Voice like a strawberry coloured sunrise
Its cry shatters my piece of mind
My fingertips throb with delight

Swim through ideas wet with thought
It swirls and creates
Just a drop brings me to my knees

Never could I pray for a worthier cause
Standing at the cliff you pushed me off
My exulted freedom

We walk to the corner
Smoke a cigarette as the cars flash by
Rain kills the small gray clouds

Beseech to be free to live to move on
I am stripped of my chains
I brush these off my shoulders

And now I see so clearly
What you really meant
How I could love you so dearly
And for you my love I sent

You would take my hand in yours
And with trust I would follow you
The silence broken by the open door
Walk on through and be born anew

My house I built on the mound of dirt
You would cry and call me just the same
-Come down, share with me your hurt
A blind moth will seek no flame

My anguish my pain and sorrow
You took and held on as your own
You watched me slowly destroy my tomorrow
Against myself I cast that first stone

You could not take it in the end
Your soul so strong it burned so bright
You showed me my soul I could mend
The blind moth can again see the light

-*Adieu

I am a sum total.
Every instant of my existence
Has built me from the ground up.
I am no such thing as original.
I am afraid I am ordinary.
-They say you are what you eat.
This much is true.
Food for the soul.
Friends.
Music.
Loves and hates.
Passion and empathy.
-I am such a glutton.
Make no mistake
This sin’s far from deadly.
I want to dive into my subconscious
And ask him a few questions.
Pick his brain so I can understand my own.
Understand every little piece of me.
Every shard of glass in my life’s mosaic.
Gleaming and smiling and sitting pretty.
I strain to break the quality control.
Slam my fist through the mirror.
Setting my own standards.
Seeing around the subjective.
Striving through the superficial.
Discover how to make me
Better than what is expected
-An autodidactic psychological modest narcissist of mind and body.
Achieving perfection through imperfection
And realizing perfection is imperfect itself.
Letting my imagination create my purpose.
Finding my dreams and aspirations through my being.
Blinded by their somber cries.
Take them by the hand and turn them
Into lucid sunlight across my face.
Watching reality as I sculpt
My life with my own two hands.
The power to caress the clay into beauty
Or smash it into the dust of the Earth.
But alas, I am not of my own.
My ideas are not my own.
Merely borrowed thoughts juxtaposed
Into a pastiche of individuality.
My extensions to you
Are what I can call my own.
Creativity.
Belief.
Love.
Impact.
A handprint on your shadow.
Endeavor to reach out.
Palm your shoulder.
Wrap a finger around your mind.
And put a piece of me in you.
Memory and emotion shall succeed me
And live through you.
-We truly are immortal.

I’m on top of the world.
Everything’s below me.
I’m five years old and nothing’s
Going to take me down.
I will go outside and play in the sand
Or maybe a squirt gun water war.
I will go back home and DEMAND a snack
‘Cause I’m five years old and master of all I see.
I will sit at the dinner table and eat only what I want.
That means no broccoli or green beans or carrots or crap.
(Oh my gosh! Did I just say that? That’s a BAD word.)
I don’t want to go to bed at nine.
I want to stay up.
‘Cause I’m a recalcitrant five year old
And I should always get my way.

-Onward! Forward!
Through the fields
Remnants of my optimism
Such high hopes
Carrying so much strife
-But they’re not that strong.
Thoughts dance with ideas of their own
They build up and spread their children
An ever-changing people
With an obstinate nature
Humanity defined by the ill by-products
Of the Human Condition
Fighting for control
-Wrong! Wrong! You’re all wrong!
Subjective morality
We won’t finish until we all think like ourselves
Sinners and saints are the same
-Crusade! Jihad!
God cringes in embarrassment
We live with our consequences
So much has changed
So much will change
It’s really the same

Mind wanders through itself
Discovering memory and dry leaves
Living in terms of daydreams that will never come true

Ants crawls across my elbow
Flight achieved
My lack of focus is my Muse

What I want is
Command the universe with feeling
I am God in me

Courage morality even fate
Start to lose their meaning
When I rewrite their definitions

I build and destroy
I laugh and cry
My world

I walk through mazes
Curious to see what waits
All of this in me

Colours bleed and saturate
The air smells evocative
A comet falls through the sky

Brain storms and déjà vu
I rush to greet with a smile
And all of this in a blink

Reality to make my wish
I can not disagree
This is too much fun

*-I am free

-Oh no
  She saunters by
The air stiffens and falls, mountains bow,
               All kowtow, or at least they should
                 -We’re not worthy
      She looks over her dominion
                                          She rules all that she sees
            None standup to contest
                   She has me too, I confess
                                             -I like it
                     She looks through me
Another face
Another peon
Another nothing
                                                                               -HEY!


-…Place your hopes here my lad
-No, I am better than this. She will see ******
LOOK AT ME
           Not another tidbit for the
Proverbial chopping block
     Her neck turns; time stops
  Clocks tick without their tock
        -We get so lonely
        Or is it for her? She tops me
Swivels slowly, no stop
A slow-mo accident waiting to be replayed
        -Oh God please
        -Oh God no
She cuts the room in two, parallel lasers
     Heads
                   roll
                            and
                                    smile,
                           they
             cheer
       for
me
-You got this Tiger
-Steady man, steady
     She sees my eyes with hers
Dull brown against the firing squad
                      -Ready boys! Aim
Her lips part, chest slightly rises loading the bullet
      She locks on her target and she never misses
          A bead of sweat rolls on past
              It asks
-What have you done
     They look to her
-Take the shot!
And she does with a smile
                                                  -*Hey

What’s this?
A relic from my childhood.
Long forgotten.  
Memories spring forth from nowhere.
My imagination is brought forth front and center
And history is repeated
For me alone.
I watch the movie
Every emotion (such joy, such fury, such sadness)
I feel again with renewed vigor.
Cringing in childish embarrassment and smiling the way children do.
Every motive (children are really such fickle creatures; innocence isn’t something learned)
Is held dear again in my heart, overriding my ethic, my values.
My senses are overwhelmed with old, dusty film reels and stale popcorn.
I grip the armrests of my seat; I cannot take my eyes off.
I laugh at every cereal-box quality joke and cry over every scraped knee.
I even feel the relief and comfort the cartoon-character Band-aid brings.
Sandboxes and freshly cut grass.
Bright, warm sunlight and the rabbit hutch.
Vacations with Mom and Dad together.
The movie ends but lives on as I walk out of the theatre.
Like a tattoo on my shadow, it walks with me home.
All of this in a blink of an eye.
I remember.

Silently they prowl. In
gangs howling in hunger wondering
what led them over the edge.
They wonder who marked the ledge
and why the fall hurt so bad.
Sadness and filth.
Desperation.
Had God truly forsaken or was it the bottle and ******.
Then why do they stay in the alley
like a Jew in the Promised Land?
The milk and honey is all but sand that brings no sleep.
The Deep is dark and swallows
dreams but not hope.
Hope is all they have.
A better tomorrow.
A new today.
Something to sway fate's grip on a burdened shoulder.
Providence is rare but endure like boulders
of a mountain. They cry out
-Why?
The worst can't come tomorrow
if it came yesterday.
But today they lay in their cardboard.
Hidden behind society's sweet smile.
All ties cut and sewn with lies.
The blood still fresh on the chopping block.
The cleaver bound for another round.
The clock never stops.
Slaaam goes a hand
against the *****'s cheek.
-Only the meek inherit the earth
she remembers the Father say.
A happier day to remember but today no acre is hers.
She will sleep and dream and cry.
For Grim's helping hand.
The ticket out of the human condition.
A release to white.
Sins washed and cleaned fit for a God to see
life may not be the Eden he planned.
Tonight they sleep hoping the wears and tears this
perpetual nightmare to end.
A new beginning.
A second chance.
Life.

Boomboom cannons flair and scare. And
me? Scared. Frightened. Covered.
Stink. Sweat. ***** too.
Look at me. All alone with my crew of
skeletons and ghosts.
Or soon to be.
-Watch out!
someone shouts and I do watch out. Only
to see
wet rage of lead to greet the dead
with a new life.
-Over there!
-Over where?
Everywhere men fall
and babies bawl.
And me time stalls for just a minute.
For an hour.
Perhaps I will stay.
And play in this deadly game
of hide and seek
with Grim himself whose not so bad.
-Follow me
and see
what waits beyond
the flame and sorrow,
But I stay to see tomorrow.
And what do I see?
Same story different chapter
of history for the future
of future for the past.
Past what? Time has no meaning.
Only dead or alive
but which is which?
The living dead maybe?
Who knows. I knows.
I can see, smell, taste the
souls leaving with a swoooooosh!
Mooooooosh the day begins.
when did it end?
-It never ends.
For the living.
-Get up up up!
There here everywhere!
Neighs the Steed. And I do
Not wishing I had. To see what happened
Devils yell
-To hell we will take.
You, me, even the Steed.
But through his good deed
bayonet stings and swings at
hell itself.
Blood covered and
fearydreary run too
the night.
Wizzing rounds around me
I run for the safe dark. Steed snorts
-Selfish! Idiot! Nincompoop!
Your men are in danger
when you slink away!
I am swayed not
by Steed but by Grim’s
gentle hand.

One day it will rain.
The soothing water will wash
away the sins of the world.
The sun will shine.
Its light like liquid gold.
Behold! The Miracle!
Pain erased, sorrow forgotten.
Tomorrow will cease to be as well as
yesterday.
Only today will remain. Nothing will matter;
everything remembered.
The SON OF MAN will greet the children of his Father.
Tears no more. The Human Condition restored
to what Father planned.
Thwarted by the KING OF LIES.
Won back by the KING OF LIVES.
Everyone bows. Mountains crumble. Lakes deepen.
The SON laughs at humility.
After all he is but a Man.
Humanity at its finest.
Though his Condition no better.
Like a shepherd he leads on.
The strays and the lost
He has not forgotten nor forsaken.
Though they have.
They are sorry. They see their mistakes wishing for a second chance.
Their tears
wet the path to
Damnation.
The river of tears flows.
Engulfed by the flame.
The Fallen grins.
He is happy.
Misery loves company and He is misery.
The Anointed cries with them.
The SON empathizes.
-They are human.
He leads them with his crook.
Their tears dry. The river a cracked bed.
The flames subside. Morning Star laments
-It's not fair!
SON counters
-And what do you know about equality?
The gate is open. The future awaits.
Brighter than the Luminous City up the path.
The Struggle is over.
Peace begins.

The rain falls against the Face
Each drop like a tiny bomb
-SPLAAAAAAASH
-KABOOOOOOM
Its features made smooth by its school of thought
- Dum Dum Dum
they strike and insist
never miss
Blasts of kettle drums mingled
with the Staccato
All sounds brought forth from the
Technicolor Heartbeat
The clouds watch Face as it pours
-Anything to make us pure again
What cure is there
-Purify
-Pacify
-Rely on social norms We know what you need
Media never had it quite right
There was no fight
only Acquiescence
The slow acceptance
Eyes can be fooled and these clouds are
-Not convinced
The fractured Block inside the Face
offers no place for peace
for minds
Thoughts race behind the clouds
and fall behind the march
-Hey wait up
-NO LIE DOWN
It only rains when they lead the parade
and this charade is growing tired
Block is slowly
picking up the pieces
-Reconstruction
A better tomorrow
A new today
Clouds watch the world on stage
A play that never stops
Actors get off and paradigms shift
enough to crumble any mountain
and drain any sea
So the clouds rain
painlessly to each passerby
even though they get wet.

The day is sunny.
The time is a little past noon.
The red door casts a small shadow over the green grass.
If you stand there and close your eyes,
You could swear you hear a river as it dove through the forest.
But the river's not important.
What's important is the door, or rather, what's behind the door.
The door is never locked.
The **** is always loose and fits nicely in the palm of your hand.
You can look around the door.
There's nothing special about it.
It is painted in the most ordinary of red.
The molding on the frame is nothing to admire.
Its importance is almost never recognized at first.
Everyone will see this door in their lifetime, sometimes more than once.
Some even grasp the **** and give an tiny tentative turn.
But many, too many, will turn away.
Fear loves to sit by this door.
He will take the hand of anyone who'll embrace him.
He never solicits his services.
He never advertises.
Yet people flock to him like flies to honey.
Funny how flies also gather around garbage.
But if you ignore him you will find your hand on that doorknob.
Give it a turn and extend your arm.
Close your eyes.
Remember what it took to get here.
The door gives a satisfying creak.
The dour man besides the door gives a barely noticeable frown.
You notice how it almost seems to glide open on its hinges.
A small bead of sweat carves a path down his forehead.
You gently let go and allow the door to open.
Like it was made to do.
He looks ill.
Step on through.

The TV people scare me sometimes.
They are always saying bad things.
They do so with an air of confidence and reassurance.
They fill your head with narcotic gossip and
Everyone salivates over the tasty words.
The addicted watch with anticipation.
Eating up every juicy bit.
The worse the news, the tastier.
The media is an all-you-can-eat buffet
For the cynical lovers of catch 22’s and Murphy’s law
They gag on the good news
Altruism, the Golden Rule, honest to goodness people
That doesn’t taste so good
It doesn’t give us our fix
You need the bad to have the good
And we only like the good to emphasize the bad
The audacity of the TV people; how dare they tell good news
Good news doesn’t sell
Bad news is good news

BTZZZZZZZZ
“…open wide! The all-new Angus third-pounder…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…illiteracy: an incurable disease or education malpractice…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…childhood obesity is at an all-time high…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…suicide bomber, 10 people dead…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…teachers on strike again…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another Amber Alert has been issued…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…number of Americans going hungry increases…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…ninety-six billion pounds of food go to waste each year…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Nicole Kidman loves her new *****…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another soldier was killed yesterday in a firefight…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“...you can do to protect against H1N1…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…live the rainbow, taste the rainbow…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…the King of Pop…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…confirmed: the remains belonged to 6 year old…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…boy refuses to pledge allegiance unless gays and lesbians have equal rights...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…scientist reveals her secret life as a *******...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…police are waiting on a positive ID on the girl’s body...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…actor who played Santa Claus jailed for having *** with boys…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Iran is restarting their nuclear facility…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…armed teen jumped the pizza delivery man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…woman who has three hundred ******* a day finally meets her dream man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…why we love Taylor Swift…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“fifteen year old son, shot by his father, has died tonight…”
BTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ [click]