I was relaxed, and deep in thought
The type of talk that silence brought
When just in earshot it rocked,
tick tock
tick tock
"Must be a clock"
I told myself and resumed my thought

Though as the seconds passed I could not,
Despite the will with which I fought
Do to its incessant knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I searched for the clock
Unable to find the train I sought

I grew more and more distraught
With each and every tick and tock
That find the clock, I could not
As the silence grew more fraught
With the knock,
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
I knew the pain of Lancelot

On and on it ticked and tocked
I cursed at the unseen dreadnought
It no longer merely mocked
But each and every tick and tock
Became an unseen onslaught
TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK
T'was 11 o'clock,
When my heart felt the gunshot

Though the shots I could not block
And on and on the bullets poured
Further into the fray I bored
Each foot a cinderblock
Weighed by war
I slowly walked
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
How I'd make it answer for

Alas
With little blood left to speak for Desperately I implored
"Restrain your hands that caused such gore;
We need not fight evermore!"
But when I heard the ceaseless knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I new my words had been ignored
And slowly collapsed to the floor

****** and bludgeoned when I hit bed rock, I had still found no clock
But tick and tock it had forgot
The church bell rang t'was 12 o'clock,
Though mortal wounds the seconds wrought
I no longer was distraught
And as I lay in the hemlock
It occurred in my last thoughts
I would miss the beating knock
tick..., tock...
tick..., tock...

What does one do when the characters you hate
Are the ones you best construe?
Misgivings and flaws you can relate
To, tho venerable traits you eschew,

The green light gazers and "architect" praisers
Familial leeches or the confessor who preaches
That awareness absolves one of sin,
Compromisers and self-named kaisers
Resound and reverberate within

They pass by in my pages to be mocked and scorned
As evil, cruel, an oaf, or a tool
Too low to respect or too high on their horse
Despicable, maniacal, mediocre, or worse

And I do hate their vileness, I do hate their flaw
I want to shake them and claw at their skull
For nothing more than the gleam of recognition
That by some misfortune of natural law
They and I share a need for contrition.

I saw a man on the bus
With a shaggy beard
And a shaggy dog
His eyes twinkled before they closed
Then he burped

As a child I was told to take shelter in a storm.
"Wait for danger to pass, where it's safe and it's warm."
Was the plea sent down wet steps and the outmatched door
To chase my staccato strides.
I'd lose it, if I could help it,
In puddle waves and wind-whipped tides
Over rocky shores and steep divides
Then stroll down the lane with thunderstorms n' hurricanes.
While the sky cracked with tension and the red oaks strained,
I never felt small nor ever afraid,
Of the forceful rumbles their limbs obeyed,
I felt alive n' emboldened by every squall
Raised higher and higher by the climatic cure-all
Until I could meet it face to face n' eye to eye
And hold its gaze, as though it were mine,
Until the blackened-beaten town and the next day's fight
Seemed bold but inviting, a blinding light.

I can't sleep
I can't now
If I were to rest
This day would end

I can't sleep
Not now
What would it mean
This bitter trend

So I walk
I must
With no hands
Fresh legs on quickened sands

I'm lost
Under lights
Of lamp post leaves
And paved dead ends

I think...
Too often I think
That it's all too much
I can't sleep
I walk
I pretend I'm ok
Hit my bed and restart the day

There once was a man called Einstein
Who'd think all the time of sunshine
Some thought it a waste
Though he proved his case
And redefined time as divine

He looked me in the eye
And demanded to know
Why the car wasn't running
He needed to go
And I stared back
Without expression on my face
Thinking he's trapped
And running for the cage
He saw it then
The truth in my gaze
His panic grew and then rage
Then everything vanished
But his silent plea
And I stared back
And I stared back

It's the still nights, the stormy nights
When I want a cigarette
To spark life in my breath,
When sleep seems dead set
On avoiding me.
It leaves me asking why?
I don't even smoke.

The radio in my mouth is broken
The tuner slides from the channel
It's set
And I'm forced to listen
To others words
In rhythms I hate

The radio in my mouth is broken
The sound is full of noise
And its volume jumps
At the worst times
When I can't speak
Over it

The radio in my mouth is broken
The power button is difficult
And dramatic
It fails in good company
When I need it most
And surges to life
Late at night

So I listen to the songs it plays
To no one but myself
Words and melodies
Wriggle through clenched teeth
While I stare at the ceiling

The radio in my mouth is broken
So I look at others
And they at me
As we listen
Together
To what it plays

Water Street
After the rain
Is where wayward teens
Ride their bicycles
On damp pavement
Under staggered lamps,
I never knew,
Before seeing from the 2nd floor
That 2am
Is when lost youth roam.

Life is strange
It can burn at both ends
Tho they never know
Until the two ends meet
And they meet their end.

The bonsai grew all wrong
Its branches outweigh the base
And the wood is whispy and pale
Without the spring a sapling entails
It's big, much too big, too long
A band stretched past its place
Becomes a twig in impatient hands
Pressured, and snapped, and palmed
Bonsai's mature slowly
With snow and vibrant leaves
To rush things is more than lowly
You've sold their soul you thieves

Lincoln died today
He hustled to an early grave
After patience bore the pain of hell
One final bullet to his dismay
Robbed him of the end he craved
Not of time or the sullen knell
But the kiss of a dagger in his worn hand
A battle lost and a battle won
A perdition purged a new ring rung
He's left this hollowed land
Consecrated by blood and gun
And travels now to songs unsung

Life is pain.
But I wouldn't say
I've always felt this way.
Pain is a cruel and hateful teacher,
Demanding I fight for each and every breath.
I'm grateful towards death,
That it will all end at some point.
It's a ******* shame
That life has no real reason or aim.
What a peculiar thing

Every lil student knows
Velocity is relative
It takes two to compose
And means nothing on ones own
Vanishes without a trace
There's no fast and no slow
When drifting in space
But gravity pulls us closer
And lonely bodies move to others
Lets them know velocity
Mirrored in their passing brothers
And **** if that's not me
And why I slip people like Ali
I don't want to let those mirrors
Reveal painful truths about me
I don't blame them for it either
It's not their fault that mine are there
But I see them in their eyes
And alone they disappear

Rain is only rain
When it's with itself
A raindrop alone is merely a tear
Maybe that's why I can't cry with others
Maybe that's why I love the rain

On a bed in fair mid-May,
Away from school, work, and play,
Lie a young boy devoid of joy,
Trying to break away.

It wrestled, fought, and struggled,
But fatal aims redoubled,
His iron will held them stock-still,
Neither could break away.

Motions were slow and fleeting,
Instinct and Will competing,
To end two pains in different veins,
Crumble and break away.

Strangling a blind reflection,
White-knuckling throats mid-section,
With fratricide, a part had died,
What's left to break away.

Downtown a young man stood tall,
Behind eyes, perturbing pall,
Lie a young boy devoid of joy,
Trying to break away.

One feverishly feigned embrace
And struck with hand, dagger graced
Though the votive venial
It precipitated the coup de grace

Ignorant stood captivated,
Discourse evaporated
As conspirators followed suit
Silence serenaded the orchestrated,
Symphony of treachery accentuated by sovereignty's strikes, resolute

Although he knew the fate awaited
And pain he could not substitute
The fight he would not forsake, and so suffered mute
Until his soul was devastated by the visage venerated...
The coda extricated,
"Et tu, Brute?"

To know what
Of things condemned
Are needed,

To know that they
Know you know
Of their need,

Without words
Hesitation or remorse
To act,

To be
In totality
Together

I wrote a poem long ago
As an assignment for class
It was the first I was proud of
That feeling didn't last
It captured something
That rarely I'd place
An ever-present
Mask on my face
It was written there
Now lost forever
A truth I knew
Would bring me no pleasure
Titled "Masquerade"
I thought that was clever
Even used three words
To put rhyme to those letters
It was whole and it was tragic
Though I wrote it stone-faced
Turned it in, to the teacher
With no smile or grace
That page was Rumplestiltskin
Its lines gave form
To thoughts never shared
Within my brain's storm
The poem was an answer
From the hand that wrote it
To a baffled 12-year-old
Who couldn't control it
She gave it back to me
Along with an A
That I stuffed in my pack
And lost the same day

On I walk a winding road
choked by thicket on both sides,
A lonesome path seldom strolled
but for a raven eyed

Sky dyes to red,
plagued by smothered light
The Vagrant seems to emanate
never within sight,
He follows in my gait
as fright blooms into night,...

On we walk the winding road
feet fall stride for stride,
The Ravens cries do not bode
well of what will betide
The Wanderer begins to goad
a creeping suicide,

It matters not, what cycles rot
nor incubus I sheath,
His laughters in my very thoughts
The echoes raze beneath

On I walk the winding road
Only one, I stand
The Raven flies overhead
we walk it hand in hand

I was in a dream when Silence called
And woke me from my shallow sleep,
Though it's ring raked my ears I stalled to meet my feet,
Yet through the darkness I soon crawled
To hear the quiet weep,
A tearful tale it unveiled that I dare not repeat
It echoes in the mind it galled
What thoughts it's specter reaps,
I was dreaming when Silence called
It knows I never sleep

I can't write a word
Or even pickup a pen
I wish I had hands

The writing's on the wall
Though you couldn't always read it
But now that you know
The fate bestowed
Ask, do you truly need it?

My thoughts dance with you
Before I sleep
I'd rather they trip
On tired feet
Into the sound and deep

But before I sleep

Through closed eyes
You float and sway
In a faultless waltz
With my traitorous thoughts
Across the unknit strings
Of my coming dreams

Before I sleep

And I can't gather my thoughts
To look away
Because you stole them
For a dance so beautiful
I may never get the chance
To be alone with my thoughts again
Before I sleep.

Every metaphor is a bridge
Connecting what's real to what's true
And only in crossing does one see
Both sides dyed the same hue

He cannot hear
I just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear
What's up is down and what's far is near

The radio boils
The microwave sings
The telephone listens, while his ear rings
But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal
To his strange world of backwards turmoil

His eyes tear up
At the toasters dull ding
Oblivious though, to orchestral strings
Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup
An Ode only heard as a course hiccup

Puts books to his ear
But hears no voice
Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce
The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer
He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear

He runs in squares
And lounges in circles
Tears down hopes, and builds up hurdles
Will flail in shallow water and fall up stairs
Then write love letters to hate-affairs

Has two left feet
And no right moves
His rhythm and soul have lost their groove
It's tragic, greek, a heart that offbeat
Might mistake victory and chance for fate and defeat.

He's wrong. What's more?
He's oxymoronic
His light-hearted prose are mostly sardonic
Wouldn't know an apple from an adonic core
Or discordant beats from euphonic score.

He's deaf to it,
Yes ears and all.
Despite what words I might here scrawl.
It will never get through to that dumb misfit
He's deaf and blind and full of ****.

Depression is an overused word
It might make an easy rhyme
For poets who labor under the impression
That they can climb to the heights of expression
By showing no discretion with each and every
Narcissistic emotional self-obsession confession.

But of all the poetic depression transgressions
From the front of the procession
To the straggling indiscretion
The worst and least touched on
Is that it's boring...

Depression and talk of it
Leads to the inevitable compression
Of each and every tidbit
Or texture that prevents a poem from becoming a lecture

It flattens the curve
It scans the sculpture
A man of depth dwindles to a nerve

But depression doesn't let them see how it narrows their view
The circle it drew around appropriate questions
Ignore the censor and suppression
Be vigilant of the slightest dispossession
Starting to understand this oppression?

Don't let it convince you that you can see more clearly
From the bottom of a pit
You have no idea what you're missing

Lives of the imagination
Loves as well
Are grieved more often
With similar despair
And greater melancholy
Than those of the world

As far as I can tell
There's closure in a coffin
It's to compare
That is folly
Those thoughts should be hurled
Or invite damnation

When jotting poetry
Or filling a search box
Entering a password
Or scribbling notes
I've found my hand writing "limits"
And I don't know why

He cannot hear
I just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear
What's up is down and what's far is near

The radio boils
The microwave sings
The telephone listens, while his ear rings
But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal
To his strange world of backwards turmoil

His eyes tear up
At the toasters dull ding
Oblivious though, to orchestral strings
Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup
An ode only heard as a course hiccup

Puts books to his ear
But hears no voice
Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce
The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer
He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear

He runs in circles
And sits in squares
Drowns in shallow waters and falls upstairs
Nothings left of romance when passion dulls
But crippled hopes and shattered hulls

He cannot hear
He just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal clear
What's up is down and what's far is near

There once was man and a scholar
Seeing a woman though he'd rarely call her
She'd text and want more
But he thought it a chore
What a ******-up commitment teetotaller

Which way the wind blows
Why the night falls
Or where it goes,
When adventure calls
My attention grows
Til I drop my pretension
Of depressive prose,
With that said my apprehension
To speak of this romantic tension
Leaves my heart in locked up throes
Its wants and wishes won't be exposed,
I don't know what happens now
Or happened then to bring this out
Why the night falls
Or where it goes
It won't matter I promise, it's what we chose.

I hold a record
That improves with every word
I leave behind me

Trepid, on the edge, I stand
The sky lies below,
Wonder if I'd land
Were I to fall into the hole

Mad mendacity orders light
For monarchs beat my guts
Stars grace my sight!
Though void ever dark

Sugar n' milk barren way
My bitter volition vies
Not to dawn my doomsday,
But vanquish the lord flies

Sudden slip and sudden fall!
Ambivalence catch my hand
I see his strength begins to stall
And look toward the expanse

Soon to be the sky I fly
What waits I cannot know
I flash a smile n'war cry
Then plunge into the hole

The stream leaves my eye as it threads
Between muddy arms,under swaying grass,
With darkened stones nestled snuggly in its bed
Stalked by a hound reflected in amber glass
Playfully raising front paws to fall and splash

Though she tired beneath the cloudless july sky
The hound did not enter the stream's embrace,
Her longing whimper and the streams cool reply
Still echo in my skull's subspace

What something held her tail I can't recall
But she tired and layed down to rest
In soft brush n' pleasant light n' long before sun fall
Shedding the vigor she had professed
She shut the light from her eyes and slumber soon commenced


Far from sight, the stream trickles on
And the hound snores at my feet,
The remnants of their meeting gone
But for those held in my seat

A gale tramples over fallen doors,
And desperate faces cling to a quivering flame, yet
No wall can reach their shadows.

I stand there  shuddering with each lash
from the ice beyond the hearth,
A slow trickle from its toil dyeing the rubble at our feet. But still
No heads turns to face the dark.

I only know every spark withers and dies as it drifts from our circle, though the brightest voyage furthest into the night.
Looking beyond I am neither trapped nor free, but destitue
It is not resolve, courage, or despair that now turn me; I am lulled and must wake.

All thoughts deceive. Thoughts of men inspired, of gods deranged, echo in me,
And which is worse I do not know.

So tonight I will follow the sparks into gale,
Let the lash scour my ears of every voice,
And hope no man foolish enough to follow.

When you floated through my life
I couldn’t meet your eye
I was down scrubbing drenches
But your smile made me high

It hurt when I fell
Trying to reach your stunning grace
It takes more than worn hands
To touch an angels face

I wish I was everything that you deserve
But my feet are nailed to the floor
My arms hug my straight jacket
My body contorted and sore

Maybe I’ll see you again
When I fly with tinkered wings
They’ll melt if I catch you
They’re not the real thing

I want to experience the world
But I don't want the world to see me,
I don't want to touch it,

I want to know the whole of the world
and the whole world to know of me,
Without it really knowing me at all,

I want to have it
without it being had,
And love it,
Though I'm in denial that it could feel so
Or I could be

To look, to see
The frontier,
The walls of reality
Subconsciously engineered,
Peer out into the void...

The fear,
Oh the fear!
Dare not gaze into that dark sea
And face the ramifications
Beware!
Torrents beyond the walls of reality
That would **** and ravage
Ideas held dear,
Forget the void...

Assail!
Assail the ramparts that confine you there
The shackles to which you've adhered
The abominable abstraction you'd onubilate with fear,
Cohere to the void...

Where?
Oh where do you lie
Within the walls or outside,
To what end why
Oh why?
Have you stumbled on the divide
To what may surprise and mystify,
Where horror and joy both reside
Explore the void...

To look, to see
The boundary to the void,
The wall of reality
Such paradox employed,

To think, to create;
To perceive, to destroy

Drift on drift on but rhythm run
And timber flail with the rolling throng
What little lies in wanting yet waits
for not all waiting want doomed to rot

But wait but wait beasts heart do beat
For tragic fear and demented dreams,
Of drowned minds and blinded crowds
Of crashing hooves and shattered screams

Ribble rabble and squalor squabble
over thoughts that streak between their feet
May one grab hold and its secrets unfold
A world without waiting or babble

Cordon off what some may will
A date set for ruin,
Ashes stain the pedestal
Embers scatter deep within,
Passions burn white knuckles black
Regardless of who holds them,
But don’t allow the slightest crack...
Lest the pedals scorch the stem

Falling snow settles atop a tree,
Gathered gently on each branch.
Still other snowflakes dance gleefully,
Tranquility at a glance.

An elephant lays dead between us
Who killed it? Who's to know,
With it lies our broken trust
In ****** puddles and shadow.

I know you killed the elephant.
I put it up on show.
Far from a Romeo,
Far from the love we could have known

What I would give to write happy words,
To string together a poem
That left you and I assured
Of the warmth of a sunrise, swiftly ushered
By the chorus of blue jay prose

But each of these words is dyed black
By thoughts with no start or end,
Lilac, light, and love would lack
True meaning written by an insomniac
Who jrekkers with the Jabberwock

I envy you, you whose thoughts soar
Lift us with your feathered pen,
Impart the fervor you store
In each tranquil rhyme and sanguine metaphor
I’m glad for you, you poets.

I've never spoken of
Or written about
The words who most demand a voice
They singe my veins
And char my heart
If I can't get a grip
I may jot them down
And burn them in return

Have you ever been to Nomansland?
It's full of smiles, laughter, dread and dearth
Of any repercussions
If you're Russian or a serf
On a wave that leads to everything
Tho nothing you want first.
Come on down to Nomansland
And quench your nagging thirst

Tired of your burden, want to rest your restless mind?
We have trenches, dumps, and valleys
To poor thoughts of every kind
Relax, space out, while those thoughts race away
That's right
Shut up
Sit down
You have no choice but to stay!

Forget your problems
Lose your worries
Ignore your friends
And family too!
Let your pain slip away
With your ecstasy in suit!
Look at everything, see nothing, through your eyes of faded hue!
That's right
Little lost soul ...
...there is no real you.

Once, in a stupor,
Long ago, through the grime,
Another came knocking here
Searching for their mind.
They were blissful,
Vacant,
A customer served full,
But for one little thought
That rattled round their skull

"I want... it... back."
Back?!
They must have lost their head!!!
We examined it extensively:
It was perfectly braindead
Everything in order, we couldn't figure out
Where the clanging came from
When we jiggled them about

No matter, don't worry
It's of no concern to you,
We're usually successful
When we stir brains into stew.
Just relax to the ditty of our unlive band
I'm Noman by the way,
Welcome to my land!