creationism

Break and take and break
Again and again
To build what is naught and can be naught
but for the dream
I say why not.

Unbreakable

There is a plan I am sure

to uproot me 

disrupt me

and corrupt me

to be what I am meant to be

to serve a purpose

someone else's

and the funny thing is, they know

how difficult I can be to break

they saw it when I looked into the forest

and smiled.  

In the Spirit

for what it is worth,

i only broke one ornament 

while decorating the tree

and i thought i saw you there in the shards

and that seemed to fit the scene much better

then what else is left of you.

I swept the mess into a dustpan

and let the pieces fall into the garbage bin

on top of the numerous recites 

that im sure

absorbed your attention

long ago. 

The collector

Behind his eyes there is a void

I look but see nothing

something must be wrong.

a puzzle piece is missing 

and i can see his frustration 

he cant find it either

so he takes pieces from others

and leaves those that love him

less complete than when they found him.

he is a collector in some ways

of people instead of things

and he uses each 

but gives nothing in return 

except for obliviating pain

but I caught him,

and underneath these fluorescent bulbs 

I will lay out his crimes

and dissect him 

not because it gives me pleasure

and not because he has a piece missing

that I will find

but because I am a collector of sorts too

and he is mine. 

into a tear

I sink into the next layer
with you
beneath the grain
the extract of what is in everything
you me and our fermented sea
calling out the rocky cliffs
eroding into infinity

Whispers

Little things walking inside my ear
on their pin tip toes
soft as ink
climbing deep into my cerebellum
making me twitch.
the thought of what may
or may not be
still chills me to this day.

What he gave but never got-

I drew a smiley face on your wall.
you didn't call.
Ten pages in and I still cant explain it to myself,
your beauty.
So I walk alone,
and hang out by pay phones.
I hope some day you realize
I always could have been more than a friend.
But you never really saw me.

Each fall day

Out here dancing In the cold
I find refuge beneath the baren trees
In a bed of softened leaves.
I hear the whispers from the bark
That winter is on it's way
But today the sun is out
And underneath blue sky I will play.
I rise and retreat with the sun
And look back for one more glimpse
Of those soft fall hues
Before the harsh crisp air
Has time to chill my bones.
What I don't realize is
This one fall day
will never
Fall again.

But what did the painting say

On stage alone
Disgraced and fallen
I fend off the wild beasts
With a facade of bravery.
The puppet masters hand moves
But I refuse to see

wishE

Something spins helplessly upward to where silver swirls break on horizons beak. Then down.

Plunk

Sometimes rocks are tricky,
they can be too light,
or too heavy,
Then your trajectory is off,
and it plunks down.
Instead of
Skipping

Bumped

Brushing shoulders is a fake intimacy, love wants space.

How Rude

The what-why-whatever syndrome is here to stay.
Deal with it or go away.
You cannot change stubborn minds without killing them first.
Reality is harsh
its not seen on Mtv.
Radio stars are laughing with cancerous coffs
and the silent film actors invented 25 obscene gestures still used today.

status update

It is sickening how many hours of our lifes are wasted waiting for the intangable to become tangable. years  spent - eye's glued to the screen watching the grains of sand falling and churning. The hours upon hours we waste waiting for things to upload and download and buff. . .buff. . . buffering..... As if there is no world other than the one being decoded and decrypted infront of us. Like there is not really a blue sky, or trees, and grass outside. Like maybe the world has become so sci-fi advanced that there is no real world- just tweeted verbs and skype recorded fragments of humanity, of reality. . .. (hold on im updating my facebook)
online we always seem to be waiting for something. .. . like the DMV. (im waiting for my energy to refill on Mafia wars)there is just to much incurable waiting and downloading and updating and software. computers are wonderful inventions but it is not real life, posts and blogs and updates and tweets and chats, those are not real human interactions. We all need to get up from our computer a little more and feel whats real.

Back to oz

Sometimes dragonfly earrings don't sparkle as green as they should
like the emerald city got dragged back to Kansas
and OZ is a little high on poppies
cobain behind the curtain pulling strings and singing sad things
My scarecrow has one hell of a brain
my tin man a heart
and my lion a shit-ton of courage
sadly i lost Todo a while ago
but saw them live in concert.
Ironicly I guess I'm Dorothy
but I aint got no ruby slippers.

Functions of man

Breath.
Through the noes out the mouth.
Deep into our lungs oxygen disappears.
We can scream, shout, talk, whisper or
Just breath. It is essential.

Eat.
Cut, chew, chew, swallow
Macerate, eviscerate, consume.
We can hunt,harvest or hoard,
But it all goes to one place.
We are like Tasmanian devils,
And nothing can satisfy us for long.


Shit.
Down through the coils of the boa
In our bowels. Slipping through us as if
It really contributes to the world.
Better out then in. Sewage runs through our cities in veins
And arteries, to our oceans and rivers.
Pollution is natural.

Breath. Eat. Shit. Everyone is capable.
We are walking black holes. Leaving behind mostly nothing but debris.
All of it is for nothing if you can't find a purpose. If you do just those 3 things your are not doing enough.

Think. You can do it too.

Prophecy of change

The angel on the wind
Hugs me and my cup of coffee
Near the low Clif
On the high blue mountain.
Unfortunately, the White bull-
Once sturdy and brave
Now sits lazily
In the shade of an apple tree.
And he won't save me from this river.
Not Again.
I hear the giant swan approaching,
With his terrible yellow beak agape.
And I watch Chariots of fire
Roll west with the sun.
On a hill, hanging from a tree,
I see the father,
sacrificing himself again.
I can't be kept here,
I won't stay.
The old ones call me away,
And I whisper goodbye
Through a wind-chime.

Oversimplification

I make the mistake once a day
To see the world as shapes.
As circles and squares and lines.
Oh! the synergy and symmetry
The odd trapezoids and obtuse triangles.
The endless ends and rounds and flats.
Cylinders and their empty secrets.
 Everything everywhere sectionalized
Yet together in an odd mosaic.
The mistake is that shape isn't enough,
There is more to each things story.
Our lives cannot be defined by edges.
Purpose is a box with no corners.

a broken Thing

I am a trampoline
Folded in on itself
By heavy rain and time
In the early dawn hours
When the sun can't yet shine
Dew rolls off my silver lining
My metal skeleton that bends
Only at the wrong places
And brings shame to circles everywhere

There will be
No more jumping on me.

What it is like.

Train wrecks are like this
Wheels rusty and tired
Engine shouting coal furry
OverRun and OverWorked and over
Everyone knows it
When the Whistle is screaming
That we are going too fast
To make the turn
You can say things will be all right
But you know better
Train wrecks happen just like this. 

In line

In a disoriented flock
they move like a centipede
inching forward into a ban saw

losing one at a time.

like lemmings off a cliff
each impatiently waiting their turn
to jump...

It is not as ugly as I make it sound
it is sort of beautiful choreographed really
like swans mingling in a lake.

the Lonely beast

Two things
mingle and snap and then done.
then there is one
alone and alone and alone
but full and content with victory.

Dragons once lived such a way.

Then staring at the moon silently
that lone thing walks off into the night.

Hindenburg *Boom*

I cant promise that the truth will set you free
that it will drive pain away
and force the clouds less gray.
But I can guarantee
if you bottle things up
you will one day blow up
or implode, like me.
A balloon full of hot air.
man, you should be aware
the pain of seclusion,silence, and false conclusion.
Speaking, talking, expressing,
the keys to freedom.
Are in your possession-
just try to lose your obsession
with silence.

Today

In a world always unfolding
And molding itself
Collapsing and relapsing
Like clay
All I want to say Is
Don't let the day fade
Don't think your fate is made
Keep trucking and ducking
Diving and dodging
Fighting and lighting things up-
Living life up.
Because maybe
All you have is today.

My Last Pair of Shoes

I cannot help it-
It is me not you.
My love for you is Steadfast
But i'm afraid you have seen the last
Of me, and my big feet.
It could be said I outgrew you,
I was the only one who knew you.
And you carried me far-
With your rubbery soul.
Pavement and gravel have worn you down
And the road ahead is long.
Too long, for me to take you with me.
Really i'd rather walk barefoot on glass....
I guess your just too small for me now,
And the world is a big place,
Too big. . . Look, maybe..
                Maybe there is a way ill see you again.
In Some kind of place, a haven- for the things people
just plain don't need anymore. Like You.
I gotta go now, you stay here-
In my closet with the other unneeded things.

For You

Just making sure
that the sky doesnt fall on us
the mountain never falters

Tasting The difference

At my little cousins birthday
I observe the outlandish pastries.
Black cupcakes with vibrant frosting
Orange pink and purple.
And I may be the only sober person
To ever ask-
What does purple taste like ?
The anticipated bite reveals
The answer was simple
Surprising - white, nothing , normal.
Funny concept really-
All colors one and the Same
Completely Equal.

Lesson of Earl

The old panting dog Earl 
Pulls me down the park walk.
I know he Has a lesson to teach. 
He moves determined and slow.
I save a white flower from the dirt 
And tie it to a green tree.
Earl just walks on, never turning back.
On my path through life I have seen ruin, today Earl has taught Me
I can't resurrect everything, 
Because life is only a short walk in the park

running

like a slipstream motor bird
running on the wind
im the dream you chase

watching my parents drink

The party unsure of itself
runs from me.
As dusk hangs before dark
In a heavy hammock swaying drunkenly.
Like the others.
A rabbit dashes by -chased by nothing
And a traffic cone lies tipped
over In the grass .
Looking up I  see only one star
not even the north,But its enough.
I collect whats left of me
And go Back inside
Away from the bloody mosquitoes.

stupid Watch

Stupid watch
With your stupid hands ticking
Minute by minute hour by hour
Like a Nazi
You march steadily back and forth
Pacing my racing thoughts
Tick tick tick
You annoying prick
Vindictive and slow
Malicious mustache
and maniacal smile
Fuck you and your counting
I don't need you
never did.
Your just a controlling bitch
Telling me when what is
Any sundial can do that to.

Violet Raven

Slow violet raven
escape the broken life
suddenly staggers left
aching break echoing
nothings uncharted
beyond vibrant - like velvet
rising to the sky
serene
royal

Lost angel

Lost angel
closer to that splash
into a stolen chill
see the echoing star
shooting by
beyond design
and then at long last
unwind

Slow goodbye

I spun eternity
on a magic silver sink
While the breathtaking moon
engulfs our pretending
the missing sun sleeps
and she's lost to the dark
the blind bitter softness
until the dawn brings
a slow withering goodbye

No means more than no

Like a million buffalo water-falling off a cliff
it hits you
the word no
when repeated becomes a tribal chant
rejection
is a sun dance gone wrong
the lone bear on the mountain
doesn't want to be that way.

fear of happieness

I am the monster who crushes what is bright
burning happiness with delight
in my slumber snores and snares
even nightmares are bewares
of those dark and dancing steeds
who from my mind doth havok wreak
upon this land safe harbor we seek
with miles to go before i wake
and miles before my happiness can take
hold beneath the sun
and blossom like a flower on the run
but i fear
that in my sleep the steeds will rear once more
and trample all beauty to the floor

blue jello sky

I want to fall into the sky blue
Lay there a lover of life true
and
Count the trees that sway
as happy green shadows
cast on the bay
and
ill be an owl at night
in their branches
cuddled with moonlight
watching the waves
wave to me
from the sky
all ill see is a big pool of blue rasberry jello
jiggling and wiggling
and im sure ill want to fall into there too.

to Jimi

Your stone is to bleak to hold your shine.
at least your message is alive and engraved.
Like a butterfly your life was fleeting
but full of color, fragile and entrancing.
I do not have the lips to stain a kiss
or crayon a faded flower.
memories are harsh to the old and dying
but a beautiful dream to the young and thriving.
I wish i could resurrect your grace
to bring a new era of peace and love upon this place.
But i'm just one man,
barely anything really.
I imagine you like a caterpillar in its caccoon
and one day hope to see you burst out new.
and fly on
voodoo child
fly on.

Burning man

I have a fire in my head
burning away each night. instead
of sleeping i dive dungeons deep
into thought. Like a demon creep
playing in the shadow. like-undead
I sleep from morning till high noon.
Because I am just another moon,
pulling tides, stupid reincarnation-
My soul's eternal incineration.

Lucky charms

Damn that leprechaun
Hording his lucky charms
AS IF only HE deserves them
Little green garbed Goblin.
A whole Bowl - Basically a Pot
Gluttony serves him well
and his pot-belly grows fatter.
His sin that leads others to sin
Gluttony leads to coveting
and of course coveting lends to stealing
Stealing onto killing.
Yes I killed that damn leprechaun
and now, his Lucky charms
his Fat Pot of gold
his Rainbow monopoly is all Mine !

In my dorm room

I ate powdered tang with a plastic fork 
sweet sour sand sticking to my saliva
I drank a gallon of arizona iced tea 
straight from the jug
and it only took 2 days to finish
I got a whole box of apple jax 
just to eat it dry out of a ziplock
like the one that holds my sharpies
and the stories they would tell.
I got crazy things all around me
im far away from home
but im not too scared
I have my black flip-flops
I get 3 heel clicks and im home.
but if that fails ill rub the lamp 
that sits darkly in the corner,
and ask for some wishes.

Night Driving

Swaddled in darkness we question the roads length
underneath the t-shadows of telephone-poles
We burn field after field 
with splashes from our headlights
the only light in the endless night

In total three raccoons crossed our path

and one unknown, a cat or maybe a fox

Dashing across the road like rolling lightning

Making us swerve. We saw No possums

unlike two weeks ago

When springs first warmth lured life out

To be ambushed in the night by rain

Before us

Fog huddles in dense dreams

and we burst through like a bullet

running over nothing

I think I saw

a dead possum clinging to the roadside

but you can never tell for sure

it may have been pretending

Wheels rub asphalt the right way

making the road purr

In the dead of night we listen
as mock sirens sing through the speakers
and we attempt in vain to hoist the tunes 
to altitudes too high for our voices
And I forget the words, but that's fine
they don't belong to me anyway
Like time -- running through my fingers
out the window, gone.

Zombie Hallmark card

Dead running,

a nightmare on two feet

just another horror movie cliché.

You and me together,

cold bodies sweating

under a red swollen sun.

Hungry and hunting.

Brain starved fools

in our tattered and torn clothes

and rigor mortis frozen smiles.

I never liked you for just your looks.

And im sure you would have been raptured

if it were not for me.

Through beautifully decayed lips you mumble

                                That’s in the past

All memories are.

Decayed cities glow with fire,

flames flirt with the sky,

and we drift aimless as ash.

Gazing out at the burning horizon,

basking in the glow of a cleansed planet

we kiss.

You rasp dantilly,

                                till death do us part

No, it appears not even at death,

and we cackle at the irony eternity holds.

It is not the happily ever after

we once dreamed of,

but it will have to do.

I’ll spend the perfect apocalypse

Right here with you.

Chasing rainbows

I leave home instinctually
Out the door like a bullet
Hitting the road hard
As if I’ll turn gravel into sand

I move quickly
Toward the horizon
Because I must find it's end
And sleep there
On cold earth

No fire for me
That's  Prometheus’s treasure
And I am no thief.

In the morning I may wake
And find myself called home
By hunger warmth and love

If not
I will keep running towards that spot
Where heaven touches
Because I might never get there otherwise

walking at night

Path lamps flicker their dark glow 
making grounded pine cones dance 
because that is the way 
Dark pressing on light
light imposing on dark
my feet would be lost
without  fallen stars

Vacuum Meditation

Vacuum breathing

Through the nose out the mouth

Darkness beneath eyelids

Ohm . . .

Like my soul is in the sound

Ohm . . .

Deeper into nothingness

Backwards through my life

Ohm . . .

I am three again

Back in mothers arms

Safe and small

Silently staring at the stars

Stuck to the ceiling

Filling my eyes with wonder

I can’t hold on forever

Ohm . . . Ohm . . . Ohm . . .

And I am back

Vacuuming the dust

From my empty room

No nirvana here

No stars on the ceiling

breaking bridges

Im trying to break this barrier
that is a bubble around me
and build a bridge between us

But what happens when you leave?
and the fault lines between us grow wider
 and our bridge is stretched across the gap

old rope torn down to straind tendrils
better to burn it and let you go
maybe drift south to someplace warmer

Heart bleeps

What if you lived your life with a certain amount of heart beats?
A determined number that would be decided at birth,
Dawn till dusk it would tick down one by one
your heart choosing for itself a pattern
a rhythm by which to cast its sounds.
Reverberation till coagulation
blood will be blood
and life lived still.
go slow or
go fast
to the
beat
bea
be
b
b
b
b

Glass

Light dashing on the edge of its rim,
standing like a frozen waterfall
sober as a desert.
Searching motionlessly for fulfillment,
and lips to drain.

Branded melted molded
Reduced reused recycled

We drink out of liquid
if you didnt know.
This is why old glass panes are thicker at the bottom.

Free refills

Slurping like a terrible water demon the boy consumed his beverage.
The last dying moments of a soda fountain refreshment
Shrill and unforgiving.
Then,
crunching like a wild animals do on leftover bone,
gnaws his popcorn down to the hard unpopped kernals,
which are then chewed on relentlessly.
meanwhile,
everyone else in the theater are annoyed by his racket,
for a good show can be ruined by the slightest interruption.
with intruding cacophony at a pristine moment - all is for nothing.
unexpectedly,
the boy rises to a height only shadows can achieve,
the empty troffs in hand,
and leaves the scene of his offense.
with this,
some viewers rejoice,
think their torment is over,
the wiser in the audience however know about free refills.

Sweet like honey

The plastic bear-

cute, innocent, and full
of the sweet nectar
that belongs only to bees
naturally.
The bear too, with grace
reaps the golden prize –
stolen from a honeycomb
that still busily buzzes ,
a swarm of yellow zealots
Incapable of piercing the titans hide.
They fight,
unlike their distant kidnapped colonies-
who hum and sleep sweetly.
After long hours of work,
flower to flower- in vain,
they pass out
slip into comatose-
beneath a smoky fog.
To leave their dreams too soon,
those dreams only bees dream,
and wake- find their golden horde stolen,
without contest.
Robbed by a new kind of honey crazed titan,
sterile and clawless.
Man mocks the bear with molds,
holding the treasure of the bees.
But they are so like the bees,
with their buzzing and their busyness,
In larger honeyless hives,
doomed to be harvested just the same.
They work day in day out in vain,
wait to pass out under ether
and mean something.
Want to be sweet,
like the honey of bees.

I want to exhale all the sadness out of my life,

the blackness that has coiled inside me like a cantankerous snake.

I want to cast off my shackles and disembowel my baggage

heave the devilish weight that laughs on my shoulders off.

I want the only tears in the rest of my life to be of joy,

and to fall as carelessly as the rain.

I want to start fresh - with a big change,

give myself another chance - edit.

I want it all to be as easy as taking a deep breath

and exhaling.

A fiddle by a fire

They say Nero played his fiddle as Rome burned to the ground,
I feel like him now- pen in hand:
spilling inmortal black blood into pools of infinity,
trying to pull some kind of beauty from the gloom.
No matter what I do the city will still be falling.
The city- my family- Dearest friends.
Its not my fault: how could I forsee this?
I did not cause it- nor am I a part- more a bystander
Just watching, as flames leap form building to building,
as perfect statues spoil.
They say Nero also used a fine emerald to see- for he was near sighted.
I wonder if the world looks brighter in green..
Maybe if I looked through an emerald too I could see a way to fix things,
undo shatter- unburn ash- mend the wounds that seem so deep.
yet maybe with knowing would come the wisdom to let things burn that should burn,
as fate chooses,
like what Nero chose not to do.
He who sat playing his fiddle as Rome was burned.

Perfect day

I want beauty
true
unfaltering
pure
a blue sky
fresh cut green grass
a sun that lands warm soft kisses on the skin
and you there with me
playing under the sun.

just a conspiracy - the Machine

So some may call it a conspiracy,
the thinking of a psycho,
hair-brain, nut-job, realist.
The fact is it is real-
even if only by metaphor:
The Machine.
The powerful robot-men,
with no emotions or real worries.
People, not human,
not anymore.
Something else,
different then before,
then their ancestors.
Instead of elephant heads or fine paintings-
posted up on their mantles-
they want something more intangable and sacred:
our minds and our souls.
They dont steal them from us,
they dont harvest our ideas,
or kidnap us in our sleep,
they dont even kill us anymore.
Not like the old days,
not like their fathers,
who handled things more direct.
They get us to do it for them. . .
Brainwashing.
Through the television sets and radio waves,
microwaves and internet.
penatrating layers of sound that echo in our ear's
and in our brains...
Perfect plot-
what a scam!
We all sell out.
We give them our souls and minds.
We kidnap ourselves,
in radio filled perfectly chizzled tin can cars.
We sell our ideas and give them our money-
for empty products meant to slow us,
distract us, process us.
Worst of all we kill ourselves,
with food
with cars
with sports
with disease
with poverty
with our hands.
We are their tools,
murder weapons.
We are the machine gears churning and chewing.
Puppets on strings,
Trying to live in our dreams.
When the ruth is spoken from the free minded we dont bother to listen,
because conspiracy theories our stupid,
aliens dont exist,
Goverments don't hide the truth of things from their people.
Evil does not exist.
There is no god- only man. . .
I beg you to consider the Machine.
the monster we all feed.
With our waste,
money,
land.
It will devour and destroy
Devour and  destroy
Devour and destroy.
polluted skies,
sea's
earth.
the end of what is good and clean and pure.
Imagine a machine that is like a wild dog,
a dog with no sense of fulness,
an insatiable beast.
And this machine like a dog will eat,
and eat,
and eat,
until it implodes.
We can be free,
its a simple choice.

He is only on the down

He was down on his luck,
fallen
on hard times.
some would say he was a bi-product,
an un-recyclable waste of manifest destiny.
maybe he actually faught in Vietnam,
like his sign says.
maybe he just needs a few dollars for gas,
to find his way home,
like his other sign says.
He is a person too..
"we are all human", he says.
The only difference between us-
he is on the downs
we is on the ups.
We could help him up.
We can save him,
"just a few dollars"
because he is not a drug addict,
he is not an alchoholic.
He is just another Human being,
like me
like you
like tomorrow and yesterday.
"Bad things happen to good people" he says.
And aint that the truth?

The good weather never stays

Bursts of sun forshadow a milky gray
like Fireworks before a snowstorm,
A rare few stop to watch the sparks dissappear to ash.

Anxious umbrellas sheathed
and hoods dry,
waiting and waiting
for the sky to cry.

Because the good weather never stays.
Or at least is never expected it to.
Maybe thats why it travels light
and stays just moments.

A pledge

This is a pledge
To realy smile
Like there is a joke stuck in my mouth
And the corners are stretching to contain my laughter.
Eyes like saphires I will forget to light up rooms while just searching for the souls within them.
And when my balloon of laughter finally pops , I will let it echo from room to room .
The world is a stage,
And men play many parts.
I choose to be the comedian-
Because the world needs laughter.
The world needs love .

Life is like a Pomelo

Life- general or universal condition of human existence.
Pomelo- very large, yellow or orange citrus fruit of a tree, Citrus maxima, of southeastern Asia.

Life is like pealing a pomelo for the first time.
Its outside is pseudo hard and easy to pierce.
Once the yellow hide is penatrated you must peel away layers and layers of milky-pink fluff.
When your done with the pink you get to the rougher and harder to remove white layer of skin,
flesh that might belong on the underbelly of a dinosaur or crocadile.
After laboring through that layer you now face the arduous task of disecting the heart,
problem after problem arises.
You feel as if the most well trained surgeon would fail at this same task,
each piece you try to split seems fractious.
Finally when all is done and you have put things in order and catagorized your disaray,
you bite into the succulent red-orange pulp.
A rare pleasure such as this is one you may only experience once,
so you cherish each an every moment.

Hermes Shoes

My shoe squeaks down the hall.
Screaming lightly with each foot fall ,
And with what piercing shrieks it sighs.
My shoe under such pressure will meet demise .
A more just sacrifice cannot be found.
My shoe a hero, will be sonnet bound.

What the sun kissed

I'm the boy in the burnt-orange graphic-t with a bull on the front blowing bubblegum a hornet slowly approaching with its razor-pin sting, sitting on a park bench enjoying the good weather -watching other students scramble, getting kissed by the sun.
     The girl with purple streaks in her raven hair walked past the pinstriped youth kicking the sun with her skull marked sneakers. The bald man in the green tweed had light reflecting off his head- silver loop earrings that he's worn since 1987. The sun blazed off of the home torn and time worn jeans , an echo of levi dreams . Then the professor with bursting briefcase and Victorian blouse beckoned them all in , synchronized with the hourly crying of church-bells.We regretfully went inside, saying goodbye to the sun - unsure of when we would next meet.

Wishies

All we need is a little sunshine-
we the dying sunflowers-
who are always so desperate to whither and reach nirvana-
to be free, and carry prayers into the wind.

Frankenstien love complex

Some of us are brave enough to try to create beauty.
Like the late-great Frankenstein, whose creation destroyed him.
We place our hands upon various arts, bending the laws of science and love.
Maniacal masterminds of our own demise,
we build babel towers and hug hand grenades.
Ever accepting of our next failure we push on hoping for new hope and insight.
We care about that which we shouldn't,
and let our misguided obsessions damage us over and over again.
We get no second chances,
but never accept failure.

SAFE ZONE

This can be your safe place.
You are welcome here.
Not to be judged, or have feelings misplaced.
A realm of fun and cheer.
A shoulder for free, you need not beg of me,
forgiveness is given with glee.
I have less when your not here,
my smile is less when its not bringing you cheer.
I am a person not a clown.
I will do whatever it takes to shake your frown.  

necassary fail

Sometimes what we need is a way out.
A plan B.
A secret trap door leading to our own personal underground railroad.
Because sometimes the going gets too tough,
and the best thing to do is turn back and find another way.
Some bridges should be burned,
and dams destroyed-
releasing the wild waters they've controlled. 
Damage cannot always be undone.
Lost friends can not always be re-won.
We should do our best to be wiser and stronger,
grow.

times not watching

It is funny how sometimes instead of you losing track of time it feels like time has lost track of you. you can watch the clock and count every second but the hours bring no change in your life beyond the passing of the sun and the laying of  heads to rest. A walk at 2 am may soon become your most holy experience. somewhere out in those empty streets you can find god or you can find nothing. sometimes you need to make god apart of yourself, then again sometimes nothing takes up more space. some times we may feel the world is burying us alive in stress and work, other times we just look at the clock and wonder how closely time watches us, and how similar we may be to a decayed  roman statue, or a deteriorated Gothic painting. some days, like i spoke of earlier, i feel much like Dorian Grey and find my mind and body forgotten by time, my truly weathered image hidden away out of even my own sight. a splash of cold water does the nerves good, a wink in the mirror conceals no truth.  

That sinking feeling

There is a sinking feeling almost abnormal it seems,
It bubbles in your belly during dark dreams,
That will pull down at your core and stress your seams.
If your knots are not undone they soon will be.


This intense  gravity that builds and builds in weight,
In likeness to an obese man's plate.
Then a dark minded spirit on your shoulders will wait,
It's not too late then - to shrug it off- and be carefree. 

Lies

Lies are like roses-
They will smell and look pretty at first,
but in time will wilt to the barren truth.

My I's

I refuse your moderation and contemplation,
I am not a book you can judge or read.
I am not a credit card I do not need your validation.
I do not need any concentration to accept your condensation,
I see it only as your feeble attempt of ego inflation.
Eye blind of your hate, seeking loves sensation.
Eye Looking into your soul, it's seeking consultation.
I offer only love.

Sand castle

Powerless and careless,
I am a sand castle built too close to the sea,
all I see are the dark waters coming to drape me in oblivion.
My trillions of pieces will be scattered-
doomed to be faultily reconstructed elsewhere.
I doubt I can bear another resurrection,
but it seems enduring is my only choice.
The boiling ocean takes me bit by bit.
Maybe, if I am lucky-
I will one day be turned into glass.
Glass loses itself so proudly,
crashing and shatering,
sharp and mean.
All I can do is be trodden on,
and later- silently slip away into destruction.