up in the past

piano
tennis
school

I could’ve been great
but I’m
not,
am I?

I’m good at other things
though

poetry
theatre
economics

what makes them different?

they’re not any easier,
not any different,
really,
but they’re not
what I do,
not what I
love

wait

love

that’s it
love
that’s what’s
different

I don’t
love
those other things

I can’t pour my heart
into them, can’t keep
working even after
they’ve lost interest

but with those other things,
I can

huh

guess that makes sense
doesn’t it?

it was unreal and
yet not special at
all

I knew what she clutched in her hands
I knew what she was giving to me

it was simple:
the days tip

just seven dollars

but having it in my hands
changed everything

it made my effort real
it legitimized my existence

I had worked
I had earned something
I had no longer needed to doubt

so I counted it
and I counted it again
and I put in my pocket
and can’t bear to look
at it now

what if it’s not real?
what if I overslept and
dreamt it all?

but reaching into my wallet
I see the seven dollars
nestled there
and
stop my doubting

what a day

a sentinel sits,
overlooking a river
protecting it
from time.

remembering it
for what it has been,
will be,
and
is