Sticky magazine pages on the desk in the corner
of this waiting room I'm in.  
I'd rather fall asleep
and fill my head with things
that could be but aren't,
than read about the things in life
that shouldn't be yet somehow overwhelm.
They're at ease with it
I could never be at ease with anything.
Biding all my time so near
and yet so far from anyone I know.
Waiting for the life I sold my freedom for,
just to get away from halfheartedness
You're at ease with it
I could never be at ease that
This is how it feels to be connectionless
it's free but it's a bore
Better than directionless
like the bulk of people are
They're so free with it
I could never be so free with anything
Sitting in a cloud of idiocy and the unknown
building up your negatives and
tightening your own shackles
You're okay with it
You're at ease with it
I could never be at ease with anything that.

Live to die, or die to live
Those are the options presented to me by my reflection

**** my beliefs, my pride and upbringing
In exchange for a life I'd be better off with
Or
Continue on,
Pressing forward with the grace and majesty
Of a flaming steam roller heading for an explosive dumpster

I've always believed forward was the way to go
That when all else fails, anger would fuel me to surpass my goal
And I'd continue forward
Destroying all I cherished or opposed me
As such I've become conditioned to stay alert for debris
Never resting
Only forward

But now that isn't a necessity
Suddenly the fuel that's driven me all this way has been questioned on its efficiency

Suddenly, as if I am approaching a cliff,
Forward may not be the course of action anymore

I can stop
I can rest and breathe and cry
I can be angry and grieve
And let the bottles of fuel drop into the sea below
Building my path and next bridge to burn
That may not even be flammable

I worry if I stop moving
That that's it.
Where I fall I sleep forever more,
Never to stir to continue the path.

So do I **** myself to live as a free man,
Connectionless to this place I've become familiar with
Or live to die by my own self destructive nature.

The hand hovers on the knife
I can take it with me to fend off those who may threaten, hurt or offend
Including myself;
Or use it to cut myself from my frame
And live freely

Give in to Win
Or Resist the current
My fate lies in my decision
Of turning the tides.

I miss dial tone
it's sonorous
reassurance yes
the world is on

these bars
stepping up and down
when i close my eyes
lose their sooth

the waiting
hum of the world
would carry your
very vibration

down the line
you would own
miles of line
with your tone

there were some
they called
"long lines"
you could say "um"

it seemed
to cross time
and you
were tethered

my voice
driving one
miles long wave
rising and falling

across rivers and lands
to someone, me feeling
as if my own sound wave
could nibble on their ear

i don't get the ah
anymore from this
this connectionless
shredder of vibe

In this envelope
with a smattering
of nothing more
and curious

there is nothing
on the cam
or on radar
or in earshot

this noisome
absent sound
or reason
cacophony

smatters to be
so why do i
need a poem
to prove it

as if elbows
solved all
of life's ills
as intended

my bag your bag
in the bag
i'm killing it
here

one giant
connectionless
construct for you
to smatter on

oh me and me
don't forget me
say somethings
'bout me

whom you know not
and are too lazy
to imagine
very deftly

so I'm elbows
on a keyboard
rhymes on ****
oof i love that

sealed with
imagine it
you getting
to taste it too

The Last Exodus

       Modern man has had his reign
Annihilation is ultimately inevitable
Lawlessness has taken up domain
The message of Jesus is undeliverable

The people live in denial and un excepting
Of the gift of their blessedness
They live carefree and without Consequences indulging in their decadence

With a lack of acknowledgement comes
A life that’s connectionless
And without a Devine intervention
We become a society that’s directionless

The choice is of our free will and we’re so
Accepting of all of the behavior indecorous
And our time is running out and we must
Rediscover that which is precedence

It’s time to put the Creator our Lord
Jesus first again and know his excellence
If we wish our souls to be received in
Heaven upon the time of The Last Exodus

Written By: Charles Kean
06/10/2024