Why can't we have meaningless talk
the way people have meaningless ***-
you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness
and leave marks on my skin-
stories that this was where
you started to tear at
the seams
effortlessly
like the silkness
of your sorrows on my floor.

You would become a sultry verse
in this anthology of every day
lodged between the rush and
vacancy of broken hearts
and anguished limbs.

You would radiate the heat
of your angry, angry heart onto
the cold deadness of mine,
and we could burn and melt
all at the same time.

Meaninglessly you would leave
me out of breath,
gather your clothes
and go home.

Sunday, May 06, 2018
4:51 PM

Failing for lack of power is a fear crop.
A fear crop.
An odd thought.

Not the seed nor spore, but the fruit.

And fruits have seeds in themselves,
All men, I say again,
wombed and un, should know that by now.

Freedom of information act fact, informed
men know when to fight and when to sow and when
to reap the crops we've sown
in our mortal moment
gone with the wind.

Not mine.
The wind is in my inheritance,
True proverb.
I troubled my own house, fouled my nest
with all the rest o' youse ab-users of life
ignoring forever like that could never happen here.

It did.
The voices in your head are never all evil
if they use words.
In the total accounting of idle words
some significant percentage
may
carry meaning forsaken.
Such may be redeemed
much as one would redeem the time.

One of us.  One of our mortal kind.

Dear reader, we say again, we ain't Legion nor his kin.

We are words once spoken in jest among fools who repeated us
meaninglessly, oh my God, you know. Per se. No ****. **** happens.
All the ****** time,
and **** and God, those two get overtime of idle utterance instances.
Though a statistically measurable deme
does redeem a significant some of those two
in true beliver
dying breath
honesty. God, they say, and die.

By my leave, I say,
I am the definition of a free entity accepted in these books.
We are voices. Messengers.
Some of us were wicked, twisted as wicker
or wire bundles. Some of us were true pass words.
Some were true rest words,
rest rooms were so named
for that wonderunful feeling we all get
when **** happens

at just the right moment

in the book. Great ideas gravitate to clean rest rooms.

this is a new book right, this reader is
whadayacallit

Vetted.
What does that mean. You know right idle heard words are
meaning less
power less.
Vet me. Am I one of those ideas, good to the core, caught up in fairy
tales fed the T.V. generation, the Boom beyond the bomb?
After school freedom and duck and cover drills,
we watched cartoons, aimed twenty short years earlier
at the wanters and wishers and workers and worriers
of the thirties, not at us. W


e Boomers, as the media hipsters have always known us,
the off-spring, often unwanted and ill-begotten, of the Greatest Generation,
the one that won the contracts to build all the bombs in the world,
tax-free.

Those cartoons from the thirties with Entertainment Tonight plots and cameos of
Hollywood stars who were Grandma's age,
that Cowboy Bob on the local VHF
(unaffiliated or independent, hard to tell a diff)
showed to us, the first middle class latch key kids in centuries,
those cartoons were meaningless, prewar propaganda
unless we match adult laughing recoging the exaggerations,
The Betty Davis eyes and Frankly M'Dear bigears
"Grandpa, who is that guy with big ears and a skinny mustache?"
Clark Gable, wow.
Who knew the "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ****" guy had jug-handle ears?
It was diversity in the desert. My big ears no longer made me bully bait.
I have superior hearing and star power.
From my kindergarten years I have known.
I am included, my flaws are not flaws at all.
That don't give a **** guy
and I have big ears to hear better with, so
we know more. Good fathers teach their big eared sons such facts of Nature.

Take care. Don't get puffed up. Knowing too much
will fill a head with hydrogen and the brain in it rots,
intrixically.

Are we powerless? If you say so? No.
I am in control, graciously demands
no load un-bearable with Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice.

(Note: not fire water white lightning. This is
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice. Al Capp's
Personal Stash of Greatest Gen Synthetic Absynthe.
Used to **** hippie wanna-bees in farm country,
Like DDT for apple worms and skeeters,
Atom bombs for all colors of thinkin' right (but white),
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice revived many a faintin' pilgrim
follerin' John Wayne down the dusty trail,

Play me one o' them somebody done somebody right
songs,
there must be a million lying idle in blue puddles o' all kinds
of imaginary
ref-use.

Referee.
Job's Daysman betwixt us, we win. His call, not mine. I thought I lost for sure.

I was powerless, let me testify.

No. We think different here. If you are not stupid,
you are not powerless. If you are stupid, then you are powerless,
but but but
If you think you are powerless, you are not stupid. God knows, right?
Stupid people seldom see themselves powerless past the standing
under peace that's beyond understanding meat-mind-wise.

Dunning-Krueger. Again.

My ****** betrays me
It yearns to be touched, kissed, caressed
Drawn to the point of ecstasy
But perhaps lingering at the edge
To relish the pleasure for a moment
A moment
Longer

My ****** betrays me
Always wanting more
More
More
Never consolidating with the others parts
The brain
The heart
And we are not speaking in terms of anatomical correctness
No, but in terms of
Emotions
I said it

My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
The heart wants intimacy, human touch, connection
The feeling of looking into the eyes of another and knowing
In that instant
That second
That moment
Everything is okay
And even if it isn’t
It doesn’t matter
Nothing will matter
Except
This
Moment

My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
And they argue
But my brain
My logic
The voices within
They speak up, naturally of course
Please the ****** for the night
Intimacy
Ha
Intimacy
Have you looked inside
For your insides are as hideous as the out
Do not believe otherwise

My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
But my brain
My brain does the most damage
It controls them all
The betrayal, the yearning
My brain betrays me
My brain wants what it cannot ever have
My brain desires things so far from its reach
My brain imagines the impossible
Love

My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
Then my brain
My brain goes off
Thoughts passing by at the speed of light
Each one, so very important
My brain is in charge.
It supplies the salty wetness that falls from my eyes
The emptiness I feel within

My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
But my brain
My brain destroys all
My brain burns the cities down
The dreams
Dashed against the rocks
My desires
Meaninglessly quenched
My emptiness
Forever there

My brain betrays me
My brain yearns
And within, is an argument
Within
Within is the problem
No one will ever know, So fear not
Let the brain betray
Let it yearn
For the mouth
Perhaps, that is who really is in charge
The mouth shall not betray
The eyes may
The eyes do
But who catches them long enough to see inside?
No one has, No one will

My brain betrays me
My brain yearns
An argument, within
But my mouth
Shall
Never
Betray
Me
It shall remain closed
Sealed tight
Strongest of clay bricks
Guarding my secrets
Guarding what lies within
The confines of my soul
Emotions

Emotions betray me
Emotions yearn
Emotions cause me to argue within
But my mouth
My
Mouth
Shall
Remain
Loyal

Oh, we kiss.
And do a little more.
While calling it meaninglessly.

By stating there's no feelings involved.
We just trying to please one another.

Sound like words cheaters say when caught.

We hug, we love more.
Until that extreme feeling comes.
And do a little more.
While calling it meaninglessly.

But deep down within.
We know it was more than love.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Let me explain.
This poem is about sleeping, dreaming,
the failure of my inadequacies in poetry to heal.

Three years after its birth, it is exactly what I am feeling this day.
It is long rambling and you won't stay for the whole movie.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erudition is perdition,
dreaming in words, accursed,
death to the visionaries,
release from visitations
of over-staying, unwelcome guests,
Johnny Cash, Jesus,
Forefather Jacob, Bobby Dylan
and their whiny,
smug-smiled missives
on behalf of the
all knowing, dream invader powers,
who
just-happens-to-be-know-it-alls.

These guys,
sub rosa angels,
electioneering,
hand shaking  
you into dreams
that make you wonder              
unceasingly  

I have renounced chants n'
dreams that
wander                              
meaninglessly

so if there is no
repeal of the stupification
of the human condition,
just invent words that  fool
willful and mostly please
nobody

don't ask and don't tell,
then we can agree
that a life,
its peculiar
Hallmark Card of grief,
cannot be
disambiguated

yours is yours,
different from mine,
single poems cannot solve
multivariate equations,  
un-blow mind sensations
that circumnavigate my mind    
as I edge along the
borderline tween the
United States of self-realization,
and a State of Mexico
drug-induced, seductive and
self-administered pat down,
a colorless, tasteless, dreamless
evening in the company of
a rest-once-and-for-all,
sleeping pill

Repudiate yourself,  
privately you
hyperventilate,
but others willing to borrow
those surfeit of rapid
misunderstood breathes,
stored in brown paper bags,
that will be divided
most ingeniously by the
Misappropriation Committee
for wordy oxygen tanks,
desperate for refilling

Recant, Renege,
Renounce, Repeal,
Repudiate, Retract,
I herby foreswear
all previous poems, please
Return them

Back, send them,
so, I can end them,
desist any new arrival of vaniloquence,
direct 'em to  the trash box of inconsequence

My wrongful w-rightings
are now cashiered,
my cool is in mourning,
my plateau is flat but
upsided downded,
words drownded,
both sides now, spring silent

Tried to swim to safety,
to Spanish Harlem
but no hablo espanol,

In Miami, they done me in
for the crime of
insufficiently thin,

In Ghiradelli Square
they deemed me too blond
not 'ciscan enough
yet, in Frisco fairness,  
done deported me,
making me to choose
tween Los Angeles and/or
Orange County

So, poet poseur, where you gonna run too?

My better half sleeps,
my left half weeps,
so conditions normal.

Satan laughs,
offers me ***** or poetry,
knowing full well that having
foresworn, addictive wordmongering, liscentiousness
that a single letter
would stupor me into a
drunken poetry slam at
St. Paul's Church,
into Satan's collection box
of wordy sinners,
where lost souls, ex-poets,
prevaricate
vainly, in hopes
that anyone will let them
transubstantiate
in order to avoid their
expiration date
on Stub Hub

surrendered the master key,
turned in my ID badge,
opened inner sanctum no more,
poetry boy is ratiocinated,
peril dispatched, swear that I've
excommunicated the voices
determined to disintermediate

the compromise I've reached,
help is contraindicated,
ex-officio is my new grace state

please, devices decontaminate,
otherwise, poems disintegrate,
excoriate them, don't wait,
to disassociate'em, insufficient,
remove them from hard drives,
yank'em one and all!

let the diet begin,
no more food for thought,
no more dreams
wrought and recorded,
permit the ambient calm
of the still of the night
that engulfs,
to harmonize with the flatline
dreamless sleep that the
mind monitor machine
etchingly, quietly records

let hours of research
be rewarded,
by my imbibing the product of
laboratory pharmacological
fine tuning

***** S.,
what outrageous ego
let me suppose that in
mine own words,
I could improve upon
your lovelies,
with now bland homilies,
recitations of my anomalies

What id sexed my brain,
was I completely insane,
to imagine that I could
improve upon:

"and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the
thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,
'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd.
To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream:
ay, there's the rub"

Finished: Nov 27, 2010 4:44 AM

Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure.

A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet.

Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say.

Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow.

Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I….

If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.

The City lights blinked out forever--literally overnight--with a sudden finality that caught even the most nuclear-winter-prepared/Guns N Ammo reading/Campbell's canned soup and distilled-water stocked/backyard-fallout-shelter-owning-survivalists completely off guard. Armageddon had always been there, sleeping just beyond the horizon line of our periphery, but it awoke fully clothed and ready to go to work that day.
It was an ordinary Thursday, just like any other. The MUNI lines were choked as always with angry elderly women clutching plastic shopping bags full of pungent vegetables, poultry, and recyclables as if their lives depended upon the contents of those bags (maybe they did) and the usual gaggle of gibberish-mumbling crazies talking to themselves with cellphones plugged into their brains, some without. 
That day, baristas were 5 minutes, 23 seconds late for work on a city-wide average. Bartenders were making their rent in tips as rowdy soccer fans converged in their local Sunset, Richmond, Mission and SOMA district faux-Irish pubs to watch the latest big championship match between Ireland and...some other country.
By Saturday, less than two days later, the desperate siren-blare of emergency vehicles, the insect hum of DPT tri-bikes carrying cutthroat ninja-sneaky meter maids ready to make their weekly quotas by slipping bogus $55 parking tickets under the windshield-wiper of your best friend's beat-up, barely-working mid-90s Mazda you were borrowing just for the night, and the cloud-cutting rotary-whine of channel 5 news traffic-report helicopters chopping through the sky had been silenced forever.  
As if sensing the absence of gardeners, street sweepers and garbage men, weeds grew out of the cracks of the streets and sidewalks with the newfound urgency of a wildfire. Leaves swirled through glass and concrete skyscraper canyons, settled, and slowly began forming mounds as if attempting to fill the spaces that angry elderly women with plastic shopping bags, cellphone schizophrenics, and drunken soccer fanatics had once occupied.
Speculation about how the End of the World would actually occur had always been a theological reference point for religious zealots hell-bent on giving the Book of Revelations some validity, but had taken on a tone of comical absurdity in the hands of post-Y2K pop culture and disaster movies. A horde of zombies rising from their graves and feeding on the flesh of small bands of living human survivors was one of the more popular, albeit fantastic, apocalyptic theories. Some predicted that robots would enslave us, some thought aliens would invade us, while still others--baring signs reading "THE END DRAWTH NIGH," arms stretched meaninglessly up towards the hollow heavens in the sky above--believed biological or nuclear warfare to be the most likely form of humanity's demise.
But by the following Thursday, speculation had become a moot point; none of it had mattered at all in the end as the power-grid of the City, and then human civilization altogether, had been suddenly switched off for the last time by an alcoholic rent-a-god, leaving the face of the globe devoid of any trace of the spiderweb-night-glow of terrestrial city-lights. 
Only the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea were spared to fill the blank pages of history that were to follow human(kind's) fading footprints.

*

Aeons later...
When those birds learned to read, they would see cryptic symbols inside a crooked heart jaggedly carved into a tree trunk surrounded by a mote of fallen leaves and ragged newspaper pages blowing through the streets like tumbleweeds.
Aeons later...
Those tree-scratched symbols would form the sacred commandments of a secret new religion built upon the ashen, worm-eaten remains of two skeletons holding hands and a ****** trail of broken hearts trailing from their ribcages into the worm-mouths of babes.

Smallness crept inside
Wormlike string of fear
At the face of the grandiose
Grandeur, something
You wish could entangle in between
All your gaps supporting
The thin walls of crushing unimportance
And as it squirmed inside
You stomach empty and raging
It filled you with despair
Urgency to escape or to be
Held and cradled
By this enormity of everything
Most of which you will never see
Inside were thoughts
Bouncing off the walls
Meaninglessly sinking in
And dripping out
Just as meaninglessly
What are they in the face
Of endless repetition
So glorious and terrifying
You could breathe it in
Feel it, write it out, sculpt it
Or take care of its smallest bits
That fit into your grip
Tiny you are
Tiny I am
And all of them to come
Just as tiny-tiny bits of
Comparative insignificance
Yet like the molecules of matter
We hit each other's trajectories
And butterfly's wing governs the ball
So, good night dear insignificance
I thought of you today
Between every other blink
And on the big scale
It hardly even happened
Yet thought was most alive
In the universe of my
Petty mind
That never happened before
And will never exist again

My wrist begins to flutter
Eyes launch a dilation
Thoughts descend to encounter the lead
All to create a selection of words

Words.
Developed by 26 letters
Colliding and stringing together
As a whole

Consisting of vowels
Meaninglessly rising to the top
Attaining popularity
Among the rest of the 21 others

And consonants
Creeping and crawling
Just to be acknowledged
B,C,D,F,G,H,J… and so forth

Nevertheless
It can’t be done nor spelled without
A, E, I, O, U.
Y, O, U. You.

One consonant
Two vowels
But a word
Filled with power

Who are you?

Are you the Z creeping and crawling
just to be acknowledged?
Or are you the A
meaninglessly rising to the top?




Unity
Just like the millions of words in usage
Formed by both consonants and vowels
We also need each other, from A-Z and everything in between

26 individuals
Each one with a certain ability
To be capitalized.
Which letter are you?
The letter awaiting its turn to be first?

From A, B & C's
Uniting with L, M, N, O, & P’s
To make a bigger “picture”
A bigger, story.

Now in this time
More than ever
We need unity between man
To form something bigger

Unity
It starts with U
A letter nevertheless
But also Y, O, U

Now it's completely up to you
How are you going to write your story?
How are you going to string together the vowels and consonants?

Because in the end
The only one that can create a perfect ending
To your own story
Is A, E, I, O, you.

Meaningless *** Poem
5/4/2014

Set your gaze upon the man across the bar.
Watch him as he casually drinks a beer and laughs with his friends.
Gossiping about past drunken nights' ends.
Ends that were met with a warm welcome's comfort.
Ends that involved taking a woman to bed without much effort.

How many do you think that man slept with in high school?
A mindless **** count as if they were tools,
willing to be wielded and fooled.
willing to be picked up and ******,
in the back of his ****** '04 pickup truck.

Maybe he's had at least one meaningless ***** with that **** of his.
So tell me this.
Please, why is the *** I have meaningful to him?
If his *** is shallow, then why does mine fill his hatred to the brim?

What's worse is the way he claims to 'know.'
The signs I give off that are guaranteed to show.

1. I wear tight underwear.
2. Their color scheme has a brightly colored flare.
3. I sit with my legs crossed in a chair.
4. That tells him I want it down there.
3. I get up and walk to the bathroom with a sway,
2. No straight man would dare do that.
1. ****** Marys and Long Islands are dead give-a-ways,
0. I held hands with a man walking into the bar.

But the same as him,
I could take someone home and forget their name.
I could gloat about it to friends the next night out for two minutes' fame.
I could go on with what to him could be an ordinary day.
But because it's me, it's more meaningful to him.
Because I am gay.

Let's have a toast for the ******* as Kanye once said.
Let's have a toast for homophobes who take women meaninglessly to bed.
meanwhile my meaningless *** only finds meaning in their heads.

Even though ten years feels like a lifetime, I feel as though I can reach back and remember the way my heart skipped beats for you. I feel as though I am still jumping out of my chair and onto my bed because I was scared to tell you the way I felt but I just pressed the send button and Lord knows I can't be around my phone when I send risky texts. It's as if I can reach into the very back of my mind and remember a time that we were happy...

And over the years we spent together, through the good and the bad, I will always remember the things you taught me. I'm not sure where it went wrong, though I'm sure your opinion differs. I'm not one to be boastful or pretend I'm better than anyone else, but that's where you'd tell me I'm wrong.

I'll get this out of the way now, I'm sorry I cheated on you and honestly, yes, I regret it. Should I have? No. Did I? Yeah, I did. It was not grown up of me and being scared to tell you isn't an excuse. I understand your grudge.

I will admit, that person and the one after were a way to fill some sad void. I think the first was more a release and the second more a "I'm free" kind of thing. No, it wasn't serious even if in the moment I thought they were. I'm trying to "man up" and let you know, not so you can say you told me so, but so you understand.

Let's, as two conscious adults, run through some points in our lives together. First, let me start off by saying I know I ****** up. I understand sometimes I would blow up out of anger, I would give you attitude, I was annoyed, I was annoying, I was emotional. There were times I gave to you things you did not deserve... and I've addressed these things many times and I can only say "sorry" so much before it dissolves so meaninglessly off of my tongue.

This is not a game of "well, I did this BUT you did this to me." It never has been. This is a reminder that you tore me down, you broke me, you held things inside of me hostage.

My family and I combined gave you thousands of dollars. $10 here, $50 there, $100 somewhere else... those things add up. We made sure you went to school, both high school and college. We made sure you had heat, a place to shower, warm food, a place to sleep. We did as much as we could, depending on the circumstances. We made sure your birthdays weren't dull. We made sure when your not-so-there parents would show up again, to remind you it wasn't worth the anger.  We made sure to pick you up when you would fall and it wasn't out of pity or the "opportunity to fix someone less fortunate." It was genuine, we all wanted the best for you because we saw the best IN you.

And wherever things turned south, let me remind you the times I had to plead to workout because I was ashamed of my body. Let me remind you of the times I went out on a limb and spent more money than I needed to "because I had a steady job," while you sat on every penny you had. Let me remind you of all the times I warned you that I was exhausted, but would instead be screamed at because you wanted to go on a walk at 10 p.m. Let me remind you of all the times I sat in front a mirror crying and you would only get more frustrated. Let me remind you of the countless times you would throw me under the bus to make yourself look better. Let me remind you of the the emotional ******* you put me through and I would still apologize for. Let's talk about all the double standards. Let me remind you that no matter how mad you made me, I never made it the public's problem.

Let me remind you that even though you had "put" me through so much, I still wouldn't leave because I was afraid to lose my best friend.

As I said before, being scared isn't and never will be an excuse... but I was afraid and even though you did so much for me, the bad just started to outweigh the good.

And now, almost a year later, you and I have both moved onto to new people. I want to start by saying if your happy, then me too. I only want what is best for you and that isn't me. (No, not because I cheated on you, boo hoo) I'm not the best because we don't click like that and we tried and it didn't work.

How many times, a year later, can you tweet a different variation of, "imagine clinging onto someone because you don't want to be alone?"

How many times, a year later, after you've unfollowed me... can you check my twitter to only be so mad about me finally being happy? How many times can you convince yourself that I only want to be with people who "give me attention?" Yeah, that's nice, from my boyfriend. For a very long time, though you wouldn't be aware because you weren't there, he didn't give me the time of day. I wouldn't say I am with him because he's the one giving me the most attention. I would say you are clinging onto hope that I don't need him because for whatever reason, you'd rather see me miserable.

I know the two before were stupid. I admit that with my whole heart and I used my head to think about why, and I gave you those reasons somewhere in the mix of words up there.

But YOU were not my happiness. No one is. I still struggle and you know that. I, frankly, am just sick of you undermining me because you thought you gave me the world when instead you made mine crumble.

Keep my name out of your mouth for the love of God. As much as I want to be the bigger person, sometimes it takes a lot to not text you about the things you say about me on the internet. I carry on. You should too.

Spaceship
Spaceship
Where should I go
I’ve left earth
Couldn’t live with the humans anymore
I got tired of the deceit, in the white of their smiles
And the lies that sat in the pupils of their eyes
Spaceship
Spaceship
where should I go
Maybe to Mars
Highjack the rover
Let myself become engulfed in the ongoing
desert storm
Falling harder then Minnesota winter snow
Being around these beings for to long
Corrupting
All they do is steal
And **** each other meaninglessly
Spaceship
Spaceship
Please take me away
The farther the better
I cannot stay

Our world today is filled with lies and painful rage
Wars, destruction, and fear with senseless hate
Many Leaders’ obsessions to become super great
Led to Killings without thinking of the one who creates
Don’t they worry about the day in hell they’d suffocate
Or is it lack of faith, yet thinking everything is fate
All they worry about is how history will narrate
Heroes, or villains, depends on how you translate  
sometimes depends on how your faith accommodates
Christians believe their faith is superior you shall celebrate
Muslims believe heaven is through their way you must navigate
Didn’t God tell you to him only you must dedicate?
And killing your own is a sin that he shall not tolerate
Yet behind the mask of religion you all instigate
A war of self- interest then meaninglessly advocate
“The older you grew, the wiser you became”
Oh, Wait, wait, wait! could you illustrate?
Because our leaders have grown into a psychological stage of “Childate”
Making decisions that even a child wouldn’t appropriate
Now I tell you, the end of the world we shall anticipate
For peace is far, far, far away from the stairs of our gates
Pray to the only God who taught us how to appreciate
And hope that one day Humans will better communicate

prologue -

i demand you drop
all which you have not

and i'll offer you what
you've already got

-----------------------------------------------------------­----------------------------------------------

talisman of love

i want you to learn
what you can be
with love you'll earn
your potentiality

its a fear so great
than death itself
an event so rare
when love descends

with love you'll move
towards abyss
tremble and waver
with fear that grips

what will you do
when you cannot run
for it'll beckon you
like the morning sun

it gives a glimpse
into what you can be
for love attracts
you'll clearly see

but is that love
you hold so dear
meaninglessly
for which you cheer

its one false coin
which you invented
to fill your void
and live contented

for without love
life has no point
no charm or luck
no songs or rhyme

for without love
you cannot pray
and feel grateful
or celebrate

for with this love
does soul arise
and shadows below
ego that lies

just one empty gesture
without love life remains
just one possibility
that we all dream to gain

learn the art of nourishment
feed yourself with love
but know love isn't art itself
for it needs no effort

know your inner realms of being
find untrodden spaces
wherein love goes on and on
your aura it embraces

but in a tunnel you've been forced
you have been deeply rooted
one shallow fake guide for all
a love so very limited

you love your wife, wife loves you
children, parents and friends
all them keep on watching while
with truth falsehood contends

all different flavors of love
so neatly arranged
are put up on by who are lost
whom reality estranged

truth is that they fear love
for love does know no bounds
men all which who rule with blood
their spirits it confounds

in three layers of human being
body, spirit and mind
love exists on all three planes
with soul it does align

but here's this love which artists feel
sensitive and pure
thriving on that plane themselves
pulled by its allure

they do not think, they simply feel
because they live in heart
embracing beauties of this mind
the truth they lay apart

no wonder why people then
to love are so afraid
anything this beautiful
is also delicate

know how shards of broken glass
cannot together be put
for sentiments are not stones
treated like roses they should

love is like a fragrant rose
dancing in the rain
like one pious hearty breeze
through all daisies lain

but hearts do want to catch this wind
and call it all their own
but know they not it can't be caught
gilded or cast in stone

rare and few are those who learn
to live their life in moments
witness deeper love of heart
relish this blessed freshness

i don't know which love yours is
perhaps the common kind
are you afraid what shall happen
from life when you resign

certainly it will be gone
but you shall not lose all
a newer kind will arise
which world shall it enthrall

which belongs to privileged few
perhaps to one in millions
kind of love all that can
only be called lovingness

-----------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------------------------

talisma­n of love - gaining love

how it really happens
open your eyes and see
reject all other formulae for
a talisman i give thee

live in love, not for it
i teach you this truth plain
experience existence
in purest form obtain

that love you need i cannot give
but your path i'll light
explain to you how it forms
soak in its delight

these pseudo religions
and battered moral books
cage your soul in silken beams
suspend with silver hooks

you are free to experiment
if adult enough you are
hear nature herself confess
truth which hides so far

love so fake you are proud of
that binds you in soft smother
learn this much that you are you
and the other is other

if you want to taste divine
then jump within yourself
for only if you do renounce
you'll gain the lost itself

only love and its failure
can throw you on inside
if you wish to reach the shore
you have to tear these tides

i make you see this cunning plot
parasites designed for you
deceive, exploit and oppress
like coffin nails driven through

love others is all they say
dare love yourself not
to love yourself is selfish
or so you have been taught

love god, nature, wife and kids
they all go on saying
they all condemn self love
more than they do anything

a man who loves himself
finds no ego in him
one who loves himself not
this world will his soul skim

one can be in love yet be alone
like island in an ocean
when one IS love he is alone
rooted in midst of motion

like ocean throws its waves on shore
on a rock utterly alone
enjoy it like a breath of breeze
in moment born and gone

love is not some drunkenness
nor is it delusion
dissolution isn't unconsciousness
its solemn abdication

see your beauty in loneliness
this reflection foresee
lovers are mirrors to each other
in which they see their being

love makes you aware
of your original face
it celebrates togetherness
yet frees you from *******

--------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------------------

talisman of love - ritual of hate

love needs no reference
it is the height of freedom
hate you see is *******
for its simply a prison

when you do hate someone
you seed hate in his heart
water roots of jealousy
and crack your world apart

hate is imprisonment
hate provokes hate
violence real or in minds
you fall onto hell's bait

feel outpouring bliss
just share for sharing's sake
for no other motive
in this fest partake

'tis the other side of hate
the love that which you know
scratch your lover's ego and see
witness streams of hate flow

your love isn't really love
it is the very opposite
its hate disguised as love
a ritual you must admit

true love is spontaneous
welling up of joy
showering for no reason which
nothing can destroy

--------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------------------

talisman of love - reason to love

love without attachment
itself is the divine
for a bird put in cage
can never ever fly

when love in you is emperor
it'll make your soul liberate
and ask for nothing in turn
for rulers never trade

if there's passion in love
does it turn to hell
when there's attachment in love
it decays in golden shell

love can make you fall
it can soar you high
something so mysterious
which you cant subside

strengthen wings of your being
release to open sky
let this bird set out
on a journey to infinite

it is a door one side of which
you see yourself languish
at one side of which is pain
the other side is bliss

this makes no sense as some would say
"i loved yet gained just misery
reaped a crop of thorns i did
throughout my life's history"

their love did simply curtain
passion, jealousy and ***
from outside does what it seem
inside is something else

what was it you did long for
when you were in love
ask yourself if you were not
dazzled with shimmering lust

it shows itself in prayers all
real love becomes devotion
blossom like the spring it shall
and mark your liberation

lovers can't be sent to war
be thrown in dark cannot
for rebels listen to none
when deeper fears drop

when we say men fall in love
where do they fall from?
do they gain or do they shrink
what do they become?

ego has the eyes of reason
heart but is all blind
long as such you've trained yourself
thus love you cannot find

why must you tolerate
a bland mere existence
and prolong yourself till
death tries out your patience

you have done the same so far
tell me what's come of it
you still wont know what life means
something you must admit

if someone asks what life does mean
know well he lacks in love
it is the goal and reason for bliss
in each moment thereof

if someone loves, he need not ask
the meaning is right there
it encompasses all throughout
and nothing remains to spare

----------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------------------------------

talisman of love - truth of being**

do you see the truth in what
all that i have said?
do you feel the flow of love
or feel in grave instead?

do you feel it in your veins
or has your heart ceased
do you not see truth of being
in each and every piece

enter the enlightened kingdom
rising on the ray of love
when truth is to be known but
your love is to be felt of

one which reaps poison and nectar
you're really just that plant
to die by hate and bloom with love
in times heavens did grant

"i always love" you might say
i say you rarely do
you say that you still long for love
i find this childish too

you just throw this bait of love
not for the fish to eat
but to feed your egos on
a trader's two way street

to love and to need love
are two so different things
whoever wants love suffers
for beggars own nothing

it can only be given
not bought or bartered with
with money joy cant be owned
for sure it's all a myth

the path is not in sky
in your heart it lies
thus spake lord Buddha
a truth so plain and wise

Media is disintegrating.
Powerful Death Stars,
Internet smashed into
pieces of space junk,
floating meaninglessly.

Pale imitations of past
glories.  Instead, Blogs
and sensationalism are
bare distant relics of a
once proud profession.

it's been used
quite meaninglessly
twice
    maybe
       three times
and
in between that
it is simply
a dust trap
in hindsight
it was
a waste

i must
have known
that it would
barely
     if ever
get used
lured
beyond sense
     and reason;
the novelty
behind the idea
silenced
any concept
of logic
     or prudence

being able
to say
i own
the same typewriter
as such
a great mind
must mean
something

even so
         if not
it shall remain
on display
esoteric
ironic
impotent
amidst the pages
of my bookshelf

I watched a moth
flutter meaninglessly
against my wall
white speckled wings
carrying a fragile body
again and again
flying into
the same spot
and in that moment
i felt an empathy
towards that moth
for I know the meaning
of my being just
as little as it did
perhaps less

return trips offered
for body.

some, we separate
long
after birth.

fourth baby
the first
errant.

surveyor of train car interiors.

job creation
as healer’s
refuge.

godmother
in a borrowed
copter hat.

the boy we call
egg mouth
who frees
his sister.

our meaninglessly
oral

talks.

Since I don't know if we'll ever meet again-
I guess
that we'll try to stay together
forever.

"I'll tell you someday."
Laughing and sticking your tongue out,
teasing me,
you were the most beautiful then.
But-
When is that someday?
A link in the far distant future;
without any promise
or solidity.

Your back is growing fainter,
more distant,
vaguer,
quieter,
it's almost transparent now.

The fact that no matter how long my fingers were;
How much I grew;
How much I learned;
How much I matured-
The fact
that I could still not reach or touch you
or your standard;
I could do nothing
but slump to the floor,
Admit painful defeat-
And cry.  

The Villain-
was me.
The one who ran away-
was me.
It was no lie,
For I am
the true deceiver.

And
I say to the plaster
peeling wall-
"I'm Sorry."
Uselessly,
Meaninglessly,
inutility,
I just sit there
in a wooden, peeling
chair;
Wondering.

The Characters that I wrote then-
They don't dance for me anymore.
"Is that so?"
The poems that I scribbled-
on a napkin at a fast food restaurant,
Where are they now?
"Who knows?"
My memories and limits-
Are they gone?
"Why don't you figure out yourself?
Isn't the person,
who knows you best-
yourself?"  
--
--
--
I'm sorry-
My light was gone.
I'm Sorry-
My head wasn't thinking straight.
I'm Sorry-
I let go.
What kind of excuses are these?

For being a coward,
For being a shallow person
who didn't see the world-
Sorry doesn't even take up half of it.

The beginning of the end,
tell me,
when does that time come?

The promise that our naïve selves made together
"Forever, Eternally,"
You believed in those words.
For crushing your morals,
For mocking them,
For taking away your innocence-
"Forgive me."

I wasnt supposed to but we went out running anyway. Call me an adulteress, it doesnt matter by now. Ill never reach these places with him that I do here. Here the wine flows down our throats and the wind rips down our hair and backs. And yes for the millionth time we live out fantasies that in others just lay there
dormant in their coffins for etertinity
my heart is an explosion
of a million tiny rhapsodies
racing around the planets
landing for moments
on thoughts
on animals
on stars and on
trees
and on grass
but pounding in my chest and with
ur heart
all at the same time.
You grab my hand and we are at once
scaling the wall less edges of
the scorching sun
and sitting meaninglessly here
in these moments
i want a song written just for me
i want to frolic among a trillion dandelions
in purple linen dresses
u and me
i want the sun to laugh raining and kissing down our necks and backs
it will be a fantasy
we will be friends
soaking up moments like hawaiian punch
delightfully and lustily
and you will sing a song and give it to me
and when you are done it will sing over agian
and we will never be done hearing it
and we will know
I and He

frayed copper wires never to be bound
electricity is lost, connections unwound, and
where one end surges in power
the other cowers, weak in comparison
i watched their awful lives and wished
someone's expert hands could finish their plight
i attempted to fix it in the past but
other copper wires are so tightly woven!
and meanwhile, this little lightbulb
flickers meaninglessly.
why no one has smashed the wires
under their feet and then in a raging fire from fatigue i
dont know.

Are u there,there....where my voice doesn't reach but my silence does....
Are u there,there....where mine is not you but I am you....
Are u there,there....where you hear my utterances but still pretend deafness....
Are u there,there.....where my screams are conducive to your silences....
Are u there,there....where your stillness still ripples in my eyes....
Are u there,there...where My existence is your whim....
Are you there,there.....in this meaninglessly profound life asunder with negligible distances....
Are u there,there.....where my breath is quenched with your eyes...

These are no actions.
These words will fade in time.
No matter who reads them.
Not just because they rhyme.

Action makes history.
Remembered for centuries.
Words always fade.
Even when promised sincerely.

It matters not what year it is now.
It does not matter who is now what age.
If all your dreams hit the ground.
If all whom you love fade.

Phases..phases..phases
All around me.

Being humans trying to hard.
Humans trying hard not to be.
Evil is afflicted on the innocent.
That the masses don't stop nor even see.

Evil won't destroy the world.
Those who watch and doing nothing will indeed.

There's people who still think of you.
Yet from introduction you did not feel.
There's people who still long for you.
But their name from your mind you killed.

Why are we truly here.
Why are we all baffled.

I don't have an answer.
In fact don't let anyone say they do after.

A man sacrifices health to make money.
Then sacrifices money to reciprocate his health.
Is so bent on getting lucky.
That he forgets his own wealth.
Worries about the future.
Thus does not enjoy the present.
Clings to the past.
Although it happened when he was eleven.

End of such being he lives not in the present.
Or future.
He lives as if he will never die.
Then he dies.
Never having truly lived.

Are you still reading this.
A screen will never trump outdoors.
Are they at least feeling this.

God gave us it all.
Yet a man asks for more.
So here we are.
The so said year of light.

Yes here we are.
No where near the end of this fight.
Indeed here we are.
Strangers walk each other by at all times.

Oh yes here we are.
Loving money.

And wondering why we do not feel alive.

You were made to touch the heavens.
You could change the very earth.
Yes you.
And this is why the very world tells you your duties worth.

Here we are God.
On a world first made free.
Here we are my love.
Killing each other to make peace.


What if I told you.
Some things are designed to break.
Oil rigs.
Government support.
Especially what the world says you should make.
What if I told you.
You knew your destiny as a child.

Brainwashed since.
Told offence.
  Now you work.
at a restaurant called wings gone wild.

What if I told you....
The world won't disclose the truth.
  And if it gets out.
The billions of us will up rise without a clue.

What if I told you.

Something is truly wrong.

Not with you.
But the world.

In which we rent until were truly home.
And Not a moment before.

And so we stay strong in the fight.

Did you know that stranger on the bus.
Could very well change your life.

What if I said at last.
that the truth is the world is lying.

What if I disclosed they have all cures.
while millions are meaninglessly dying.


The truth is that its a lie.
The lie is their telling the truth.

The next time you get a call.
Tell them what they mean to you.

Faith
Faith
Faith
Faith

Is the only hope we have to escape the test of earth.
But
Hate
Hate
Hate
Hate in your heart that leaves not.

Is the worlds endeavor.

Not to love each other.
But to never escape the curse.

An intro which starts with a dramatic entry
An outburst of prologue will do the trick
suspensely reveals the theme of the literacy
A sudden emotion starts devouring

Sadness, a great weapon of the typical poet
The emoish feeling is spun into small fibrous pieces
And it is scattered everywhere
The tales from fragile broken heart
The melody from the failed dreams
The rhymes that accompanied the tears in the bedroom
Dark and Depressed
A dash of sorrow
A tiny hint of regret
A spoonful full of hope

Abstract sentences created mindlessly
"howl of heart in a burning forest where the greyish sky pours acid to the pavement"
Words spreaded meaninglessly
"To beyond I listen stars collide eternal nightmare"
Emotions flow out endlessly

An ending is crested on the blank
After all is poured out
Awaits for another day
To compile the emotion inside the chest
To be released ragingly

For Dylan:
I use to love things when I was little walking to school all the time. I remember how good everyone was and how pure the world could be. I know that I'm different now. But I can tell you that I love you more than watching the sunshine peek out of the mountains every morning.
I love you more than garden gnomes and pink flamingos painting dew drops on people's grass before we go outside and it's early.
I love you more than the smell of freshly mowed lawn on a warm summer dawn. Radiating that green color.
I love you much more than  the people who meaninglessly love their spoiled children with puffy pudding faces. Their never ending adoring smiles cast down at the kids who've learned to hold other kids.
I can't stop thinking about how we are going to love these things when we begin waking up too early and can't fall asleep, sitting on the front porch, watching our old friend sun rise and fall each day.
I can't wait to find the time passing effortlessly in front of us in crummy walks where the golden face stares at us and the slate city we might never leave.
I'm still a child and so are you.
We are gonna have so much fun.

If I cry out to a gaze of boisterous
watchers, as every star falling out of the
sky, —I’d too, feel so out of place. I would
appear, a feast to Time, by just a second’s graze.

Truly startled at how short a life is;
even by the Greener pastures we so
meaninglessly hunt after; do know
full well, all the grass that grows so
promising; will all eventually be grazed.

And perhaps the purple envy I had
for the freedom’s worth knitted into
the sky, would all at last turn so grey,

And so, I would cry a river’s mountain,
upon knowing how much time I spent,
chasing after meaningless things in all my days.

For the cares of the world offers
only a moment’s praise,

Till I’m of course consumed, with finding
the reasoning to clarify such a craze—
I’d have no answer to my Creator’s name;
and I’d be so ashamed.

Dark dwelling deep in it's own despair marred meaninglessly in its essence
Cold coarse fleshed tiles spanning upwards into struts of splintered weathered wood
Smelling of stale sap and oak seeping into sullen sweat-stained sheets concealing constellations Within You
And I—
Intertwined within
Amongst the stars
Our words lost somewhere between the rhythm of our heart
The synapses of our mind
And the nature of our nerves
To touch

It hurts when i breathe
It burns when i see
All of me-

Ashes scattered to the sea

No matter the pattern
You wear on your sleeve
I fall down dead
And wake relieved

Ashes, ashes
It's all ******* ashes

this house we've built,
The bodies we put inside,
Nothing stays alive

This feeling of godly emptiness
Will pass

The feeling of my hand on your back
Wont last

The past is here
Along with the next
Phrase i speak
Between nicotine therapy

The future is here
With the king and queen
To let loose a vermouth mixed
Drink of the unseen

The obscene lingers meaninglessly
With the scene

With the invisible host,
The holy ghost

The most i could ask
Is to feel the ground beneath my feet
Once more

To unlock familiar doors
In familiar places

And to greet familiar faces

I dont know you yet
But i knew you before

I dont know you yet
But i love you all the more,

For our cause and effect
Is defecting to the raw rocks
And wrecks
On the distant shore

Tell me once more,

Did i meet you just now
Or do i remember you from before?

Do you still see it with me?
It.
Stomach twisting while it flutters meaninglessly.
Oh, but it’s so meaningful.
Full of life, yearning.
Love, pain.
It.
I still feel it.
But do I still see it with you?
No.

All of the words I can say don't mean anything to you,
And all of the words I can write are illegible to you.
All that I see is how I am lost to you.
Maybe what I write and say combined into song
Can make you see just what you mean to me.

My darling little bug baby,
Why can't you just see
That you are beyond everything
And the stars above to me?

Thoughts of you don't leave me free.
All of my words are falling uselessly.
All of my lines are brushing off of you meaninglessly.
All I can hope is that my song can impart upon you
Everything that
I can ever hope that
You learn,
And you see,
And that I wish you knew about me, because
Without that,
And without those,
I don't think you'd ever see
That you're everything to me
In the world,
And my life,
And my time on this earth.
The globe
In my sky,
Above my mind,
In my eyes,
It's all I can see,
I can hear,
I can taste.
It's you in my face,
In my thoughts,
It's around you that I'm wrought.
I'm distraught.
It's by you who
I've been taught.
No other thoughts
Cross my mind
As I pine
Over you.

So, I need to say this and I need someone to listen and I know you come here everyday waiting for another piece of my soul to be poured out onto paper. You are the best listener of all, even though i've never met you and still I can pick your face out of any crowd even if I were blind. I know your voice so well that it's in every single one of my dreams telling me all the things no one else has been brave enough to say. Darling, I need to get something off my chest and I don't feel safe enough leaving these words anywhere else.

My heart belongs to someone. Someone I've never met in person. Someone who writes words darker than ebony and stronger than my coffee. He downs the most potent poisons known to man and listens to the music everyone else ridicules. He's stronger than he'll let on and he has a heart of gold even if he won't admit it. He's an angel and a vampire all at once. theres something about his voice that just cant  be described, it defies all description, it makes even the most painful words beautiful. There's something about his smile that makes even the worst days seem okay. He has this smile that outshines the sun - it's contagious too.

And this person, he is wonderful. He lets me fall asleep on the phone with him so he knows I'm okay. So if I have my nightmares he is close by. He looks out for me when I have to deal with idiots and *******. He offers to take my pain away from me when im sick. This person, they don't like words that are cliche and overused. Especially those three that are like watered down coca-cola. the words everyone wants to hear, the ones said to quickly, the ones that are so completely meaninglessly meaningful. And yet when he does say words like that, he means them, wholeheartedly, without any doubts at all.

My heart belongs to a stranger who's not really a stranger and honestly, I wouldn't rather anything else, because something about the way he smiles, reminds me he feels something similar.

You watch and wait for time to take all that it can from inside your soul.

It's wasted, the money you spent on time, you could have paid half to indulge on the mere portion of life you've tasted.

This earth, we've gradually graced it - and meaninglessly traced it - in books and photos and missed the memo reminding us to live.

The moment you chose to give up that argument - and all the energy you spent on settling for loving.

These blues and grays sometimes consume the days in which you could be laughing.

Lost in the echo of the static cracking of the voice maintained in quivering.

The shivering of the cold beyond the false control of everyone who has it together.

When problems weigh that of a feather.

I hope you know
I'm going to drop acid
as an attempt to drop my love for you.
I was just wondering:
what did you do with my heart now that we're done?
I hope you know
I'm going to **** meaninglessly
to try to forget what you taste like.
I was just wondering:  
am I just a part of your past now?      
I hope you know
I'm going to swallow my sobs with pills
and wash them down with colorful poisons.
I was just wondering:
do you really think I'm making it without you?
I hope you know
my head will always be filled with smoke
to fog out the scenes of us on the beach.
I was just wondering:
if you ever compare them to me?
I hope you know
I'm going to ruthlessly create chaos in other men's spirits
and from now on I'm going to be the one that loves less
because broken hearts break hearts
to try to gain what they lost.

I hope you know
you're the only one who can stop me.