You don't get that I don't like you
I gave you hints that were obvious

You called me childish
How the **** am I childish?!
I said I didn't feel like talking
And you call me childish over that??!!

Yes I'm rude to you
Only because you annoy me in a way I can't explain
Everything you do annoys me
I tolerate you at best
I try to be polite, but I just can't help but feel angry or frustrated when I'm around you

I unfriended and blocked you on Facebook!
That should of told you I don't like you
If I don't want to be friends with you on Facebook what makes you think I would want to be your friend in real life?

Yes I know of you, but I don't know you and I don't plan to
Yes I know why you went to jail
Cause you killed someone
And yes I don't care
Don't give a ****

I honestly don't get why you never got that impression
Yet, you have a conversation with me about the way I've been acting towards you
You talked, and I sort of listened
You told me about being in jail (which I don't care about)
You told me that you don't take disrespect in any way, shape, or form ( And I'm just thinking shut the **** up please)
Yet, you didn't
You talked the whole car ride (which was the longest fifteen minutes of my life)

You're my uncle yes, but I don't have to like you
You were never there (And I understand why)
And when I first met you I knew, oh how I ******* knew I wouldn't like you
I knew even before we formally met that I wouldn't like you
We talked on the phone twice before we met
I knew then, and I know now that I don't like you
If you demand respect, then fine
I'll be polite as I can, and make fast to cut every conversation you try to have with me
I know I'm being a bit harsh, but I simply don't CARE
I'll try to be as polite and nice and I'll try to be as straightforward as I can
And maybe soon you'll get the impression I've been giving off
Or maybe I'll just tell you
I don't plan on changing how I feel about you
Though you might try to change it
But the best I can do is tolerate you, and be as polite and as nice as I can

She waits for you,
Under a blossom tree,
Nestled in the furthest corner,
Of her floral mind.

She waits for you,
Throughout the winter,
And let's the cold,
Seek shelter within her icy veins,
Rooting her limbs to the frozen earth.

She waits for you,
As the rain falls through the wilting leaves,
And is thankful that she,
Is not the only tearful heart.

She waits for you,
Even when the storm grows violent,
And she grows fearful,
That the wind will break her fragile bones,
And tear down her vacant foundations.

She waits for you,
In the summer warmth.

She's waiting for the flowers.

*but they will cease to bloom

-Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened & the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus’d searching
here & there for teachers & friends.
~~~

Moment of Freedom
as the prisoner
blinks in the sun
like a mole
from his hole

a child’s 1st trip
away from home

That moment of Freedom
~~~

LAmerica
Cold treatment of our empress
LAmerica
The Transient Universe
LAmerica
Instant communion and
communication

lamerica
emeralds in glass
lamerica
searchlights at twi-light
lamerica
****** streets in the pale dawn
lamerica
robed in exile
lamerica
swift beat of a proud heart
lamerica
eyes like twenty
lamerica
swift dream
lamerica
frozen heart
lamerica
soldiers doom
lamerica
clouds & struggles
lamerica
Nighthawk

doomed from the start
lamerica
“That’s how I met her,
lamerica
lonely & frozen
lamerica
& sullen, yes
lamerica
right from the start”

Then stop.
Go. The wilderness between.
Go round the march.
~~~

he enters stage:

Blood boots. Killer storm.
Fool’s gold. God in a heaven.
Where is she?
Have you seen her?
Has anyone seen this girl?
snap shot (projected)
She’s my sister.
Ladies & gentlemen:
please attend carefully to these words & events
It’s your last chance, our last hope.
In this womb or tomb, we’re free of the
swarming streets.
The black fever which rages is safely
out those doors
My friends & I come from
Far Arden w/ dances, &
new music
Everywhere followers accrue
to our procession.
Tales of Kings, gods, warriors
and lovers dangled like
jewels for your careless pleasure

I’m Me!
~~~

Can you dig it.
My meat is real.
My hands- how they move
balanced like lithe demons
My hair- so twined & writhing
The skin of my face- pinch the cheeks
My flaming sword tongue
spraying verbal fire-flys
I’m real.
I’m human
But I’m not an ordinary man
No No No
~~~

What are you doing here?
What do you want?
Is it music?
We can play music.
But you want more.
You want something & someone new.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
I know what you want.
You want ecstasy
Desire & dreams.
Things not exactly what they seem.
I lead you this way, he pulls that way.
I’m not singing to an imaginary girl.
I’m talking to you, my self.
Let’s recreate the world.
The palace of conception is burning.

Look. See it burn.
Bask in the warm hot coals.

You’re too young to be old.
You don’t need to be told
You want to see things as they are.
You know exactly what I do
Everything
~~~

I am a guide to the Labyrinth

Monarch of the protean towers
on this cool stone patio
above the iron mist
sunk in its own waste
breathing its own breath

The old man walks down the street
Cobbled and uneven
Bent over against the cold
Of this the winter season

With the aid of a stick he navigates
The badly rutted lane
Deeply etched grooves line his face
From surviving in constant pain

In his head his thoughts are in
A constant random wander
Precious moments of his life
Lost in contemplative squander

'Tis his daily chore bestowed
On him to buy the bread
To fail in this a simple task
Would bring war down on his head

Reaching the store he enters
Hiding from pitiful stares
Head downcast he makes his way
To the shelf of required wares

His basket full he makes his way
To the counter to pay his bill
Purchases paid, he turns to leave
Praying his shopping not to spill

As he leaves the store he hears
The whispers behind his back
"Why does he keep on doing it?"
His drooping shoulders slack

Once outside he hurries
Scurries back from whence he came
As fast as his arthritic legs will take him
An added burden is his shame

Back to his eternal prison
The place he once called home
Never left to his own devices
Perchance he should choose to roam

His wife is standing waiting
For him at the front door
Her face twisted in roiling anger
Her venom over him to pour

A nasty piece of work is she
No patience for his age acquired senility
Treating him like a mongrel dog
With waves of open hostility

So sad to see this once young man
Who has seen life and so much more
Reduced to being a bidden slave
And forced to daily chore

How life can be so cruel and fate
Play the meanest of all tricks
Just by choosing a wrong life mate
Be caught in constant conflicts

Yet day after day he continues
To walk the road of shame
For go he must and listen he does
For the woman who bears his name