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.