you wake up in the morning to a headache

so many lies
devour us daily
in this recycling
pit
of forked tongues,
of scab encrusted throats,
burning for another
excuse
to let the farce continue.

lies from your peers.
lies from your officials.
lies from the bloody mouths,
trying to keep control over you.

windbags and blabbermouths
screwing the truth around
to fit their particular idea of need.

it's because the truth is so painful,
such a hardened reality
that if
it were told,
none of us would want to believe.

they lay on the spin
and twist the words
to create a shred of truth
under the misinformation.
it has never been about
honesty,
it's about what they can
lead you
to believe.

facts
are simply the
best case scenario
for any given
point in time,
and they use this
to fit whatever need
may come up
to lead you away from
whatever it is
they don't want you to know.

it's not just a war anymore,
it's a campaign for freedom,
for democracy
rather than the control they happen
to want
to establish
for a higher degree of servitude.

it's not just a war on drugs,
it's a pharmaceutical onslaught
to make sure you're using
the drugs they want
you to use.

it's not one political party
against another,
it's just one system
leading you in the direction
they need you to follow
in order to
keep you off the track of what
they are really trying to accomplish.

we have become so out of touch
that they could tell us they're giving
us
National Healthcare,
and we would think they're
doing it for us,
doing something in our favor
when they're really
just trying
to divert our attention
from the fact
that we're already dead.

slowly ever upward

clouds catch in the sky
with a cool breeze of breath
pushing them along.

a smooth dusting of light
taps its way through the tuft
as birds tickle the air
with singsong speak,
and grass gathers dew upon
slender blades.

a holding motion
in the cool air,
and the smell is as fresh
as a seedling poking
up through the damp
for the very first time.

as the light holds,
as the damp gathers,
as the moon recedes
and the sun grips
behind darkness
at the edge of dream,
so the heart
flutters soft behind the drapery
of breath
as courage to
broken sadness
in this great gift
merging
through the trying moments
of our
somber urges
to bring the gathering
of these words
caught on the tip
of a child's tongue.

a stutter at the back
of the throat,
and time releases
its tired grip.

a smooth wind
plays
ever upward.

is it worth it?

crucified in this land
of milk and honey.
told to aspire to
a greatness that
doesn't exist.
told to conform
to the idea of
want and have.
told to be more like
the ones
who took it all
and left scraps behind
to pick through.

become a part of
the system.
get an education
with a fine piece of paper
to confirm
your knowledge.
land a job
and work for
the rich
you aspire to be.

become a parent.
buy a home.
get a car.
stay up to date
with the latest trends.
dress accordingly.
save for retirement.
drown under the weight
of the house of cards
that you built.

stare in wonderment
at how all the others
manage to stay upright
as you juggle
a mortgage,
bills,
taxes,
401k,
kids,
spouse,
job,
death.

it's because they're in debt too,
just like you.
and their credit is good
as long as they make
the payments on time.
but any bump in the road
will send all they've worked for
tumbling along the ditch
for the vultures to pick through
when capitalism
wrecks the car
you haven't finished
paying for yet.

and it makes you wonder
what it's all for.
maybe just to stay alive
a little bit longer.
maybe to gain a little time
before they drop a dime
on you too.

then something happens
if you happen to be
one of the lucky ones
who realizes
that all the little things
you have
could go away
just as quickly as you acquired them,
maybe quicker.

and the light dawns
and you become aware
that it is about the people,
not the possessions.
it is about us,
not them.
it is about
living life
and leaving something
for someone else
when you're gone.
it is leaving the most valuable
thing behind that you
have gained.
it is about the transfer of
love
of
knowledge
of
redemption.
it is all about finding
the passion
that drives you.

so when they tell you
to buy
the latest thing
to make you wealthy,
remember to tell them
you're already rich
and you can't afford
what they're selling.

don't peek

the power you keep
is the hand that covers your eyes.
the harm done unto you
is only by that which you perceive
in fear.
the hold it has on you
is the grip with which it tightens.

it is the deep that
swallows you,
the dark that stares
behind your eyes
with a burning glare
of forked lies.

a haunting chill
caresses the air.
a pitiless kill,
the creature's
only fare.

a broken gasp as
the breeze sweeps through
was the only horror
you knew
before the creature
ripped the last whimper
from you.

and as it swallows
the meat
from your bones,
it only wishes
it could still hear
your moans,
the pleasant cries
you make
when you still had
a life to take.

as the cold takes hold
and the last drop of you
leaks from the fold
where your head
once rode,
you can only imagine
death
to be sweeter
than uncovering your eyes.

a slow and leisurely release

break free the soul
wider
and find those
parts hiding

break free the soul
finer
fragile wondering
wanderings

break free the soul
raiding
ranges toward the unknown
portions parting

gather and
break free the soul
from daunting things
before the time
is too late

the trees moving
the grass parting
the ocean blue bending light
refracts from
solemn sun

soil producing
growing gathered seed
singing hymns
under heat and air and falling stars

everywhere
everything
break the soul free
and let nothing else
come in the way of evolved movement

send finer threads
tenderly taking back
all that has been concocted
in haste
in wealth
in the name of frail
emotional involvement

take back the stolen soul
break free the soul
render the soul complete
allow for soul
evolve in soul
be food
for
brain

become everything
they don't want
you
to be

softly surrender

the gas lamp
keeps you warm at night
when you're all alone
and nobody's home.

the soft orange warms
you with its fire.

and the strange sounds
coming from upstairs
don't seem so haunting.

the small knocks on the
floorboards
don't strike fear as much
as they used to.

the whispering dead
don't hold you
as tightly as they once
did.

no need for the closet
where you once
hid -

afraid of the dark,
afraid of the faces
that stood out
in the shadows
only to retreat
when you glanced their
way.
afraid of the rope 
slung
over the rafters.
afraid of the smell
from the lamp
when it burned.

you like the way it feels
not to have to feel
that way anymore -

as you glance down at 
the note
you left behind,
illuminated by the
soft glow
of the gas lamp that
once warmed you
when you
were 
alive.

find quiet

a 
   smooth 
               stream 
                          of 
                              consciousness

lights like the freeway rushing past

a 
   flowing 
               beam 
                         of 
                              light 
                                     speeds 
                                                 onward

in this thick silence, the mind transcends

the 
     darkness 
                    dies 
                           here 
                                   in 
                                       this 
                                             place 
                                        of 
                          spiraling 
                  light

            and
   nothing
            else
   remains
              outside of this twitching heart