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

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

They say
don’t bet on that
it’ll never happen
yeah, unfortunately

They tally the odds in their head then say
“It’s a long-shot”

They said it about a horse
They’ve said it about the president
They say it about me

I just put my ear plugs in
and aim my rifle
but before I shoot I say

“Is it still a long shot?”

and they’ll scream

“Yup!”

“Too bad”
I say
and I take my shot

(I don’t know if I hit my target)

“suppose I have a better chance than humanity
cropping up in all this chaos”

you know what?
**** it, I’m going to be
happy

too often have I thought
that wasn’t for me
that I didn’t deserve it
that I would never deserve it
that all my failures could
never be repaid
and maybe that’s still
true but you know
what?

I don’t care anymore

tonight,
I am going to finish
with this chapter in my
life

I am going to write the final sentence,
think my  closing thoughts,
and close the book
of this life

yes new beginnings are an illusion
but for me,
this is a new beginning
for a new man
in a new world
living a new life

and even though midnight approaches
and I’m not quite done yet,
I finally have the will to complete it all,
to be done, to finish  up,
so that finally,
I may start
things over

again

one hand moves up
the other moves up
in response

one leg sweeps sideways
the other sweeps sideways
as well

one mind thinks
the other thinks
the same

there is no mirror
yet the image is
the same

two bodies,
completely opposite,
just reflections
of the same

I feel released
from the chains of
deceit

I’ve gotten out
what I really feel
and
what I really
want
and
now I can focus on my needs
more readily anticipating
the problems
I will
face
and
the solutions
I will
find

I sit here

afraid, jaded,
and
unhopeful

watching the people of
the world
through so many
screens

what
doesn’t work
about
raising
hands
is
that:

it’s slow,
unnecessary,
and
pointless

I and
we
are mature
enough
to talk amongst
ourselves
even if you
can’t handle
it

what
doesn’t work
about
raising hands
is that:

your partial to some
and
scornful to others

even if that hand
has the answer
if the arm belongs
to he
or
she
than
no way in hell
will the mouth
be talking

what
doesn’t work about
raising hands is
that:

you,
the teacher,
cannot manage
yourself

so how
do you plan
to manage
a “wild” horse
like me?

rushed past me
some guy
runs down the hallway

bye-bye
guy

did I know you?

you said hello
and
goodbye
so fast

but I know you,
guy,
with rush of air
that tussles my hair

I know
the fear,
the itch,
the go go go
feeling
and
I know how hard it is to
stop,
say hello,
and
say goodbye
just fast
enough

the days will keep coming
the problems will keep mounting
the buildings will keep crumbling
the hatred will keep building
and
the rope will keep thinning
the laughs will keep dampening
the eyes will keep shutting
the cities will keep burning
and
the clocks will keep ticking
the lives will keep ending
the bodies will keep piling
the meaning will keep hiding
and
the madness will keep growing
the arms will keep reaching
the lips will keep searching
the future will keep slipping
away

regardless of whether
you like it or not
things will keep moving
with you or not

can’t feel my legs
can’t feel my legs

don’t need them
nope
don’t need them at all

can’t feel my legs
can’t feel my legs
oh god,
I can’t feel my

legs!

time of ignorance
you are the great
fearful age quickly
dawning upon us

those without thought
lead into battle by the
hazy-eyed extremist
conquer the innocent
and protect the most
guilty

this is a poem about
my anger with the
world

have your opinions,
your views, your ideas,
whatever but make
sure they’re thoughts

we cannot submit
to the men who
expect us to be
animals

we are what we dream we are
and nothing more

I am terrified
of this new age

where the deaf are king
and the blind are people

time of ignorance
what hope can I
have as you hurtle
towards me like
a meteor in the
night sky

to be better
that is the challenge

it was not something said directly,
or even verbally,
I saw it in the way you looked,
the way you walked,
you said with your body
“you can be better”

without even knowing it
you smirked
knowing I will rise to the occasion
and I smile back as well
but on the inside,
for probably the first time,
I doubt
the possibility
of me doing
it

he’s a hoax

a big phony

he can’t be trusted
and he’s *******
for fooling us
this long

he’s evil

he tricked us all

he told us he
loved us but he
can’t really
love can
he?

he’s too smart

he’s too conniving

he knew just what
we were looking for
and gave it us,
he played us like a
game of
chess

he knows it

he’s not stupid

he lives with the
guilt but he deserves
worse than that
for what he
did

he’s a liar

he’s a thief

he came in under
false pretenses and
stole everything he
could

he left

he just left

he couldn’t say anything
except that he couldn’t do
it anymore

he was honest

he was true

he left because
he cared what we
thought and
he knew
he wasn’t good
enough

he’s a hoax

a big phony

he thought he was
one of us

what sham
he was living,
trying to be someone
he wasn’t

(and succeeding
anyway)

a woman,
clad in green,
in the mountains
with
dull, deep forests
and soft, blue
hills,
tills in the
ground
with seeds
not
yet ripe
with
life

a bird
chirps a sharp
tune in the
wind
and
the woman
wipes away
sweat
from
her forehead,
looking upon
her work
with a
satisfied
smile

she seems to know
everything
without ever
seeming
scholarly
and
yet you
never doubt
her advice
even when it
seems unsound
or completely
uninformed

she is the peace
that this word has
to offer

her work in
the soil,
her faithful
commitment to
the land,
that is all we
can give you
without
asking for
anything
in
return

we don’t expect
a yes
or
a no

we only expect
you know her name
and respect her
as your true
mother

from the first time you
locked eyes it was fire

when you finally touch
lips it’s like a thousand
nuclear bombs are going
off and you two are the
only ones who don’t care

when you touch her
for the first time the
fire turns into a blaze

you’re hungry now,
hungry for her, for
the first taste of her
flesh, for the first
lick, the first ******,
the first **** of the
last **** of your
life

words seem silent
against the sound
of touching skin
and burning flesh

the moment never comes sooner,
the finale is the overture itself

you don’t care anymore

from the first time you
locked eyes it was fire

after the last memory fades,
the flame silently goes out

we all have them
hidden in tiny shoe-boxes
in the back of our closets

occasionally we seek them out
hoping for the ***** pleasure
of relishing in the past

the good hurt
as it would seem
but we’re all
ashamed if caught
in the act

in my shoe-box there are many things
women, men,
experiences,
actions

things seemingly innocent in the moment
but warped by the ravages of time

my hands shake as I leaf through the pictures
the bleeding hearts,
the burning tears,
the stupid acts,
the stupid thoughts

ah
but these are only memories
without any true place
here in the present

I put the cover back on my
shoe-box and slide it back
into its little hidey-hole
behind some other boxes
and containers and I turn
off the light as I leave

one deep sigh
the only thing
I’ll give that shoe-box
ever again

I am best amongst strangers
who do not know my faults
and my tales,
who do not know what I have
done and what I might do to
them

I am best amongst strangers
clueless to who I really am
making friends with me based
on assumptions, mostly wrong,
who I can manipulate without
their knowing

I am best amongst strangers
whose judgments mean
nothing at all

I am best amongst strangers
so that I may hide, and they
may follow

I am best amongst strangers,
only amongst them can I
be true,
because I know, no matter
what, in a few hours’ time
I will but a speck of dust
floating on the winds of
their memory

it rained today,
and my mind
thinks
about how beautiful
the fog was
and how good
the cold water felt on my
face
and how terrible
it would be
if I were anyone
else right
now

the sun’s a-shining
I’m happy as can be

the sun’s a-shining
as the blue sky turns black

the sun’s a-shining
when I forget the day

the sun’s a-shining,
it’s all I have left

I suppose my greatest talent
is my ability to feel apathetic
about everything and anything
on command in any situation

if I don’t want to feel
I don’t have to

if I don’t want to hurt
I don’t have to

if I don’t want to be ****** up
by all those emotions
that have consumed
so many others

I don’t have to

I may come off as uninterested,
or bored, or arrogant but really
I’m just coping, coping like any-
one else would, just in my own
special way

my own special, unimaginably
effective way.

because I don’t have to feel.
I don’t have to be dragged
down.

I can’t be dragged down.

not from that wonderful place
I’ve escaped from before.

there’s a strange man
in the mirror,
staring back at me with
a week’s worth of beard
and eyes that are hot
like fire while
looking as cool
as an ocean
breeze

he doesn’t say anything,
just seems content to sit
in the mirror and stare

so I leave,
and I’m not sure
if he ever left
too

maybe I’ll see him
again one day,
he looks like
someone I’d like
to meet

an angry,
angry refrain

you failed again
again
again

but that’s not the problem
you are

you,
are.

doing something once
is simple and
real

but
doing it over
and over and over
is when there’s something

wrong

the x factor
in the equation
and you refuse
to change it

an angry,
angry refrain

you look at yourself
and weep

you failed again
again

the alarms are not sounding
the cops aren’t being called
the world won’t even notice

but there’s a crisis of my being today
and it’s consuming
and burning
and it’s
eating
my
soul

there’s a fire licking at my tender flesh
and I have no interest in extinguishing it

you see
the problem is
you don’t
really
understand anything you
say

you preach
you lecture
you bash into the heads
of the innocent
and the uninformed
but at the end of the day
you lay at night
wondering
what any of it
means

that’s why you can’t get me

I disagree with you, yes,
but I understand what I
know and what I know I
can prove to be true

at least to me
and that’s all that
matters

but for you
the problem is that
you never thought
this stuff
up

you were told
and you nodded
in agreement
without the slightest
idea of what the hell
was going on

but you nodded,
you memorized,
you recited,
you repeated,
and now you come to my door
so sure that you are
right
that you’ve never even
stopped to wonder
why

life
is but a
slow boat,
silently
sailing on
a silent
sea

the only thing to do
is to smell the salt air
and learn to enjoy
the clouds

I sit,
contemplating
the world,
as I look out upon
a green country,
spotted by tan umbrellas,
and the blue ocean
waits somewhere
nearby

I’m ready to be done
with this paper,
with this life,
with these problems
and these issues,
with this world
that seems
undone

we’re all ready
to give it all up,
to say “***** it all”
to go sleep away
till life is done
and gone

it’s a world based
on hard work,
a society borne in
greed,
we, the people,
read to be done,
I, myself, too
proud to give
up

so a world strikes
a faithful balance,
between its torture
and its gifts

it says unto you:
“give me your best
and your hardest,
give me your efforts
and your dreams,
if I am pleased,
I can offer,
a single present
to you”

“this present is sacred,
this present is rare,
this present is love,
a forgotten treasure,
if I do say so myself”

death would be easy

you’re right

but it’s for cowards
and weaklings and
fearful men

death is not an option
for the men who are destined
to do great things

the only choice
for them is how far their
journey will take them
and how hard their
path will
be

those meant
to go down in history
books all know it

they don’t discuss it
neither are they ever
entirely sure of their
fate

they know though,
they know they don’t get
to choose when their
work ends, only
where

so in a way,
death isn’t
easier

to ask the future
legends of humanity
to end themselves
too soon

that is an impossible
task

let nobody convince
you otherwise

I feel the poem
hiding
behind the shadow of my pen
or perhaps in the tiny crevices
of the skin on my fingers
but
I know he’s
here

somewhere

lately he’s been gone;
out drinking or perhaps
on a trip to vegas

his return is less like a
bursting through the
door
and more like
a sneaking
through the back-door as
he thinks I sleep soundly
in my bed

my eyes are open wide
as he empties his pockets
and quietly takes a ****

it must be three a.m. at least
and I haven’t slept a wink

I didn’t notice at first
but when I realized I shot
up in bed and looked
around for him to no
avail

he was gone
so I went back to bed

but,
as you know,
I could not
sleep

as he throws his shirt off and
climbs into his own bed across
the room my eyes surely glint
in the moonlight
but I doubt he
sees

he falls asleep within five
minutes

I wait there
my eyes glowing in the moonlight
then get up
hovering over his sleeping form

the knife appears from my right hand
and it too glints with my intention

I close my eyes as the strike is made
and the innocent blood splashes onto
my hands

I take it and smear my face

I open up my eyes

there is no blood
there is no body
there is no knife

there is just me
and this poem

exposed now from its hiding
place where I couldn’t see

I close my eyes again

his eyes are open now
my pen is sitting in my hand
I open my eyes as they
glint in the moonlight
just as mine did in my
double-think creation

this is the nature of my
art

now that the fear,
the doubt,
the shame
of myself I hoard
deep inside
my heart,
is gone
I can get back
to work
using the lessons
I’ve been taught (once
again) to rise,
like a fighter,
from the mat
and go in swinging
against the world
that only wants
to help

Upon this night so cold and calm
I walk as a prophet lost in thought
Reciting lines to a father not mine
Of an accepting of night,
And the rejection thereof
And with these words, within this green,
I see an audience fit for kings,
And as I close they clap my words
As I slowly realize the fountain,
Drowning my noise.

we,
humanity,
are standing at the
threshold
of greatness

we,
simple primates.
stare at the stars
as our ancestors did
and wonder similar thoughts
but through a different
lens

we,
peoples of the earth,
know our true potential
and seek it without our
knowledge
for we,
common life forms,
know the urges of the flesh
to grow and change
and evolve

we,
at our greatest,
have conquered an entire planet
and now look forward
at the expansion to other
worlds

yet we,
at our weakest,
destroy our home
and only seek out
the stars as refuge
from the inferno of our
own home

we,
humanity,
must make the effort
to trust one another
to remember those needs
that our ancestors had
to be with each other,
as sisters and brothers,
and use that togetherness,
that strength,
to fight off those things
seeking to erase us from
history

we
must stand together
no matter how little
each person may be

we
must be as one,
and only one,
to continue onwards
and upwards
like we have
for so many
centuries

we
will be one.
we will be the species
amongst all other species
that decided to stick together,
to be together,
to be one,
as we venture out
into the frontiers
all around
us.

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

emotion visits me now as a stranger
whose greetings resonate with an
unfamiliar drawl and whose arms
no longer slide effortlessly into
mine

she feels warm like a drunk
yet traces my spine with cold
fingers

in her eyes, I can see memories
but she knows I cannot remember
them

so after a short while as she walks away,
telling me that she doesn’t need to meet
my new partner, I can feel the last strand
between us unceremoniously
snap

we both have it all wrong
and yet both of us smile

tonight, I go home, thinking about the life
I’ve given myself and grasp a pillow as I
turn over in bed

this, I think, is the best I can bet
as I look out at the uncaring stars
and enjoy the welcoming silence

there they go
there we go
little bits of ourselves
little bits of our lives
on down the hill
towards another place
but they remember
the bigger selves they come from
the souls who love and care for them
we remember,
they, remember,
we see them go on down the hill
they see only our waving hands
we, aware of what this is,
they, feeling it without knowing
just what it is

then they are gone
on down the hill
little bits of ourselves
lost but not forgotten
they are gone
all of them
and we are left
with only
ourselves

as I turn back to the theatre
seeing my shadow across on the wall
it seems so much bigger than myself
I seem so much bigger than myself
and turning back, I am blinded,
by the world so bright for once

the trees are wheezing tonight

their shadows shaking
taking deep, shallow breaths
in and out, because they know
what’s coming

I inhale wind and wake up,
understanding their fear

we remember blue skies
but will wake to gray horizons
the days will flow into nights
seamlessly

I am afraid because the trees are afraid
the stronger of the two of us is shaken

the trees are shivering tonight

their bare limbs remind me that winter
is not over yet

it
is
haunting
how
faint
the
memories
of
both
success
and
failure
are
to
me

there is a simple existence,
when there’s no
strife
and
no loathing,
when you’re not afraid
of the mirror
and willing to love
and to
fail

in simple terms,
I have reached this
existence

where I can laugh
about tragedy
and care about
pointless things

with love,
of myself
and
of another,
I have opened up
to a new a
life

a simpler life

this is my first day here
and the sunshine burns
through the storm clouds
above my shattered old
home

thirteen dead in Colorado
yeah that’s right
thirteen
or was it twelve?
maybe it was fourteen
have they even caught him yet?
I heard they just “identified” him
oh they did?
good
that’s good
lord what has the world come to?
mad men with shotguns
and semi-automatics
just walking into movie theatres
killing anyone and everyone
what’s the point?
what did those people
even do?

oh well,
you take care ok?
we’ll go see the film
later this weekend

I stand dazzled,
like a child,
at the brilliance of the world.

but,
I have never been
so stumbled before.

this is odd, concerning.
what now is different
that has left me
so crippled?

what has changed?
the world
or I?

are things brighter
or is my vision
darker?

though I cannot see
I can make out
those around me
moving away
further each moment
so far
I cannot even hear their voices
laughing and talking
and enjoying life

and just a few questions
run through my panicked mind
like horses through a battlefield
screaming,
“where are they going?”
“what is going on?”
“where am I?”
“who am I?”

“why is this happening?”

but the world cannot reply,
for the answers were never
within her.

ironically,
I have both the
best
and the
worst
shower in the
whole house

I can barely
control the
temperature,
the walls are stained
where the water
flew out despite my
best efforts,
and the shower rod
has ruined many
a curtain with
the rust it’s gathered
from so many year’s
use

but despite all that,
despite all those little
imperfections,
if you can get it just right,
hit that perfect sweet
spot
you’ll have the best shower
of your life

the water burns
just enough to warm
you at your very
core,
the powerful jets
massage your whole
self.

walking out
afterwards
amongst the steam
and hot air
you’ll be smiling
and happy
and relaxed

it’s the added
bonus of all this
that the mirror is
steamed over

so you can’t see
your fat, naked,
lazy self in bliss
that can only be
maintained in
blindness

sometimes
hearts die after
years of
caring too
much
and receiving
too
little

other times
hearts are never
born at
all

the sounds of
their beating simply
phantom rhythms
which compel
no compassion
and
look wide-eyed
when asked about
love

is a spider
who lives the bath tub
I have can’t use
anymore

he’s a wolf spider
of some sort

he eats the bugs
he’s big enough to eat
and is very territorial

he stays in the same spot
front legs raised
ready to pounce
but does not spin a web

he’ll live there
protecting my bathroom
and I’ll keep an eye on him
whenever I take a crap
or go in and get my
towel

but one day
I’ll decide he’s just
too comfy
and go get a shoe
or book

and I’ll end him

and that would be the life
of pet

I saw a sight
of summer
today

it was a boy
riding and jumping
on a bicycle through
the grass

and in the stink of my car
and in the light of the grey
sky, I thought:
oh how I wish to run
and jump and play
in the grass

but I am too young,
life too cruel,
and the autumn weather
too turbulent to
commit to any
plans

so I drove away, wondering
where that boy went without
me

maybe
it’s the image
of an eternal skyline
painted on the night
sky of some hazy
city,
or maybe,
it’s the picture
of a silent wood
freshly lain
with
new snow
or maybe even,
it’s the memory,
of holding hands with
somebody you truly love
and then looking
in their eyes
and screaming everything
they mean to you
without a
sound

maybe it’s one of those things
maybe that’s why I never lose
faith

maybe it’s just who I am,
a kid so lost in the sense that it all
makes that I refuse to see the little
problems that come up;
maybe it’s how I was raised,
as a thinker, not a fighter,
who has decided to take
up combat lessons any-
ways;
maybe it’s how everything is,
that I can live my life so peacefully
in the chaos that everyone else seems
to experience.

maybe that’s why
after all this time
I haven’t given up
I haven’t said “**** it”
and jumped in front of a train
like I’ve dreamed about so
many times,

maybe that’s it

maybe

are we
more afraid of
failing
or
failing
to succeed?

black, white,
red, and blood

the restless and helpless are
the same

black, white,
red and blood

music is the cries
of those too brave to
be quiet but too
smart to say
it outright

and some wonder, why I am amazed
when I look up at the night sky and
see a blackness that extends far beyond
what we can ever reach, and even farther
beyond what I can possibly imagine.

some wonder, why it can bring me to tears
when I think of all that we can and will do
and still see so many, never even beginning.

it’s no mystery, why I am amazed,
at all that is and all that can be, and
do not wonder why I stare at the night,
frozen in awe at the beauty of it all.

Christmas this year felt wrong
different from its typical way,
no, it’s not the plastic joy
or the Plexiglas spirit,
it’s something deeper
a hollowness pervades it
the celebrations look like mirages

it all doesn’t seem real anymore
like there’s nothing in there
not even greed or fear
or the hunger at the heart
of the human spirit

everything feels like Styrofoam packaging
covering everything until it floats away
and until it comes down as garbage
it can hardly even be said to have existed
at all.

I see the light suddenly
breath caught, I wait expectedly
the sound comes and
shakes the world for
eternity