Describe it like rain falling down a muddy street
But that's getting old and it doesn't make you feel the heat of the words

Then describe it like this is what it feels like to get old
But still you dont feel those words

Describe it like a broken glass glued to hold
But still you dont feel my words

Cause I dont feel them either
Even though my dictionary grew but describing hasn't gotten easier

A day a year 10 and more passing me by like a seizure
Keep breathing till it ends .
It will pass just let it pass

All thats happening just keep calm and let it pass
Just let it pass
Let it pass

That's kind of funny and thats kind of sad
That's kind of serious and that's kind of flat
But you keep calm and let it pass

Hovering over your every thought is an end
To a thing that feels like it never ends
And when it does you dont know if or that it did
Will we know
I dont know

Just let it pass
Let it pass
Settle for what you have
The job you kinda mighta do better than
The friend you kinda mighta do better than
The life you kinda mighta do better than
The passion the talent you mighta kinda have
Forget it and just let it pass
Lazy as the given ***** you don't have

Empty temp me I think I mighta bent me
spent me now I’m broke
I get broken a lot looking for hope
It’s the pain and the strain that I smoke
I feel like hell and it drags me down
with every drag I take
not clowning around
It’s pouring rain
watch the blood run
Running in circles, call me insane

It's got to be the woman
she's driving you crazy buddy
she's riding you right up
the wall
you gotta get out buddy
you gotta abandon that ship
she ain't worth it
you see those gray hairs?
they're growing in fast
all that stress
it's killing you
not to mention
your writing's been ****
since she came in your life
you know that?
people upstairs talking nonsense
as if you lost it
your touch
your mind
something's lost they say
everyone's talking about it buddy
she's gotta go
it's her or us
you know the consequences
don't you?
we need you in this
one hundred percent
what's it gonna be?
what's it gonna be buddy
you gonna let some
***** with nice legs
cute little pair of ****
ruin everything we built
together? huh?
no no
you know better than that
you'll get that **** together
won't you?
you've been writing ****
since she came around
they're all saying it buddy
you don't even come out anymore
she's got you locked away
like some circus animal
you're no circus animal buddy
are you?
you're a ******* hero
stop messing around
with this broad
stop letting her get you down
you're one of us
you've always been one of us
and you're gonna stay
one of us
but you've been writing ****
and we think you mighta
lost it

you ain't lost it
have you?

Now, I don't know if I can say this fast enough cause this boiling hot anger is what makes it tough. Cause you know I hate your ******* guts and you shouldnt be surprised that if you ever crossed my mind again all I'd be wishin' is that you'd die.
Ya just a no good *******, cause I was still givin' you head while I was gettin' hit. I shoulda pulled a blade while you were gettin' it, shoulda been like fffft and cut off that little *****. Now I'm not sayin' you've got a tiny ****, ya just like ya mama A PSYCHOTIC LITTLE *****. I know I'm ******* right, y'all are the same ******* height and I ain't stayin' with someone whose 5'4 for life.
Somethin' that makes me real sick is the fact that I fed your *** while I put gas in that ****** civic. If I'da saved that cash I'd be ballin' & lit.
If's, And's & But's -I don't **** with that ****.
I can't believe I kissed lips that only had
purpose to spit. Cause all I heard outta them was "Oh, Baby!" & BitchBitchBitch.
So lemme cut to the chase- I think you mighta liked it when she spat your own *** in your face.
Now no ones gonna hate,
but I gotta give a *** props
That was a 10 pt head shot!

So listen once, listen now
I'm not bout what you about
Baby you never shoulda had a doubt
Or should I say little *****?
**** it,
I'm out.

Shoulda gone sooner,

Mighta helped, he said, it's going to all come down,

ground up. All the concrete and asphalt and plastic,
maybe
even leave a little of that won't hurt, could help
build randomness back in the the path of least resistance
But no bigger than the biggest pieces left at Jerusalem,
fill all the holes.

that was a stutter, that double the there, 3 lines up,
I stutter when I write,
not as bad as
some
But I pretty much tamed spelchek when I renamed her.
She likes being thought of as Spelchek, my servant,
as opposed to evil Spellchick who bewitched by keys,
made my tittalk sound plumb dumb.

So Spelchek respects some of my stutters as honest
ensamples of thinking
wait. What am I saying
Selah
Like the psalmist, right? The the thing is

oddly broken lines are part of the meandering
mode of meaning
being
found under rocks, aha

Sisyphus, we're in your book!, Too cool!
Happy whatever, Jah, you, too.

Back to Cousin Kenny, who went to inspect the city,
seeking some good he might do.

He laughed when he got back,
'said maybe we can find them guys that
let on they was able to levitate the Pentagon,

back then, you know, they was steeped in lies,
and they loved to tell 'em, loved to lie,
prospero, ever **** one

prosperous liars. But, now, their old age,
they coulda stopped believin' some big lies

by now.

Who would know? Any way, the cities, as built,
must be un built,
NOT DESTROYED, those are the good hard labour

of good people, doing the best with what they had,
we take apart mistakes, we destroy lies.

Angelic beings, aliens, without papers, if you
would give us half a chance we could show you

what a good idea possessed human can do…

Trust me,
don' laugh

Close your eyes

How would this world look
if it were designed
for life,
and that, more abundantly.

An idea, not a dogma. Life, have it…

how? Lest, now, now is living, and we can do it better

if we find a reason to hope,

which was why cousin kenny went to the city,
in the first place.

I went to a brand new town
Spread out across the desert like a prom queens legs

The place has one restraunt
The place has one gas station

I made a mental note to look em' all in the eyes.
The guy at the counter was human enough

His nametag said MIKE
Mike, your *** is mine

What'll it be boy
**** people who call me boy

Just this
bottle of water

That'll be a dollar, son
**** people who call me son

I pull out a dollar
well...a dollar that looked something like a Colt Python 357.

That put a damper on ol' mikes day
I bet that **** fool ****** himself

I wonder If he noticed the sunlight flickering off  guns mother-of-pearl handle
I sure did

Take all the money. Please just don't **** me
I don't want the money, Mike

He whimpered when I said his name
******* always do that

What do you want then.........
Mike, I want to **** you

Sure enough he had to have a reason
The worst ******' word in the world

Why

and its nemesis

Because

You want to **** me just because?
because why?

Right there I knew Mike would never get it
He would never understand...poor old mike

Your about to get a wake up call Mike
Your about to be free as **** and not know what to do with yourself

Mike stands there with his hands up shaking
At home his wife is talking on the phone to her sister about going up there on vacation

Mike says
Please I have a wife and kids

Please don't **** me
Please Please dear God don't **** me

Mikes daughter was making him a fathers day card with a glue stick and glitter
Mikes son was licking the **** of some girl. Parkeed out by the Big Red Rock.

Mike Listens
Mike wants to live

Listen Mike
I say cool calm and collected

Your about to get it mike
Mike imagines his wife reading his obituary

You are about to lose your own soul Mike
You know...gain the whole world

Your about to be free Mike
You are one of the lucky ones

No need to thank me once you've gone Mike
You just enjoy it

For a second Mike looked like he understood
like he mighta got it

Let that which is given
Become lost

Let that which is gained
Become lost

Let this ******* pig, ****, trash, ****-stained-matress of a life
Be put out with the Monday trash

Mike knew he was in for it
Done for

I asked mike if he wanted to die like a man
I looked him hard in the eyes

He said he sure did
I asked him if he was ready to do the work of the universe

The work of god
Yes I am

I hand mike the gun
and the first bullet takes me through the right eye

So slow I can feel the optic nerve sever
before I die

before I die
I see mike standing over me

Looking down at me
this giant bleeding hole in my head

Mike says thank you
I tell him...Hey Dont Mention It

After he empties the rest of the rounds into my head
Mike walks out into the desert

He walks to my car
Fills it with gas

and gets inside
right there on the seat where I left the

box of shells for him to find
reloading

key turn
engine crank

and the car pulls slowly onto the street
the car drives down the desert road

****, it sure feels good to be free

I saw you standing right over there
you had your coach shoes on
tie dye marley shirt to turn all the stoner boys on
you were so innocent with that flower in your hair
it was the first day of the rest of your life
your parents there to send you away
you wanted to go ivy league
but its something your dad couldn't afford
so you took the next best and went up north
this little bitty town in the middle of corn
i saw you standing there on the faithful day
right as your parents starting pulling away
you took out a cigarette only to see my flame
then you said go and sit right down
go ahead and tell me your name


So i sat right down
and starting singing a song
i think it mighta been hakuna matata
ya its been so long
i blew smoke in your face
and you know what that means
You know i wanted you but i couldn't contend
your just outta my league
but i didn't care at the time
you were just what i needed in my time of pain
i started dating you for a year and a half now
it was kinda like living the dream
you were just the girl for me
but little did i know there was something lost in the seem


Its been 2 years now
were just one in the same
we were driving right around
smoking the strong
we were driving right around
ya singing my songs
you had something to tell me
i could see it in your eyes
i made you go out and tell me
for it will change our lives
you said you may be gay
so what should i say
this little world that i created
just burning in flames
You know i love you baby girl
but you don't have to stay
i love you enough to let you go walk right away
Look at the happiness just fade away
we sat on my bed and cried all day
you say you'll always love me
and have a place in your heart
then you got in your car
and started driving away

It was the first day of school
and you saw your old life fading away
everything you see is just killing the flame
its a brand new day
now that your on your own
you don't know what your in for
and thats the thrill of the game

Oi I see those coula
woulda
shoulda beens but
its so long past that I forgot
why it mighta been
yet I can't quite forget how
good they lookin so i'm
stayin at home facebook lookin
and their ***** are growin an
I missed em.
I miss em.
I am without them.
And I fade away.
Sic em.

I’m sorry

I know there are days where I burn at both ends

And not even your cool waters can subdue these flames

I

Regret every word that’s burned past these lips

I didn’t mean to take you for granted

I swear

I didn’t mean to point out your stretch marks and laugh lines

I didn’t mean to forget your birthday  

I

just lose myself sometimes

Like

Last night when I laid in the darkness of our bedroom

And stretched out to feel how cold the other side of the bed was

And I

could hear your voice keeping me awake like white noise whispering
from some other room

And I just can’t seem to turn it off

I know that this is broken and left for dead

Forgotten in a box in an attic in some house

somewhere

Nostalgia’s never seemed so bitter

Because sometimes I smell you

And my heart breaks a million times a day

I got a box of red confetti here

Barely beats

Buckles my knees when it does

Beats me breathless

Holds me under

Keeps me back

Makes me wonder

Where everything turned sour like milk

Mighta seen your face on the side of that milk carton

I’d’ve known

I should’ve let you go

But I couldn’t

Not so soon

If I had my way it’d been never

Now all I got is this sound

White noise coming from some other room

Sounds like laughter sometimes

Sounds like music

Sounds like my heart shatter confetti burst

Feels like crawling skin

The lightest touch that almost tickles

Press harder if you could

I can almost feel you

Sounds like a match being lit

Lettin’ me burn at both ends

Remember when you played your first song on the piano?
Why are all the keys broken now?
The music has started to sound like screams.
You hear it everywhere, don't you?
It scratches at the back of your brain, until
all your thoughts are drowned in blood
telling you to cave in.
Your father's worried,
about those bruises on your knees. He didn't raise
a *****.
(He didn't raise anybody.)
He'll scream it, so the neighbors feel uncomfortable.
"Well, I think you mighta, Dad.
Because right after we ****, they all leave."
He'll start yelling,
drinking.
You'll be the example no one needed to set.
We all know we're not supposed to
leave our still-beating hearts
in the boy who doesn't want us'
mailbox. You just
had to do it didn't you?
You had to rip our family apart,
just to know you could make somebody
feel something.

How do you expect me
to live it out like this
so many fraudulent claims
and no one to even blame!?
But myself, I guess?
How can I do that
when they say
do your best?
Its like living in a dream
when it seems so fake
and then you wake
and can't even take the reality
that you face.
Whats the point if you ain't
bein' real
to yourself
to your mind and your memory
Mighta got lost at some point
but I'm here now, say
when you comin back
I hear them
And for some reason
it all always just fades
to black and white
Mainly gray now

I will take all that crap on your floor
Sweep all that **** right out your door
Bring down the mess I crammed in your attic
Haul it away without any static
All them things you folded that I threw back on the floor
I'll fold 'em again on the folds from before.

Wait a minute...what?
No, I ain't gonna do it now
Gonna take a shower
Maybe watch a little Fox on the tv
Play a few hours of scrabble on my iPad
I told you it'll all get done
Just not today maybe not tomorrow either

Hey, I am gonna take all them poems you write
Tease out all your dreams and ambitions
I bet you'll see we have a lot in common
Have the same goals and all that ****
Tomorrow you'll wake up and we'll have a new life
Just like the one you keep saying you want and saying you want

What, you think I'm some kinda dream weaver?
Just tell me what you want and I make it appear outta thin air?
I will give you a new life
Just as soon's I get my Fox watchin, Scrabble playin *** off this sofa
Now what did you say you wanted again?
I mighta put it up in the attic
Under all my other ****.

Fight or flight button upgrade in process,
pleas,
beggings,
wait. Wait and see. Selah. Wait...

there. The next para-digm pop, you opt for geotime mode...
think
I am a rock... not the whole song, at this speed that takes a mortal ever.

Hyper awareness arousal, slow and steady mode...

startle response seen in squirrels and lizards and me, the re
sponsor of what... ? nada,
oftener than not.

The trigger is a ***** from a point being ig-nored in ignoble folly
iggie popped a bubble,
iggie lived an ugly life at the same time as earth was living an ugly life,

pop aster risc pop star ish pop

horse feathers as a load, ye gotta tote that bale, bher the forbidden burden.

Ye never read? Is that the message ye come t' judge. Will ye find me those winged
messengers of old, mercurial bherers of points in the right way
popping boundaries to progress, in time,

laughing at the rock I imagined I am, or am I?
Am I the rock Sisyphus rolls?

the time scale has wobbled,
ever just threatend to end free will,
-- is this suicidal imagination killing its own self?---
you can't die if you want to.
Not here.
Up the road a bit there is a bridge. Sure thing. For normals, who
never been this far before.

Would that be Sylvia Plath paying me back
for knowing nothing of the effect her work had on
the message McLuhan got...

next generations are pre-enabled to be skeptical,
the medium is the message,

resonating into ever, since October 27, 1954...

singing- chorus of smallworld voices

Soaring strings... whennn you wish
upon
a star, makes no difference where you are...

the
first American Television
generation with unformed frontal cortices in 1954,

sang that song, in their hearts, and truly,
wished on Venus, often,
that supposed to be the wishing star,
all things considered
combining into les confused knots
Pinochio/Tinkerbell dust/ Magic wand

the besom, broom, for sweeping up destruction,
Fantasia ai ai ai
was animated. We saw it with children's eyes,
in darkend rooms that poured
our mass attention into the massive window
staring into the windows of our souls,


---- the effect of truth
---- war loses its honor, its only supposed reason.
---- war it self crumbles under truth flowing in the at most fears
---- made superficial, top ply, last layer losing wind

breathe, soft yes, nothing is funny any more. Ah ah ah waht if
it always was a literal joke...
high brow,
a maze, to entertain life... in 2020 there is tech for this.

We have access to survivor networks of every imaginable ilk.
Meditations on truth, owmmm what is going on gonggggg

And they are off, all the fears and doubts and unbelievable lies
into the stretch
intendere
sistere

pop to Sysiphus Happy Now

Massive multi player game, where all non-player characters
lack masks, they do not play, the masked ones play for them, in the spirit
of
truth
told so suddenly y'gut jumps,'n' sphincters clinch...

simultaneous release of un belief, opening
empty knowledge boxes lined
with cedar, for the smell,

hope, in my chest, where my trea-sure things are.

My grandmother, the idea of her, her life was happy, as far as I knew.
Now, I know she was a  final model of mental upgrades
to the enregizing system we all share,
at v.1.0 white of the egg dna,
some 120 kya a[kilo years ago}... there have been upgrades and repairs

to many lines of YMRCA's since she wombed her way into
our family history,

it must be quite a story, if we can imagine mito mom mighta had a whole

dreamtime life where she snipped the thread of all the other wives,

a vision, she says I see, and I see I say, this is the way

prophecy woiks, woopsie daisy jes' dropptabebe, do a li'l dance,

weep 'n' moan, what could be woice, than a cajun gramma lover voice?

singin' sweet by and by
so long no longer means a thing,

things being what they are, and we being mere words, working
through true trauma beings

lining up for gratulation, grace for grace, eye to eye.
Bad guys lose, good guys win.

_ like I said, there will be times you must start over..
_ but the game goes on.

A haircut,
but for the hair that hangs over my ears there'd be no need for the shears.

If I was a sheep the shearing could keep until the weather got brighter.

I mighta known
that the hair on my head would have grown.

It's the never learning that's turning me inside out.

Two old men in my magi class, were

walking in a public garden, during the scare in the air,

they touch at few common points, five years experience

more or less, in any given field of function,

they share in broad bubbles of common comps, experience wise.

One marriage... both have had one, not the same one

Exposure to radio music and commentary from birth... not the same music,
not the same commentary

Aware of war roles and support roles, from first words onward, aware of being
one of a we, who are the children of the winners,

except, the enemy remains, they shoulda stomped Stailin into Hell,
ever'body knew, we did, too... though

my 1948 vintage, was leavened with Hiroshima, in vitro, and

in seed, touched a bit by events near Alamogordo, where my daddy

participated in war ending events, this other old dude, he never saw that way,
what I mention seeing, today.

Hell is for heros. I think aloud.

My dad was an accountant, with a night school degree, four kids,
woulda been five, but Peggy died,
infant cancer,
some anomoly in the wind, was the rumor, where we lived,
south of the Nevada desert through which our
northern breezes list, licking up dust devils to twist novel

substance into threads of thought to think in time,

as the virus spreads, peace takes its chance, right on or

dead on, dead center, spot on, too right, smack
dab

hit it, and the skier rises from the vortex, towed by that line

linking me to the countenance, encountered, mirror neuron

tronic magi-missed spells, dangling

mod
if I were yous used as iusta use pennies behind fuses,

I owe you, nothing, but to define my terms, ere I dare con
verse
with you. Okeh?

Same page, two old men walking along, talking often,

one to the other, one to himself, each knowing himself,

each wondering the other saw what each noticed,

with a nod, saying, yeah, I was thinking you mighta noticed that.

Life's fun. But near the end, it becomes so believable, that it works,

despite our own seeming disfunction.

This here, is poem two hundred.
Nothing rhymes with hundred.

Well it's been a few years since you've been gone.
My mind done left me, it went out for cigarettes and never came back.
Just like my Pa.
And my dog.
My mom,
The UPS girl.
Yup.
So anyway. The heater broke a while back.
Yeah our sow Peggy died.
My kin and I we'd each take a night spooning her.
Warmest **** pig you ever snuggled I'll tell you what.
I miss mind.
You don't have a tarp, some crayons, and an ax by any chance?
Yup.
I lost my mind the day she went thataway.
She mighta taken it with her.
So she took that and the remote control.
My thumb says your from Alabama but you don't smell like jelly.
Yup.
Having her in my life was as good as dropping the toast and having it land butter side up.
Cause then it's still good.
You leaving?
Where ya going?
To get cigarettes?

Old and satisfied, seven decades been plenty atime,
to live well, enough to tell,
some of what you wisht you'd done,

its prob'bly better thisaway.

That song never sung, when you were young,
you know
you still know
you had to know the whole story,
before you could tell it at all, just as well

nobody could know you were lying, about
all being well
'til the end.

They would have believed and followed me home,
had they heard me sing,
my wandering song
and known i live under stars as free as the breeze,

come and see, come and see, see it live on the air,
as if you were there
at the time.

Now, pick a flower, put it in your hair,
pretend you were there
at the time.
-----
Some stories told in vain
remain told,
never growing older than that first bright idea,
imagine you were there
at the time.

Child of mine, our kind,
we were born to survive the hard rain,
now
we waited fifty years for the ice all to melt,

and we laugh at fools who find
our broken radio silence
silent in times of great woe. I don't know but
as a spirit haunting liars,
I coulda been a contender, had I known.
I coulda lied,
and said I knew the reason for a thing,
proverbially as well as Solomon ever could have
at the time.
Nobody woulda known, but then, I mighta died.

I did learn a lesson
In case you were wondering
Not that it will bring you back around
Or change anything
The lesson learned
Is only applicable
To the rare situation
That happens to involve you
I think you mighta paid a price
For me to learn that lesson, too
Someday I may
Get the chance at thanking you

Drivin' home this evenin'
Coulda sworn we had it all worked out
You had this boy believin'
Way beyond the shadow of a doubt

Well, I heard it on the street
Heard you mighta found somebody new
Well, who is he, baby?
Who is he and tell me what he means to you.

I took it all for granted
But how was I to know
That you'd be letting go?

Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right!

             - Bryan Adams