Looks like

That hole looks like a fly,
But it is far too cold,
Unless an infestation's in the house,
In cavities untold,

Like a cancer coursing through one's body,
With no symptom in sight,
'Less she bothered to get checked like she should,
Given her hist'ry with that sing'lar blight,

But sometimes we only see what we want,
Listen to me, 'sometimes'!
And if we're lucky, how things need to be,
Don't cross others' lines,

Few are lucky,
Even more just settle,
'Cause it's much easier to tow that line,
Than to change the colour of that kettle. 

No More

I am caring no more,
There is nothing to hide,
E'en these words that appear to say something,
Is all there is to find,

Like words do for everything they mean,
That's just the way things are,
If you don't believe that, then by all means,
Go ahead and take the meaning too far,

But in this mind it's naught to do with words,
They're just vehicles,
To twist your thoughts until you don't know if,
You're in love or on pills,

Lost or looking,
Or got it figured out,
That's the only reason these words exist,
Oh, and to clear my own mind of all doubts. 

In A While

There's this constant headache,
It's hard to think of you,
The temp'rature constantly comes and goes,
I forget the poor, too

The child soldier that's existing right now,
S'drowned out by my coughing,
I'd lift fingers to help my fellow man,
If I wasn't restricted to resting,

The world around me'd be a better place,
If I had energy,
If I felt clear-headed when I stood up,
You could climb up on me.

It ain't like that,
My body has said so,
But if you come back in a little while,
I'll have everything above on the go.

That Buzzing

What's buzzing in your ears?
Maybe nothing outside,
Maybe it is just your own vibrations,
Created as you cried,

Reverb'rating now, e'en though tears are gone,
Back to the atmosphere,
To mingle with the tears of those others,
Who have had to live with so much more fear.

Perhaps they'll learn something from each other,
Like how the world could be,
The one that there can be greener pastures,
One, shouldn't have been freed.

But they'll forget,
They won't be tears again,
Or if they do, circumstances will change,
And they'll fall for a wholly new reason.

It's Nothing

There's a lot in your mind,
Of all shapes and sizes,
Knowledge, ideas and experience,
Still, all just surmises,

Somehow organized so you understand,
Is that crazy enough?
Now squeeze something out for others to hear,
Made of just a smidgen of all that stuff,

The more people who hear't and understand,
Well, you're past surmising,
For things just are what we will them to be.
You find that surprising?

Where are you now?
D'you know how you got there?
You either willed it or twas willed on you,
Whether you call it destiny or fate.

I Had An Idea

Had a really good one,
About a simple thing,
Like honey in tea or kids with heartburn,
Of no controversy,

Of course, I can't remember what it was,
Which is a thing itself,
Where did that idea run off to?
I'm sure it's on a shelf,

It is sitting, waiting to be retrieved,
Wond'ring why it's alone,
Eventu'lly buried behind others,
Never to find a home,

A place that's safe,
Where it can soar up high,
And show the world what it was meant to be.
Man, I wish I could find that little guy.

Inside You

Life's cert'nly perspective,
No one can deny that,
At least if you were going to ask me,
It's a priori fact,

I think it's phenomenological,
When someone speaks to me,
In words I can't possibly understand,
Because they're not from my reality,

Like Cantonese, Gur or the girl next door,
If we want to connect,
We either have to be the same person,
Or assume we're the same in some respect,

Like perspective,
How we see real'ty,
So that, if we were in each other's shoes,
They would feel no different perceptively.

Peace Be With You

Put things in perspective,
That is what my dad says,
With everything that happens in this world,
From Paris to Juarez,

North Korea to Sierra Leone,
I've not e'en hit most known,
As the top ten list changes day to day,
It's hard to complain 'bout the common cold,

It's hard to complain about poverty,
In a first world country,
But all have a right to have a good life,
'Cross all humanity,

So where to start!
How about start with you?
If you are at peace, then that peace will spread,
At least, 'til Nature comes for its due.

Second Age

I'm feeling much better,
If only in my mind,
Pretty sure the oatmeal, nuts and honey,
Makes my urine sublime,

Energy and productivity's up,
Number two is smoother,
I feel my cholesterol shedding off,
My blood's cells just like a baby's soother,

I just hope that I've really grown out of,
Blind and mass consumption,
They say it all falls apart at forty,
I'm an illustration,

But I'll return!
A phoenix from the flame,
It's the second age, to quote Caroline,
I am just glad I realize that I came.

Lean On

My kids like this new song,
It's by Major Lazer,
MØ wonders'f she and someone she cares for,
When old'll be together,

She says we all need someone to lean on,
Blow a kiss, fire a gun,
If that's true, then no one should be alone,
On a boardwalk, you'd fall in the ocean,

On a ledge, you may fall on the cliff side,
All around the wind blows,
It may hold you up, if it's the right side,
Amidst a lava flow.

But maybe not,
No one can really know,
How do you lean floating in an abyss?
That is when you need someone to enfold.

Getting By

I've a radiator,
Never did work that well,
Some bleeding is needed, I've conceded,
But there is more to tell,

I don't think it e'er will really work well,
Something about the pipes,
The way they meander like nothing planned,
And the gurgling noise they make day and night,

Feeling it now, it sure wants to be hot,
But it's just hung metal,
Using water that could be better placed,
Like in my tea kettle,

But, not its fault!
Look, 'stead, at its maker,
There's naught one can do that one cannot do,
Unless you are a very good faker.

Just In Case

Sitting at my gate now,
It's like I never left,
What is left of the time I spent away,
Who's there to be bereft?

Who is there to testify that I am,
And what good would that do,
For all those people who just seem to me,
To be doing just the same as I do?

What a waste of time for everybody,
Why question it at all?
Just live and let live in case others are,
And you meet aft you fall,

I mean you die,
But you don't cease to be,
Then have to live with those who you have wronged,
For an agonizing eternity.

Fruity Deception

If you want bananas,
Do not buy a plantain,
It is not soft nor does it peel eas'ly,
And can't be eaten plain.

The plantain must be cooked, apparently,
'Fore it can be eaten,
It looks like a banana, but it lies,
And now my breakfast has been defeaten,

Add insult to existing injury,
I've no way to cook it,
It will stay 'til it rots laughing at me,
It's laughing now, look it.

I joke, I joke,
But I have been denied,
Lured by something that was not what I thought,
Now others can't enjoy the prize inside.

Air Boredom

I am stuck on a plane,
It is not a surprise,
I knew where I was going, and the length,
I'm no victim of lies,

Had days to prepare any amusement,
To get me through the flight,
I didn't even charge up my laptop,
When will I ever get anything right!

I e'en forgot my little neck pillow,
Though 'bout that I'm not sad,
I think it pushes a vein in my neck,
And would leave me for dead,

I guess there's thoughts,
Now just think about that,
Fly way up in the air only to get,
Back to the first activity we had.

Meh

I've high cholesterol,
It's something new for me,
Apparently what they say's indeed true,
It falls 'part at forty,

Ne'er need I e'er worry about trans fats,
I ere felt lean and fit,
While slowly what I put into my mouth,
Transformed my blood into congealing shit,

Making my fingers feel tingly as if,
It's jelly pushing through,
I'm getting nauseous thinking about it,
Does it the same to you?

It is not right,
All we know 'bout bodies,
Of course, if we didn't compromise health,
We'd not worry about our arteries.

Walk

Walking, walking, walking,
I'm walking as I write,
When once, one could only think while walking,
Wealthy and erudite,

Now I could talk to my phone as I walk,
Transcribing as I spoke,
Or my thumb could simply stroke the laters,
And I'm just one of the world's simplest folks,

So if walking really moves your juices,
Just like Aristotle,
There's nothing stopping your forward movement,
Just get up and waddle,

To your own truth,
Of the world you live in,
At least you'll have gotten some exercise,
Of both your body and percept-i-on.

Where Do You Fall?

Here is what's happening,
There is a fly that's born,
In the span of its life, not much happens,
T'make you or I forlorn,

The death of 'bout four point five million folks,
That is thirty days-worth,
But, ten million babes are born the same time,
So there's a greater ratio of mirth,

But, many of those deaths are more tragic,
Births, equally joyful,
One point three billion live in poverty,
Extreme and sorrowful,

Then there is you,
Where to you fall? Do you?
There is no escaping comparison,
No gauge of your life can be absolute.

What You Do

What's it to really live?
I mean, it's so small time,
Assuming you don't die before you're old,
Don't know the finish line,

Don't know what the prize is, because there's none,
Some say it's legacy,
Those things you leave that the living can keep,
It's your example of how one should be,

How you balance living with letting live,
Happy with who you are,
Which is determined by what is inside,
How you doing so far?

You consistent?
Will people one day say,
"She was who she was always meant to be,
May everyone try to live life that way.

Corelli

I need to do this fast,
I don't really know why,
Sometimes what you have on your mind to say's,
Not really worth the time,

It takes from you moments that you could use,
Doing something you love,
So that it's e'en drenched in anxiety,
Which for a poem, might just be enough.

So, can you feel the pulsing in my brain,
Begging me to finish?
My fingers shoot the immediacy,
Through the keys with vi'lence,

Not even rhyme,
And a pang in my side,
Thank god I'm at the end of this stanza,
Lest my words start to anger and deride.

Alone

That's just the way it is,
Some things will never change,
Like the way you feel when you're all alone,
Always within one's range,

'Least lonely's something ev'ryone should feel,
To get to know oneself,
Look 'neath the water, leave not undug depth,
Unexplored, like the Russian arctic shelf,

Make sure to be lonely among others,
Th'only way to do it,
And if you can fend off interaction,
Show me how to do it,

No, never mind,
Without that, you can't live,
E'en being told you're prob'ly an asshole,
Is more insight than aloneness will give. 

In This World

They all say life's funny,
That it's a journey, too,
A box of chocolates and a mystery,
It doesn't matter who,

That you are born into this world naked,
And naked you will go,
It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
Then at the end, there's no more that you know,

You're gone and all trace of you disappears,
All of this is not trite,
It's as true as god, if you believe 'nthat.
In essence, this is life.

But you live, too,
There's no denying this,
Ev'ry moment is as real as if real,
And pain is the apex of evilness.

Poor Leaf

There's a leaf on the floor,
Brown, deformed and alone,
It blew in with the door or underfoot,
Its origins unknown,

Probably fell from a tree is my guess,
Was fed an empty cup,
Which prevented it from absorbing light,
Because its chlorophyll just all dried up,

It lost its hold on its home and took off,
Flitting about briefly,
Then lay on the ground forgotten, useless,
That do be a leaf, free.

Yes, it may rot,
Return and feed the dirt,
What will happen to this one on the floor?
He, who's inflected no distress or hurt.

My Heart Breaks At The Endless Death

One hundred, twenty-eight,
Two hundred more were hurt,
Some bearing injuries irreparable,
The whole world on alert,

At least anyone who consumes the news,
All struck by the cruelness,
Everyone attacked, just living that night,
Hollande saying, "we will be merciless,"

Seeking revenge, justice for french people,
Raids then executed,
Fresh bombs for Syrian Islamic foes,
Refugees refuted,

Neither flinching,
Sounds like a war to me,
Just in time to overlap the last one.
Humans've been killing for an etern'ty.

Wind in the Sky

The clouds are moving fast,
In uniform, like trains,
Grey, thick, a sheet mottled with white and light,
Hinting rescue from rains,

Showing a clear, brighter world up above,
The clouds just a cover,
But one as real as the virtues behind,
Like the foreboding face of a lover,

One who holds within her all that you need,
If you can soar above,
Ignoring the shadow on all you see,
That's the secret to love,

Ignore your eyes,
Live only for the sun,
E'en when the horizon's clouds're only grey,
With no hint of a breeze to shunt them on.

The Unfamiliar Word

Letters are like faces,
Like faces lose their form,
Like when you stare long enough at either,
And recognition's shorn,

Like you've used a diff'rent part of your brain,
To comprehend a thing,
That for years has been close to you and dear,
Then loses all familiarity.

The ties of life like this are tenuous,
Resting just on one's flesh,
As formidable as a brain's synapse,
Less a link, more a cleft.

Or more a feel,
Like the bond people share,
Some say stronger than the thickest metals,
A contradiction to all I've just bared.

Inside Out

Can you e'er be too closed,
To see outside your sphere,
Ostensibly occluded from real life,
Only your own thoughts near?

Unable to process what others feel,
A lacunae 'tween you,
Sliding down a huge infundibulum,
Gelid and hard sides apparently smooth.

But there are handholds if you wish to search,
And not fall in despair,
Refracting the light from the world outside,
Also your source of air.

Quick, grab one now!
Before you suffocate,
Get squeezed out the tapered end like sausage,
And lose all chance at tempting your own fate.

God's Truth

What if God is lying?
This world a cover-up?
One of many, designed to hide a crime,
To which he won't fess up.

Like the first world he ever created,
An eternity gone,
Born of his need for unfettered worship,
Disappointment leading to abortion,

Abortion leading to an intense guilt,
Yes, I am talking God,
A new world made to obfuscate the crime,
Hoping it'll love his bod,

But it doesn't,
He, still searching for love
We, just a rung in his ladder of lies,
One step 'way from not loving him enough.

At The Drop Of A Hat

There's a pain in my back,
'Bout the size of a knot,
It is stopping me from taking deep breaths,
And from doing a lot,

Making me think of all I've never done,
For what if it ne'er leaves?
Restricting me from now 'til ever more,
As sudden and real as Christopher Reeves,

Never again will I check my blind spot,
All others must beware,
My cells will slowly die and then decay,
For total lack of air,

What will they say?
'Here lies a man that died,
Not old, regretting what he did not do,
But ere truly knowing what 'fore him lied.'

The Hard Part

The sun is in my eyes,
There's nothing I can do,
Except to turn my head to the darkness,
But then, I'd not see you,

Do you know what I mean when I say that?
You are a shining light,
That is worth staring into for my soul,
E'en if't means I 'ventu'lly lose my sight,

E'en if I have to die prematurely,
Whatever that does mean,
Lifetimes are wasted for one hundred years,
When the most's made by teens,

It's like cancer,
You don't know what you've got,
Especially after it's gone away,
For you've always e'er wanted what you've not.

Sounds

What's that sound I'm hearing?
The ticking of the clock,
Layered with the sound of the clothes drying,
The odd car on the block,

There's a gurgling in my stomach right now,
It's fluids, not hunger,
My breath has been struggling a bit today,
And when I strain my lungs it is louder,

I turn my neck to watch the howling wind,
There are cracks when I do,
A glug-glug aft' the shuffle of my reach,
To grab my half-filled brew,

It's all music!
Proof that I am alive,
Shame on those for whom sounds grate on their nerves,
I'd rather my ears bleed than find I've died.

It's Just So

Sun is out and shining,
But I have a sore ear,
Prob'bly the nicest day we'll have this fall,
My eyes are filled with tears,

Soon snow will make us forget what we have,
And my nose is stuffed up,
If Nature had any kindness at all,
Either sickness or nice weather would drop.

It's not all bad, I mean, I've got my health,
Wait a sec, that's not true,
Well, at least it's not a beautiful day,
D'I seem okay to you?!

Let's just say this:
There is weather outside,
I definitely feel a certain way,
And so until death, do we all so bide.

Happy Birthday To Me

I have to write today,
It's kind of a big one,
It has been four months and twenty-three days,
Since my mom has passed on,

This is my first birthday, 'tleast since she died,
First one she's ever missed,
Though if you heard her talk while she still lived,
It's not in this world where spirit exists,

Not to say that it will last forever,
About that, well who knows?
But there's more to see than the eyes can touch,
Which she learned to let go.

That's what she said,
"I'm learning to let go,"
Not wanting to waste one moment of death,
She claimed ignorance, but she e'er did know.

I Think I Can

That train was sure it could,
With ev'ry inch of steel,
Its whole chassis was an engine of will,
Tracks, extension of wheels,

Nothing existed for it but the goal,
Not hatred or e'en love,
For it, the world was the top of a hill,
Nothing existed below or above,

If its maker had stood strong before it,
He would have lost his life,
Cursed for th'extra effort his body claimed,
As steel cut like a knife.

That's th'way with goals,
They're outside re-al'ty,
What world could accommodate human whims,
And maintain some kind of society?

When You Can

Sometimes you have to choose,
What you can do when y'can,
Like this instead of that e'en though you'd like,
That one much better than,

Though you can always do that in a bit,
If it is not too late,
Sometimes when you think you can wait, you can't,
Like you've just served yourself a bonk and bate.

Of course if you ne'er do another thing,
Not th'end of the planet,
Most things you do are missed by everyone,
All, 'fyou're like most man, bet.

At least there's this,
The thing I could get done,
Squeezed in between playing with my two kids,
And helping someone with relocation.

All Kinds

It takes all kinds, they say,
To make the world go round,
Not sure how cash fits in the formula,
Need that, too, some propound,

But what happens if all kinds aren't there?
Like, if some disappear?
Those that work hard to keep the system strong,
Who pull their weight, work hard from there to here.

Who makes sure that there is a good supply,
Of all the lazy bones?
Without them, for sure, the world would stop, too,
Who would buy all the phones?

What about you?
What if you were not here?
Will the world stop spinning, 'soon as you're gone?
Or're there plenty of your kind, so 've'no fear!

Help Me

The brain is just working,
The coffee's kicking in,
The bagel, cream cheese, cucumber's eaten,
And begun digestion,

The people 'side me's driving me crazy,
Frivolous business talk,
I can't listen but still can't help myself,
Maybe I'll decide to cut my ears off,

Or maybe stand up and sit somewhere else,
What are the pros and cons?
W'thout ears, one less thing to worry about,
Though, can't hear the ocean,

But getting up?!
Too early in the day,
I should be in bed dreaming sugar plums,
I'm sorry, I can't hear a word you say.

Colors

As long as I recall,
My parents always liked,
Driving north to the woods in autumn months,
While they were both alive,

The colors of the leaves were the reason,
They were just magical,
An array of shades that must have linked them,
A visit to a place, ethereal.

They probably would get out of the car,
Then hold hands and just look,
Foray down a trail, eyes everywhere,
Just them, I was ne'er took.

Now it's just him,
I think, chilled by the air,
E'en if I drive him to their exact spot,
I know that I can never take him there.

Falling

I think another break,

Espec'lly on such days,

When words escape me 'bout the election,

Or one-game-winning Jays,

When all I want is to continue what,

Is burning on my mind,

To wit, the story brewing constantly,

About the faith of one 'mongst human kind,

Which is the point of doing anything,

Much less this thing right here,

My mind is already on something else,

So far and yet so near,

Like everything,

You just need to reach out,

It's there, just sweep away the distractions,

Your only obstacle is your own doubt.

North and South

The U.S. Civil War,

It was a gruesome sight,

With musket balls, sabres, and bayonets,

Two armies of great might,

Each fighting on their own soil for what's right,

As every soldier does,

Oceans of their blood in the veins of trees,

That were still saplings during the fracas. 

Thousands of men lost in the blink of eyes,

Torn apart, blown to hell,

This is the history of a nation,

That some say does quite well,

While others not,

Depends what 'quite well' means,

Relative freedom for a good handful,

Not much has changed since the good ol' eighteens. 

Delayed

Last time I plum forgot,
So engrossed in The Fall,
Finding out what happens with Flannel, 'cept,
When the Jays threw meatballs.

To engage in this most 'portant of tasks,
To miss, to cause regret,
Itself time spent outside of real'ty,
To look back, contemplate and then reflect,

All the while, still the pains of this body,
I'll let you guess what kind,
Then let you reflect on what you had guessed,
Inside, what do you find?

Wait! Don't tell me,
I do not want to know,
It's enough I managed to get this down,
I've still got other 'portant tasks to go.

You're Still There

Remember who you are,
You are in there, somewhere,
There was a time when it was natural,
When life was not a dare,

Just something that you did, like falling down,
Then you'd stand up again,
Rememb'ring the jaunt that preceded it,
The injuries sustained negligent,

Basking in the light only youth can cast,
Ere you were led to age,
Grew a crust 'round you of forgetfulness,
To hide what you let fade.

But it's still there,
You have not disappeared,
The world you were born in has never left,
Nor has your passion, despite what you feared.

Roll The Dice

It's ne'er a good ide'er,
Hoping to roll doubles,
Chance is called chance 'cause there's no guarantee,
You won't land in trouble,

Much more thought and planning is e'er required,
'fyou want to get ahead,
Examples of those who win lotteries,
Are only meant to cull the lazy heads,

Who're happy ending when and wherever,
I am that guy, sometimes,
Though it's always with some resignation,
That I'm not meant to thrive,

That it's all chance,
Also a culling tool,
You'd be surprised how much is act'lly planned,
By the most seemingly thoughtless mogul.

In The Basement

Listening to Bowie,

Scary Monsters with kids,

Lego and dolls moving 'round as I write,

They've been playing so long,

Individually, with their friend, mind,

Four world's in the basement,

One battle base preparing for war,

A house with a family as it was meant,

My foot tapping to Up The Hill Backwards,

Do the words reach their ears?

How long can this go on, then I hear said,

"Dad, I am bored to tears."

So there you go,

Solitude's just so fun,

But as David says its just the vacuum,

'Cre'ted by the arrival of freedom'.

Sixth Sense

Can you have a sixth sense,
Snapshots of the future,
Telling you how the next moment will feel,
With a surety that's real,

If you are open to that sort of thing?
It needs self-awareness,
And a conscious decision to believe,
That there is an emanation from things,

Drenched in emotions waiting to be felt,
Hovering like a scent,
Maybe it's a scent, triggering your brain,
If you are of that bent,

If an'one is,
Or maybe we all are,
And like failing to use your sense of sight,
It is not a world of which you're aware.

Realizing Your Vision

There's safety in numbers,
Like in an angry mob,
You become faceless, 'specially in a mask,
Or a work-a-day job,

With the comfort of sharing a vision,
For a common future,
The prospect of being the first union,
To fin'lly propose the perfect culture,

Though, obtaining the vision is diff'rent,
Than trying to live it,
The limiting factor of idea,
Is it's not real, is it?

It's just a wish,
Existing in your mind,
You stumbled upon it, seeking comfort,
From the physical blows of humankind.

The F'ers

Rebellion is nat'ral,
In any age or world,
E'en if a chicken is in ev'ry pot,
No flag is left unfurled,

For it is a matter of perspective,
Limited by nothing,
This freedom with which we e'er chain ourselves,
Is brandished by those who're born with cunning,

They'll not wait 'til Sunday for their chicken,
Nor care if you have it,
Every chicken in their pot suits them fine,
You're nothing, by habit.

Nothing to do,
With upbringing, you see,
That assumes nurture preceded freedom,
But how can you rear by choice when not free?

The Fall

Another one's started,
Juices starting to flow,
Grounded more firmly in the place I live,
No gov'ment overthrow,

More a revolution from the inside,
With no replacement plan,
A freefall down a bottomless abyss,
Instigated by love gargantuan,

Born, too, of the revolution's effect,
And the questions it raised,
Like how one find the strength for change at all,
When all act so amazed,

At change, itself,
As if the world's perfect,
And all one has to do is keep the faith,
So on your deathbed you see t'was worth it.

Double Agent

You can't think it is good,
No matter who you are,
That an agent can represent seller,
Of a house, and buyer,

Except, I would think, the agent herself,
For the int'rest conflict,
Like asking for and giving your own raise,
You never leave that office thinking, 'dick',

"I'm willing to pay this much for the house,"
"You are, well let me check.
"Well, they will take it, but let me just see,
"If others will jack up the price first," (dick).

It's illegal,
Well, should be, to be fair,
But houses, used cars or Walmart check-out,
Best th'law can do is say buyer beware.

Amphibian Bags

How are the two alike?
Certainly not in age,
Sixteen years separate these heroes,
Both struggling with a rage,

One 'gainst a world that kills nature for fun,
'Sif humans ain't an'mals,
Whose dad left him, and he'll never know why,
Smart to infin'ty, but bullied by Lyle,

Th'other was bullied, too, but years ago,
Thrashing 'gainst ev'ryone,
Joins the masses by attacking the few,
In a revolution,

Then there's the...what?
I guess that's all there is,
Phin finds there was naught wrong with his world view,
While Buster had to change to find his bliss.

My Dad's Pillars

I'm hearing a cricket,
Like when I was younger,
Sitting on this front porch, like I am now,
What my heart has sung for,

I look at the pillars,
Twisted bottom to top, ninety degrees,
Each brick laid by my dad,
Like ev'ry brick one sees,

From the first course to the thirty-sixth one,
Each offset is equal,
The math done before the mortar was mixed,
The corners plumb, as well.

Of this he's proud,
More than of how it looks,
The beauty's in the math that gives its shape,
A truth that can't live in pillars or books.

Watch Out

I've never seen a snake,
That could bite me to death,
Still, there are places where this is common,
And a thought with each breath,

Where you must be careful moving at night,
Lest you rouse a serpent,
Who only wished find someplace warm to sleep,
But will still strike to protect itself, yet,

Will leap into your car, under the hood,
Then when you open it,
Will uncoil and bite 'fore you know what's what,
Their aim is competent,

I don't worry,
Snakes are no threat for me,
The kind in my world that will lie in wait,
Share a strong resemblance to human'ty.

Good Night

Do you sleep through the night?
Would you know if you did?
Technology's told me my sleep's fitful,
The bar graph looked fluted,

Which is not what you want your sleep to be,
It should be a coma,
A gradual slide into the abyss,
A mental departure from your soma,

Where your mind has freedom to sort things out,
Defrag and create space,
Reinforcing your view of how things are,
So the world's a safe place,

What you wish it,
So you are always right,
That is the purpose of a good night's sleep,
Dig trenches at dark to battle at light.

There's Power In A Factory

Atwood, two thousand, ten,
Ondaatje, double 'O',
Can't Canada's Writers' Union site,
Keep up with the bios?

Is it up to the writer to update?
These two don't seem to care,
Other famous ones ain't even members,
Like Monro, Mistry, Toews, Urquhart, Lemire.

There're five thousand writers in Canada,
Professional, that is,
Writers' union's got nineteen hundred,
Where's the power in this?

Guess strikes are hard,
When mostly self-employed,
Still, 'magine all writers refused to write,
What would we pay to not live in that void?

An Enquiry Concerning the Nature of Feeling

I'm just not feeling it,
There's something, but not it,
There is a hot pepper point on my thigh,
Don't know where I caught it,

My eyes are a little morning sticky,
Should prob'ly wash my face,
A bubble of gas pushes up my throat,
But it is not strong enough to escape,

Is my brain over-warm or is that stress?
Maybe it's just swollen,
Won't e'en conjecture on my intestines,
Hope I've a clear colon,

Then there's my heart,
The seat of all feeling,
P'haps because there's no spot blood does not touch,
And touch is all with which we are dealing.

Onward

It is not over, yet,
There's still more work to do,
More research and more letters of query,
And then more waiting, too,

It hasn't e'en been that long, if you ask,
Many have waited months,
For just an acknowledgment of the ask,
Then their manuscript's shelved like balls for moths,

The key, so I've read, is keep on writing,
They're no breaks for waiting,
You'll get rusty and dried out while you do,
There's no sense debating,

So let it go,
If it loves you, well then...
If it don't, you'll've given birth to new loves,
In the end, at least you'll have a harem.

Part Two

It's time to begin 'gain,
To let go of what's past,
Let it live the life it was meant to live,
However long it lasts,

It may have outlived itself already,
I just missed the memo,
Destined to be only a memory,
Like the billions who have and yet will go,

A blip on th'blip of this blip of a life,
Not e'en a blip of thought,
You do realize there are worlds we'll ne'er know,
Like a blip on a dot.

Then there is you,
Bigger than the un'verse,
With you will die everything that you know,
As does all consciousness share in this curse.

Rated E

Sometimes you're a zombie,

Sometimes you are a plant,

Either way you are fighting with strangers,

Not the life I had planned,

Listening to my son lament plasma peas,

P'haps I'll be a cactus,

Spew out a clump of dirt that will explode,

When a zombie stops to see what it is,

And I just sit here in my underwear,

Wond'ring is this ok,

Sure, the game's all 'bout killing enemies,

But they use veggie rays,

That's the balance,

Can't take guns out of boys,

So you keep it as cartoon as poss'ble,

Hoping the focus isn't death, but toys. 

Mind's Wandering

What's really important,
When you clear out your mind,
Let thoughts slowly tumble back in again,
Noting the first you find?

Do they wonder about the universe,
And the secrets it hides,
The very first moment that ever was,
Where the key to everything resides?

They about you and your reason to be?
How to maximize life?
P'haps they cry as they peruse the world's pain,
Hunger, war, debt and strife.

Maybe there's naught,
Just peaceful, empty space,
The ultimate goal of all kinds of minds,
Blissfully ignorant in every case.

The Tremor

A tremor in my chest,
Like muscles shorting out,
If this ends before stanza number four,
Give nine one one a shout,

Though it feels like it just moved from my leg,
I'd think it was my phone,
Reach into the left pocket of my pants,
Realize it's in my right, hand's all alone,

Maybe it's a tiny beast on a tour,
Where will it end up next?
If I were it, I would check out my butt,
I'd be sure that's no text.

Maybe the brain,
It'd be scary, I know,
Make you think, I'm sure, about life and death,
But a thrilling place for that beast to go!

This Lamp

This lamp has three settings,
Well, four, if you count 'off',
The switch is a small knob for two fingers,
Turn 'til it clicks 'senough,

The knob is on the round, chrome, raised, flat base,
Stem tapered to socket,
The bulb's incandescent, surprising me,
California's like so green, isn't it?

The shade's simple, black trim top and bottom,
Hard for it to contrast,
Not quite a wallflower, 'cause it's not shy,
With the light that it casts,

It brightens me,
At least on my one side,
On th'other, I'm aware it's no effect,
As if it can't reach what I want to hide.

Here I Am

I'm looking at four screens,
Well, fifty if I count,
My hair is washed and breakfast in my mouth,
Music is my ear's sound,

Chewing, too, as I watch people walk by,
All, waiting for a plane,
Or running for one, e'er one or other,
In either case, there is no one to blame,

Ev'ry once in a while, I meet an eye,
That's when I try to smile,
Proof that I acknowledge that they are there,
As they me for a while,

Naught more needed,
They can board at their gate,
I know they are out there and know I'm here,
With screens and food, neither early nor late.

Attempt Two

I'd just about finished,

P'haps the greatest Wath, yet,

Put down my phone and picked it up again,

Swiped up, the rest is shit,

Makes you wonder how often that happens,

When you don't realize it,

The least interaction with anyone,

Can wipe away the grandest of prizes,

It's much too much to absorb in your mind,

Unless mind means instinct,

Follow that and bet it all will work out,

You don't need all the links,

Just ride along,

Observe, don't try to drive,

Because when you do, it is just for show,

Driving's naught to do with being alive. 

There You Go

There is not much to say,
Just writing just to write,
My record lately hasn't been that good,
With no excuse in sight,

Instead, let's look at all the rain, today,
Washing streets and minds,
Keeping people enclosed within four walls,
Watching the window for rain-ending signs,

So they can open the door once again,
Blink their eyes to the sun,
Nothing stopping them going anywhere,
In their imag'nation,

Except to home,
That's where they just left from,
Staying in place isn't going some place,
Not that progress is e'er marked by motion.

She Reads To Me

Siri reads books to me,
She does it all the time,
Usually with an Irish accent,
Though she will not read mine,

Fast or slow, depending on how I feel,
From where we last had paused,
Unless someone calls, then she just resets,
Greeting friends n'er know the havoc they caused,

I just slide my two fingers down her face,
Once the settings are right,
She has trouble with some words like live/live,
'Cause to context she's blind,

A simple gal,
She don't know what she's read,
But if my mind wanders and stops list'ning,
She's happy to read the same spot again.

As Seen On TV

I will not write, today,

It just doesn't feel right,

Sitting here with my daughter, cloudy head,

We're watching Monster High,

There's a buzz in the speakers I can't fix,

And it's driving me mad,

Ev'rything's plugged in as it's supposed to,

Why won't they work like they do in the ad?

Why do I have to connect and undo,

Wiggle, listen, repeat?

You spend money on things to do a thing,

And it working's a feat,

Just like your mind,

There is no warranty,

Invest all you want in its improvement,

You may ne'er actually get it working.

Those Irritations

Everything's chemical,
Like how you feel right now,
The pain in the space behind your ear's real,
E'en though you know not how,

Your body is suffused in gen'ral angst,
Is it diet or life?
Like the chicken and egg, nature/nurture,
Even science, on this point is in strife,

It will treat you with pills, counsel or both,
Pending year or doctor,
Though no one will deny it's physical,
No one knows what it's for,

Just a symptom,
Of an act'ul problem,
As hid as the secrets of the un'verse,
The or'gin of all the world's momentum.

Carrot Top

You cannot trust red hair,
This sounds racist, I know,
It is not like shifty eyes or a tick,
But when you've naught to go

On, observe the color of the tresses.
If rust, run like a train,
Whether the dye or the nat'ral pigment,
The hue seeps from the roots into the brain,

P'haps it drips down o'er the nerves from the eyes,
Not rose-colored glasses,
But capote, showing gold seeing red,
Birthing deadly lasses,

This is unfair,
Based on my exper'ence,
You must find the trait of which to beware,
Per G.I Joe, knowing's the best defense.

The Road Is Less Traveled

They paint on the concrete,
Yellow, white and orange,
Lines, arrows, diamonds, chevrons and shoulders,
To show bound'ries or range,

But ev-eryone knows the paint won't last,
One day it disappears,
But the message it sends ain't eternal,
And will itself fade in just a few years,

Nor will the concrete survive forever,
Tread 'pon repeatedly,
The earth shifting constantly under it,
Like it misleaded me.

Or least  tried to,
Hide what's past horizons,
But we humans vow to cross any lines,
Whether us living now, or by our sons.

It's Never Too Late

Everything is out there,
There's nothing left to see,
No secret force hid behind a curtain,
Pulling the gov'ment's strings,

It's all there in the news and TV shows,
Truth's the same as fiction,
If it's been imagined, then bet it's real,
Or it is on its way to creation,

That is how to find your place in this world,
Imagine yourself there,
Hence they say be careful what you wish for,
And to do it with care.

This is good news,
The world is your oyster,
But you have to learn how to shuck the thing,
Or you'll never get the chance to taste her.

Is Today The Day?

Today might be the day,
The day it's fin'lly done,
Well, ultimately I hope it's a start,
Of a new direction,

To be clear, I'm talking about my book,
In case there's confusion,
It had started more than two years ago,
Most ev'ry morning, 'bout an hour session,

What it is now, I never would have guessed,
So diff'rent, yet the same,
Adding layer after layer four times,
Until the closure came,

Then there's today,
It's supposed to come back,
Though, the past tells me not to hold my breath,
I've been here at least three times in the past.

Morning

So, I get up early,
I've done so my whole life,
Before the things that need get done must start,
Duties with which it's rife,

Nothing against what we all have to do,
To keep this world going,
Assuming, of course, it's the world you want,
Sometimes, I think, my mom was all-knowing,

She knew that one needs time to be alone,
Time for meditation,
Whatever that actually means for you,
For real relaxation.

Maybe it's work,
Ya, not so much for me,
Unless it's work to write down what you think,
Then I am a regular busy bee.

Quick Hammock

You don't have a hammock?!
I know there're other things,
One thinks of first when trying to survive,
'Stead of, "How shall I swing?"

But still, placed in the perfect location,
Not too much shade or sun,
As as windy as you can possibly find,
Neither end too high hung,

A well-made one, both mesh or cloth will do,
Double-wide with pillow,
Lots of trees with leaves that hum in the breeze,
There's nothing you'd like more,

After eating,
And drinking, too, of course,
Shelter, peace and the meaning of life.
After that, a hammock's the tour de force.

To The Stars

Looking at the night sky,
The stars perfectly set,
Forming constellations I cannot see,
Massive bodies at rest,

Forming shapes for us, millennia old,
How do they keep their place,
In the vastness of an endless vacuum,
Nothing between them to maintain the space?

It's said there's gravity keeping balance,
Invisible, just sensed,
We see effects, then name the unknown cause,
Cops planting evidence.

And yes, I know,
That stars do, in fact, move,
Tracing the same steps ev'ryday they live,
Appears to me that they're human, that proves.

Towel?

Do you wear a towel,
When you come from the beach?
Not instead of, but on your bathing suit,
To avoid water leach,

Into your shirt that you wear to protect,
Your skin from the hot sun,
Now put on your hat and your sunglasses,
And sit yourself under your umbrella,

Remember to move your chair with the day,
Keep your feet in the shade,
Now you are safe from your skin burning off,
While enjoying the day,

Then strip it off!
Live a little, goddamn,
The point of armour is to take it off,
Bare your chest to sun when most times you ran,

For The Leaves

It is just a dead leaf,
One among many more,
Somehow, slowly, alone breaking apart,
Then it comes back for more,

More life, spread out among more living things,
Maybe a dog and bird,
A little sprinkled in a blade of grass,
Some diluted through the veins of a nerd,

Acted upon in ways different than leaf,
Which seems so slow and calm,
Just absorb what you can, fall down and die,
Minimal commotion.

That's the whole show,
It's a shame it must end,
Who isn't tempted by the life of leaves,
When given the pain of this existence?

Wind

Hello again friend wind,
And all the things you bring,
Sand, dryness and a new meaning to life,
Well, in truth, not really,

You just remind me what it is I love,
About the things you do,
Pressing against every part of me,
That I expose to you,

Whispering what I must hear in my ear,
Sweet nothings, just like mind,
No one believes you have something to say,
And for me that is fine,

For you are mine,
No one knows you like me,
You are life, death and everything between,
Portender of my own mortality.

For The Birds

My dad loves to have birds,
Make nests around the house,
About five exist under the carport,
More barn swallows, no grouse,

All flitting to and fro, feeding their young,
Bird poo everywhere,
He tells me tales of their activities,
Proudly, like he's making them his new heirs,

Which wouldn't bother me, actually,
They give him such a high.
Once, when one flew over his head five times,
It meant mom wouldn't die,

Of course she did,
But he still loves them there,
They are his friends and he takes care of them,
Knowing they're with him makes me feel less scared.

It's Not Over

There's something I won't think,
It is not what you think,
Fear of anything's based on reaction,
Making your stomach sink,

Or compress from repeated and hard blows,
It has happened before,
Not that risk of vi'lence should dissuade you,
But then, which thoughts are worth suffering for?

There is the school that says just say it all,
They'll get tired of punching,
But then what does that say about your words?
Importance a done thing.

Pick your battles,
They say that, too, I hear,
The trick is to not wait too long to stand,
Before what you really want to say's mere.

That Chair

There's a chair over there,
Not hurting e'en a fly,
Brown and worn, its life shorter than it was,
The perfect mid-life guy,

Its favourite times must be when it's sat on,
Imagine what it hears,
The coos and bites and thoughts and flatulence,
The singles in front of it feeling slight,

The transference of fibers and of skin,
Accumulated years,
Left again on pants and skirts as they leave,
Perhaps congealed with tears,

And, man, those legs,
Once so shiny and new,
Maybe their creator had admired them,
Now they lay hiding, just supporting you.

Last Draft

Well, I am back at it,
There is so much to say,
So much, in fact, I'm at a loss for words,
Didn't want it this way,

Didn't ask for any of it, really,
Who of us ever did?
Get born into a world you've never seen?
Would've been nice if we could have vetted.

P'haps we could inherit a catalogue,
Leaf through 'fore buying in,
It don't have to be all cash and sunshine,
Just some pre-inspection.

Don't get me wrong,
Wouldn't trade for the world,
You don't know a house 'til you've lived in it,
Life's as impenetrable 'til unfurled.

Last Round

Gotta take number two,
No, it's not what you think,
This is a diff'rent kind of production,
Of which I'm on the brink,

Number one had been before my mom died,
She missed them at the time,
But, had to focus on the task at hand,
So I embraced prose and discarded rhyme,

And this will be the last time on this book,
There is no choice on that,
If it takes more than this for ev'ry one,
I'll have to hang my hat.

There's more in me,
So, if this ain't the tap,
To expel it out and share with the world,
I'll take up painting or some other crap.

Crime Scene

So you're from Kanata,
I could tell by your shirt,
North forty-five and west seventy-five,
Does that mean you're a jerk?

Don't mean you can get a breakfast sandwich,
Heated three times over,
Pocket the Naked juice when no one sees,
Then say sorry to the Starbucks worker.

Like who get's Starbucks breakfast sandwiches?
Okay, I did one time,
But it was free and I learned my lesson,
Looking back, I'd written lack-luster rhymes.

I shouldn't speak,
In fact, I rarely do,
Like now as I watch the bobbing bottle,
Poking out the overalls of that dude.

What She Said

Look at something far 'way,
Where things between are hid,
Imagine yourself there and then forget,
As if you never did,

Then live your life as if nothing has changed,
Or nothing ever will,
One day you will find yourself where you looked,
Independent of plans or conscious will,

That's a secret taught me by someone wise,
Who I could never doubt,
That's why they say, 'careful what you wish for',
Dreams actually turn out,

And this is why:
You can only e'er go,
To places that actu-ally exist,
And not nothing that you didn't first know.

Once Again

Sometimes you just must do,
As if everything's fresh,
Like the hours and hours put in never were,
You are now a fine mesh,

Able to let things go quite easily,
If their size is too small,
You are looking for the big fish only,
The others you'll catch on another haul,

When they too are grown and make a good meal,
Which is what you wish for,
That others may share and taste the same meat,
That is the stuff of lore,

And repeat guests,
The debut's the hardest,
A thousand failures are e'er forgiven,
If the first attempt is the tastiest.

You Hear That?

What do you want to hear?
That you will be OK,
That the world is exactly as it seems,
That folks mean what they say,

That science has everything figured out,
That it will save us all,
That the next government will erase greed,
That has plagued humankind since the first fall,

That nothing by will turn out except as planned,
That first day of grade school,
That taught you the dream that everyone shares,
That you'd shirk, if a fool.

That everything?
Then I'll shut my mouth now,
Words are the sole things that can't disappoint,
So long as they're not followed up by 'how?'.

The Travesty

Not sure I've covered this,
A point of great tension,
E'en if this is the tenth Wath about it,
You should pay attention,

If you order a Boston Cream donut,
I'm not saying from where,
You need to insist it's put in a box,
Unless you don't care if it comes out bare,

If the choc'late sticks to the bag's inside,
Haphazardly thrown in,
Probably handed to you upside down,
Not e'en a prayer given,

That it should live,
To rest in waiting gut,
In the state it was designed to be in,
An insult to both eater and donut.

Good-Bye Napkin

Good-bye crumpled napkin,
We were so close just now,
I trusted you to hold my Boston Cream,
The most sacred allowed,

Even when the cream itself oozed out slow,
I did not fret or sweat,
I'd lick it off your rough, yet soggy, skin,
Though I know nothing 'bout you 'fore we met,

P'haps after I throw you into the bin,
And you are carried off,
To join the billions of others like you,
All fallen from great lofts,

You'll live again,
Recycled, napkin again,
Would I know you if we should meet again,
As I dab you against my mouth's moist skin?

Getting Along

Ain't no wrong with thinking,
Beats beating people up,
And you can do it while feeding yourself,
Like Folgers in your cup,

Then drink that coffee, like drinking a brain,
Cracked fresh from a child's head,
An image removed from the meek thinker,
But close to the manic search she has led,

Salivating to solve the mystery,
Of why we're here at all,
A question each human must struggle with,
While building up the walls,

To protect them,
From the ire of others,
So bent on proving they figured it out,
They want all the other thinkers smothered.

throw away

Feel like a new person,
I just got my haircut,
Left it long on top so I can comb back,
Tapered, not under-cut,

Asked to keep it natural on the back,
Don't like it all squared up,
Straight blade for the neck and around the ears,
Reminds me of when Alfie'd e'er draw blood,

He put in product for the apprentice,
Knowing I'd wash it out,
So he could see how it looked on the sides,
Learning what it's about,

I left a tip,
And that's the whole story,
Suddenly I'm surrounded by loud kids,
Now all I can rhyme is the word sorry.

Time To Work

This is just to do it,
My heart's left at the door,
Bile is resting, bottom of my throat,
Saying, 'don't talk no more'.

The hammock's calling me to meditate,
The air's stuffy in here,
Trying to remember the day of the week,
Remembering that I'll never see her,

The trees that are towering behind me,
Planted when I was young,
Inhaled her breath to keep themselves alive,
Are pining for her lungs,

And her laugh, too,
'Cause that shoots out more breath,
And if you were judged by exhalation,
She would tower high above all the rest.

The Breeze

The breeze's playing music,
As my mother once wrote,<
Lying now upon a bed in a room,
Where I hope she hears notes,

Through the window not quite open enough,
To be caressed by the wind,
Though sure the birds huddled 'round the feeder,
Take her home washed of all and any sin,

Which only she'd know 'bout 'cause I've ne'er seen,
An act not fuelled by love,
'least no malice for all as it should be,
Per th'universe above.

That's how she thought,
Sorry, that's how she thinks,
Her strength lies in her own nat'ral beliefs,
Stalwart and pure right up to the nth brink. 

Look At That

Can you look at nothing?
That's a tricky question,
First we have to agree what 'looking' means,
Let's say it's what you receive through the lens.

>So, de facto, nothing can't be looked at,
But what about past that?
If the brain don't acknowledge the input?
Then I guess there is nothing to look at.

But 'nothing' is a trickier notion,
Lost as soon as it's found,
When someone asks, 'what fuck you looking at?'
'Naught''s the answer of clowns,

Liars, scared cats,
Not those truly living,
So accept your lot that we all feel life,
Stop asking if one can look at nothing. 

Inside There

I don't know what to say,
And it has been so long,
It is like letting a part of me die,
When I don't write this song,

E'en if I lose all of my limbs, I hope,
There's still 'nough of me left,
To put what's in my mind out to the world,
Better than all of me dying, I guess,

Even if my world becomes just my mind,
'Just' is a funny word,
There will still be 'me' and that which I 'see',
To make myself be heard,

Like all the birds,
Nesting in dad's carport,
I can live quite a happy existence,
Knowing the space in which I may comport.

Just One Time

I don't know what to do,
Sorry it's about me,
Though I guess it's a sentiment common,
To the majority,

Thrown into life, parents if you're lucky,
Thrown into it themselves,
Without the ben'fit of special knowledge,
Just the same unchanging self-help packed shelves,

Telling you to listen to your insides,
But that's not easy, too,
For, for everything you would rather do,
There's 'nother force on you,

From the outside,
Where you're trying to live,
It's a balance, staying true to your heart,
When everything you do's cumulative.

Get It?

You want to say something,
Meant to alter the world,
'Cause somehow you know something no one's known,
Since Eve's fingers uncurled,

You have the magic phrase that spans all tongues,
Touching everyone's heart,
So all meet at the junction where god's born,
Before she grows up, grows some balls and parts,

Then, somehow, no one will forget that spot,
Where we are all the same,
Which is what has always been the next step,
Once we stop being babes,

Which we do not,
Thought about in this way,
'Spite all of us knowing we're all human,
We act like we were born planets away.

What Will You See?

I wonder what you'd say,
If you saw what I see.
Because it's your mind, would you see the same,
As if you weren't me,

Or would you be suffused with my being,
No diff'rent than I am,
With no way of rememb'ring what you saw,
Once you've returned to your constitution?

Will your exper'ence be enough to know,
All humans are unique,
That all views of the world are legit'mate,
No matter what they seek?

Or will you learn,
That we are all the same,
Like various models of cameras?
The picture's equal with a common aim.

My Dirty Secret

I can't drink a coffee,
Which I e'er love to do,
Without leaving drops where I place my lips,
That course down the side, too. 

I try forming a seal around the brim,
But the liquid escapes,
Slurp like a vacuum as I tilt it back,
I sound like an ass and the cup's still caked,

No one else seems to have this handicap,
Trust me, I have observed,
I can us'lly learn how to do new things,
But this gets on my nerves,

So I lick it,
Just as I pull away,
Since I cannot stop from making the mess,
I'll at least look like I don't live that way. 

Good Bye

You must keep on going,
Life waits for no person,
The time you're looking forward and backward,
Is moment's destruction.

And where else is it you think you exist?
Sure, it's all exper'ence,
There is value in learning from the past,
But living and reliving are different,

Goals help, too, define your place in the world,
Though only from where you're,
By the time you've figured out your grand plans,
You haven't gotten far,

And then you die,
Well, not immedi'tely,
Only when all your moments have run out,
Whether or not you tipped your hat to each. 

Lost Forever

Just lost a fucking Wath,
First one in a few days,
I left this app to look up the spelling,
Of the phrase 'whiling away',

All 'bout the value of works of fiction,
If any there do be,
Other than the cash and time you must have,
To while away the day ment'lly asea,

But the nuance of what I was saying,
Will ne'er exist again,
The subtle irony I wove with words,
Are safe from your vision,

And who are you?
Maybe one of thirteen,
People who would have read it anyway,
The first two-syll'ble number in the stream. 

What You Can

This is one of those ones,
That rather than say naught,
To avoid feeling emptiness inside,
I'll just let the words plop,

Just split my head ope' and see what comes out,
Just to relieve the thought,
That there might be something I need to say,
That could stop the next words if bottled up,

Or dislodge what might be clogging my brain,
Distractions or just stress,
Peace of mind is what gets genius flowing,
Creativ'ty the test.

Well, that was it,
Now I will try to live,
Do my best at whatever comes my way,
Thank the world for whatever it deigns give.

No More Pain

If you could manage pain,
So it just wasn't is,
No matter disease of body or mind,
Like they didn't exist,

Walking on bloody stumps, just freshly hewn,
Sun awash on your smile,
Loved ones spit in your face, then skip away,
For all the hurt, may's well be paper files,

All 'round you poverty that shouldn't be,
Poor, beaten by police,
Caress your skin as you dismiss it all,
Like a soft summer breeze.

The worl'd be grand!
The sights be glorious,
Whole palettes of new images to see,
Not sullied by regret or abhorrence.

Listen

One can try to steer life,
What else is there to do?
Hard to sit back not knowing who's driving,
Or e'en how the car goes,

One can also try to steer their own thoughts,
Though your brain might know best,
It's been keeping people alive for years,
But if you know better, then be my guest,

You can even attempt to steer your heart,
If you are feeling brave,
Though when following it feels like what's right,
Follow it or not, you are still its slave.

Then there is god,
E'en if you wanted to,
Without the ben'fit of life, mind and heart,
You may as well listen to a cow moo. 

How Do You Do It?

How do you solve problems?
Do you talk to people?
Balance the pros from the cons on paper,
Or just follow the crowd like all sheep will?

Do you follow your heart, like a lion?
Believe you are hooked in,
With the vibrations of Nature's thinking,
Know you've gone the wrong way when you're shookin'?

Or do you work it out within yourself?
Talk as if you are two,
Let your mind wander and see where it leads,
And just decide that's you?

Or do nothing?
Comatose amidst fear,
Stuck in time, as if everything will stop,
'Til the problems your mulling disappear.

Mix It Up

There are always all kinds,
E'en 'mong identicles,
Nature would never limit her choices,
So she can't be fickle,

She likes to throw in a cyclone or two,
Only to have some fun,
But not everywhere, she's learned some things,
She don't want to wipe out everyone,

Add disease, war, diet and poverty,
Too many things can fail,
If the world were so dumb to be the same,

That's the end of the tale,
That's why we've choice,
We can't do the same things,
Lest our common choices lead to our death,
And Nature is left with no more play things. 

How We Deal

How do you deal with things?
Does your heart guide your head,
Using the latter to help navigate,
To its ultimate end?

Or do you balance all of the factors,
Treating all like a game,
Being ruthless, kind or methodical
Depending on the style with which you play,

It is most likely a mixture of both,
'Less you're beast or robot,
Both of which do lack what the other has,
Neither knowing what they themselves do got.

We're all a mix,
We all deal the same way,
What's lost in translation's the ratio,
That's why we don't know what each other say.

One Life At A Time

You will only live once,
Even if you do not,
E'en if you've lived a thousand lives before,
With lots more coming up,

E'en if you spend time summoning th'others,
To soften this ones' woes,
Soothing yourself with other lives to come,
That all happens in this one, don't y'know?

E'en if you're going to live forever,
Which ain't impossible,
Technic'lly, if we're talking exper'ence,
You're not reaching double.

E'en the two-faced!
Have one face at a time,
Of course, none of this precludes you at all,
Believing you've other lives, to get by.

What's There

What are these things we see?
Snippets of true real'ty,
An ort of a smidgeon of one soul's view,
With advanced di'betes,

A two dee copy with poor color match,
On shitty fax paper,
Recycled in some 'funct facility,
Where insects fell in with the pulp mixture.

That was then shredded with a good machine,
The coffers were not spared,
So e'en if you knew how the puzzle worked,
You'd die 'fore all was paired.

But that's not all!
Now throw it all away-
There's no time to try and figure what's there-
Into a bucket filled with human waste,

When You Die

We're all going to die,
There is no exception,
'Less Nature changes or science fin'lly,
Ups its comprehension,

But those are both moot and as old as time,
We've e'er wished to beat death,
From Ambrosia to The Holy Grail,
It's how we avoid facing our last breath,

But when you do, try to do it with pride,
Of what you did while here,
Don't let life think there are still things to do,
That you have any fear,

'Cause what's the point,
When there's little time left,
To waste it with thoughts of what could have been,
You may's we'll be dead, living with regret.

Behind The Photo

The world's like a picture,
All best faces forward,
The nasty things take place behind closed doors,
The smiles masking discord,

Look behind the mask, it's the picture's back,
White, no information,
We're all just trying to figure things out,
Yet we face the hardest in seclusion,

Did I mention we hide pain from the world?
Maybe it's courtesy?
Or embarrassment that we somehow share,
In humanity's nat'ral frailties.

Whatever it's,
P'haps that's how it should be,
When one does ope to others 'bout his pain,
Th'other us'lly trumps with their sad story.

Dreams Come True

My dreams last night were grand,
I'm almost positive,
I've vague hints of moments in a large room,
Crammed full of opulence,

Ev'ryone I saw was interesting,
Each one has good intents.
Forget wanting to remember my dreams,
I want to jump in and start paying rent!

Instead they exist so real, yet opaque,
Maybe if they were clear,
All people would do is sleep their whole life,
'Stead of living in here,

But then, who knows,
May be that when we sleep,
We remember vague snippets of this life,
And wish it could be our real real'ty.

The Tale

Ev'ry tale hides something,
You cannot tell it all,
E'en the moment you're in's just a snapshot,
Compar'tively min'scule,

Compared to the vastness encased in it,
Like the chirping of birds,
There, even if not part of the story,
Or overtly described as such in words,

So what you choose to point out will say more,
'Bout yourself than the tale,
Leave out too much or include the excess,
Rather bore than regale.

It's a fine line,
Needing caution and care,
An awareness of ev'rything 'round you,
Then pluck the ripe fruit and leave the rest there.

What's Out There

Perspective is one thing,
We're e'er learning about,
That what we think we see is different,
Than that 'bout we've no doubt.

Like some dude saying the word 'ba' to you,
The 'B''s clear as a bell,
But play the same sound as he forms an 'F',
If it's not 'fa', may I be damned to hell.

Then there's the phenom Synesthesia,
When senses interchange,
Sounds can become visions, for example,
Tastes turn shades of orange.

What's all this mean?
To see is to believe,
But don't go seeing fairies and gum drops,
There's a limit before you're in straight sleeves.

LVFREE

Vanity plates, oh my,
You show us all new worlds,
Living on display, e'er moving all 'round,
Like teenage boys and girls,

Born of a mind we rarely get to know,
Whose message is unclear,
Are you screaming or do you like ice cream?
P'haps the meaning rests on the mind that peers,

Then it's a fine line to get one yourself,
To choose something perfect,
So the message prevails and not the risk,
Of being called a dick,

For doing what?
Testing reality,
An act that should be encouraged for all,
To answer the question, WTCNIB?

Go!

Let me just get this in,
Don't expect much of it,
Don't be disappointed nothing is learned,
That's the world, isn't it?

There's too much to get done within each day,
Not like pre Internet,
I don't really know what I'm saying now,
I sound like an old curmudgeonly git,

It is because the world I grew up in,
Was completely diff'rent,
And I'm left here to navigate this one,
And still stay relevant.

I gotta go!
No time for all this crap,
Let's just say that no matter what happens,
I will not stop attempting to adapt. 

Poetry Daredevil

Right now I am driving,
On the highway, okay!
I am speaking to my phone, who's listening,
And writing what I say,

This is something we only dreamed about,
My own generation,
When we dialed up into the Internet,
Like rocket boots and teleportation,

Sure, what I am doing is dangerous,
But so is all progress,
If no one risked their lives trying new things,
Chicks would still need a dress.

We all want change,
But, it is up to us,
The world will be what it is, otherwise,
Where poems are writ with no sense of rush.,

Forget It

Why can't I remember,
My pancake recipe?
I make them ev'ry Saturday morning,
Same way, same quantity,

There are only seven ingredients,
One of which is my charm,
I can fake it in a pinch, and I have,
But it's like my brain's exper'enced some harm.

It is not only with pancakes, either,
There's a lot I forget,
Sometimes I thank that very memory,
For everything I get,

It's who I am!
This is not a complaint,
I'd rather forget what I just forgot,
Than not become the person I became,

Coincidence

It's just a fact of life,
There's no denying it,
It don't rely on interpretation,
Coincidence exists.

Like Hume pointed out the three ways to see,
The things in real'ty,
It's either one of these or you're not live:
Resemblance, Cause or Contiguity.

So do things come to you one of four ways,
Chance is the most common,
Hard Work sometimes works, coupled with Instinct,
But none come with as much satisfaction,

Coincidence,
Like a gift from the air,
As if god wanted you to have something,
And flopped it down like a fish she just snared.

The Word

Went to see Mac Miller,
Wasn't going to say,
There's not much I know about him except,
What I saw on the stage,

Incredibly fast and fluid rapping,
A house packed full of teens,
He thanked god for his flow to pass along,
I can't e'en tell you what his lyrics mean,

But there he was, tour bus waiting outside,
The message was all his,
Neither one not even existing if,
He didn't touch those kids.

What about me?
Who do I get to reach?
My word has been the same since ninety-two,
If no one's list'ning, do I really preach?

Cheer Up

Sadness' not a bad thing,
If you know where it's from,
For if you really don't like the feeling,
You make a correction,

If it's someone's died who you'll sorely miss,
You'll learn to live without,
If you've done something your body dislikes,
Change circumstances to figure it out,

If the weight of the world's woes depress you,
You can fight for justice,
Sadly, your impact will likely be small,
That's just what the case is.

It's about you,
And what makes you happy,
For if you can't even cheer yourself up,
How effective on others can you be?

Just Before Midnight

How is it some people,
Can produce just so much?
Makes you wonder when you're doing nothing,
Why you don't have the touch,

Why 'stead of finding the cure for cancer,
You're watching Game of Thrones,
A show you do not even really like,
But for which you do not need skin and bones,

Just your mind, but not to be creative,
To simply sit sad-sack,
Following the lives of fictional men,
Like King Herran the Black.

Where was I now?
Oh ya, not doing stuff,
If I knew I had a life to discard,
Doing nothing would not be so tough.

Goddamn TV

Wow, can TV distract,
It just has to be there,
P'haps I'm a product of my gen'ration,
Who loves Hollywood Squares,

Even thinking it might be on somewhere,
Is driving me crazy,
I've spent twenty years not thinking of it,
Now all of a sudden it can phase me,

'Cause that's what TV is really good at,
You feel out of the loop,
As if life were act'lly passing you by,
By missing Fam'ly Feud,

Ya, ya, I know,
There are new shows out there,
I bet you could name 'cause you don't miss one,
Like that comedy with Sonnie and Cher.

What's Going On Now?

There's nothing in my mind,
Even when I'm talking,
E'en in the darkest nights alone and cold,
With abs'lutely nothing,

No voice in my head telling what's what,
Because how would it know?
All it has seen came ready-made to use,
All it comes up with are more lines to toe,

More reasons to be what it always has,
Like a tree with its roots,
Like a miner who through thirty year's work,
Never took off his boots,

Like a baby,
Ya, that's about my brain,
Uncaring, selfish, demanding as hell,
That forty years older'd be deemed insane.

AMT

Acid Mothers Temple?!
Who is that, you question?
It's something you have to hear to believe,
Just wear ear protection.

Don't assume to think that time will remain,
In the state you're used to,
As the melodic drone played in four parts,
More encapsulates than enters in you,

A noise, for sure, but of another world,
That once entered's serene,
Like the hypnotizing gurgling and swish,
As you rest 'side a stream,

Though this is loud,
And the room's dark and hot,
And chances are the band would not refuse,
A place to sleep, whether floor, tub or cot.

You

Some things last for so long,
Can't think of the start date,
Like chronic pain after an accident,
Or low interest rates,

They're part of who you are and e'er will be,
The structures in your life,
That you take for granted and you build on,
In which you take shelter when day turns night,

But nothing in the world lasts forever,
That's right, not even you,
The grass, the morning sun, your brand new car,
All these things will end, too.

But there's still you,
The destroyer of all,
You may see things come and go around you,
But once you're gone, there's no trace of the walls. 

The Stop's End

I had to stop my car,
Not in a hurried way,
But how one usually stops, you hope,
Logically and gay,

Slowing down first, in anticipation,
To minimize the jerk,
That always comes after every pause,
As subtle as a child's rebellious shirk,

As missed as oxygen aft' a long run,
For whatever reason,
The body needs to feel itself thrown back,
Or there's no completion.

It's in limbo,
Practic'lly panicking,
A reminder that mind lives in matter,
And provides the context for all thinking.

Airport Fish and Chips

There're some things you can eat,
Like deep fried fish and chips,
Served to you as if it's an actu'l meal,
For which you then must tip,

And say 'yes' when asked if you liked the food,
Not to be impolite,
Since they did take the time to tear the bag,
Plop out the frozen slab and deep fry it,

Place it on the plate over the cold fries,
Tartar and coleslaw sides,
Scooped out that morning into plastic cups,
From tubs both tall and wide,

You got it all,
'Cept taste and nutrients,
Given you basically ate their garbage,
It's ironic you had to pay for it.

Stand Up

Trying a stand-up desk,
You know, to save my life,
Keirkegaard did it, so why shouldn't I?
He was a stand-up guy,

He wrote about the leap of faith, you know,
The third phase we can catch,
First you behave like you only live once,
Second, see there's diff'rent ways to skin cats,

Look at Abrah'm ready to kill his son,
Just on god's word, alone,
Only faith could have led him to that step,
Standing, if you don't know,

So, so will I!
I may ne'er sit again,
Like now, by my gate, eating my oatmeal,
I may even try standing on the plane.

And Now The Rain

S'now it has been raining,
It is Spring, after all,
Plants need the melting snow and fresh sky tears,
To survive until Fall,

Not to make some random analogy,
But, what if we are plants?
Part of a cycle during which we die,
Living during the seasons that we can,

And there's a whole world that we'll never see,
That might explain it all,
Where we come from and the place where we go,
When we're not at the mall,

Hibernating,
Until the winter's thaw,
Or simply dead, rotting into the ground,
I guess our current thinking's not that far.

For The Sun

Well now it's just the sun,
Out like it's ne'er been gone,
Shining on ev'rything with abandon,
As if no one's done wrong,

Making ev'ryone feel fresh and reborn,
Whether they're rich or poor,
No matter if they deserve what they got,
Or e'en care that the sun shines anymore,

Laying bare all that hid in winter's grey,
So there's no denying,
All eyes are out to witness how you chose,
To live before dying,

And yours on them,
To judge and to compare,
Thank you, oh sun, for without your bright light,
We'd all just live without worries or care. 

An Ode To Wind

Why do I love a breeze?
The invisible sough?
The silent push sliding across my skin?
Freshest breaths in, like now?

Nothing is free from its bulbous, soft nudge,
It weaves into all nooks,
Awakening ev'ry nerve that you have,
In places that you've never thought to look,

Face it, the world comes running to your feet,
You see how you greet it?
On your back, do you move with it or stall,
Because you don't need it?

For all these things,
And more d'I love the breeze,
Then, when the air is still and I'm alone,
I 'magine the wind's just been asked to freeze.

Morning

Thank god for this coffee,
Doesn't matter what kind,
I'd rather it is rancid with caffeine,
To stimulate my mind,

Than the most balanced beans from deepest parts,
French kissed by Madonna,
E'en if 'twas guaranteed to cure cancer,
Less that brain-hugging buzz, I don't wanna,

For what kind of life's one not fully 'wake?
It's not even half speed,
The energy you use up's better spent,
On someone that's in need,

Who can mold it,
To aid humans, with luck,
By making a cup of joe you can snort,
And buy with your app at any Starbucks.

The One Moment Meditation

There's something you must do,
Delicate, some may say,
An exchange 'tween who you are and the world,
Often times in the day,

Slowed down, the moment's hard to comprehend,
Like it haps out of time,
The burst of a bubble with no surface,
As elusive as a well-thought-out rhyme,

It provides relief from pent-up pressures,
Something we all savvy,
Raised as we are to suppress our nature,
We don't have much, have we?

Except for this,
Nature's spontan'ous art,
Whether cel'brated or enjoyed alone,
We all apprec'ate the joy of the fart.

Into The Air

Sitting behind a car,
Looking at its exhaust,
Smoke billowing out, rising to the right,
Lonely, lazy and lost,

As it waited for the forward movement,
That would pull it 'long,
Give it chase instead of lack of purpose,
Make it invisible to the road's throng,

Other cars drove by from the opp'site lane,
And for a second, split,
That smoke jumped to it and then back again,
A hula dancer's hip.

Physics at play!
Forces working unseen,
With loves and hates and passions just like mine,*
Makes you wonder how you got where you've been.

*morrissey

My Mom's Garden

The leaves were easiest,
They left without bother,
The rake slid lightly over the wet soil,
Not hurting bulbs under,

Next were reedy things with husks hard and grey,
Dead, by all appearance,
But those you must snip, leaving a few buds,
Green within, 'cept for some dead companions,

Then the wet, stubborn, thick, rubbery grass,
No doubt that it must go,
Hacking on hands and knees until it's shorn,
Their names I'll never know,

And when all's done?
Well, life was all around!
Struggled through death, yet warmed in its embrace,
Free to spring forth 'til its death, too, comes 'round.

The Proof is in the Pudding

This is not a journal,
A journal contains facts,
Rum'nations on their relations to truth,
Musings on how to act,

Well, those actually do exist here,
Ref. def'nition of Wath,
But unlike journals, this isn't pers'nal,
Nor expose me like a journal would doth,

Any connection you feel to these words>
Are their placement, forsooth,
Arranged in such a way as to unlock>
A universal truth.

Or, that's the goal,
Proved only by each read,
An event that occurs so seldomly,
That they all may as well be about me.

What You Do

No decision you make,
Not those that you regret,
Or that lead you down a path that seems wrong,
Should ever make you fret,

There is no special knowledge that you had,
If you chose 'correctly',
Remember, your judgment of the outcome,
Is based on your perspective entirely,

But there are others affected by you,
With their own opinion,
Equally ignorant of the merit,
Of any decision,

So what to do!
Just float around blindly?
Anyone who's known the answer to that,
Has started a religion, probably.

Damascus

One should not get side railed,
Comparing to others,
Ev'ry life is diff'rent by their nature,
Some exalt, some suffer,

Some victims of the most horrifying,
Think war, floods and famine,
But what good is it to say as comfort,
"At least I am not them"?

Well, there's the fact life makes no promises,
But, that fate's not rigid,
Though many have died, many have raised up,
Despite what the world did,

What if you'd woke,
Into a life of strife?
Would the things that seem so important now,
Even be a factor in your blessed life?

Laying Tracks

A train has no real choice,
Its next step is e'er set,
Yet, its ultimate destination's not,
Which is what most don't get,

They can't go anywhere they want to go,
Nor can they meander,
But they see more places than most people,
And 'sides, who of us can truly wander?

Options 'fore us are ne'er truly open,
There is always a path,
Spiked to the place from which we are coming,
Bound by what we ere hath.

Though, we lay th'tracks,
We choose the foundation,
Set the orientation of the ties,
With an eye for the ult'mate dest'nation.

Wild

Don't recall 'zactly how,
She expressed it in words,
But, a line from that film (and prob'ly book),
Made me perk up when heard,

'Bout her life being unique and mag'cal,
There being just the one,
A condition of everyone on earth,
Regardless of their own situation,

She realized that at the end of her hike,
With all that came before,
The drugs, the sex and abusive father,
The babe she did abort,

All needed parts,
Leading up to that line,
In retrospect, all necessary parts.
Good or bad hist'ry's not something to pine.

The Resolution of a Very Important Difference

There have been arguments,
About the difference,
'Tween two sim'lar types of coffee brewers,
Due to one's ignorance,

First there's the one that rains water on grounds,
That's the percolator,
Heat forces it to the top of a tube,
Cycled, 'til you've got varnish remover,

Then there's the Moka pot, made in It'ly,
It too, forces it up,
But it passes through the grounds on its way,
Once, for a perfect cup.

Is that clear now?
Not your mug of coffee,
It's the diff'rence 'tween someone's limp handshake,
And one who can grab life by the testes.

Walk A Mile

I want to go a league,
No one does anymore,
They go miles and kilometres often,
But neither help you soar,

Neither will take you where you need go,
So why not try a league?
The span a soldier can walk in a day,
Sounds like a promising journey to me,

A soldier is always going somewhere,
With purpose and conf'dence,
With a plan, even if she don't know what,
With an ultimate ends.

Isn't that nice?
Forget that pesky mile,
The league will now take you where you should go,
When the shadow's on X on the sundial.

Religious Freedom Restoration Act

Why d'you have to make laws,
To protect religion,
Specifically and exclusive of acts,
That are just 'bout livin'?

Like living with the person that you love,
Going out together,
Buying streamers for your big gay party,
Without being rejected as cust'mers,

Because their freedom to be big bigots,
Overrides who you are,
Limiting where you can and cannot go.
There should be just one bar,

The golden rule,
Do what you'd like done, too,
E'en if you'd like to be prejudiced 'gainst,
For then the law'd be prejudiced 'gainst you.

Waiting

When you're waiting for news,
And you know that it's bad,
Just not to what extent you should feel fear,
Or preemptively sad,

The world you're in becomes surreally false,
Though you ain't letting go,
Living within the fake security,
For as long as you can, before you know,

Then you are thrust into reality,
Ne'er to return again,
Longing for the days when you could deny,
With vigorous elan.

But until then,
Ignorance is true bliss,
'Til you can later state with confidence,
In your despair, "I never asked for this."

For You, 9525

If you knew you were sick,
With an ailment of death,
At an age less than one would expect,
Would that make your life less?

Would you destroy the world that cut you loose,
Because you couldn't be,
A famous and impactful cynosure,
And example to all human beings?

Would the existential turmoil consume,
The thought you're not alone,
Turning all you see to a reminder,
Of all you've never known,

And never will?
Why not just end it all,
In a fantastic blaze of fire and death?
Or would you rethink it during the fall?

Thanks For The Memories

Oft times I forget things,

Or fail to remember,

A condition I have learned to live with,

Common 'mong the younger,

For what do they have to keep in their heads?

It's at their fingertips,

As it's now for me with technology,

There's not much to know with the internet,

'Cept maybe the fact that a friend's dad's died,

When you meet for a drink,

You ask how he's doing, matter of fact,

And tears are on the brink,

That's why it's good,

To retain memory,

In fact, I should have more space freed up now,

To store data that's specific to me.

Let's Dance

I went dancing last night,
Not a hard thing to do,
Not while my body's still strong and able,
When it's nothing to move,

Before age demands that I move no more,
Through pain or paral'sis,
Something that now seems so simple and right,
Will leave off as sure as death and taxes.

Unless, of course, I one day die dancing,
P'haps from a heart attack,
Or cutting the rug too close to a cliff,
I'd like to go like that.

Still in my prime,
If it hasn't passed, yet,
You can afford to take things for granted,
When moving to music's easy as breath.

Happy Spring

Spring is finally here!
It's like Earth watches time.
The sun is out and rain is on the way,
That's what for which we've pined,

So that now we can curse all the wetness,
Longing for heat and sweat,
Days during which we beg heaven and earth,
For the summer's suffocating effects,

At which point a breeze would be most welcome,
To rustle leaves and hair,
To remind us that change can ere soothe with,
A briskness in the air.

Ah, the seasons,
Humbler of human pride,
How can one become an arrogant ass,
With threat of revolution on all sides?

Would'veshould'vecould've

'What if', they always say,
'Things could have been diff'rent',
'I could have had the life I should have had,'
'For which I was ere meant.'

As if the future's open, now it's past,
Retr'spect reveals all things,
Don't they know you can never know 'what if'?
It's as hidden as ev'ry wondering,

'If only', 'could have done', 'shouldn't have e'er',
May's well know the future,
All you can do is learn from what you've done,
Not that it makes things sure,

It's just a ruse,
You ne'er know anything,
Future, past, just dress the moment you're in,
That distract you from actually living.

Throbbing Thoughts

There're so many worse off,
Than what you're going through,
That can be a comfort when times are tough,
Thinking of what you'll do,

Then there is what good old Pascal had wrote,
The thing about the mite,
Through thinking how big you're compared to it,
That, after gazing on vast Nature's light

Things really get put into proportion,
Though there's one thing that's missed,
Theoretically, if you were alone,
They just wouldn't exist,

Thus, we're back 'gain,
Thumbing our nose at death,
Thwarting its attempts at frightening us,
Thanking our mind for its lack of distress.