“who needs
love?”
some ask
sober from a long bout
of drunkenness
on the fine sprites
of the finer ***

“I can go on!
I will go on!
alone!
I shall!”

I know
I know
It’s not surprise
but riddle me
this:

why would you want
to?

forget logic
or sense
or thought
or doubt

we’re talking love!
the most powerful
lack of power known
to man

what else can make you tremble,
as your love’s voice on the telephone?
what else can make you wonder,
like the idea of even holding their hand?
what else can hurt,
worse than hear hearing her say
“no”?

we embrace it because we cannot
refute it

it is the mongol horde
and we are the simple
farmers

but this army does not come
seeking destruction,
though it does posses,
and often uses,
that power.
Instead, it seeks to create,
in you and in others,
a realization that the world
is more than dirt and gravity
and science

“there is more to be found,
so find it”
love says to you

and coming up from your stupor
you do not yell as you just had
and instead nod silently and begin
to run in no particular direction
at all

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.

taking in a big breath,
puffing up my chest,
growing, swelling,
looming,
deep fire burns
in the pit of my soul,
the flame flares with fresh oxygen,
screaming out the heat,
I stare at the world,
defiant, cocky,
on fire.

there are still bits of
her about

a dress in the closet,
an apron in the kitchen,
notes she wrote me
posted on my desk,
a jar of letters,
a karma sutra book,
and not to mention
all the memories

can I exorcise that?
I can throw out the papers
and give back the clothes
but after living here for
so long:
can this place exist
without her?

I sit alone,
unsure of what to do
with these totems,
these idols to a false
god

thunder crackles outside
as it begins to rain

he was cursed to love everyone in the world
and he could do nothing but try and enjoy it

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.

nothing has been fixed
the sun still sets
I still bleed
hot blood
from toxic wounds
cut by my loves
and
if even for a second
I thought I saw the sun
come back up a bit
it was only her trick
to leave me weakened
and bleeding still
as the wolves
came out
for the night

when you walk through your days
in the company of shadows, peace
will settle over you eventually, so
that when the sun returns, revealing
all that you could not see, you will
beg for your eternal night, once again,
wondering how anyone could stand
to see, every day, that which you now
are seeing for the very first time.

those who live in the light are strange
to you, they seem sullen, hateful, and
angry, they look at you with contempt
like old enemies, how rude of them,
you think, that they should turn guests
away like this, how rude of them to
sully our name, this must be effect
of their world’s ugliness, it must stain
them like wine, leaving deep, red marks
that can never come all the way out,
ruining them, forever, no matter what
they do.

and it is with this new perspective
that you return to your world of
dimness, happy to know that light
only begets harshness and despair.
it is with this new perspective that
you will remain in your shadows,
never changing, never wondering,
never worrying, keep it up, I say,
outside your path there is only pain,
and the tragedies of doubt, suffering,
and reality.

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.

I was going down-stairs
for some water
and the last thing I
remember
is pausing my music
before
I was getting my
water

just like that,
just in a blink of
an eye,
I was there

and I can’t remember
going down the stairs,
or what I thought as I
went down them,
or what I did as I went
down them

and I worry perhaps
I just missed something
great,
but most likely:
I didn’t

it will be good
to feel loved
again

even if it’s just for a moment
even if it’s misguided or fake

like a flower
in the sunshine
I will finally
show my
full
colors

top to bottom
out the window
sun setting
eyes sighing
another day done
another day done

the colors descending
the day casting shadows
on the night
spindly tree fingers
reach out at the last
glimpses of the sun

good night
good morning
it is has and
was a long
day

the sun sets on the beaches
the sun sets on the forest
the sun sets

good night
good day
good bye

the sun is gone
without a
sound

all day,
moping around
crying to myself
and doing
nothing
while
the world whizzes by
and my life comes
to a stand-
still

there is more beyond this
and I cannot stand to not
chase it

I’m getting up!

I yell this,
silently,
to the paper
I write
on

I’m moving on!

I scream louder,
the page not changing
except for what I
add

I’m better than this!

I cry,
tears welling up
but refusing to come
out

and the page sits uninterested
beneath me

this is what I needed

to be completely ignored,
to be told, without any words
at all, that I don’t matter
to truly know, that there is
nothing I can do

anger swells within me
but it turns back
and burns my insides
refusing to hurt
anything other
than what is to
blame

I sit here

burned out on the inside
torn apart on the out
and I have no words

not any more

for what it feels like to be me,
right now.

punishing myself for being pathetic
challenging myself to be better
knowing only, that  I cannot be
stirred

am I the only
one
unafraid of
there being
nothing after
death?

I look at people
just feet away
and yet they seem
as if behind a TV
screen

they laugh, they
cry, they walk
all without notice
of my wide-eyed
stare

I know I exist
but in their
actions you
could not
guess it

I’ve asked before,
what is my detachment
from the world all around
me?

sometimes I answer:
it’s all their fault

but every once in a while,
I am reminded I am wrong

when sitting there,
with my wide-eyed stare,
somebody says to me,
“hello!”

and sometimes I reply,

sometimes.

then I ask myself again;
why?

and I answer:
it’s all my
fault

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.

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

they crawl out
silently
over the carpet
on six skinny jointed legs
they come out to
die

their tiny antennas feel the earth for one last time
their tiny eyes blink as the light surrounds them

the tiny creatures
forsaken by man to live in the shadows
only coming out into the day
when their eternal night
is most near

the bugs
crawl out
on six jointed legs
to die on my
carpet

I’ve
got to
wonder
what’ll happen
when all
the Bukowski
runs
out

he,
despite my best
efforts,
is the single
greatest wellspring
of inspiration
I have

it’s not what he
says
or who he
is
it’s just,
every time I pick up
his books
and turn to any
page
and
read
I am
always
inspired

the poems
flow,
like a river,
a rushing river,
out of my mind
and onto the
page

he knows,
where ever he’s
at,
how painful
it is for me
to be so
dependent
on one
man

I’m sure he
smiles, takes a
drink, and
laughs
up in heaven
or where-
ever
and reads over
my shoulder after
I put down his words
and quickly,
like a feral dog,
spill out
mine

if you read
enough
Bukowski
eventually find out
about his deep
and serious affair
with the feline
species,
one that he
kept up
probably
from the day
he got old
to the
day
he finally
went kicking
into
death

it’s really something
completely out of
character for him and
I think he knew it too

cats?
come on

what happened
to the tough-cut,
bar-fighting
drunk we all
know and
love?

off with his cats?
pfff

but its true
and,
really,
it’s less surprising
than you might
think

I think he respected
them

their calm
ways,
their toughness,
their ability
to come back
from anything and
never even look
scared

that’s what he saw,
he saw himself,
he saw some tough
******* and
they didn’t even
show it

he respected that
I respect that

and when the toughest
one of them all died

I think Buk saw himself
for a moment

cats,
you crazy
sons of
bitchs,
I swear you
know more than
any of us
men

and I salute you,
and I’m sure Buk
does too,
you delicate creatures
go take a nap
you understand more
than all of
humankind
simply by sitting
in the
sun

waiting

my mind is dying
with the poison of my
existence

I am sick of being
sick of myself

out, I say, out
reaching back into the
dark, untouched recesses
of my being

the pain is hidden by
euphoria

up and out and everywhere

everything

every toxic habit,
treacherous friend,
and bad decision

up and out and everywhere

I feel empty
inside

my eyes are wild
my heart is strong
my eyes are sharp
my mind is sharper

I’ve burst from the black pit
and jumped back into the world
my guns a blazing and my arms
once again pumping with adrenaline

my eyes are wild
and I’m happy to
be alive when just
moments ago I might
as well have been
dead

the rain falls but
my spirits rise

this is what I was meant to do

I was meant to burst,
not just rise from,
the black pit that
had consumed my
life (once again)

so I burst!
and burst I did!
and now I tell you I have burst
so that it doesn’t slip away
too fast

if you need to view
the character of a mind,
watch how it flinches when
the carrion eaters come
to pick apart
the world,
or watch
as it relaxes
knowing
that there is more
for the corpses to do
than rot and pile
ever higher.

poetry to me has always been subconscious

I don’t know what I want to say
but I say it anyways
and that removal of logic,
of inhabitation,
is
liberating
in a way
that only a few others
get the chance of
knowing

take this poem,
it was originally titled
“peace of mind”
after a comment
I got on my previous
works

but then I started thinking
about what
“peace
of
mind”
means

and
I
got
this

what
“peace of mind”
is
to me

and this poem is like that too

catharsis,
expulsion,
detox,

all those sickly feelings
or bubbling thoughts
that turn my gut
and twist my mind
boil over onto the page
like the *****
of a long night’s partying

and then I go share it with the world
wondering why they like the ****
of my heart

but

I never cease to continue
my bulimia of this excess
emotion

It never even crosses my
mind

take one snapshot
of your life in motion
and stop to look
at it

now listen
to it play out
like you think
it should

tell someone
what you thought
and then burn
the picture

make your dreams
be your reality

raw with burnt out emotion
I feel the sting of feeling

why now do you return?
this wick has burned out
and my wax builds steadily
around the charred string
that is usually the center
of a person

but there I see my pearly
form melting away as the
heat builds from a fire fresh
sparked in the soul I thought
could no longer catch

look out the window
the world speeds by

kayakers in a river
trees in bloom
sky dark
with 10 am
clouds

everything moves faster
then your eyes
can keep
up


a whining baby in an SUV
toxic chemicals in a tanker truck
the suicidal everyman
slink comfortably
in the front seat
of a beige sedan

looking out the window
is all you can do
as the world speeds by you
and you only stand
still

you can’t say you didn’t see it coming
nothing like that passes away peacefully
the fire was inevitable, and each night
while you slept next to her, you thought
of all the ways things were going bad

you two never talked, she loved you
but did you love her? and did she even
love you? maybe you were just a wallet
to her, once the money ran out so did
her love, how could you even know,
you never really talked to her anymore

so when the news came in and ****
hit the fan, you were not surprised
hurt, yes, you were hurt, but not
surprised, it would a lie and an insult
to say that

it was impossible to feel the pain
like you were supposed to because
you had already felt it, let it go, and
moved on a thousand times before
as you faded into sleep next to her

the pain was a dull poison, one you’d
already been injected with before and
had long since become immune to but
it still made you sick, didn’t it? you still
felt it, but you refused to feel it, because
why should you? you knew this was
coming

so in the months prior, as things returned
to normalcy and life resumed its course,
you began feeling all those feelings you
were supposed to be feeling all those
months ago

it didn’t hit you suddenly, not like a heart
attack or a crushing realization, much more
like a stomach virus or a creeping realization:
there was the vague feeling of sickness and,
then, you were puking, left dying by the toilet
as all this inner turmoil worked its way
out of you

that lasted for a long time didn’t it?
and it felt good didn’t it?

you didn’t see this coming, because you’d
lived with the pain for so long, you no longer
thought there was release from it, you had
long since realized and long since accepted
that the city had burned to the ground and
it was all your fault because you laid in bed
next to her, utterly terrified, incapable of
the strength necessary to save her and you,
and when the first sparked you let it burn
because to you, there was no other way

what you learned with each heave was this:
you ****** you. she ****** up more. get
over it. get on with things. look out that
window there. see that blue sky? see that
white sun? those were going to be yours,
but instead you laid underneath a blue moon
and prayed for a solution to emerge from
the black night, and now it has.

then, like a light-switch,
the world was bright again.

watch for the water
it will draw out first
and you will feel it pull at your legs
begging you to venture out into the sea
but you will overcome it
and that is her
trick

she will come back
with all of her strength
and you will be weak if
you are not careful

don’t get caught up in the tidal wave
when you feel the water drain away
dig your heels in deeper
tense your muscles
grit your teeth
brace yourself

watch for the water
it will draw out first
and then come back
with more strength
then you could ever
know

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

summer had just begun
and I sat on a lawn chair
breathing in the warm
evening air, smelling
cigarettes, listening to
the power lines crackle
across the street, and
enjoying myself for
what seemed the first
time in months

it took ***** to walk back in there
and say “sorry fellas, but things
just didn’t work out between us
and I seem to have won you guys
in the divorce,” and I did do that,
and they said, “oh, I’m sorry to
hear that” and they really meant
it but later they would ask about
why and how and I would never
tell them because I think they’re
happier without knowing, they’ll
just never know that

it’s the end of summer now and
they’ve stopped asking about her,
maybe they forgotten about her?
probably not but they certainly
know not to ask, so maybe now
I can tell them, because she’s
not going to show up now

life’s looking up and I can laugh
without worrying that I shouldn’t
be laughing, I’m enjoying life
and life seems to be enjoying me
and maybe that’s the lesson here,
that life rewards those who reward
it, those who seize the day, even
if the day is done

you may try and fail
and try again
but never fail to try
my friend

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"

swirling in the sky
like a dancer of
god, the clouds
are bringing a
new weather for
us to endure

the wind is changing
the plants are opening
the birds are hid amongst
the trees

the day turns dark
the people stand ajar
the elation is lost to
grey

where do the yellows
and blues and reds
and oranges go when
the clouds move in
and threaten their
haughty weapon?

where does this begin?
where does this end?

where does it say the
clouds may change
their shape and become
villains without any
consequence?

but as I look up
at the sky I see
the world is not
changing

the clouds are
swirling still
like a dancer
of god and are
bound, as is
their purpose,
to rain upon
me

“brrrrrr”
said
the past
today

“sure miss those days by the fire
with her snuggled up close
and the covers
barely enough to keep you two
contained”

“oh yeah,
those were
great!”

“we both had fun?
didn’t we?”

“but too bad,
you ****** things up,
but that’s ok,
you still got me,
right?”

he reached out
with his cold hands
not to injur others
but to try and find
some warmth
for himself

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

spring arrived today in a green convertible
with the top down

he smiled, behind his sunglasses,
looking refreshed,
at ease,
and he asked how my
winter was

good, I said,
barely even felt like it
to be honest

“good, good.”
spring said, still smiling

and we stood there.

I, baking under the fresh sun,
he baking too, but somehow  
seeming not to mind,
seeming to like it,
be empowered
by it

spring took a deep breath
and smiled even wider once
he closed his lips

“well, old friend”
he said,
“I’ll be seeing you,
I’m headed to the beach,
or maybe into the woods,
I dunno.”

“but I’ll see you
there”

and he drove off

his green convertible buzzing happily
towards the edge of a new and beautiful
world

count to one, two, three
take a deep, deep breath
expand your chest
let it all go slowly
take another
let it out
slower.

count to five this time
slap yourself in the face
does it sting?
if not, again
do it until
you wake
up.

there’s no more counting
get up, shake off yourself
become new, leave your past
there on the floor,
and see how different it is
how unlike you it is
how little it means
as you go
forward.

take one, two, three steps
with your new legs.
feel how your new feet
bury themselves
in this new earth.
start walking a new path
and find yourself a new
destination.

come on,
it’s time to go.

I wish I was mad

things would be simpler,
predictable.

I can handle insanity
and absolute
realism

but
not both.

I have only just now
figured it out why I burst
into tears that night
and I asked you to hold me
as I cried in your arms

it was the first time
I have ever been afraid

I was lost
I saw the reaper
I considered the worst,
made plans to sleep alone in
a place I did not know,
I was terrified of the terror
pumping through my veins
and that is why I came home
needing you so bad

thank you
for knowing that
I needed you

thank you for all that you
did

I hoped one day to repay you,
but I suppose some debts must
go unsettled

this weight
upon my back
where has it gone?
it’s gone so fast

I did not talk
I did not know
this secret world
I carried, alone.

I don’t know how
to start this
poem

lately
so much has been going on
or
so much hasn’t been going
on
that I can’t seem to find
the time to write

but that’s a lie
I have the time
I just don’t have the
will

I’m afraid of reaching the
highest height I can achieve
I fear I wrote the greatest
thing I’ll ever write
months ago
and
it’ll never be the same
I can never be
greater

but that’s a lie
I have the talent
I just don’t have the
will

I look around
as if someone is
watching me do
this

writing out all my
fears
spelling out all my
dreams
understanding what’s really going
on

I take off my watch
there’s no need for time
here

just work
and through that
I will get past this

I will emerge from
the mist
to see a new mountain for me to climb
and the path that I will use to conquer
it

it is undeniable realization
that the majority,
if not all but a small
percent,
of people are absolutely,
totally,
completely,
terrifyingly,
petrifyingly,
murderously,
suicidaly,
alone

this is the sad fate
of every human being
ever to be born upon
this earth

my father said it best,
almost exactly as I said it above
to be exact,
but it took hours of
talking, years of
living, centuries
of inherited wisdom
to finally understand
the oppressive truth
of what he
realized

there is no happiness in money,
no satisfaction in power or position,
*** lacks emotion and emotion lacks
reason and reason lacks the passion
that we need to get up in the
morning

we are born
we live
and
we die

alone

never forgot this

never make the mistake
of thinking that even one
micro-ounce of genuine
empathy is not worth
more than a thousand
golden kingdoms

the ability to truly
connect with someone
is the most valuable
resource in the
universe

we build societies on pillars
of loneliness, and justify it
with science and god

all we need to know
is that we can achieve
all we need in a single
conversation

it is unknowably guilt-inducing
to realize that most people can’t
have conversation at one in the
morning with their fathers

most don’t have fathers,
others don’t know they do,
and the rest lack the will
to break down the barriers
of age and pretentiousness

this undeniable aloneness is the
shadow of my ethereal nightmares

not for its effects on me,
but for its tyrannical
grip on the every day
people I cannot hope to
help

seven days now
till childhood
no longer becomes an option
when I become a man
strong and powerful
full of vigor
wise
ready to take on the world
and willing to
thirsty for it
in fact

it’s not that
I’m not ready
but how could they expect
everyone to be?
that’s a lot to ask of a kid
still in high school
never lived on his own
never loved or
if he has
only to some *****
with a power complex
and maybe he’s had a job
but never a good one
and he’s probably never known
what it’s like to be relied on
or to be responsible
or to even own anything
and yet those are all things
they’re saying he’s
ready to do

it’s a ****** up world
we grow up into
and my race through it
begins soon

stepping out into the daylight,
I can almost hear the crowd
screaming:

three,


two,



one.

count off what you’ve done
today
on your
fingers

slept
ate
watched tv
slept again
ate again
watched more tv
lied down in bed
then wrote a poem

the poem comes to a
close
as the day comes to a
close
and we’re left with only the
future

tomorrow is another day
but between then and now
is one more big night we
have to survive

out of nowhere,
the summer storm
sets in

there is blue
and there is
grey and there
is not rain
yet

a single thunderbolt,
that rings out for seconds,
minutes, hours, years,
cracks through the day-
time sky and demands
attention for what it
will not do

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

that’s it?
that’s the big finale?

we all wait for the
rim-shot