Monday, April 28, 2014

mind gone soft

when you stare long enough
the world filters away into
nothing more than light.
the harsh edges disappear
and the lines fade.
sometimes there is color
when your mind goes calm
and the fabric of reality
changes in subtle ways
that make the thoughts subside.
under this is a reflection of honesty,
a concept of truth
that surpasses imagination.
when it goes away
you're left there unaware
that there was
anything to it
in the first place.
the longer you hold your gaze
the more nonexclusive it becomes,
fluttering pixels of light
refracting in the minds eye
with eyes wide open.
sometimes
you never want to come back.
sometimes
reality drips clear from your glare
and the light washes away
an all inclusive illusion -
the only thing you've ever known.
and it makes you wonder what else
lacks meaning.
sometimes
it folds around you
like a ghost,
and you feel so far removed
that coming back isn't an option.

The unwritten Rule

I hear people saying
that we should
listen to our inner child,
that we should be more
intuitive and give in to our gut,
but what if your inner child says
fuck it? What then?

What if the only thing that
keeps you going
is your rational mind,
your logic?

And what if your rational mind
finds an irrational environment?
Do you suddenly evolve to your
surroundings and ignore a lifetime
of logical thought?

The rules change all the time.
Consistency is a thing of the past.
So you have to wonder,
who makes the rules?
Who enforces the rules?
What do the rules matter
if those who make the rules
and enforce the rules
no longer follow the rules?
You're only obligated to
follow the rules
if you can't afford to
break the rules.

Let us not speak of those
who bend the rules
because that's an entirely
different topic.

So maybe we should point
our fingers
at those who design the rules,
make the laws,
and enforce the laws
only for people who cannot
afford to break them.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

like evaporation

at what point is it
that you decide
that you are ready
to expire?
is it at a certain age,
or after a particularly
great meal,
deciding,
it can't possibly get any better than this
?

perhaps the idea of finality
comes when one has decided
that they have suffered enough,
endured enough,
felt just enough joy,
or held their spouse's hand
for just the right amount of time.
i consider this often.
is death an accident,
a silent, creeping thing
that always takes its victim
by surprise
?
maybe death is a thing
that is felt before it happens,
and people who succumb to it
are allotted a final peek into
their life decisions,
allowed a special burst
of realization
into the cosmic mist that
eventually
envelopes us all.

another question
that i ask is -
is it possible to just give up,
to give in to the final
gasp of air,
the tiredness, the fitful days,
the blank expression
of a life too painful
to recount
with any real zest?

i consider my own death
when i'm about to doze off
in my soft bed with clean,
bleached sheets.
i close my eyes and look into the
darkness beyond
and wonder if i'll be granted
a swift end
where there is no longer suffering-
to travel into a void of nothingness.
maybe there will be some type of
reward
for my endurance.
maybe there won't.

there is either something
                 or
                     nothing
when we drift away
and it's not as frightening
as being hopelessly awake,
trying to sift through
the madness of life,
counting pennies,
trudging through muck,
praying that when you fall,
you won't fall too hard.

but the truth is,
i don't fear death.
i only fear pain.
i fear the constant beating
of the sun on my brow.
i fear those who would do me harm.
i fear that there is a god
with the sickest sense of humor
since Genghis Khan.

but there's nothing to fear in nothingness,
at least nothing that i can remember.

an unsocial society

make love to your television,
let it lie to you,
let it become your ignorance and
oblivion.
fuck your phones, swallow
the complacency that it offers.
eat up the tablets and WiFi
connections.
suck down the GPS
like rectal discharge.
ban books and introduce
Creationism into the schools.
to Hell with Darwin.
kill the sciences.
there are more of us now than
any other time
in human history.
can you imagine seven billion
socially inept neophytes
crawling over one another
to get the latest version of the iPhone,
or the next gadget to deliver
misinformation
at the cost of common sense,
ethical treatment,
and compassion?
well, look around,
it's almost here.

Friday, April 25, 2014

for Van Gogh

there is beauty all around you.
it comes in the most simplest forms -
the purr of a kitten,
a single leaf falling in autumn,
a butterfly fluttering in the breeze,
the sparkle of the sun
coming through the clouds
when you thought
there would be rain.
this is what we are gifted,
and when you take notice,
even a starless night
holds some hope
of illumination.

the little things

i'm in a place of
expressive
distance.
i can't relate
with many people.
while i can understand their
suffering,
i can't seem to connect with their
motivation.
i see most things in life
to be a scam,
many of those things that other
people use to escape reality.
i believe that anything organized
is just a scheme to initiate a scam,
a way to generate revenue
for an idea that has been played
over and over.
i don't understand why certain people
subject themselves to religion,
politics, sports, television,
popular music, credit,
student loans, violence,
greed, self improvement,
doctors, or purpose.
this all seems like an elaborate dream
where absurdity wins.
we're all looking for answers
to unanswerable questions
with vague meanings.
we have X amount of time
to come up with these
answers after our wick is lit,
hoping to gain some type of insight
into the meaning of life before we're spent.
i think some people have missed the point
when they spend the entirety of their life
working
on gaining the most money they can before they expire.
then again, some of us fool ourselves into
believing we're writers when all we're doing is chronicling
a particular point of interest in time
to eventually be forgotten
when the genre is used up.
while others look for ways
to screw the public by any legal means necessary
to instill misery and hopelessness upon the masses.
don't get me wrong,
i have fell for scams.
i took out a loan from a
predatory lender
almost a decade ago
and defaulted on the loan when i was laid off
from my job after my company sold out
to a much bigger company.
the loan went into judgment
and i'll pay the price
according to the law.
it's a fact of life.
we don't always make the right decisions
at the right time.
some people have the luck
while others become swallowed up by it.  
but i learnt from my mistake of trusting
that my government wouldn't allow
such deceitful practices to take place, not to be
taken advantage of in what i was told is the greatest
nation in the world.
we become jaded by our experiences:
burn your hand in fire,
never put your hand in the fire again.
-become taken advantage of by someone you love,
don't open yourself up in the same way again.
we're careful after we've been used.
but yet we fall for the same old scams,
ran by new and shiny leaders
looking for a way to cash in on our sorrow.
we want the easy answers
when there isn't an easy answers to be had.
so enjoy the little things:
love your wife, your husband, your children,
accept what the world has to offer in the way
of small joys.
be thankful for what you have and not for what
you think you deserve.
and understand that everything you acquire
will have to be worked for.
nothing is free in this land of freedom,
not even love.
none of us are entitled to a damn thing
beyond the beating of our hearts,
and even that is subject to the laws
of change.
be simple
and live simple
and you'll miss nothing
of what life has to offer.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Listless Hope, Untainted and Grown.

When the bombs dropped
and the sky was lit with fire
and the ground shook
as if it were crumbling from itself,
Leh took to the forest
and hid among the trees
and the ferns.

A prism of color 
washed along the clouds
forming deep hues about the edges
that trembled like rainbows
stretched to breaking.

And in that moment, 
the sun
began to fade.
A dying flame
quenched in oil and fuel
as the last remaining light was
snuffed out against black.

Leh thought of what was to be lost,
of sand,
of ocean,
of stars and flowers,
of all she loved
and even more.
Everyone she knew,
smeared out in one final 
act
of aggressive hate.
And the whimper of life
was gone in a hushed explosion
that tore skin from flesh,
flesh from bone,
bone from marrow.

As she wept, 
the ferns lifted about her
and the trees drooped
and vines caressed the air
into a sphere that kept the fire away.

There were no gods laughing
as the last child sobbed its final tears
where even smoke is burnt
by the showers of flame.

Inside the cocoon, 
Leh felt the Earth seize
in great spasms
that rocked the
tiny pod.

The air inside was clear
and as fresh as April,
teasing her nose and
washing her skin in luscious silk.

Fulminate upon this wondrous land,
a million fingers wrapped in bomb
to tear the breath from stuttering lips
taking the sorrow away
as candy from the mouth 
of a screaming child. 

The last of the forest
swelled
and sheathed Leh
from the grief beyond,
of burning babes,
cauterized animal,
and scalded populace,
saving her single soul
from terror.

She wept so deeply,
her eyes sealed shut
and her mouth became but a frown
etched forevermore upon
gripping lips.

The moans of the massacred
hummed beyond 
the seed that enclosed Leh
and she tried to scream,
but no sound would come,
and her death would have been an easier ally
if only the peace of it would promise her
expiration.

The soft inside cradled her
from despair,
a moist that shielded her skin
from blister
and burn and rocked her into a deep sleep
that sounded of soft wings
arching through the bluest sky.
And how she slept was as impenetrable 
as lust devoured in need and sanctimonious 
want, 
delivered by the lascivious.

Soon,
it was as quiet as a fawn
nursing in the respite of Spring,
gleaning milk 
from the tit
of tranquility.

Stop forever,
she dreamed the words.
Sleep infinite in the womb of nature
and never awaken.
Let time pass as if it were but a wind
drifting in the soulless scope of  permanence,
lifting everlasting.
Hold this,
           she thought. 

Hold this.
                                    forever


The cosmos reawakened glorious 
in seed and sprout, 
lush pasturage
spread out across once despoiled land.
And Leh slept resolute
within 
the womb of wild;
wrought of life,
solidified and granted of innocence
which not to spoil
in the seed of soul granted to her
in universal love
for but a moment, a flicker of time
that lasted 
                         eternal.

When she awoke
and the seed opened,
she was revealed unto the world
            of amity,
        of union,
            of harmony
which rivers ran deep and clean
and clear,
and forest lay out upon unspoiled land
rich with fruit and foliage,
gleaming in the sun,
as ripe as spirit yet unborn -
where music trickled
through leaves and petals,
growing ever so softly in the misting rain
that cleansed the untarnished.

As she stood, 
she saw others like her,
washed of worldliness,
drenched in pure -
like dew untainted,
emerge from seeds like her own.
And their eyes seeped of innocent
astonishment
at the war that was not there.

In the distance
where great cities once stood-
a triumph to human accomplishment-
were now the remains of buildings
devoid of skin,
lathered in vine and flower,
a testament to
what would never 
                                 be again.

And the weeping was not of sorrow
but of what would be,
of what would become this new
lifting of humanity.

And they all stood naked
to the passing of clouds
washing against the bluest sky
anyone had ever seen.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

something about defecation

we're always looking for a place
to lay blame.
-he's a racist so he must be an asshole-
maybe he was an asshole first and just happened
to be
a racist because of his level of asshole.
some people hate other people because
of their race, their sexuality, the way they look,
how they talk, the clothes they wear, or
where they come from.
maybe assholes are born and they
gradually evolve into
racists, bigots, pedophiles, politicians,
and the like.
i mean, you have to have a certain level
of asshole
to be able to hate people or hurt people
because of who they are.
civilized human beings don't suddenly
begin fucking children or hating women
or calling other adults 'fags'.
it's a build up from their inclination
to be an asshole.
i've met religious assholes,
rabid assholes,
back stabbing assholes,
assholes in sheep's clothing,
pretentious assholes,
sick and disturbed assholes.
and the one thing they all have in common
is that they started out as an asshole.
being an asshole seems to be the common denominator.
maybe there's an asshole virus,
or they're reincarnated as an asshole
from a long line
of past assholes.
whatever the case,
they need a uniform
so they can be clearly identified
to save the rest of us
from encountering an asshole
that only wants to treat us
like an asshole.
i would also like to mention
rapist assholes, murdering assholes,
cheating assholes, greedy assholes,
traffic jam assholes,
coworker assholes, boss assholes,
creditor assholes,
and godly assholes.
no matter what type of asshole they are,
they're still full of shit.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

such sweet slumber has chosen me

touch you
your face
rising
again

touch you
your heart
smiling
on
me

love you
breaking you
again
for
me

desperation
in my
love
for you

control me
between
the muscle
where
the pain
lives

push me up against wire
cut me
feeling you
believe me
all or nothing

take what you want from me
leave my nothing intact
skin me
one more time

give away yourself
for me
coming for you
give away everything
and take me inside

crush this into gold
what you believe
finally
falling

touch you
your face
shouting
screaming
at me
until your
voice
is nothing
but a whisper
of raw meat

touch you
your heart
seething
somehow
burning
still
in this cold
of me

trust me
heal me
from this
give me
your
everything
and i'll
wake up
screaming
all over again

where is this?
your face
smiling
who is this?
your face
laughing
why am i?
your face
ripping
the sudden
death of
living

i hear you
crying
touch you
bleeding
inside you
nothing
is moving
without you
i am
only
silence

go on
screaming

go on

go on
hurting

go on

my mouthful of
gasoline
your fistful of
fire

stomp me
i'm weak

your face
i'm touching
all for you
i'm burning
not what i've chosen
for my hell

wake me up
before you
eat the last of me



charlatans

spirituality is very personal.
religion, however, is not.
Lao Tzu said that the Tao (Way)
that is spoken is not the true Tao.
the same goes for spirituality.
not many people can put their idea
of spirit, of god into words,
and that's for a good reason.
once we label and categorize
a particular form of understanding
on a level of spiritual principles,
it becomes corruptible.
we have a tendency to label every
single precept into a nice little
box and adorn it with bows and ribbon
to make others find merit in our
own version of the same old question:
who are we, and where do we come from?
having spent years meditating,
i always take the transcendental approach
for fear of conforming
to a set of made up rules
and judgmental ideals
that always tend to lead to ego.
a fraud can usually be singled out by their
need for wealth and general acceptance.
they will put everything you want to hear into their teachings,
but rarely what you need to hear.
they are looking to reach the highest level of
membership into their way of thinking
so they can make the most money from it.
show me a guru who has thrown money out of the equation.
show me a mystic that gives freely of their 'gifts'.
show me an icon who doesn't use their money and power
as a weapon.
frauds are easy to spot, just look up their address
to see how 'holy' they are living.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The new and improved Satan

isn't it funny how they rip us apart
slowly? how they take and take
but refuse to give -
it's sinister the way they
trap you
because you're poor.
it's evil the way they
smile at you
after they've just stabbed
you in the back.
they'll make you believe
it was all your fault,
that you should have been better informed,
that you should have had a law degree
before you signed their contract.
they fool you into believing that your
diploma will get you somewhere.
they spin their words
to make you think
you might actually
own your home
in your lifetime.
they lie to you when they
say it's all worth it.
they sneer before the ink dries.
if you should ever want to see the face
of the Devil,
look into the eyes of a banker,
a lender,
a politician,
a lawyer.
there you'll find
the meaning
of Hell.

staring into the sun

as a boy,
i would pretend to be
anything
other than what i was.
the make believe only
needed to be fitting
for what i was going through
at the time.
i just wanted  to be something different
than what i was,
a better set of surroundings
than the prison i inherited.
but i was afraid of the dark
so i never closed my eyes
for too long.
i was afraid of the light
so i tried my best not to
stare at the sun.
this is the way it was until
i turned
fifteen and moved away from my parents home.
i tried so hard not to look back,
but there was an odd feeling
like i deserved the punishment,
like i was made to suffer.
i found that the longer
i stayed away from them,
the better i became.
eventually, i stopped looking back
altogether
until the memories
were but faded pictures
of someone else's life.
it has come to the point where
i no longer know who i am
or where i came from.
there is an emptiness in that emotion.
it's as if i never began.
i have spent so much time
trying to unravel my childhood
that i forgot to concentrate
on where i was supposed to be going
as an adult.
i didn't worry about a career or
starting a family,
and now it's too late.
but it really doesn't matter
as long as
i'm not attached to
the child i once was.
i'd rather be empty
than full of what they
expected me to be.
now when i dream,
i only pretend to be myself
because i don't know anything else.
the peace that rests behind
my eyes
is so much more brilliant
than the sun will ever be.

Monday, April 14, 2014

not until we ban bass

a bad mo-motherfucker
at five in the AM,
bouncing
along in the parking lot
to a beat overturned
in the air,
punching everyone awake.
make no mistake
at how little of a fuck he gives
for the sleepy slumber
the neighbors are enjoying.
maybe someday he'll grow up to
understand
that some people
like a little peace
when they're resting.
he won't rest 'till he's dead,
this simple man bouncing along
with the beat,
punching that music
at five in the morning
making everyone wish he were.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

what i see when i look beyond

i see a better tomorrow.

i see us living as one.

i see us evolving into unification.

i see a tired, haggard civilization learning to live together
without theology, without corruption, without stepping on
one another
to get to the top of the pile.

i see society building a better society, creating art for life,
from life,within life, to further life.

i see the multitudes coming together to form a perfect union.

i see us growing tired of inequality.

i see us overthrowing a system that threw us away.

i see the end of an enigma.

i see us discovering acceptance.

i see an end to denial.

i see the sun shining down on us all, allowing us to grow
out of idle acceptance of a machine that nearly mowed us down.

i see a greater good.

i see a life worth living.

a new life without magic

as far as we know,
this is the only life we have.
you can be of a spiritual
background and still understand this
for what it is.
no one knows for sure where we go
when we die,
and no one will ever know for certain;
it is the final great mystery.

the hope that some people harbor
for reward in an afterlife is beyond
our natural faculties.
they use this as a weapon to justify
their actions, to register some
form
of accountability for the injustices
done
in this life.
they use it as an excuse to equal out
an existence that falls short of expectations
without evidence that goes beyond
ancient tombs and 'special' insight.
they take for granted this gift of
existence and turn a blind eye
to the wrongs that are
done unto their fellow beings.

there is sadness in inaction,
in allowing specialized groups
of fanatics to control the handful
of decades we are given.

the opportunity is now.

we have a responsibility to make the most
of the time we are allotted without
using unseen gods to advocate
ill treatment and servitude
to an indentured religion
that asks us to worship slavery.

we are individuals connected at the very fabric
of our makeup to all other sentient beings
across the globe,
and it is within our capacity
to ensure an equitable existence
to those who share in our experiences
as well as to those
who cannot see beyond their own traditions
and astigmatic perceptions.

as far as we know,
we only have one chance to create a conducive
standard of living, here and now.

if we are able to make life comfortable for one
another, it is our duty to do so.

let us live our lives as if there is no tomorrow.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

integral

you are the simple conspiracy
of myself,
of my trial,
of my need.

what little we have,
they haven't taken yet.

it
is
our
truth,
our
lust.

you are the passion
which grips me,
the font of my will,
the essence of my care.

you
will
live
forever
through
me.

our time is never ending,
never wavering,
a pyre for the flames
of congruity,
for the tender licking tongue,
and we are whole.

taste
the
poison
of
our
flesh.

together, this is our triumph,
our infinite laughter,
our crucifix adorned hill,
glowing with quaking sun
in silhouette.

touch
the
venom
of
our
will.

inside of you, I am exposed,
a creature of tingling skin
and bruised bone, and how I
love our nakedness together.

pray
for
us,
your
heathens
in
love.

and the darkness is brighter
with you beside me,
in this time of troubling trial.

pray
we
don't
come
for
you.

pray
we
are
together
always.

pray
to
empty
silence.

pray
of
this
to
yourself

for we are unstoppable
when we scream,
we are the juggernaut
of the sins you have done
unto us.

we are temptation,
the provocation of pain,
and we are whole.

this life unsown

under gray sky,
far removed,
hungry,
staggering,
a single life moves.
a single life turns
so quickly,
it goes unnoticed
and drowns upon itself
before us.

every step
has led it to where it stands -
every stumble
sets it back a million miles
on blackened land.

the crow caws
atop
a barren tree.

the life drives forward
through mists
of sanity,
glancing from slumped shoulders
and bone protruding chest,
parting smoke on its passage
to unknown journey's end.

skulls fastened in soil
crack under slight
footfalls
through this rummaging sleepy fog
and into the void
deprived of light.

and how the life cries
like the cawing crow
upon deadened branch,
atop a tree that may never have lived
within this life of chance.

and how the life sings
of sacred nights
when the mist has but blinded it
in dense thick.

and how the life troubles
over lost minutes
and tender kisses
that never were.

the damp seeps through
to the bones,
thus travels this traveler
to places unknown.

in the garden of
tried temptations
and gleeful gray,
life wanders
its spirit away,
purged of capacity
and sanctity,
it wanders free this way

across the fields of bone
where the gray parts impetuous;
fragments never shone,
the exile treks glorious,
forever alone.

the life staggers
and falls
upon the spent ossein,
no longer pliable
in brittle bright
as the sun shows through
foggy plight
upon corpses
ground into earthen delight.

the life raises its hand
once more
as if asking reprieve,
as to settle the score
of life naught tempted
forevermore.

nothing harbored.
nothing gained.
this life thus labored,
purely in vain.

the clawing clutch
of death and dire -
mattered as much
as smothered fire
from embers blown
through destiny
unknown,
blown forever higher.

all for naught
so reaps the seeds
unsown.

and the traveler
remains unknown
in this life;
never shown
like the bright burning sun
which burns away
such brittle bone.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

commonwealth of subjugation

it all comes ripping down
in a spiral of
discontent.

the bleeding flesh,
the grinding nerves.

so long to this final trial
of common ground,
bound to the
commonality
of angst,
of dire
intention;
moving, pleading with the air
to devour the disease
of our fathers.

so much for the weeping heart,
the sundered soul
screaming for
unity
over
the mass of pleading voices
behind the fabric of
fallacy.

grant the single voice
a shred of decency,
a glimmer of veracity,
a pinprick arbitration.

allow the howling to
tear down the moon
and scar the youth,
divided,
detached,
and reeling from atrocity.

send us your debt
so we may make amends for
the servitude we are granted.

give us the calamity of generations
so we may make retributions
for the blunders of our parentage.

try us
for our skin has become thickened
from the lashings.
blind us so we may not see you
murdering
the decency we once held.
scar us so we may remember you
when you're gone.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

a course against action

the wisdom of the ages
and a broken standard
emblazoned with the tried
and tainted multitudes
heaped up in polluted
cities,
in run down tenements,
across fields of green
with poison just beneath
the soil, and wars bred of
sadistic monetary gain.

give me a war against tyranny,
a war against fascism,
a war against poverty
and homelessness.
give me a war against lenders,
a war against gain.

lend to me
the idea
that we are heading
toward a better society,
a better system of education
that takes away false hope;
a positive path built on ideals
for the betterment of civilization.

lend to me
a whisper
that blows in
the winds of truth
and tells of the needs
we all harbor.

give me a war against ignorance,
a war against pop culture,
a war of the ages.

give me a war against pretentiousness,
against fame,
against human nature.

give me absolution.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

give us our daily plastic

it's bound with microfiber.
it isn't real.
it will bludgeon you
and hold you
when it's through
and pretend it
always loved you
before it sends the
hammer
into the back of your skull
again
with gentle kisses.

all the authority
in the world
can't make you
conform.

all the love
in the world
won't make
you
loved.

all the smiles
in the cosmos
can't bring
you happiness.

it's made of microfiber
and lint
and the plastic they pull
from crude
and it will replace your
skin,
one cell at a time.

it's conformity
and courage
and little things
that go
bump in the night.

it's a horror out there
and it intends to
give you
a fright.

it's rubber trees
and plastic grass
and nylon shirts
and falling from grace
so gently that it's as if
it never happened at all.

it's a hell of a way
to learn,
but it's the only thing
they're teaching.

cleanse the soul
with recycled
water bottles
and grocery bags
that flutter on the wind.

reach deep into the veins
and pull out the heart
through elastic cords
and weep a small song
from the madness
endured
over eons
from the hollowed out
core at your center.

they gift you
their sanity
to swallow
one sip at a time,
but it drives you mad,
nonetheless.

maybe they'll lose it too
and everything will be fine,
maddened through the eons
on fake intentions
and firm values
that were cast aside
like the containers
we buy that house the products
we want
that are dropped off
at your local dump
to be sorted and processed
into new merchandise
we'll drink down
like sanity
before it's recycled
again.

cries and curses and how to swing back

it's about fighting 
for everything 
you have.
it's about getting
punched
in the mouth
and turning around
with a smile.
it's about
the tired,
heaving feeling
at the base of 
your spine
after
they've pushed you
down
and stepped on your
jaw
and tried to disassemble
you
from the inside
out.
it's all about being
beaten and
torn and 
tried and
tormented.
this is the small 
death that juggles
the bones,
that turns the guts,
that fucks the very
soul of you into perdition.
and how many times
can you
stand back up
on jelly legs
and look them in the eyes
and smile away 
the fear
and continue on
despite yourself?
and how many times can the walls
come tumbling in?
and how many times
can you get kicked in the heart
and still feel?
it's about turning down the vultures 
and rising above
and refusing the easy way,
the easy path,
the easy death.
it's about using the words
to spite them,
to spit in the face of normality,
to remain tired
and broke
and disillusioned
and dire.
it's about taking a punch
and living through it.
it's about taking and punch
and going in for another.
it's about taking a punch
and breaking away the parts
of you that want to cry.
it's all about standing up
when there's no place
to sit down and relax
because you know 
if you do,
you'll never get up again. 

Friday, April 4, 2014

if everyone in the world 
chose to stand up,
those who lead you 
would be forced 
to sit down.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

the answer is no answer, but the questions have to keep coming

i would like to say
that there is a greater
meaning
to all of this,
that someone's idea
of religion,
of politics,
of social programs,
of happiness
has pinpointed the way
we should all follow.

but that would be bullshit.

the truth remains that no one way
is beneficial to everyone.
no one has a clear cut path
carved out
that reveals the nature of us all.

there has been no book written to answer
all the questions.
no proof given to one final answer that
ties all of this together into a neat
little pill
that we can all swallow.

i have met some very convicted people
in my life,
people who swear by the answers they
have found,
people who have turned their life around
with faith,
but i just couldn't stand in line and follow
their lead.

yet we wage wars on faith,
design ways to screw over others
because their ideas conflict
with our own.

we even use the idea of no faith
to convince ourselves
that it is okay to step on the backs of others
to climb the ladder of success.

with enough buzz words,
our governments have concocted ways
to rally the forces
to convince us there is a common enemy.

they use
democracy,
freedom,
America,
terrorism,
drugs,
liberty,
God,
wealth,
prosperity,
resolution,
conviction,
abortion,
racism,
sexism,
healthcare,
housing,
along with every other
buzz word
to suckle at the
American tit,
and feed off of common
ignorance.

as long as we're all sheep,
there will never be a reason
to wander
outside of the fence
to see what the rest of the world
has to offer.

as long as we are a nation
hypnotized by social media,
by smart phones,
by television,
video games,
processed fast food,
and all the rest of the treats
they force feed us,
we'll never wake up to the
reality of slavery,
of subservience to an
out of control machine
designed to keep us
in line.

what it takes is living our
lives individually,
constantly acquiring knowledge,
refusing the easy answers,
and being grateful
for what we already have.

it takes setting aside everything else
and concentrating our efforts
on our own particular demographic,
on the people closest to us.

we're all just trying to make it through,
and it is the responsibility of each one of us
to help those who can't do it for themselves.

never stop asking questions.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

gift them sorrow

write wicked words 
composed in pain.
give every bit of 
yourself over
and make it hurt.
tell them about
failed suicides,
lost loves,
the taste of the last drug
that nearly beat you 
to death.
tell them what part of you
is just like the same part
of them.
turn over the dirt
and open up the grave
as wide as you can
so they get a good view
at the bones you uncover.
make the lies truthful
and tell the truth
as if it were the last lie left
to be told.
touch your face often
to feel for the lines
that guide your imagination,
remembering how far you have come.
let the words 
lay on the page 
like a lover,
like the beaten dead,
like the child of innocence
you used to be.
give them your everything
and someday
maybe
it'll all be worth it
when you're 
gone.

this time

there was a faint smell of sulfur
as the machine cracked in my hand.
it was the sound of popping knuckles
which reverberated in my ears
as i stared down at the brass sphere
between my fingers,
hooked between index and thumb.
purple electricity flashed across
my eyes
and it felt as if
my skin
were shedding
from
my muscles,
one particle at a time.
every hair on my body
stood on end
like needles separating
from my pores.
the world spun around me,
and suddenly,
the room
in which i had been standing,
evaporated
until all that was left was a blue hum
that shot through with blinding white
and the deepest black
of oceans swallowed by space,
smearing the outlines of stars
across my eyes.
i could not breathe.
my chest would not move.
the taste of sulfur,
stronger now,
threatened the pressure
expanding in my throat.
and all at once,
there was silence.
the purest void with which
i have ever experienced.
it was an all encompassing quiet
that hushed even the calmest atom
of my being.
i looked again,
and at my feet,
playing in the sand,
unaware, fearless,
unabated,
was i
as a child of no older than five,
playing by a set of swings in the clean
swept sand, looking up at the man
he would become.
i said, "don't worry,
it gets better. some day you'll go
even pass your own imagination."
and my child as me smiled
and gave a tender nod.
i pressed the brass sphere
tightly into my palm
and the sulfur was faint again at my lips.
and there again was the hushed energy
which had brought me to my youth.
and again, i felt as if i were being torn from myself.
and again, the waves of light crossed my sight.
and again, i was myself once more,
trying to deduce the
odd object i was given
by an old man
who looked, strangely enough, like me.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

autumn gold

in the long of it all,
i look back with blurry eyes
at the earliest time
i can remember.

a soft blanket
and bars around me.

a soft light coming in
through the window.

a soft stuffed bear
at my side.

in the long of it all,
i look back
and remember my smile,
my soft mind,
and the bars around me to
keep me safe.

dark paneling.

gold carpet like the hair
on a puppet's head.

the smell of velvet
smoked through my grandfather's
brier pipe.

in the long of it all,
i find myself staring off
through undeveloped eyes,
hoping to catch a glimpse
of my youth,
and i see the same bars
keeping me in,
but the room has changed.