Where Are You Going?

What's your expectation,
As you walk down the street,
You don't get run down by a drunk driver,
Concrete stays under feet,

The place you're going to is still standing,
There hasn't been a coup,
That no matter how far you travel to,
You will find someone waiting to love you,

You won't get scooped up in revolution,
Never do anything,
Live out your dreams just as a memory,
'Fore you started walking?

What if you stopped,
Came face to face with fate,
Saying you've gone in the wrong direction,
Would you just shake your head and say, 'too late'?

We In The West

I know you'd like to help,
There's a lot that is fucked,
A woman was just tortured and then killed,
For refusing wedlock.

Can anything good come from such culture?
News doesn't cover much,
Hard to believe anyone could do that,
Or that most people wouldn't think it sucks.

We where it's free can't do much anyway,
Living's too expensive,
By the time work's done and the bills are paid,
No time or cash to give,

'Least we're not them,
No vi'lence need we fear,
Just do what you're told and you'll be alright,
Won't even notice if you're a good gear.

The Words That Come Out Of Your Mouth

A nugget in your head,
Born like an amoeboid,
Stretching out to feed its curios'ty,
From your brain's wondrous void,

No different than what's born in others,
Except when it grows legs,
Crawls tentatively to your mind's surface,
Changing shape, adapting to the new digs,

It grows until free of your influence,
Has a mind of its own,
Still dependent on your voice to be heard,
By thoughts others have grown,

But no one hears,
Their own beasts are too much,
Even though they're all born of the same void,
And so exist in the same brain, as such.

Live On

Each day, y'have to go on,
E'en if your life has changed,
You've lost all your friends, your job, loved ones,
Not ended, rearranged,

You have to hold onto what you know's real,
The things you've created,
The air leaving your lungs, joining the earth,
Those things you have not believed, breath bated,

But don't let too much time pass, mulling these,
You'll become memories,
Stop time as it continues all around,
What is real will then flee,

You'll disappear,
You'll witness your demise,
Learn how little others considered you,
Like seeing your funeral with your'n eyes.

Chicken or Egg

Chicken or the egg, first?
Why is that the question?
It doesn't help sort out the bad egg,
Before its conception,

It doesn't explain the chicken gone wrong,
Born of the perfect egg,
Frankly, chickens all look the same to me,
'Less it's left the brood's, on the street and begs,

Or it's running free range while the rest's cooped,
Wouldn't that be a coup?
E'en if it knew its perfect upbringing,
Still, the egg gives no clue.

How about you?
Did you incubate well?
You kind and giving in your fledgling years?
Chicken or egg? Either can go to hell.

This Time, You Can Read It

I'm amazed ev'rytime,
My credit card's working,
Why should an asshole like me have credit?
Wait, because I'm working,

I've been working ev'ry day for a few years,
And I'm not complaining,
It's just what people do as part of life,
E'en when others' complaints are raining,

Because it's a given,
Living involves doing some working,
Even for your loved ones,
And that living should involve no irking,

It just should be,
It's not a fucking chore,
If you don't think I'm not talking to you,
You don't get how you represent your soul.

Waiting For The Bridge

I'm waiting for a boat,
Memories from my youth,
The bridge goes up, keeping me from my goal,
'Fore I lost my first tooth,

This one looks like it may be from Russia,
There's an app for that now,
Just like all the things in life you can know,
It's not about learning, but knowing how,

But the kids are still stoked by the ship's size,
Well, the grown-ups are, too,
How can something that big actu'lly still float?!
You'd think the damn thing flew.

There goes the horn,
The bridge is going down,
This wait will soon escape my memory,
Along with the reason it was profound.

Check Out

You took too long punching,
The numbers on the pad,
Because there is something inside your brain,
That also made you sad,

And anxious, too, my god you could feel it,
So much not going f'you,
Then the cashier announces to the line,
There's another cash open by aisle two,

Fuck, now you're the center of attention!
You never wanted that,
The guy behind me was mumbling curses,
When you left your wallet,

But I was cool,
Where did I have to be?
Leaving you behind to make you feel worse?
What kind of challenged dick would that make me?

Welcome Back

Look back to where you walked,
Just a few steps ago,
A trillion more touched the same soil before,
To points we'll never know,

Places, like people, that have come and gone,
Erased from history,
Blip upon blip among blips upon blips,
Beings who saw the world differently.

Forget space, look at time to know your worth,
Adjust for total span,
On that line it's hard to be e'en a dot,
Pixels would be too grand,

Just like you are,
Strutting like you're the first,
The thoughts that you treasure are old, old ground,
A beaten path, a trillion times traversed.

Welcome

What do you want to do?
The world is your oyster,
There's absolutely nothing in your way,
That you can't just ignore,

When you were born, you were an empty slate,
Fed by your five senses,
So enthralled by the possibilities,
You didn't care they were building fences,

For what could a barrier do to you?
You ne'er saw one before,
You could walk through it as far as you knew,
Besides, you could just soar,

Up to the sun,
There's no wax on your wings
'Less you think there's reason to be restrained,
You should be able to do anything.

The Spark

What starts revolution?
No one can really say.
It's hard to move the complacent masses,
That's how they're kept at bay,

But at just the right time, in the right place,
Neither of which be planned,
Someone stays seated or gets maced by cops,
Sparking the complacent to take a stand,

Somehow the notion of status quo shifts,
Or what's real's plain to see,
That despite what the rulers have told them,
How things are, need not be.

But what's the key,
That will open our minds?
Is it a tipping point of oppression,
Or th'rev'lutionary bent of mankind?

What's Next?

A tune just caught my ear,
While my mind was open,
'All the broken hearts in the world still beat'*,
A cry in the ocean,

And what of the ones that are yet untouched,
Is it their time will come?
As much a part of life as growing hair,
Or befriending then betraying someone.

That is the shame when the innocent die,
They ne'er got to be shunned,
Felt the sorrow of unrequited love,
Or incarceration,

Then there is us,
Is the journey e'er done?
A life spent getting the innocence back,
We're a scale model of evolution.

*Ingrid Michaelson

That Crack

That crack in the ceiling,
Makes me question my walls,
They may not be set on hard enough ground,
Causing the house to fall,

I actually know nothing about it,
I'm not an engineer,
I'm short of the dedication to math,
And the creativity wrapped in fear.

I'm pretty sure it means nothing at all,
My gut is never wrong,
Sure, sometimes it gets upset with my food,
For, for my'eart it does long.

But that is love,
It's a magnetic field.
They're produced absolutely anywhere,
Elemental particles choose to feel.

The Thaw

The air is cold today,
Just like other things, too,
Your feet pressing up against my warm calves,
My heart assessing you,

The bodies of flies wrapped in spider's web,
Making my daughter squirm,
Her feet crushing insects she'll never know
As she begs me not to fix hook with worm,

The stares of strangers I pass on the street,
We've all been trained this way,
The unheeded cries of your soul's desires,
Slain for this land we've laid,

That can't be changed,
Unless you too are cold,
Resisting the cries of the souls nearest,
Who, too, are just doing what they were told.

Speak

Hard not to say something,
Despite what you are told,
Observe from the heart and you're called a child,
No compassion, you're old,

See both sides, and you're a politician,
Take a side, you're bias,
Embrace desires that fulfill you, selfish,
Defend society's structure, pious,

Yell from the depths of sorrow, you've lost touch,
Can't you see other's pain?
Speak only to yourself, there's something wrong,
Tweaks needed for your brain,

Even this here,
Don't think it is exempt,
The observations of a voice unknown?
Its lies with pity, its truths with contempt.

Jazz, Man

Just follow the jazz, man,
There's no thinking in there,
Just a moment timelessly repeated,
'Midst a frantic, fresh blare,

There are no troubles hiding in that space,
Wanting to adjust you,
You'll be twisted, turned, spun, and razzmatazzed,
A soul-prancing escape without the blues,

Those are your feet tapping and head bobbing,
The world's not collapsing,
Or if it was, you'd never notice it,
That groove's so entrancing,

May't be with you,
Until your teeth fall out,
Equality sweeps across the nation,
While your heart collapses from rocking out.

Avoiding

Got up before the kids,
But I've got more to do,
Before I'm allowed to go to my job,
'Cause I already grew.

I wanted to be ready 'fore they woke,
We've a schedule to keep,
It will still be fun, or what is the point,
Of getting into anything too deep?

Sure, we'll also watch TV together,
That is fun too, you know.
How can a mind be prepared for the day,
Without dipping its toe,

T'get used to it, 
Stead of jumping right in?
Do that once, you learn it's not worth the shock.
You may as well jump into the ocean.

Afar

There's a haze in my brain,
You know what I mean, right?
The world passes you by, tears, woes and smiles,
Amazing, out of sight,

Magical, you stop and think about it,
As observer, not you,
All happening while haziness persists,
Independently of the things you do,

Then you jump out of your mind's dull cobwebs,
Raise your arms, scream out loud,
Everybody stops to see what you want,
And you're instantly cowed,

You're not you, now,
Do you know who you are?
Oh my god, now you're other ones,
No longer can you observe from afar.

Soreness

I don't know what to say,
I don't know what to say,
In the stillness of my heart there is peace,
So, for what can I pray?

To withstand the salvo of life's attacks?
No one is safe from that,
E'en the one poolside, no money worries,
Does not live outside of this basic fact,

That one must live among other people,
Completely separate,
We're all here to experience ourselves,
To live and then to let,

We have no claim,
No matter what came 'fore,
In the context of love for your fellows,
On the journey reserved for ev'ry soul.

New Territory

What's the warrior code,

When life's started anew,

Scents now mingled with one-time enemies,

Not all sure of the feud?

The former laws meant to protect the clan,

Might be of an old way,

If history teaches us anything,

It's what's good once mayn't be right today,

'Cept, of course, that you do unto others,

As you'd want done yourself,

Which begs the question, what is it you want?

It's same as someone else?

It may not be,

There're fighters and menders,

What's good for the goose won't fill your belly,

Sometimes the cure isn't always tender. 

Trudging Through Murkiness

The light is much too close,
It darkens my vision,
Puts into questions the routes I've taken,
To this situation,

From a marker that was no starting point,
To an undefined end,
Guided by instinct and loved ones' words,
Each step fueled by different intentions,

It didn't need to culminate to this,
Nor to anything else,
Is the goal to help others find their end,
Or to find it yourself?

Can you do both?
By example, maybe,
Which means guiding will only make a guide,
Leading one down the path of the guidee.

See

I see in my vision,
Small moving points of light,
They flit here and there, a thousand of them,
If I look at them right,

Otherwise I can see only the sky,
Clouds, birds, towers and planes,
Back again and I notice hazy streaks,
Like a falling ooze I just cannot name,

Which of these visions turn out to be real?
Which should guide my actions?
Neither are in a world that I can touch,
Or know in some fashion,

But I must act,
As each person 'fore me,
Their existence mattering just as thoughts,
Pale copies of what they themselves did see.

Stand Up

You can stand up one time,
You'll be struck down with pain,
Just like insurance comp'nies e'er say no,
Your first attempt to claim,

Most will remain down, a law of nature,
But you may rise again,
Standing, you'll see others if you look hard,
Trounced from masters and slaves with cries of shame,

Are you the one with enough self-belief,
Even should you be maimed,
To howl that what you believe's true for you,
That your god is your name?

For then they'll see,
That you will not be tamed,
This is how all realities are born,
The road for all revolution's the same.

Not For Mom

Just 'cause it's Mother's Day,
This isn't about her,
She's not alive no more, so what's the point?
She is not of this world.

Though she's in my thoughts in ev'ry moment,
Isn't everyone?
We're all a product of interaction,
Informed by observing our reactions.

Like mom would say, you must follow your heart.
Well, there I go again!
Placing her words as the measure of all,
Like they were true wisdom.

I think they were,
Honesty person'fied,
Oh please may I face life with the same grace,
As mom did right up to the day she died.

The Dark Forest

I tried to face outside,
Naked as a newborn,
The elements attacked my skin and eyes,
Leaving flesh and mind torn,

I woke up with the sun upon my face,
Blood, now, my body's clothes,
Dark in spots by leaves and mountains shadows,
'Round me sounds of animals no one knows,

They walk with me in the forest's dark depths,
Poised to pounce then vanish,
Struck with the same wounds, addled as I am,
Searching for a safe niche,

But there is none,
Not if you're still living,
The more protected, the less in the world,
No understanding without misgiving.

The Gap

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock,
Good bye forever more,
Unreplaceable as a child's first words,
Or the evening's last pour,

Hold back all you want, it's still taking time,
You fall until impact,
Terminal velocity's never reached,
Your imagination is never hacked,

Your disabilities are obvious,
In the right company,
But come play with me and my little friend,
Where the sky's e'er sunny,

Time will still pass,
Naught will ever stop that,
Tick tock goes the clock, steady as your heart,
That yearns for the moment you're born to have.

These Sounds

Wish I knew that bird call,
Like I know that humming,
Or the periodic flush caused by leaks,
And my fingers drumming,

My own call, though the message is in words,
Spit out upon the screen,
Like the pweers float messages on the wind,
Then I cut my nails as, too, the beak preens.

Its mortal danger's that it won't be heard,
Some things we've in common,
Too, breath, love, sorrow, creation, thoughts, fear.
Oh, and procreation,

Th'eternal call,
Bird calls to the unknown,
Each offspring an echo of the desire,
To prove to ourselves that we're not alone.

The Ultimate Goal

Karl Ove stopped writing,
His brain did not want to,
But the body can have another mind,
Simply opposing you,

Whether everything's simply in your thoughts,
The distinction remains,
The two components must work together,
As if their ultimate goal is the same,

So what does that mean when you're facing life?
Sadly, it don't mean much,
For both of them have to face the outside,
Which has its mind, as such,

Good luck with that,
Melding the three as one,
The trinity that yields utopia,
The dream of every revolution.

Dreams are Dreams

Careful what you wish for,
Dreams rarely do come true,
For they are formed in the world of your mind,
That's created by you,

Like a mirror you can only reflect,
But just outside the frame,
Are complicated weaves of real'ty,
Inside which those images are contained.

Which is proof the world's not in your head,
It's in other heads, too,
All with their own way of reflecting yours,
With dreams that ne'er came true,

But it's alright,
One day you will just die,
Like billions of people died before you,
Unbounded by their mind's reflected light.

The Pain

What is it like to hurt,
Beyond your abil'ty,
To control the fact that it's happening,
Despite that you are free,

Outside of the protection of the norm,
Condoned by all around,
Like the politician behind one cause,
At the expense of all others around,

Where there's no def'nition for what you do,
On the side of the good,
For it disrupts the natural order,
That's so far understood?

It is not fun,
The hurt's the borderline,
Community's meant to yield the good life,
Within the bound'ries it condones as fine.

For My Children

Where's revolution start?
It begins in your heart,
With the realization that you are free,
The same feeling as art,

Then you look around for similar eyes,
Glowing, that understand,
Each individual has just one chance,
To express their unique type of human,

In such an honest way to speak to all,
Who're open to the truth,
That true freedom needs soul and socie'ty,
Living under one roof,

Example f'all,
Not selfish or selfless,
But a marriage ensuring love for all,
For my children, this is for which I wish.

Time For Revolution

Want a revolution?
Well, it is hard to plan,
Mostly you have to be prepared to act,
As does ev'ry human,

Moved by the injustice of the system,
Real, but still hard to see,
How do you fight against all that you've known,
When there's no examples from history?

You have to believe you're not free to be,
With others screaming, 'yes'!
There's no system where everyone's happy,
But for sure, more than less.

Is that the case?
Is it time for a change?
'Til satisfaction hits an all-time low,
We'll never know the limit of that range.

Alone

Sitting in underwear,
Slight tremor on the side,
Planes, boats, cars all equidistant from me,
Still, far enough to hide,

This is a moment outside of real life,
Where others still exist,
You can't escape into yourself out there,
The way my mother did at the hospice,

When I asked her how she was feeling, then,
She said she's letting go,
Of the world, her husband and children, too,
TMI? I don't know.

I read to her,
A book called The Dinner,
'Til she silently waved for me to stop,
I laughed the last laugh of the remainer.

Dreams

This plane is very full,
But not as I had dreamt,
When I was near the back contemplating,
There's no overhead vent,

Instead there was no roof where I had sat,
Just clouds in a blue sky,
We were plummeting down towards the earth,
Random thoughts in my head just floating by,

But none of them were about what I'd done,
Life isn't about that,
It's about contemplation on the fact,
That you can ne'er look back.

Only ahead,
To where you're heading to,
E'en if it's to watch the fast moving ground,
Waiting to receive and decompose you.

Good Morning

There's so much suffering,
Is that the point of life?
Some have proposed that it is in fact that,
So learn to enjoy strife,

It is not that difficult to achieve,
The material's there,
Just ignore the things that tempt happiness,
For that illusion is meant to impair,

To insulate you from your true feelings,
That smile's only a mask,
Anyone'll tell you the way that it is,
You only have to ask,

It's all a sham,
Whether happy or sad,
Those are just words deficient to the task,
Of expressing the exper'ence you've had.

Surroundings

The red's faded to black,
The pain is still the same,
Somewhere there's honey that's sweeter than this,
I can't recall the name,

Bitterness stains my mouth like acrid waste,
P'haps a forever thing,
Until this body decays to the ground,
And its actions only a memory,

A door has been shut tight against entry,
Legs sleeping anyway,
If the sun stays in the sky long enough,
I may get out today,

Into the world,
At least what's left of it,
After the destruction of so much love,
Outside's rough when there's nothing to covet.

The Gash

Blood's pouring from my hand,
Well, 'pouring's not quite right,
The cut is so, that what will come will come,
Like rainfall in a blight,

It quickly seeps into the dry, bare earth,
Like it was never there,
Except for those few minutes when it's dark,
Here red, around the jagged, whitish tear.

I could clean it now, and bandage it up,
Pretend it never was,
But what of the act that led to this wound?
That should never be lost,

That will e'er be,
A lesson from the past,
So that I can weigh the consequences,
Should the act's rewards supersede the gash.

Working Up

What is this world's power?
It can stop you from things,
That should just be a matter of one's course,
A natural extension of living.

Why should one moment be wasted wond'ring,
What the fallout will be,
Of attempting to achieve what you want,
It all still seems a bit childish to me,

Which you may think is childish in itself,
Dreams of a naive youth,
P'haps one needs to relive these thoughts each time,
So impulses are soothed,

Decisions made,
Thoughtfully, truth inside,
Growing up's not about what's expected,
But making sure what you do's bonafide.

Is The Rain Falling?

He ended up on top,
By publishing his flaws,
Details from moments buried in the past,
Stretching liter'ture's laws,

Still, there was a confidence in his shame,
Sure of what he wanted,
Naturally retreating to the pen,
When his deficiencies were most flaunted.

Two chairs in the wind? Does that say it all?
It's something to unpack,
But, it is the simplest that most attracts,
Born of an innate knack,

Depth where there's none,
That's the most open text,
The one who gets drunk until he blacks out,
He who cums, miles from arriving at sex.

Not Free

How dare you look at me,
Stuffing your lazy maw,
You see me everyday and still forget.
A small taste of your flaws,

Ne'er before have my shoulders felt so tense,
With you behind so close,
Pretending to look at everything but,
What it is I do each day. You are gross.

Is that a mug to your lips or a cam'ra?
You have someone to call?
Don't look at my fingers counting syll'bles,
I'm not writing The Fall,

I'm killing you,
Or trying with my mind,
Still, I stopped perusing my profile page,
So you wouldn't think I'm wasting my time.

Onto The Next

It's finally finished,
It is true what they say,
That things seem like shit when you're done with them,
You want to slay and flay,

Chop into pieces and grind up like meat,
Encase in intestines,
Put on the queue, veg'tarian or not,
Just mask the carnage with glasses of wine,

Soon it will come out from the other end,
Decay into the ground,
Then p'haps you can be proud of it again,
Until the flushing sound,

Then onto new,
'Finish' wasn't your goal,
It's the process that should motivate you,
That's the whole point and nature of the soul.

In A Hole In The Wall

This bar counter is smooth,

Clear coat over long grains,

Chipped and dirty wainscoting beside me,

They may's well be the same,

If the lights weren't down you'd see it all,

The dust bunnies on wires,

Into junction boxes that lead nowhere,

Liquor lined up lighted colors like fires,

Eve'ry drink muting remaining contrasts,

Blurs of bats, copper pans,

Old, torn ads for long forgotten products,

Wait, that's next Friday's band,

Then I see me,

In the tap's manifold,

Stretched out, squished, barely recognizable,

Appears I'm in the right place, when all's told. 

Good-bye Whisker

I have no sympathy,
For that lone shorn whisker,
Hewn down with its thousands of brothers,
Can't say that I'll miss her,

Could I have told her apart 'mong the throngs,
As they fell down so far,
Enveloped in drops destined for the drain,
Or embedded stubbornly in the bar?

Would she still be the same apart from me,
In some box on a shelf,
Alone when she should be part of a beard?
Could she have any self?

If alive, yes,
Alive, we all have hope,
If she changed her def'nition of alive,
She could thrive in that box than simply cope.

Eyes of a Child

There is peace with a child,
When all around's chaos,
Like her, you can ignore the world around,
From where to which you crossed,

Everything becomes a show to observe,
Nothing to do with you,
All you care about's within an arm's length,
History so short, there's nothing to rue,

Just the beat of music, your bouncing rump,
Happiness all around,
A face that is silly only out there,
Here, no need to expound,

What is just is,
There is no tomorrow,
Not 'nough history for embarrassment,
Or expectations to make you feel low.

One Day

Hello, nice to meet you,
Fancy meeting you here,
When my life, until now, was quite content,
'Cept meeting other peers,

Chances are we will never talk again,
Both relief and a shame,
Of all the things I could be doing now,
For this diversion I've myself to blame,

But, value can be found surprisingly,
You didn't know you'd need,
Life is so short, it is no mean feat,
Deciding the good deed,

Turns out you were,
For reasons need not said,
You're out there hidden but part of my life,
P'haps wishing it'd be better I were dead.

If Only

It's easy to be sad,
Looking at a fast car,
Or those with cash they can afford to lose,
Or your half-full change jar,

Then you comfort yourself with those who're worse,
Who're sleeping on the streets,
Or growing up amid violence and fear,
'Round the corner, not just the Middle East,

So you wonder if the point's to be glad,
That you are not worse off,
Or should you be indignant others thrive,
You below, they aloft?

Or live right now?
Acknowledge lives differ.
Somehow I feel we'd focus on real truth,
If we lived in a more equal structure.

Waking Up

D'you remember your dreams?
No, Not talking 'bout those ones,
The ones that seem so real when you're in them,
Such hard recollections,

When just everything seems possible,
Magical, unreal,
Even flying is within your powers,
When not even pain is something you feel,

They're still there in the jungles of your mind,
Where you've hidden them deep,
Protecting them from your disb'lieving mind,
Yet still wanting to keep,

Because they're real,
Realer than you can know,
Until one day you can make them come true,
Will they then still actu'lly be dreams? No.

Hungry

Nothing's e'er what you want,
That'd be a perfect world,
You know, where what you imagine comes true,
As if the earth's your pearl,

Which it is, right? That is what they told you,
'Fore you were all grown up,
Then all you could do was say the same thing,
When approached by enthusiastic pups,

Not that you have no control o'er your life,
There're lots of examples,
Of those who've broken the mold given them,
You may be a sample,

But there are few,
That's what structure demands,
The universe cannot be different,
And few feel they have been dealt a fair hand.

"So Good To See You"

"What have you been doing?"
"Where have you been, lately?"
"I'm very interested in your goals"
"Where will your tales take me?"

"If you knew truly where I've actu'lly been,
"I'm not sure what you'd do,
"There are things that should ne'er be related,
"For it would misrepresent me and you,"

"If it can be thought, then it is human,
"Isn't that what you said?"
"There should be no fear of what's in your mind,
"If that's the path you've laid."

"War is what's hid,"
"Isn't peace what you want?"
"P'haps it's enough to know there's the unseen,
"It is because you pried that we have fought."

Do You Believe?

I asked mom for a sign,
By the way, she is dead,
To tell me that I had done the right thing,
Despite what had been said,

Lilliana was her name when alive,
A short few months ago,
More spirit than flesh, if anyone is,
E'en dad believes she may be a ghost,

A little later I went to buy shoes,
It wasn't my plan, y'see,
But circumstances led me to Winner's,
For I had soaking feet,

The shoes I found,
Had no price sticker, yet,
A half hour after I  asked for that sign,
The cashier called, "Lilliana, price check".

Tag Me

I wish I could tag you,
So there would be no doubt,
That should anyone find you in their search,
They'll feel they found you out,

Like you were what they were e'er looking for,
As proof that they exist,
There's nothing like finding someone agrees,
To kill that feeling there's something you've missed,

To give hope that there's a community,
To which you do belong,
Not large, in this global village it's just,
About a million strong,

That's one good thing,
With o'erpopulation,
With the 'I' being the only real thing,
There's no shortage of self-confirmation.

Oh, My Heart

She fainted from sadness,
Just like her mother did,
Leading up to the moment she passed away,
That 's what her auntie said,

Her grandfather never wrote back to her,
At least, that's what she thought,
Until she found her letters in the drawer,
What a cruel lesson that girl was taught.

She had only just learned to be glad,
Living in Germany,
With her aunt and her best friend, Kiara,
Oh, poor tragic Heidi!

Your heart's so good,
Now grandfather's moving,
Never having received a word from you,
He thought not waiting for you behooving.

Aches

People come and they go,
Isn't that how life is?
Death's just a form of not being around,
One more of those vices,

Like needing to be where the action is,
Because it's in your bones,
Like a cancer, you can't get rid of it,
It lives just like anything else that's known,

Like your long-lost friends in other countries,
Existing. not with you,
If you spent your life trying to find them,
You have stopped living, too,

Wait is that true?
My mind's hugged by the flu,
Which is a living being in itself,
Attempting to communicate with you.

Wandering

Making a decision,
Is a very good thing,
It shows the world you are your own person,
Despite everything.

Like the fact that it was prepared for you,
So you don't have to ask,
You could get away with just coasting through,
Completing all the pre-established tasks,

That's certainly a plain where you could live,
No one would fault you that,
You would be living in great company,
The major'ty, in fact,

And you'd be loved,
There's nothing wrong with that,
Whether by the system or your instinct,
We all want to have been significant.

The Mom Project

Mom said she wanted peace,
For herself and the earth,
For all to forgive themselves and others,
To know purpose from birth,

That is the question that always returned,
"What am I meant to do?"
She wrote constantly about that, and yet,
She also questioned her writing's purview,

Didn't know she expressed all of our thoughts,
In ways that would touch hearts,
Show one how to be honest with oneself,
'Fore this world she departs,

She even wrote,
Dreamed she was a writer,
If I could just share her thoughts with the world,
Peace may yet shine through a little brighter.

Score

If you have emotions,
That you cannot hold back,
In the throes of a struggle you are in,
Battling among flack,

Called upon to step up to the challenge,
While holding back the tears,
Eyes watching for the tipping point of pain,
Aware it could all collapse with your fears,

How can you pull it out victorious,
Despite your body's wont,
Turning the debilitation to strength,
Overcoming the haunt?

Just carry on,
That is all you can do,
Who you're is what you are for a reason,
No one in the world can do it like you.

Tech Script

I'm using a stylus,
It has been a long time,
Not since I used to have a Palm Pilot,
In nineteen-ninety nine,

You had to learn something called "Graffiti",
A different way to write,
It worked well, but guess it didn't catch on,
Now I'm not quite getting my cursive right,

But Windows can still read my chicken scratch,
Better than I can make,
J guesstechnology must mold to us, [sic]
Can you guess my mistake?

I've gotten old,
Least in computer years,
And let's be honest, they'll just get quicker,
If I stop writing, does anyone hear?

Heidi

Heidi's all alone, now,
Well, she's with the ogre,
Nothing seems to bring her down in this world,
His anger can't dog her,

She hopes and wishes, eyes e'er on morrow,
Everything will be fine,
With no particular expectations,
Or awareness of the passing of time,

'Fore you know it, she's chasing butterflies,
Animals are her friends,
The frustration of those around her wane,
For joy's always the end,

That's how we're made,
Happiness is our goal,
That is when time and space just disappear,
And should be our guide when seeking our role.

The Dream

People work very hard,
All around this planet,
All of them receive different rewards,
Most of them can't stand it,

For our dreams oft surpass reality,
'Cause it is based on luck,
Which also is defined as randomness,
It really, truly doesn't give a fuck,

Then, as Jim Carey says, we play it safe,
Working at a sure thing,
But, again, chance is the rule on this earth,
What's guaranteed? Nothing.

Well, there is you,
For as long as you live,
You will be there through the good and the bad,
For that, what reality wouldn't give. 

Communication

That communication,
Travelling through the air,
Has been translated at least seven times,
'Fore it's received out there.

First you have to have an experience,
That you give meaning to,
Transpose it to a describable form,
Then to words understood by more than you,

These words typed, then become zeros and ones,
Technologie's language,
Changed back to words for the recip'ent's eyes,
Who create a package,

In their own words,
Now meaningful to them,
An experience wholly personal.
So, what are the chances of connection?

Carson for Trump

Trump said child molester,
When speaking of Carson,
That his path'logical temper's as bad,
The treatment as far-flung.

Carson drops out and now endorses Trump,
Now you ask, "can that be?",
According to that black neurosurgeon,
There's a different Donald you do not see,

Who cares very deeply for Amer'ca,
Intelligent, to boot,
Politics calls for the gong show debates,
How can this, you refute?

You'll never know,
Unless you vote him in,
Though, you'll still ne'er see that admir'ble side,
To be effective, he'll keep it hidden.

Do It Yourself

Sometimes you just have to,
Do a thing on your own,
Assuming you believe in it enough,
Worked 'til you had sore bones,

Lost yourself in it 'cause you loved it so,
For you know what love does,
It taps you into universal truth,
Reminding everyone what they once was,

No one person can see it but by chance,
Then once it's put out there,
Like dominoes, that truth's revealed to all,
A thought you never dare,

For then you'd die,
Becoming someone new,
Well, become what you once were then forgot,
When there was nothing real you could not do.

Hello Again

I know it's been a while,
It will be a while, still,
Things need to be gone over two more times,
With lots of stuff infilled,

 Besides, if there're things that you don't do oft,
Try to do it again,
It's like starting over, which ain't that bad,
Kind of like living re-evolution,

Also informed by what you were doing,
That you take to the end,
Something different, but you know what they say,
Everything's connected,

Kind of like life,
Well, exactly act'lly,
Thank god it's so many, so many years,
Like lifetimes to try make it perfectly.

Okay?

Why do we divide time?
I don't mean into hours,
But partitioned into categories,
Handing it such power.

If one is asked to work during free time,
Well, it's right to complain,
Or relieve oneself sexu'lly at work,
Not good examples, but still, just sayin',

Let's say you want to sleep while all's awake,
You're called, like, a 'night owl',
Or, it's a half hour after your train's left,
The conductor cries foul,

What I'm saying,
If not already clear,
Is the times chosen to do things by all,
Are a big pain in my posterior.

Your Last Seven

Once upon a chairlift,
The question had been asked,
What can one get done in seven minutes,
If someone was so tasked?

One could run, I think, one point three-six clicks,
If my memory's right,
Too, but for an added bit, play 'Hey Jude',
A duration both eternal and tight,

A set span that's fleeting, but what if changed,
To last seven on earth?
It would seem like an impossible ask,
Pregnant with Heimdall's girth,

What would you do?
Reach out or reach within?
My mom let go of truly ev'rything,
So not to miss death's true envelopment.

Ode to a Grapefruit

I just ate a grapefruit,
Them's bitter little guys!
Actually, quite bigger than an orange,
And healthier than fries,

And than oranges, if you go by myths.
Yes, I could google it,
But eating one makes me feel so healthy,
I'd rather not know and bamboozle it,

For health is all in the mind, isn't it?
Laughter's the medicine,
If I think grapefruit will cure all my ills,
Don't kill the illusion,

For you'd kill me,
You don't want that, do you?
Wait, don't answer in case your mind's stronger.
Why's my skin turning this deathly pale hue?

Tension

There's a pain in my back,
Kind of close to the neck,
Like tiny bones have simply been misplaced,
An ossiclar car wreck,

Somehow the muscles will sort it all out,
It's their fault anyway,
They tensed up as if they could change my world,
When their relaxation would make me gay,

Who do they think they are acting like that?
Don't need them to tell me,
When life's circumstances are causing stress,
They're adding to it, geeze.

Or me to them,
I'm sure they're just the same,
Thinking, "will he just get it together,
"Do us a favor and relax his brain?"

Road to Success

Pliers in my pocket,
Lunch bag is in my hand,
Steal toes aren't warm, but they are required,
Or there is reprimand,

There's still much to learn, about what I do,
Both by me and the world,
Twenty years hence, things will be discovered,
About the toxicity I've unfurled,

But we can only go by best methods,
Based on demand and dough,
If both of those are high, we can afford,
To care 'bout what we sow,

So we look good,
And not get boycotted,
Oh, to grow so large that that's a concern,
All I want I'd have already bought it.

The Inconceivable Experience of the Great War

Deep down in the trenches,
Lives, every one of them,
On hold, but unable to shut their minds,
To their homeward visions.

The stench of death infused in the wet mud,
Wet with blood, not water,
Bonds stronger than any at work or school,
Forged quickly and speedily made fodder,

Bodies returned to the earth unfinished,
A whole generation,
Either gone or forever affected,
Beyond their prediction,

So beyond yours,
This life is too ingrained,
Until asked to defend it with our lives,
So our children don't think we lived in vain.

Bobble

I am a bobble head,
Skull, ill-proportionate,
Stuck in the same position all the time,
We're all in the same lot,

Only moving when we're nudged to do so,
Then only look around,
Give a nod back to the inspecting eyes,
Placated by the little movement they found.

They have to give our hefty heads a shake,
Or we're just left to think,
'Bout how most of the time we're up on shelves,
Contemplating the brink,

We all don't fall,
But those that do tip o'er,
Their heads will pop off little cheap spring,
Revealing what we all are at the core.

A New Discovery

So LIGO found the waves,
Those thought of by Einstein,
Proving, what we all know, there's more to see,
Than our own petty crimes,

We are observers of phenomena,
We're creating some, too,
Still searching for the nature of our world,
As if there's something categoric'lly true,

We split a laser and sent it to space,
When the two streams came back,
'Cause one was late, time/space must have been bent,
So now we've a new fact,

Like the Earth's round,
Do you know what this means?
One day we may trek through ripples in space,
Still no closer to what we've really seen.

Your Alone Self

It's no fun being watched,
If it's of your true self,
Moments alone, heart sitting on your sleeve,
Imperfections of health,

The delicate teetering of one's mind,
Stares back in the mirror,
Peace only is in this safe privacy,
'Fore walls need return in public horror,

A clamp on the fulcrum, stealing your heart,
To face judging faces,
Ones not meant to be peering through windows,
At intimate spaces,

When you're yourself,
Is that one pockmark new?
A blip in the scheme of the universe,
Pray no one knows it's anything to you.

Little Bird

The authentication,
Of the things before me,
Placed in this life, living no subterfuge,
As to what they should be,

Not because they managed to find their bliss,
Carved out amidst chaos,
The sparrow does not smile, draping sour thoughts,
Nor does it feign strength in face of great loss,

It does as every sparrow has done,
In the same circumstance,
A luxury of camaraderie,
Of communal conscience,

Or so we guess,
No one can really know,
If behind its seeming benevolence,
That little bird's a victim of sorrow.

Another Novel Idea

Another end's in sight,
The outcome ready-known,
Though, the first version is never the best,
It's really just the bones,

But what body can exist without form?
Just as form's not enough,
You need the jungle of smells and colour,
That makes up the truly int'resting stuff,

That hints of the structure beneath the flesh,
A doctor feeling 'round,
Sniffing pores 'mongst hairs that have seen it all,
Yet nothing concrete found,

Just emotions,
Invis'ble skin on skin,
Grown from interaction between bodies,
That's where the novel idea begins.

Server Guilt

What? Am I still working?
What do you mean by that,
As I sit with my food that you served me,
Just a few minutes back?

Is it because it's you that is working,
As I sit and relax,
That you don't ask if I'm still enjoying,
Instead of whether I'm breaking my back?

Then when I'm done you ask if I need change,
'Stead that you'll bring it back,
To give me the joy of saying keep it,
'Stead of being guilt-racked,

Wow, that was work,
I've now indigestion,
If you'd only thought of someone but you,
And simply asked me a diff'rent question.

Falling

September is the month,
What say we run away?
On the crisp wind to a Fall-time retreat,
Our eyes closed, come what may,

Under cover, of course, of the bare trees,
Your brown dress will blend in,
Hide you from those who want you back at home,
Me safe in Mediterranean skin.

Let them scrunch their eyes in disapprovement,
Shaking fingers at us,
Afraid that the world will choose to follow,
The brash adventurous.

Not the first time,
Revolution's followed,
In the wake of the few who dared escape,
Walking lightly under a heavy load.

Running Things

So much is e'er written,

So much is always read,

Makes you wonder how there is any time,

For any action left,

Though I suppose there are lots of people,

Who do not read at all,

Who have plenty of time to orchestrate,

The greatest way for the world to evolve. 

Which is great, bring it on, less work for me,

I'm sure it will be fine,

What do they say? 'Armchair philosophers',

Prescribing all the time,

Not having done,

Just thinking how't should be,

As long as the doers follow their guide,

Shit, I forgot that they don't even read. 

Letting Go

All things you must let go,
Like mom said, 'fore she died,
A memory's already diff'rent than,
That which you did deride,

If you hold on to your disappointments,
Like the moment's still real,
There'll be less and less time for the present,
And so those things that will help how you feel,

There's no exception to this nat'ral law,
Lies, violence or shame,
We are all born new every moment,
Potential to our name,

So, to our lives,
Like there's a second chance,
Informed by moments actually good,
Just like the steps to your favorite dance.

Lay It All Out

There's something to be said,
For laying it all out, emotions, memories, pain and despair,
Your weakness and doubt,

Uncertainty at e'en the words you use,
Though sure that they are right,
To instill the feelings inside of you,
As you ponder your existence at night,

The things that you've done and were done to you,
'Spite all you wish to be,
Ev'ryone would be forced to lay it out,
If it were up to me,

Then we'd be free,
Not doing stupid things,
Just to hide that fact that we're all human,
All with the same vulnerabilities

Word on the Wind

The wind will always howl,
Except for when it soughs,
Or whispers as you lie in your hammock,
Looking up at tree boughs,

It whistles when it catches something right,
Like it wants you to know,
It once was air not doing anything,
But always around to witness your woe,

Carrying your words across empty space,
As you try to connect,
Vibrating ear drums, then filling their lungs,
While you're filled with expect.

What will you hear,
When the air travels back?
Will your mind howl, whistle, whisper or sough,
Or simply  wish you'd ne'er taken that tack?

Oh Sun

The sun is bright and hard,
Glass sterilizing it,
Belying the chilling cold just outside,
Piercing homeless garments,

Its overbearingness causing headaches,
Like micro-managers,
Or parents unsatisfied with their lives,
Pushing their offspring to become doctors,

But only resulting in slain passions,
Unrealized potential,
We do not need so much light upon us,
The heat's detrimental,

It's distracting,
You have to turn your head,
Missing the half of the world that might lead,
To the place you were meant have excelled.

Breakfast Blues

The oatmeal in my gut,
Mixed with nuts and sugar,
Rained down upon with swallows of coffee,
Repairing my liver,

Fiber easing the passing of feces,
Though there's the stomach pain,
Hunger abated for such a short time,
Then my stomach will need more food again,


Masticated and mixed with saliva,
Peristaltic journey,
Plunged into acid and dissipated,
Somehow nourishing me,

Then out the back,
What the fuck's this about?
Like you change from birth to your final breath,
So we're worlds for other lives' ins and outs.

The Real Work

Just a thousand a day,
You look at it that way,
Eighty days, you will be able to say,
You have a first draft, nay,

You will have a first pass at an attempt,
One might e'en say a dent,
Kernel of an idea, p'haps nugget,
With a smidgen of what you really meant,

Then you will go back and tear it apart,
Few things left in your cart,
But precious, mined from the depths of your heart,
Representing your art,

Your own real truth,
Both genius and uncouth,
That is when the real work begins, forsooth,
When you show the path to grown-up from youth.

I Deserve More!

My computer don't work,

What I'm supposed to do?

Write on my phone until my thumbs fall off?

Could I dictate to you?

I want to throw this fucking thing away,

Never mind child miners,

Forget the odourless heap of tech trash,

That seeps poison onto the earth at birth,

So what if its cost could feed a family,

In some places for years,

We should focus on raising them up where,

They've got money for beer,

Not roll your eyes,

When I complain out loud,

You try enjoying your time here on earth,

Denied what you know's always left you wowed. 

Oh, Chocolate-Covered Almond

Poor chocolate-covered nut,
Encased in plastic tube,
Displaced from your home, now a world away,
Where you grew your first pube,

But you never stopped living, 'cause you can't,
No one can 'til they die,
But you have been processed, shipped, shelved and tagged,
Now you lay waiting until death comes by,

Or perhaps I will decide to save you,
You cost little money,
I'll take you home to a terrarium,
White flowers and long leaves,

P'haps you'll undress,
Dark dress melt in the sun,
Soil 'neath, that you may return to the earth,
Would that be a better termination?

Made It To The End

It is not trite to say,
Anything can happen,
The only proof that I'll not die right now,
Is that this poem ends,

With all of the rules and format in place,
Four, four, ten, etcet'ra,
Some ramdom creation with naught to help,
With shelter or sust'nence or my love for ya,

Just a task to do, to feel life has worth,
In this first world country,
Proving that e'en a white male with a house,
Has reason to feel beat,

By life's real'ty,
That ev'ryone's ideal,
Is ultimately the same in and out,
And impossible to make in truth real.

Imagine the Freedom

Imagine the freedom,
Being able to love,
Enjoying all the cuddles and softness,
Raising your heart above,

To heights beyond what this world can offer,
Outside of exper'ence,
If but for the realities that call,
For physical excrement assistance,

What if you ne'er had to scoop it again,
The smell and spill and time,
Erased, so the love can now just blossom,
Like a stretching lupine.

Just simple love,
Imagine the freedom,
It rolls off your tongue when you think 'bout it,
If it was for sale, everyone'd buy one.

The Perfect Phrase

What is the perfect phrase?
The one that says it all,
That once translated, speaks to everyone,
Uniting big and small,

Left and right,that's liberal and rigid,
Folks of all religion,
Those with greed in their hearts and the giving,
Regardless of race, gender or nation,

Whether the perfect nuclear family,
Or one not status quo,
Intellect coming out of the yin yang,
Or your knife's not so honed,

Naught would matter,
We'd instantly get it,
What was once difference would be difference,
To be celebrated, not corrected.

Falling

Don't know how long it was,
Darkness enveloped me,
No caresses but that of cold, stale wind,
Devoid of gravity,

A strange solution sucked in through a straw,
How long could that maintain?
My weakness when I fell into that jar,
Made me think I would not long be sustained,

Then to be denied a view of the world,
I'd paid so much to see,
Until it was sure my journey was lost,
Should anyone ask me,

Like I was not,
Between there and my here,
A whole slice of my life paid for the chance,
To live life free from oppression and fear.

A Liberal Nudge

The honeymoon's over,
The excitement's waning,
There is a short period of time now,
'Fore the flames need fanning,

Not that intentions weren't sincere,
But it is how things go,
All your good plans become a house of cards,
If you do not deliver them, Trudeau,

Not saying any of it is easy,
That's how you captured hearts,
But, bigger the promise, the more you hurt,
When they are all missed darts,

Good luck to you,
You may pull it out, yet,
If the world cooperates with your plans,
And you figure how to minimize debt.

R.I.P. David Bowie

There's nothing I can add,
To what he's done himself,
To somehow enhance what he was, alive,
All into which he delved,

Don't matter I've loved him since I was ten,
Changes, my sister bought,
With a pumpkin-carving contest award,
That I won, but she act'lly carved a lot,

Since then, I sang Bowie in the shower,
Bought his vinyl like mad,
I've talked about his genius to my kids,
From Duke to insane lad.

But now he's gone,
Suddenly, no warning,
Though he knew for months that he was dying,
R.I.P. sir, you deserve our mourning.

Neonomads

There are people out there,
Who live nomadic lives,
From country to country, from name to name,
What a way to survive,

No responsibility to oneself,
But to who they're being,
Ready to change when the law finds them out,
So what is it that they're protecting?

Certainly not their name or origin,
Cause of so many wars,
But their right to live outside of bound'ries,
War-starters, too, of course.

'But no!' you say,
They are out to disrupt,
To destabilize the countries they're in.
Which begs who was the first to be corrupt?

Back to Nature

Just look at that wood grain,
Dark lines of age throughout,
A snapshot of death, stained for good measure,
To eliminate doubt,

That it is anything but authentic,
No plastic was used here,
Thank god, for nothing's good 'bout synthetic,
Yet, death for a picture frame deserves tears,

Then, maybe a rethink of aesthetics,
It's not immune to good,
Beauty should demand to be natural,
Before it's understood,

Like these words, here,
Typed on a computer,
Made from plastic and blood-mined minerals,
A mind's message told through a vile detour.

What You Hear

If I really listen,
The hum here's really loud,
If but for the distractions all around,
It would make me flipped out,

But there is the music in the background,
A talking barista,
Crinkles of packaging, placements of cups,
Hellos, good mornings, nice days and see yas,

The light reflecting off the merchandise,
The glow off of my screen,
The thoughts visiting me amongst all this,
They leave the hum unseen,

'Til I listen,
And hear it once again,
What else is waiting to be felt by me,
Amongst these firm sensory distractions?

F Death

Death's a real asshole,
Who does he think he is?
He never comes exactly when you'd think,
Vexatious quirkiness,

You e'er feel you should have done different,
But only have one chance,
Before he snatches away those you love,
With only their memories to enhance,

Like the times you could have told them something,
To make their life better,
You scream them now, hoping that they will hear,
But it will ne'er get there,

Or, you don't know,
Just like you can't see Death,
Just think 'bout all the time thinking of the passed,
That could be used on those who have not died, yet.

Warm Up

It's getting cold outside,
Too much for the body,
The chill would kill you if had no coat,
At least a hot toddy.

To warm you from the inside, heat your flesh,
Though you will need a lot,
Then, by the time you're done you'll be fucked up,
Not know where you are, more likely than not,

Wake up on the sidewalk, chilled to the bone,
If you're not actu'lly dead,
Then what do you do, drink more hot toddies?
P'haps try a coat instead.

That's what I do,
Now, I can afford it,
It's possible you have money for naught,
Get a flight to Miami and board it.

Your Spot

When you have a table,
That you consider yours,
E'en though it belongs to a company,
That sells coffee pours,

Many more than you will ever consume,
And if you did the math,
You sit and drink there five tenths of the time,
The stool graced by many other an ass.

Still, should you come at your regular time,
See someone sitting there,
The anger that wells up inside of you,
Sometimes cannot compare.

Why should that be?
The coffee shop will close,
You'll outlive that spot you appear to need,
What questions our possessiveness does pose.

Gone Girl

Wanna talk perspective?
That's all that this film does,
By way of a convoluted story,
And a length arduous,

That makes you think one thing from the onset,
Then something else again,
Without giving away munch of the plot,
You are thinking something else by the end,

As are all of the millions watching screens,
Following the same plot,
They too, thinking different from start to end,
Sic, not thinking a lot.

But then there's truth,
Still not clear at credits,
Not to give the movie more than its due,
Believe everything if you've read it?

Fifteen Dogs

Didn't want to read it,
Haven't finished it, yet,
The prospect of watching dogs learn to think,
Seemed like a book for vets,

And that their gift should be bestowed by gods,
My god, what year is this?
Next one of the dogs will dress like a bitch,
Then, funny, be mounted by one bewitched,

Or they'll all band together to save us,
From global climate change,
In the final scene, the world will unite,
Dogs released from their cage,

But it's not that,
At least not up to now,
It's like I have myself just learned to think,
Wond'ring why I haven't put myself down. 

The M Train

She has written so much,
In her poetic style,
Metaphors tripping into lucid dreams,
Added to endless files,

Scrawled in notebooks and on café napkins,
At her corner table,
Or searching graves of poets who've left us,
Completing missions they weren't able,

Leaving at their tombstone her epic's fruits,
Are they for her or them?
A Polaroid marks the moment for her,
So, they live longer, then.

Not a bad trade,
Passing the scribe's baton,
And one day, when Patti's with Fred again,
May there be another to pass it on.