Not in the way I
Look through these eyes
which water but instead
Of sadness entranced upset
Near to death love
making where though and
Design laugh at their own
Gluttony and ill usage and
away from me i say no not here and
away from itself i hear nothing for you
are here within me but away
Comet and the see to hear blues with
Everything to give but nothing to lose
And the far off sights are much too bright
And inside you hear yourself crying
Not to mtters or mold your soul
With what your parents said to you
Ordered you to be bold and
The aftermath of your own tightened slack
Makes you wonder if growing up was an actual
Choice in the matter of the batter which is
The family foundation were games are played
For keeps and children weep as they keep
Toiling on as adults just for bigger and better things
Come into the waves of a brain malfunctioning
No face for ye' faith meand nodding to the higher
Ones whose noses are broken and the lips cracked
The spinning brain of hurts doughnuts and Americana
Rip offs selling the flag by the millions to turn a profit
For the moronic billionaires who think no one is watching.
Watching with their hats turned sideways and trying to
Escape old age and grey hair and sagging ball sacks and
Poor english and worser bread, stale with their mother's
Ghost hovering on the shoulder of their pouting diamond
Drenched wife as if madness grew a larger pair **** within the
Hilarity of connection of concoction of happiness and
Satisfaction and a longing to burn the entire ******* down
Just to rebuild it the way you see and you do see it and the way
You feel it used to be and perhaps, maybe, could be and where
Experimentation is now a center fold for the dock workers and the
Laborers of the world to spit and ******* and cry over in their
Twisted and rusty beds for inside their pea brains and melted
Mouths filled with colgate and beer, they slobber over the excess
And humiliation and celluoid dreams of **** and *** and spreads
That would make any grandmother of 37 weep and Mozart meander
On the veranda, contemplating smooth jazz and the way he would like
Not to be buried with the hat trick hockey nick who swore he saw
You fall in love before and that sobriety was the touch of the Christian
Way of life and ye' far out and tormented young ones meant nothing
By what they said at the rally and they do believe in the good of the
White government and we are headed toward a technological maelstrom
Of the golden age of the HUMAN RACE but alas I hope I decipher I pray to
No God but whoever has the ears and eyes and arm fat to listen with their
Splintered consciousness and their painted red toenails and girlfriends who
Whisper they have always loved another and how TRUE UNTRUTH IS and
How vindictive we rant on and read on and hope and believe that the end
Is the end but it is only the end for you and their will be new blood and new eyes
And new minds and we will grow old but the rivers water will be recycled, as we
Will be recycled into the dust and the mud and the rubble to further build the streets
As the street makers and the bread winners will smile as they think they are the
First ones to think up such a crafty, inventive invention but hierarchies are on the horizon
And I remember I was born with a name that I never grew to know or fall in love with
Or defend or keep close to my heart for the heart is weary hunter and it ventures on
With or without the body.
Note to self.
Recall the last rite before you begin on to the next one.
History has spilt its blood and its fair share of orange juice, try not to remember the numbers but remember the amount of burned chairs.
Note to self, returned.
The heaters on and the soul is not dancing but jiving like icing on a three year olds birthday cake.
Submission time to the chief, submission time
To those other guys, whose faces I've never smelt, but who are there waiting and whining that the times are no longer a changing.
Keep up the smiles, keep out the frowns.
Negativity is the attribute of the terrorist. Don't be a terrorist.
All fine men and women have once in their life been truly scared.
One ten till the train leaves.


Good night major split hairs.

On the second of the fort
Nights beckoned a call dim
Lit by ill fated mechanisms that
Were men and women and
Children and the forgotten dream of
What was meant long ago and was is
Meant now but not followed through.

With heaven comes hell and hell fire and
Clouds of white with shelling from
Wars not of this world or the next or
The one's thereafter and lingering history,
With its bells and trinkets and tombstones,
That have been weathered but are still not gone.

Memory not mourning, pictures in a frame lit
From the inside out and drinks were there
When we were not meant to be there like a
Kiss on a flower you picked at an age where
Life was not known and death was even
Farther away for it existed not in the eyes of yours
But in everyone else around you, except for the
Other children of course but oh' of course.

If your trying to get the part of the stuff
That makes you recall the upstairs of the
Idiocies of the room romance that restricts but
Contains life and halters life and stifles life with
That one must recall a past life where tears
Mean nothing when you produce them too often.

Can of the hypocritical malice of mis-informed family
Foundations and we break into the minds of the way
It should be and the way it shouldn't be and yet here
When we gaze out across the wide spread of the world
And its many ways it spells out with a God's own language
The morning of the ear who listens and speaks when not spoken
To breaking every single rule of the word and smiling
Throughout the whole ****** thing.

Canons of repetition where life winces and the wife begins to wheeze
And fall, her dress is now clear and her eyes just don't seem to be
Where we are now I believe that money is the root of this soon to be dead
Tree and streets are now empty as the moon casts its silver glaze and
The breeze is now naked with her bra on the floor cast in straw while
The wizards write their spells and comb their hair and draw out plans
For the next great fall but watch the fireworks and the way they hail and
Crawl throughout the entire bawl and Ol' Ezra P. mass amounts of rage
To bring to the stage but here ye' O great one this place is for us all.

Here in the house of the not that is shared but all is seen here
Where the wind blows to no east and no west and no south and
No other way that you believe to get headed to the world of
The no names and experience makes you wise and yet old
And remembered for the drinks you paid for but especially for
The ones you forgot to pay for but that is what friends are for.

Omnivores in latitudes that matter not to the public eye but
To the ear of the Lord that is not everyone's savior but
Chosen just for the right eye so within that decree of mastery
We entrance the light and shovel up the leaves leaving the last
Way of things to be the first way of things when the lights
Are quickly turned off and on and off and on again and again;
Stars are naked until the sun rises in your hometown and the radio
Turns on.

And the background music chimes with a willingness of a cockroach but
Holds the beauty of a **** statue found in the under toe of a lost
Beach in a lost land forgotten in time but embraced by eternity and
Though does not dwindle its numerous names or its many ways
Of being for the hour does shackle us all but here in high array of
None other then eight times the way through the cobbled up in the
Attic of the fiercest neanderthal dictator with ideas holding truths upon
Truths that in the end mean nothing  for advancement is not determined
But continued upon as long as we forget the past and look to the future hymn
Of the childless winged' beasts that were once forgotten but now embraced
Angels.

Not of this world but of the entirety of the reality of banality
Breathing back and forth inhaling and exhaling releasing the
Mind of the mares of the wandering rewinds of infinite space
And inside the eyes of the highest levee which has broken but
Has not yet spilt holding back its power for the remainder of the
Year and catacombs upon catacombs of forgotten text of never
Forgotten men recalling their former lives and their former passions
And the hastiness of their possession of the word and the avoidance
Of the death touch the death mark the black spot upon us all.

Dog on a hill cloud high in the sky nut on the ground no not a sound
Frost on your fingertips toe of the boot covered a steel dull mud
Suds from a water rushing miles away nodding branches of a dead tree
Wind through the high grass birds in the sky that fly but not chirp
Sun in the sky rice fields burn brown crickets rub their thighs together
Not here but in the corn stocks and pig stocks brown in the reverse order
Platters of pinch salt and pepper underneath the floor boards creek for
Creak and dollar for dollar we make the rounds and we do not frown.

And the meet of the neat make their rapid conversations in dual order
Where they tell themselves this but I hear that and you make what you want
Unless you ain't got the stuff but if your lucky and if your smart you'll
Grab the oven and bake that **** but in case you don't see the sunset and
Your buried without your toes look for your voice because that's the only
Way you'll get to know the stars in the sky or the dirt on the ground for
The fun is growing but the lurkers are smirking for they got the pennies and
They got the nickels and these streets are breaking so you gotta' start thinking
Of a way to get outta' this place and FAST or else you'll be staring down the
Barrel of a 33 to ONE typing and writing and peeping around the corner of
Your dear old ***** that hasn't found in a home in years but don't look too
Down because one day that ONE will come around either by taxi or by train
Or by some kind of war and if you've got the gut and the money and the honey to
Keep her tight and alright and flying that lovers kite then your bound to keep
Yourself from the giggles and nearer to the harmony of the way things ought to
Be but may not really be but perhaps can be if you will it around and swill it with
Your will making sure your lies and that white or ain't that black or ain't that real
Or you ain't lying at all but stay truer to the truth with the water resolution of the
Insipid insecurity of the first love you thought you knew but now see that it was
The one three or four later and how right I am in knowing nothing and knowing
Everything and letting the mind skip and play and register new friends in the new
Cities and the new alleys and the smiles that break across the ice like a crack of of a
Whip and counting the days ones gone blowing through the high valley and the low
Trenches of war I do not wish to go to but may be forced too because this man believes
Just what he says.

The wind rushes past meand the sun is so bright that I can’t see.What is this madness before me? Have I gone blind? Why can’t I see?The sounds of spring and the smell of rain,the poisons of technology permeate my brain.Have I gone insane in the membrane? Or it this a dream? I am a fiend for caffeine.You are the cure I need, the antidotes to the poisonous seed that infects me constantly. Sleep consumes me, this world I soon must leave.I am stronger than the leaves in a stiff summer breezeor in a hurricane, I am the roots that remain, to be reborn constantly.Like the phoenix I will rise towards the sky tonight.Up into the atmosphere I will rise up highpiercing through the starless night, flying like a butterflyfloating upon the breeze, with weightless eases I lay atop the trees.Why do the clouds fly by as if they are on a highway in the sky?Could they stop for a while, so I might bring one downto take a nap upon its bed of feathers made of air.I’ll climb the tallest tree, and jump out upon the sea,of cotton ***** of gas that float like a tumbling massof constantly moving poetry.I’ll nap atop the trees.2oo5-

Shall I wither and fall like an autumn leaf,From this deep sorrow – from this painful grief?How can I go on or find a way to be strong?Will I ever again enjoy life’s sweet song?Sometimes a warm memory sheds light in the darkAnd eases the pain like the song of a Meadow Lark.Then it flits away on silent wings and I’m alone;Hungering for more of the light it had shone.Shall grief’s bitter cold sadness consume me,Like a winter storm on the vast angry sea?How can I fill the void and deep desperate needTo replant my heart with hope’s lovely seed?Then I look at a photo of your playful smiling faceAnd for a moment I escape to a serene happy place;Remembering the laughter and all you would do,Cherishing the honest, caring, loving spirit of you.Shall spring’s cheerful flowers bring life anewAnd allow me to forget the agony of missing you?Will spring’s burst of new life bring fresh hopeAnd teach my grieving soul how to cope?Sometimes I’ll read a treasured card you had given meAnd each word’s special meaning makes me see,The precious gift of love I was fortunate to receive,And I realize you’d never want to see me grieve.Shall summer’s warm brilliant sun bring new light,And free my anguished mind of its terrible plight?Will its gentle breezes chase grief’s dark clouds away,And show me a clear path towards a better day?When I visit the grave where you lie in eternal peace,I know that death and heaven brought you release;I try to envision your joy on that shore across the sea,And, until I join you, that’ll have to be enough for me.For all the remaining seasons of my life on earth,There’ll be days I’ll miss your merriment and mirth,And sometimes I’ll sadly long for all the yesterdays;Missing our chats and your gentle understanding ways.Yet, the lessons of kindness and love you taught me,And the good things in life you’ve helped me to see;Linger as lasting gifts that comfort and will sustain,Until I journey to that peaceful shore and see you again.

you and i
we’ve always had some battered hearts
and i think i picked you up and i think i at least did a little good
for youand it makes me smilemakes me feel worthwhileyou and i
we were cute and acted innocent in the start
and i was shy and you were notand i guess we played our part
its true

and it makes me smirkmakes my heart workits sad that i
am not as smart as i used to thinkbut i’m trying to take the plug out of the sinkand let the ***** water drainfor youit makes grinit makes me puke until i’m thin

and i will try
for my own good and through your eyesjust have some hope, i meani’ve been there for you even when my heart was blueits true

i’ve stuck with you
so stick me with meand thats when i’ll knowthat this love is true

the intent, by accident,
a message in madness,
anger alone has no value and
uses energy in negative valence
to manifest,

that can't happen on accident,
only on purpose, okeh.

You gotta tip the balance
for anger to be used abs-

like,
totally un-fair abs,
such a gift, who gives…?  I meand abused, I'm confused…

absolute tip the balance to use anger,
never an accident, the intent

that's the message. All I got.
Now what?

Merry Christmas.

This is like VHS homemoviepoet try as he may he can't get away

Tinker-toys, oh Boy, a richochet peeiiing Mattel Itswell 30-30! WOW,

the kid across the street that got hit by a car last Christmas,
he got a go cart this year.

Everything is relative. me, as my old man, said to me.
Back then, late fifties, little desert town, middle'o'righthere
at the time.
My old man at Alamogordo, wit' Ferme 'n'them…

It's not history, I imagine it could be.

That kid did get a go-cart, it didn't help very long.

It's a thought. A message, I think, I thought it and now
you did, too. Sorta.

Cool, like olde times. Never real, always imaginable,
any way ya' wa'ah-ahn-em,
ya gotta ownownownem ommm

My God, it's Christmas time again, I can't remember
when it felt this way.

Did it? Ever? Frank Kapra, in the dark.
We held hands. You remember. Black and white. Right.

then, this is now, and much more joyous in a worldly joy
intended, I'm sure,
from the first

vibration of the chord twixt you and me,
we wish you amerry Chritmas, in deed.

Part African American and related to
Hilkesealase
related to Hugh Hefner
related to whatever
part Lithuanian and royal
Lithuania blood
part German
part Cherokee Indian
maybe part Polish and part English
part Mexican
part South American
maybe some middle eastern
blood
part English maybe
and part Irish

Why u gone away frm me why u took every part of my soul with you u hurt meand for Tht i must **** u. Why after u took my precious temple. Tht once was an Secret place. Why u did this to me i cant eat cant sleep im feening for your love dnt leave me for who going  love u.  why.. Damit tell me.. I have gave u everything gave my time there wasnt noting i will do at one point of time but u change ... I change yes u change for the love is not there it time for me to go to be free. Wait .. No ... And the time forward. Im crying siting here wishing u was here but dam i cant bring u back rip

on the film

there’s a story

and its told in black and white

in the writings

there’s a meaning

like when we stay up in the night

and in the winter

we dreamed that we would have our

life in our hands, and we’d be alrightwell now its summer

and you’re flashing me a light

in the middle of the night

i’ve always been running

and i ran into you

and i guess you ran in to me, too

but i’m still running

i don’t know what fromi don’t know where to

but i hope i’ll still have you

when it’s over

when our death is coming true

and if its true

when you say you can’t handle back ‘n’ forthand i’m too

misleading for what its worth

well, i’m sorry

but its a price you’ll have to pay

i never chose to be this way

a different person everyday

sometimes i don’t know what to say

can’t form the words like i could form some softened clay

i keep things in, but i don’t mean to keep them far away

i’m toughening upi’m getting righti love you, and thank

you for the fightsand your uppercut into meand how you

push my face into your kneeand your teethbreaking

sincerityand your hurtful honestyyeah it hurts mebut

what does not **** me makes me strongeri hope you hit

me a while longeri hope you’ll kiss me when i’m

weakwhen i am bleak and incomplete