Chewing Pills

So yesterday, I
Thought it would be
A good idea
To write to her
Admitting all the twists and trips and slips and
Wreckage
Of the days since I left
Explaining, or trying to
Why it hurts so bad
And how every moment
I spend screaming
And she stays silent
Feels like I’m back there
Chewing pills
All over
But I won’t call the cops this time
I won’t spend a night
With the addict lady
In the white room
With holes in the walls
There’s only the ink
And the page
And how much love kills
So I sent it
Along with more money
Than I can afford to give
So maybe at least
One of us
Will live

Lost

Lost my way
While you were gnawing on my mood
I looking, I guess, for escape
Or to Improve my Point-of-View

Lost you then?
The absence rushes in against this old dam
I'm not stronger than
I used to think that I had been

Lost the key
While by the lonely door I kneeled
I can see you near me
But your thoughts are sealed

RelaX

Red shirt, Blue jeans
Grass green, Silver street
Median to mashed
Short on cash
Muscles clench
              then Relax
Force taxed on Fragile form
After Sunset
Reset by dawn
Human curse, cruisin' Hearse
Erasing fate, embraced pavement
Yellow lights or White
To Red too fast
As time like Rush hour cars Pass
Breaking Fast as they're braking Fast
Not fast enough to last, crashed
Crunch, by Lunch forgotten
Move on, Life's too short
Day's too long
Resort to Rabid Racing
Gotta get there, Get back
Lose track, loose seams
Rip, Shred, Scream
Red shirt, stained jeans

Young November

In the last days of my youth

I courted hope and recklessness

Gave myself to a moment

And a girl who could not love me

In the last days of my youth

I criticized the office man

With no time left for dreaming

And a briefcase full of regrets

In the last days of my youth

I said I would stay simple 

Singular—steadfastly alone

Self-reliant—on an adventure of the soul

In the last days of my youth

I sang songs of grand rebellion

Fought the man with silk-smooth hands

And roared against the system that I might too soon enlist 

In the last days of my youth

I thought free-willed imagination

Would be lost at once if I gave in

To paying bills, taxes, and time

In the last days of my youth

They said that I was far too young

To do or to think or to feel such wonder, such questions

As love, duty, or sacrifice

Perhaps they are still right

But wouldn't it have been so nice

If young at heart could have lasted the night

In the last days of my youth

Tell me now, do you know who I am

Or who I could’ve been

In the last days of my youth

Man, I’m still reachin’...

The Carousel of Kings

I'll flirt with blasphemy
That you may kiss a glimpse of
God
Tip-toe 'round heresy
And cuddle up
Upon the bleeding altar

I'll set a c-note flaming
With salted speckles in
Both my eyes
But offer
My very last dollar
To these gilded
Paupers

I'll dance like a drunkard
No,
I'll slump my shoulders
And cradle my brow
And clutch my wanting cup
And tap the table
Off.........beat
Like a drunkard
Like a prophet
Scraping his chest
With yellowing nails

I'll call your bluff
Believe me I will
One of these days
But for now,
A bottle of water?
$1.25

notforprofit

if my words don’t 

frighten you

my eyes might

if passion-fueled

declarations

don’t sway your stance

the burning question

in my gaze

could do it

i think

if my pleas

for bread

don’t empty 

your pockets

maybe

just maybe

these wide-eyes 

will

and if all else 

fails

to light your 

heart or 

your wallet

i guess

you can always

find me on

a t-shirt

Peasantry

I've got a knife and I could bleed this city dry
Skin it slow and steady
Pick apart the stringy tendons

I had a life that I gave up for who knows why
Grinned like I was ready
Sickened as my goodbye set in

But this road is a wristwatch
With a band that's far too tight
Ticking off the constant miles
My numbing hands would try and fight

I've got nowhere to go but back to breathing
Choking down the rhetoric
From suits on the radio

I move so slow with calloused feet
Shuffling and hesitant
With seeds I cannot sow

'Cause this heat is a gateway
With a lock my key won't fit
Stacked all up with iron chains
On cracking earth I sorely sit

Pass the pool where angels stir
And you speak down to me,
"what do you want?"
As if you cannot see...

Someone Else's Yard (lyrics)

It’s too hot here in the summer

But part of me is scared of the cold

Used to romanticize the transient life

But sleeping in this car is getting old

Came out here for the dreaming

But lately I can’t sleep

Not too sure I want to work for the man

But it don’t matter, ‘cause he don’t want to hire me

Greener grass grows in someone else’s yard

Soon enough though the trees will wear their funeral garb

I’ve got nowhere to go down Old Hickory Boulevard 

No one ever told me growing up would be this hard

Got a call from my mom today

Killed me to hear her cry

Told me that I should trust in Jesus

But I’m starting to wonder why

God, if you’re down in Nashville

Could you come talk to me

I’m sick of signs of signs and expectations

Of the man I might never be

Greener grass grows in someone else’s yard

Soon enough though the trees will wear their funeral garb

I’ve got nowhere to go down Old Hickory Boulevard 

No one ever told me growing up would be this hard

It’s too hot here in the summer

But part of me is scared of the cold

Used to fantasize about being a rock star

But now it’s like my whole life is a show

Sand in Your Shoes

i can’t look you 

in the eyes 

today

i’m slipping through the space

i can’t hear you 

through the air

don’t say

you recognize my face

‘cause i am fishbowl

and you are hammer

don’t try to hold my hand

i am grain

and you are ocean

don’t try to understand

i can’t taste you

on my tongue

of late

i’m chokin’ on the bright and blue

i can’t reach you

empty hands

still shake

sweaty like i never met you

‘cause i am fine print

and you are hindsight

don’t try to see my side

i am 8 1/2 by 11

you are Mariana Trench 

don’t try to fit inside 

(sometimes i think 

“concur” and “conquer”

sound so similar

‘cause the easiest way

to defeat someone is 

to make them think

you’re on their side)

what occurred when you concurred: 

my world obscured 

the stars insinuated

and i inferred

from dark deliberated

that maybe there is depth to this...somewhere

so i wander blind

uncover my ears

breathing slow

and feel my way 

through the fear

‘cause i am shell

and you are perfect storm

your song I, in silence, find

i am corner

and you are cleaner

taking the time

(and i almost don't mind)

Leaves of Thought

Let us while away the hours

Let us waste the day away

Let us pluck the wild flowers

Leaves of thought that lead astray

Let us tarry not too long 

Lest plans may form from out the wild

Let us carry out our song

Like widowed wife or newborn child

Let us tack up every whim

Like misinformed malcontents

Let us rejoice in every sin

Let humor be our recompense 

Let us be called generation

Let our apathy and lust define

Let us shake loose all foundation

Let’s get drunk on pixel wine

Let us sit beside each other

Let us hide in the dark alone

Let us buy ourselves another

Leaf of thought to build our throne

Let us bleed in desperation

Let us sew the emperor’s clothes

Let us fall to expectation

But never, ever let us hope

Let us hope and we will smite you

Let us dream and we will rise

Let us build and we’ll break right through

Leaves of thought that blind your eyes

Let us learn and we will conquer

Let us ask and we will know

Let us seek and we’ll move onward

Leaves of thought to reap and grow 

I Love You, He Said

...in the sense that random scraps of paper entice me because they exist in a world where you could potentially write on them.

...in the sense that I weigh every possible implication and consequence of calling you and just before I hit send still have no idea what I'm going to say.

...in the sense that the air in the room feels different against my skin when you are, may be, or have been in it.

...in the sense that I have a hard time trusting people, and you could absolutely ruin my life if you wanted to.

...in the sense that you probably already have ruined my life, and that's perhaps the best thing that's ever happened to me.

...in the sense that I want to tell you a secret that might make you hate me.

...in the sense that if I bump into you today, I'd like to think I'd recognize you, but even if I don't it won't stop me from loving you.

...in the sense that I don't really know you, andbutso I want to.

...in the sense that "I love you" has become a cliche placeholder for selfish romantic desire and all I really want is to sit with you here while life happens around us and then get up and be a part of life happening but, yknow, together, except that's all still about what I want, and really who cares what I want, because...

...in the sense that what do you want?

My Situation

You know my situation
You don't know my story, but
You know my situation
I could be anyone, but
I'm me
You don't know me, but
You know my situation

Easy enough when I'm
A nuisance,
A nut,
A non-entity,
Or worse—
A novelty.

Look me in the face sometime
And tell me again how there's no place for me
No, really, tell me what you mean
If you can speak to me at all
I'll write, I'll call
You'll transfer me so cordially

But I'm far too rich to be poor
And yet too poor to be manageable

I fit inside the miscellaneous bin
The lost and found at the end of the semester
Right between the gym sock and the retainer
Can't donate me or donate to me
Not that I want charity
But I do get hungry sometimes
And it's safer inside at night, yknow

So when you're kind enough to buy her that water bottle
That says it helps bring clean water to African children
And as you're handing it down to her, she says she doesn't want it
She has the audacity to refuse
On the grounds that the company is lying
And you storm off, thinking how arrogant she is
To reject your kindness, your money you spent on that bottle
Only to find out online that she was damn right about the company
And if only you had known, you wouldn't have bought it
But what did she know
You didn't know her story, but
You knew her situation

Like you'll know mine
When you see me across the room
Still wearing clothes I brought from before
Typing on a laptop I got as a gift
Driving a car I didn't buy myself
Sitting in your cafe like I have something worthwhile to be doing
Using up your space and your air-conditioning and your free wifi
Well, I guess I
I'm sorry
I'll just get out of your way

Because I know you know my situation
When public space becomes "your way"
And people like me are secretly "someone else's problem"
Instead of just people

So don't ask me about my situation
You know my situation, but
You don't know me

'Cause man, I'm just people

Tip of My Tongue

I'm trying to spit your taste out of my mouth
With a tongue that's cut like leather to let the stuffing waft on out
Trying to iron out the wrinkles and fill in all the cracks
That run the twisted sidewalks down which I can't turn back

So I stumble into traffic amidst swerving conversations
Bisecting what was said from what was pure imagination
Or those perfect almost moments when your stare stung to my marrow
And the tightrope that I walked with you somehow began to narrow

Your shaking head on my breathless chest
In restlessness you reinvest
Then re-suppress to my duress
And dress it up with emptiness

Till farewells fade and all that's stayed
Is staid for you and a blade for me
To cut this leather like effigy
And burn the stuffing that's nothing but bluffing
Playing at longing
Masking the moments
That will always matter
That will
Always
Shatter
That will
Always
Sit on the tip of my tongue
Not spat
Nor swallowed
But held
Precarious

To Catch a Mouse

The hawk rocks nervously back and forth
Spreading shaky wings
To gauge the wind
On a power line
Downtown

The gates swing wide then shut
And her eyes, this city girl
Watch in horror
As he slides
Death's descent
To catch a mouse

Verisimilitude.

Mend (lyrics)

Did I ever really love you

Did I ever take the time

Did I ever really want you

Or did I just want you to be mine

Did I hold you like a trophy

When I should have held you like a friend

This is my confession, I treated you like a possession

All along, but what I possessed was at best pretend

And now what I’ve broken I can’t...

Did you ever really know me

Did I ever really share

Any part of me that really mattered

Would you have even cared

Did I hold you like a trophy

When I should have held you like a friend

This is my confession, I treated you like a possession

All along, but what I possessed was at best pretend

And now what I’ve broken I can’t mend

It’s always two broken people trying to complete each other/ always left with missing pieces looking out for just another/ and we wonder why no one seems to stay in love together/ It looked so healthy in the sunlight but so sick in stormy weather/ maybe it’s better without me and my significant other together/ but right now I’m thinking of all the ways I could’ve-should’ve loved her better/ yeah, maybe she’s starting to move on, without me right by her side/ when all we had was good intentions and cliches to get us by/ I can still remember the way the tears fell from her eyes/ and I still hope there’s more to love than all these Hollywood lies (I’m singing)

Did I ever really love you

Did I ever take the time

This is my confession, you were never my possession

I wasn’t yours, and you were never mine

remnants and redundancy

The city lights dilute the night
And we both look so small inside
With dreams bigger than both of us
And no idea who we can trust

From about a thousand miles away
We speak with words that we can't say
Of what we'd do to make a change
And what we'd change to make a way

The Dog of the Month is Named Entropy

The empty inescapable
The potent irreplaceable
The hoped for ineffaceable
       ecstatic inspirational

Confound me oh desirous manifestations
I stand on the edge of the infrastructure
Make a living to keep on living
Not really living, not really giving much
Of a care, or to art, or to hope for

One day in, barely,
And honestly, I can't stand it

Don't tell me I need to be a part of your world to change it
Don't tell me I'm not a part of your world
Simply because its ills don't kill me
Its ills still ill me
Just don't quite thrill me
Though they might still be relevant
As means, not ends

More or Less

I'm more than empty, I'm more than lost
I'm utterly vacuous and tempest-tossed
I'm more than vacant, I'm more than scared
I'm entirely unoccupied and unprepared

I'm more than questions, I'm more than doubts
I'm starting to walk like one who went without
I'm more than present, I'm more than past
I'm something unaccomplished that may yet still last

I'm more than rhythm, I'm more than rhyme
I'm the space between your logic that beats out of time
I'm more than drinking, I'm more than food
I'm the bleeding beggar, becoming bitter and rude

I'm more than apathy, I'm more than unfair
I will smile in a tragedy, and cry like I was there
I'm more than a dreamer, I'm more than a fraud
I will storm out of your chapel just to catch a glimpse of God

I'm more than a hypocrite, I'm more than a fool
I will break every commandment, and make up an empty rule
I'm more than a sinner, I'm more than the fall
I'm only a human, and sometimes I'm barely that at all

I'm more than the moment, I'm more than heresy
I'm something like an answer that is not yet clear to me
I'm more than frightened, I'm more than poor
But not enough to matter to the crowds that I adore

Oobleck

The inconsolable soliloquy
Of unrequited desire
Seemingly infinite in its destructive scope, is
Yet meticulously precise with
Nostalgic resonance.

It is a strange twist
That such devoted focus on
Another
So often becomes
A most viral
And corruptive force of
Purely narcissistic
Ends.

That I would look on
The shape of another's
Character
And only see the missing piece of
My own puzzle
Is not Love,
Though for some accursed  reason
We keep calling it so.

No,
Love is a non-Newtonian fluid,
And as such, when forced,
Will put up such a sternly determined and
Dedicated opposition
As to rival and perhaps even mimic or become that
of hate's great walls.

However,
With time, patience,
A gentle hand, a listening ear, and
Some subtle skill,
There is a welcoming gesture
To be found
In Love,
As that given unto a
Long-awaited friend.

Love can love the builder of a wall,
But Love will not break through that wall,
Save for the builder taking it down
Brick by stubborn brick
In purposeful reply
To Love's whispered beckoning
From across the other side.

So
Love loud but not in yelling.
Love strong but not in forcing.
Love fully but not in possessing.
And
Love recklessly but not in ignorance.
Love fearlessly but not without trembling.

For it is dangerous to try and
Walk this road alone, but
It is far more dangerous
To forget that
We don't have to.

(And that inconsolable soliloquy
Is perhaps your line
In a much broader chorus.)

Constitution Hall

Somewhere under the train tracks 

There is an old hat waiting for change

Like Brian, who’s holding his sign and

Hoping you’ll find in your heart to look his way

And you can ride from the suburbs to the city

On your way to Constitution Hall

You came to see the cracks in Liberty

And ended up missing them all

Needles, just two for a dollar

Yells the mom with her daughter running beside

But the city looks so clean and pretty

When you ignore all the gritty truth that’s inside

And you can ride from the suburbs to the city

On your way to Constitution Hall

You came to see the cracks in Liberty

And ended up missing them all

Somewhere by the delaware river

A child will shiver without a coat

While by the fire we’re warming 

So this song is a warning

But also a chance for life and for hope

Oh Philadelphia

Ready, Set...

You said follow
So look out, here I go
Straight into the arms of a question mark
Little sparks at my feet for the lonely dark
But hark I hear a long forgotten song
Somewhere far off, as it grows strong,
Guess it's here I go, time to join along...

Flint and Steel

As a child, on the cusp of adolescence, I watched in awestruck horror as this empire was revealed to be vulnerable. Cracks formed in the walls of our castle and we, in silence, felt the sudden sting. Our leaders, appearing baffled, tripped over explanations and cover-ups, calling on us peasants to gather around symbols and material goods. Buy away the burden of guilt and questions.

I remember the news those nights, back when they actually cared to show us where the money went. Explosions like fireworks shot forth across some distant desert sky, and vengeance would be ours. The next day we would get out the broom of patriotism and shoo the facts under the rug. We destroyed hospitals, homes, families. But our leaders continued to give us reasons, continued to simplify the calls for unity, even when no evidence could be found to further justify their claims for lethal force.

As I grew older, it was no longer simply the older brothers, distant relatives, or neighbors sons, but my own peers who left to fight. Vague motivations such as freedom, democracy, and duty filled the lips of those who knew they couldn't pay for college where the government might. As more and more of "our side" and "their side" died, the line between justice and commerce blurred. The war had spread in relative silence to so many fronts that it was only a matter of time before the violence came back around and hit us at home.

All this time, as the elected officials squabbled over party ties and monetary backers, leaders rising and falling only to be replaced by differently dressed clones, the true rulers, the corporate bosses, worked their tentacles into the minds of the populous. Until the intellectual and economic balancing act of the past decades finally caught a snare, and the gamble of the nation came back empty.

Now the lines have been drawn. There are those who live in quiet complacency, but daily the tension rises. Harder and harder to ignore are the cries of the oppressed and downtrodden. As the mighty rich waste and cheat and stomp all across the land, those that are enslaved in debt and empty promises must rise and say enough. The empire is going to fall. Either you are going with it, or you must realize that its ways are empty. We are in the streets. We are you. We are in the streets. Are you with us?

Stitches in Dawn

The brightest lights are behind closed eyes
And hunger tastes so deeply sweet
What withers within this crippled grip
Never pleases like what I cannot reach

And when that faint hint of dawn appears
Revealed through slitted window pane
It never holds such promises
As it did last night for tired brain

Once again, I spent all night
Lost in the turns of another's song
Each ever after to bring me back
To my disappointing ever on

Yet still I'll hope and nearly hope
Till feet are sore and throat too dry
To sing the tune that I once knew
So I'll make it up right till I die

U?S?A?

Now I wouldn't suspect that those who stand so erect
With their hands over their hearts are very likely to object
But if I then must subject myself to this neglect
Just to be patriotic, I'd rather you just inject
That poison into my veins right now and not later
Before I become too cynical or another old hater
Watch it flow through the I.V. as I wriggle wildly
Boy, it'd be a sight to see, or maybe they'll just fry me
For now they simply ask that I stay silent so politely
And hope that I stay mildly excited by the thriving
Entertainment they've provided on call
And by they I mean we, because we pay for it all
But mostly we just pay for all the guns overseas
What's some blood in the sand for the gas in our SUVs
Peace is cheaper but we'd rather the reaper be on our payroll
Cashing in the check that bounces debt to dig a bigger hole
Hoping no one notices that we've replaced the government
With corporations that we pay to outsource who will govern it
And then inflate the hype about who loves us and who hates us, why?
So we can say it all makes sense why our neighbors' sons all had to die
But back at home their peers are told to study hard for a career
Then graduate to get in line and find that there are no jobs here
So pack it up and pack it in
Then spend and spend and spend again
Till all that's left is cake and circus
Generation: where's my purpose?

Hear the Sound

What worth is it to dream regrets
Then wake to find that nothing's changed
I'd rather dream of distant hopes
Then strive for them through all my days

pERFECT/imPerfect

She tears up the pages of perfect Inspection

Honest dissection of flawed Humanity

In broken Expression, her dialect invested

She tries to find the terms to Shape identity

(and with each humble line

another plot-twist, another unraveling)

In the way of Genuine majesty,

this is healing through a certain dark asymmetry:

The Art of -a broken heart-

which bleeds such Colors 

more Brilliant than light

and the ideas of a heavy mind

Spread open beside masks Laid down

are unlocking More Doors

than the battering rams of 

contrived 

Academia and rigorous Religion

With their false Reverence and

disdainful Uniformity

and yet 

let slack

all chains 

of 

presupposition 

and live within the

tension

and

doubt

INDECISION

is okay

After all, we’re here to Learn

and

to Play. 

Black Suit and Tie

black suit and tie, 

i stand and watch you cry, 

helpless to help as you file by in line, 

a doorstop to mourning the passage of time 

with no balm for your wondering why 

all your friends must die

casket of oak

the tears that you choke

can’t drown out the memories of all these fine folks

as with a heavy sigh the preacher lifts his eyes

and tells you of a fire below and a mansion in the sky

where all your friends reside

pallbearers take hold

and you march out real slow

trying not to think how their skin felt so cold

the hearse starts to drive as you follow close behind

then throw roses on top of the earth where they lie,

your friends, one last goodbye

walk from the grave

whispering you say

so soon you will be back again and see them on that day

so this is not goodbye, but until some later time

you look around and pat your heart under black suit and tie

for friends here still alive

Solitary

I am a tree in these solemn woods

And I have just now toppled down

Made such a cacophonous, calamitous noise 

Even though no one was around

I am a pebble in the stream bed

And you wouldn’t even know

That it was I causing the waters to rise

With the melting of the mountain snow

I am the last bit of glass in the carpet

That the vacuum couldn’t find

The final stinging piece of an argument you

Hoped you’d finally left behind

I am a shell upon the seashore

Like so many it has known

Indistinct, cracking, and empty

And yet, I too was once a home

Wake me up when you’re finished finding yourself

Because I miss you so much

Wake me up when you’re done reaching for reasons

That you’re still too scared to touch

‘Cause they will never be enough

I am a lock on this door you won’t open

Though you’ve been playing with the key

You’ve tried every which way to get through

But won’t even look at me

I am a sign on the side of this dark road

Headlights illuminate than let go

Try to tell you that it’s a dead end

But you’re just trying to find your way home

Wake me up when you’re finished finding yourself

Because I miss you so much

Wake me up when you’re done reaching for reasons

That you’re still too scared to touch

I’m waiting for the other side 

To come around, to come around again

But the needle’s warn the grooves in

And your voice is wearing thin

But I am 
I am

...still

None but the Imbalance

I think I like to remember life better than it was
  But that's only because
  I know if I go searching
     Deeper and deeper
There's no reason
             For my kind of crazy
Only me

So I picture the summers soft and warm
 With lessons to teach and a more apt pupil
  Widening gates that flew open in the wild breeze
   Flicking leaves upon cobbled paths
  I knew in my heart you wouldn't last
 dear Mystery
I still reach for you

     And I scribble notes of winter's branches:
    Heavy coats
   The bus comes
Snapping, crunching, sweating cold
   Deliberating over blue eyes
    Waking to a foreboding calm
     Stepping back a ways

Autumn is pretty but it kills that summer vibe
Putting it to bed like some rotten kid

And Springtime is a runny nose set to a pretentious soundtrack
But don't we always put up with promises

Believe in me, please
        like I Believe in you?

So we can go searching

So you can egg me on

Crack me on the edge

And pour me into the pan

Watch me twist and sputter in the heat

"Wants salt."

Oh, Little One

We watch the water rise and fall
And no surprise you're all about the moon tonight
Your hands are cold but they fit in mine
Till I wake up and trace over these dotted lines

So don't forget your helmet if you go outside
'Cause the man on the screen said...

And grandpa remembers when trees were real
Back when the house didn't need a plastic seal
Before ohio had a coastline
And your dreams were mine

So don't forget your helmet if you go outside
'Cause the man on the screen said the sun is almost dead
And don't leave your pills on the counter again
But you said "I already ate today"

The Melancholic Martian

Some fleeting bits of poetry are gnawing at the edge of me
As once again the crumbs of consciousness run up ahead of me

My hand is shaking in the car which drowns itself in the garage
My head a twisted, tattered mess, confessed to leave the engine on
But to go inside and then resign, hoping to find some meaning for my vacant life
I'll eat a meal of what may cause my heart to shine its own "check engine" light

But what does it matter if I ever reach a ripe old age
Around this sour fruit you should probably put the pills away
But I often get nostalgic when I'm lonely, so if you're hearing this
I'd like for you to know my life has been a learning experience
So far...

And yes, I do recognize the moments where the weakness wanes
Where choice is almost evident and I know that I give in to it
For what is a moment's happiness to soothe a second's sorrow
When every thought of healing is no more real than is tomorrow

There's a snapping sound at the very top
In ecstasy and aching
And I dare to hope it will not stop
Just as my hand starts shaking
Then off the ladder I will fall
And back again to dark and desperate
But down here you're all so damn beautiful
And I a blight on your collective

Ballad of a Weatherman

Ever since he was a young boy, meteorology
Was all he cared about so he could be like the man on the TV
He would watch the skies and chase the storms and map the ways the weather formed
His interest rose like mercury when the world was warm
And all he had were his dreams

All he wanted was to point behind him and tell you what lie ahead
With a smile and a wink, no need to think about a word he said
You could trust him, yeah

He made it through college and even grad school
Could trace a pressure pattern in his sleep if he had to
So he started work at the local station with the highest hopes and expectations
Fetching coffee and making copies and dreaming of precipitation
Working hard for the man in the suit

All he wanted was to point behind him and tell you what lie ahead
With a smile and a wink, no need to think about a word he said
You could trust him, yeah

After years of working at a desk
He was almost ready to give it a rest
But still he did not give up hope of keeping the townsfolk in the know
So one day they sent him out to track a cyclone all alone
And he swore to the team that he would do his best


All he wanted was to point behind him and tell you what lie ahead
With a smile and a wink, no need to think about a word he said
You could trust him, yeah

Through the wind, across the waves
In yellow boots and coat he taped
From a tiny boat the story of mother nature's wild glory
And though the scene quickly grew quite gory
The remains of the tape still heard him say
"Well folks, I think it's gonna rain."


All he wanted was to point behind him and tell you what lie ahead
With a smile and a wink, no need to think about a word he said
You could trust him, yeah

Lonely Wolf

This must be the town where all the heroes go to die
Where all the legends lay to rest
And all the secrets don't need keeping

This must be the place where you know a person by their face
But never take the time to know their name
Though you can watch them sleeping

This must be the street where all the people that you meet
Are in every single cliche song
About how great it is to live here

But I don't mean to assume
Don't mean to bring you down
No, this could be just another tired town

This must be the house where you know you'll die alone
Though your mouth still makes the shapes to say
That it looks just like home

This must be the room where you'll take your dying breath
Though if you can move down that donor list
Maybe it won't be your own

But I don't mean to bring you down
Don't mean to assume
No, this could be just another empty room

Place the cigarettes and candy in her casket
Right atop the blanket like a lonely shopping basket
But you make sure the beer's in there, somewhere where she can reach it
Heaven's on our minds, Preacher, but hell is all you're preaching

Smoking at the Gas Pump

There is a shadow upon the wall
Can it be mine? No, it is far too tall
Here in the corner I feel so small
So near to the shadow upon the wall

Here in this small town made of clay
We wait for the rain to wash our world away
We built up our houses, a safe place to stay
To find comfort and leisure and the weight of the waves

Here in my head there's a thought slowly spinning
The dark, woolen web that I walk is now thinning
To the look of a hundred teeth slyly grinning
As I round the next lap of this race I'm not winning

Here in the dark, there's a soft, hollow laughter
That chips and that clips at all dreams I chase after
That uses no words yet still names itself master
My hands, strung like puppets, bid nigh new disaster

There is a shadow upon the wall
It used to be mine; now it's twenty feet tall
It scrapes at the ceiling, for the wall is too small
And soon it may take us, this clay house and all

I saw a dead person today.

I wish I could sleep but my mind keeps beating me up
Boxing gloves laced with iron thread 'round my head
Hey that rhymed
Shut up mind!
Grrr...
This is going to be all week isn't it.

Greyman

The empty suit, the noose-like tie
The mark of curse inside the eye
His wandering stance and shaking hands
Pacing along the floor

Solicube

there is an insignificance
to its
particular hue
the shading on the edges
lacks definition
light drips reluctantly
through afterthoughts of holes
poked by the pencil lead
of a giant's pencil's head
that air might flow
stale and bitter
into, of course, this lonesome cell
and i
out through those tiny holes
peer cautious with contention
then back to pacing end to end
from wall to wall of dim-lit cube
my feet begrudging every move
to slide more than step
so as not to wear false airs
of naught but suffocation
or any sort of dry determination
painting pictures on the cardboard walls
with blood and dust and contraband hopefulness
portraits of a faint, forgotten smile
that appears to me in dreams
on the rarest of occasions where sleep agrees
to enter the hovel of a lowly dreamer
and i hold the hand once again
before it grows claws
and kiss the mouth once again
before they grow fangs
and talk of love once again
before i let it down
and it led me down here

Four

And there lay five stones on the sandy shore

Their synchronous line from afar masking the variety 

One

     a perfect cube 

     save one chink 

much complicating the corner

somewhat distracting to the eye

Two
     translucent as fog
     smaller than the others
elusive in the white sand
save a single pink blemish

Three
     thin as paper and just as frail
     wide and long as a tall man's hand
crevices call for cracking between the layers
so many layers, so easily dispersed

Five
     smooth as the breeze
     speckled in a thousand shades
across a grey so deep the night forgot itself
and shadows slipped into greener hues

He didn't recall the feel in his calloused old hands

Or which he slipped in his pocket

Or that he had picked up any single one of them

But still he blamed the tailor for the hole

...and the loss.

In America, We Build Our Steeples Out of the Flagpoles

We, the emperors, have no clothes
Anyone who tells you what sin is doesn't know
Anyone who puts themselves up above you
Anyone who finds a "godly" reason not to love you
For we are the facilitators of our own demise
Hell is not so much other people but what we do with them inside our minds
And holy wars are fought every day on city streets
And in the country and the suburbs whenever strangers meet
But I was raised up with the promise that God loves me and you
So when I don't know what I believe, I still believe that much is true

Is the Well Yet Dry

Burning holes in the ground, little circles
Streaking out uneven on the edges, like sunspots
Inverted starlight in the dust of the earth
Five little rings, for five little fingers
Little digging fingers that clasp around the dirt
And set loose upon the sky
Dead soil, barren like your brain of late
Anxious that you're out of time
Before you've even begun
That below the dead earth
Is only more dead earth
And those five little circles
Are the only seeds you've left to sow
Their growth a symptom of
Your idealist intoxication

Wear a Coat

I've been chatting with my nightmares

And they have too much to say

But on the good days of distraction...

I've been skipping through the graveyard

Making lives for the empty names

How it's better with the lights out...

When I escape, when I make my break

When I take no one, and I get away, away, away

In these ill-fitting shoes

I think they've worn me out

These tired sleeves

Hungry for a better heart to wear

I've been scratching at my corner

With pencil marks for the days

Waiting for, I guess, permission...

To escape, to make my break

When I take no one, and I get away, away, away

In this outdated shirt

I think my style's gone stale

These stinking socks

Each hole crying for less calloused feet

What does it matter what I wear

When I'm too scared to go out there

In a world where it may get cold

Who has time to wear a coat

Granite, Concrete, Dirt, or Cobblestone

Pardon me, I'm disillusioned

Why must I be so insecure

Flapping wildly in the wind

A fast food flag flying at half mast

In this old used car, I once again return

Tank on empty, past these granite hillsides

To the home that's no more a home

Than the empty shells along the shore

Pardon me, I'm mass-produced

Clawing for my destiny in puddles of free-will

Riding bikes on crooked, cracking sidewalks

To the park between the marshland and the sea

In this new state-of-mind, I return once again

Heart so heavy, each step a long cliche

To the commonwealth that's no more mine

Than the basement that I leave behind

I went to the stair against my will

And climbed up to the church on the hill

Climbed the hill to the graveyard and felt the tree beside

But if I climb up its old trunk, I'll have nowhere left to hide

Life is a big old joke, just maybe

That's either on me or with me, I don't know

Please don't let me take it seriously

Granite, concrete, dirt, or cobblestone

Digging for the Rabbit Hole

Savor the sickly sweet song

This melody playing tricks with your tongue

This porcelain piece of air, vibrations dancing through your hair

As you run to the meadow, that secret space

Then back behind the willow to your haunting place

Dangling dead flowers in the stream, drifting dark desires on daydreams

Far away in your mind from their stares

Those claustrophobic grand hall glares

That put you in your rightful spot with whispered weavings of what you're not

Till the swirling sky takes you right out

And you soar above their bloated bouts

And catch the hum of birds who sing of wires, wasps, and angel wings

For angels, you know, are talked of by folk

As birds talk of dragons, when high up they float

In those imbalanced sort of tones, daring to believe somewhere in their bones

Yet, of course, this talk of such impossible things

Should be saved, they would say, for the playground swings

And now you are grown and dignified, yet of course you now ran to do much more than hide

Shading Greyscale

I remember in dissonant shades

Every good and bad thing

Of which my life was made

Then concocting reason for madness

I place my blame

And find my sadness

Outside this skin and bone-wrought sculpture

Every thought is sin

Every friend a vulture

'Twas you convinced this villain that

There's more to my head

Than a villain's hat

Yet memory serves not to boast

As time condemns

Fading flower's ghost

Then tipping hats and costume quests

And secret caves

Would diminish less

Formidable

I don't know what to say

And I don't know what to do

I don't know who I am anymore

And I certainly don't know you

I'm tired of feeling owned by

Promises I never made

If we really cared for each other

Must all these debts stay so unpaid

I don't know what you're looking for

I don't know what we'll find

I don't know why you think I'm yours

If you don't want you to be mine

I'm sick of asking questions

Only because I've been told you know

I'd rather walk away in silence

Then hold on tight to letting go

Like a Friend

I would like a friend

Not some puppeteer with twitching fingers

Ready to own me, lock me in a cupboard only to take me out to polish me

Or to show me off at parties

So I can do tricks for their real friends

No, I would like a friend

Not some Halley's Comet acquaintance

Who imagines I won't change with time

While they tell tales of the galactic dust they've gathered

The condescension of a busy life that they stooped down from

To pat my wide-eyed wonderment on its adoring little head

Before their next epic adventure

No, I would like a friend

Not some vague conception of tumultuous emotion

Or empty personality behind theatrical masks that always

Seem to bring more tragedy than comedy

For behind every smile a question of worth

The applause never enough to counteract the feeling

That I juggle not one but several personalities

And to ever drop a single dagger is to stab a million hearts

No, I would like a friend

Not some doctor for my weary wounds

To prescribe the just right medication

To bandage my bruises and set my bones

To solve my case then send me home

Nor a dentist to tell me the just right technique

Then on every visit chastise me for using it poorly

Though I do appreciate the care I suppose

A project or a patient, I am not

No, I would like a friend

Whose nothing like the friends I've been

Not assuming what is best for others

Not jumping in with quick advice

Not desperately vying to be the most intelligent in the room

Not disappearing when others aren't the right kind of friend

Not listening out of guilt and fear

Or being there out of debt or insecurity

Not weighing convenience over hope

No, I would like a friend

Who, to be honest,

Is nothing like me

Who I don't deserve

Who I don't understand

Who I don't have

Sacred Bus Stop

Come on down to the sacred bus stop

Sing the songs and see the show

Sign the contract, you can wait here

So when the bus comes, you will know

Pay the fare, we’ll pass the plate ‘round

Shake some stranger’s hand, I s’pose

Make sure you’re dressed for the occasion

You can’t leave town in local clothes

Sit on the bench, recite your purpose

For wanting so bad to leave town

Security will check your baggage

Too much will only way us down

But come on down to the sacred bus stop

I know there’s one on every block

But only this one has the right route

They’ll probably take you to a lower stop

All passengers at the sacred bus stop

Trust your driver and get in line

Heaven knows it’s a bumpy road

But the destination will be worth your time

I’m sorry, sir, this is the sacred bus stop

Seems our list is full, this just won’t do

We pride ourselves at the sacred bus stop

On perfect patrons, and that’s not you

#slogan

i think my generation’s broken

perhaps, our spokesman’s too outspoken

we replaced our lungs to fight infection

we replaced our tongues with the comments section

i think my intellect has faded

think i knew so much more before i was jaded

if your suit and collar come with a matching prison cell

where’s the foreclosure sign on this cookie cutter hell

they told me to get a degree

they said that i could be anyone that i wanted to be

they said if i stayed in school, i wouldn’t have to work for free,

but now even they won’t hire me

they told me to get in line

they said there’s something at the end that will be worth my time

they said if i want to be happy, just remove my mind

you can just drop that at the door, i’m sure that you’ll be fine

but we’re looking for something that you can’t erase

looking for something you can’t throw away

looking for more than minimum wage

looking for a life, more than just to get paid

we’re looking for a promise that somebody might keep

to look in the mirror and be proud of what we see

we’re looking for a change in which we could believe

not just a slogan that we know is only short-term relief

you gave me opportunity

you gave me choices

i could go your way and forever be

shackled and voiceless

or i could walk a lonely road like a pariah

which way i’ll go i don’t quite know but my desire is to run, run, run, run, run

...and wouldn’t that be fun

How the Peel Must Feel Once Discarded

Must be lonely, boy

In your dark room dreaming

Dancing pixels, your only friends

Must be lonely, boy

All the voices scheming

You can hear the echo never ends

Walk this road, standing on your head

No answers for the questions left to ask

But I can't see any meaning in the solace of it

Why blame the future for the past

Must be lonely, boy

Waking up to find

You've slept away your life inside a slogan

Must be lonely, boy

In the crevice of your mind

Hiding deep under it all, you're just so broken

Power Play

We stand on the hands

Of those who died with arms to the sky

And trip on the wrists

Of the cuffs that we missed

chronocide

I'm reaching out forever

But I know that I can't hold it

With every breath a new goodbye

I'm choking on the moment

Carousel Casserole

Tune me out, I've not got one thing to say

And if amplified, i'm certified to kill a crowd too quickly

Will work for food, will work for a ticket out of this charade

Will work to be more than a burden trapped in revery

My own nostalgic serenades legitimize resentment

Sitting solemn and soliloquized with comatose intentions

So goals impose the throes of woes that froze the nose of statues' foes

And those, well, they're just inaugural addresses for the masses

With every king a conqueror and every queen a sorceress

My inferiorities and by elimination

Subliminal infractions of criminal retraction

But you can't take back the moon I for which even the shadows swoon

As oceans burn and lessons learned turn back their heads to bite me

Topiary Expressionism for the Young and Young at Heart

I was a lie that you told in your sleep

To all your little friends who could never keep

A secret to themselves so they all blew up

Now they're tiny little pieces, you can't get enough, no no

I once was a higher cause

I once held the greater good like a gun

I once walked with martial law

I once kept all my doubts in a box in the bag of a thief on the run

Is this your evidence

'cause I don't need any trouble and I don't mean anything by it

Is this your parliament

'cause your lords are all so common and your steak tastes just like ramen

But we've all got bigger problems now

You were a pebble in the shoe of the sun

Like a shadow on the grave of a less fortunate one

But the lunch bell rang and you're starting to drool

As if our cares were unaware of what to feed to a tool

I once was a cable car

I once was the logo on the side of a lamp

I once was a corporate joke

I once placed all my sins in the back corner pocket of a man who had run out of stamps

Is this your heresy

'cause I do means loads of trouble and you're better off without a suitcase

It's common decency

but I suppose we'll let it go considering your standards are so low

And we've all got bigger problems now

Take me for example

Or take me for the fact

That I will not come quietly

And you won't take me in tact

'Cause I've been shuffled around for generations

And stored in inadequate situations

The temperature in these conditions

May have lead to excess wear and tear

But really that's neither here nor there

I had my papers somewhere 'round here, I could swear

But there's children near, dear, so better not

And politicians too, oh well, let me rot

I once was a valuable

I once was a collector's item

I once held the attention of a so-and-so from oh-you-know

And well I suppose that's all I've to say about that

After all, by now I must be old hat

Barber of the Sphinx

"Not so bad to be dying if you're already dead,"

He must have said as he walked in the door.

And I thought he was lying till I picked up that thread;

I heard it hum in my head as I sat on the floor.

He said, "Don't start with crying or I'll send you to bed!

But let us, instead, begin with this tug-of-war!"

I made some knots for tying, till my hands felt like lead,

And the floorboards ran red and my knuckles were sore.

Then he started sighing about the color I bled

Saying I would not get fed and should now live no more.

Odder Still

There are still leaves clinging to the winter trees

But in a forest of dead stumps, you turn your new leaf

And I stand, apologetically incomplete

And walk away, wearing a too-thin coat of disbelief

Knowing your new leaf is covered in shit

Desperate Poetics

Wait for dawn, on your own, so pathetic

Drown in the sleeplessness, desperate poetics

Wear our arguments like designer clothes

No wonder we feel so cold

Custom concepts to inflate empty egos

Only know what we’re sold

Only wear what we’re told

Armor like white roses painted gold

Skim the surface of your mind

Or dive in deeper, till you find

Some kind of originality

Stoke every thought into flame

Look for more than someone else to blame

To lose it would be such a shame, individuality

Take back nothing

Regret’s a slippery concept

Motivation is a kind of debt

We say we owe this ourselves

But essentially we must give up to excel

Ever increasing

The risk is remiss if it’s bliss

If that’s all that we want out of this

We say, “I just want you to be happy.”

When each one of us is so scared to be lonely

You can take the hand

Of every pretty girl on every street you walk down

But just like the moonlight, you’ll be lost in her eyes

Then all will be gone by dawn:

Her, the moon, and you

Only an empty shell with a trophy for a clue

That this tortoise had better places to be

And a hare’s breadth away is too close to call for me

Color now outside the lines

And race the stars across the sky

Do not fear these flaws and fallacies

Set sail for deserts like a king

Headfirst and offer everything

What’s left is more than worth the sting of tragedies

checkpoint pt. 1

It's like the combination of a confirmation of deviations and sensationalist stations that are all tuned to equations, imbalanced in their frustrations, unchallenged, uneducated, and man, I almost hate to say it, but it's time for liberation.

We've got these mortal enemies incentivized and sending me mixed messages of policies that polish piece of crap agreements, while poverty at home and overseas is hunger more than harmony, leviathans of industry that feed upon it callously.

dirgehaiku

Petals on the wind

Display colors of frailty

Beckoning winter

And Yet...

There is no sense of time

Only the ache, the growing ache

The pit inside, like a hunger

Like a peach's pit or one for fire

Empty or heavy, always and never both

But still the ticking, still the clicking

With tap-shoe syncopation

Devious and dire and dreadful despairing

And yet

Well...

I guess

A place exists for the "and yet"

And that's still something

There's a place there

Saved right there

For the "and yet"

A reservation for hope:

A table for two

A candlestick at dusk

A chimney in early autumn

A gas pump (almost perpetually)

Raw egg

5am...

And yet____________

Stood up

Electrified

Moved out

Economized

Bad

Nothing to wake up

nothing left to guard

take it from me
i can’t do this anymore
i am not the man you thought i’d be
i’m not sure who i was before

take it from me
‘cause i can’t feel anything
i’m drowning in a separate song
that only dead men sing

take it from me
these hands weren’t meant to hold
my callous heart has gone too far
and left me somewhere cold

take it from me
the love that’s in your eyes
when you look at me all i can see
a reflection of the one i despise

take it from me
there’s no use in holding on
what i feel will stay forever here
but of course now you are gone

Sacrilege

To the plastic priestess with the brightest eyes

Her hands raised high inside a modest disguise

While she worships her semantics, frantic for a throne room in the skies

She’ll talk of grace, but look her in the face and you’ll find no second tries

To the sons of study who teach youths how to talk

Raise them up right to be children of a gilded cross

Put shoes of good news on their feet, but with little room to walk

Can the good news get through when all the words of love are lost

Anyway, drunk Jesus and some hungry whores

Are knocking humbly at your mansion doors

But I know these castle walls can hold out the poor

‘Cause really their kingdom was never good enough for yours

So judge me all you like and i’ll try not to judge you

When even the slightest hint of brokenness, you never could much see through

Judge me all you like, ‘cause i’ve no right to judge you

Truth is i’m incredibly broken, and my guess is: so are you

But I'm only kind to hurt myself...

I'm honest, sometimes, because it makes you uncomfortable. So when you tell me, "It's so refreshing" to hear me speak with such clarity and openness, know that my intention was not to be a spring but a drought, to drain you of presuppositions and rip through entanglements. I never meant to give you a "nice way of looking at things". In fact, I never meant to give you anything at all. I wanted to take away all looking at things, all standing on solid ground, all perspective, and subconscious ideas, and shatter every last pane of assumption not just to shine a little light on the situation but to bring in a draft that would chill you till pneumonia set in. I'm talking frankly not to make you miss the old days when folks were more honest but, if we're going to be time-traveling at all, to take you back to the day you figured out that grown-ups didn't really know what they were talking about but you couldn't say anything 'cause you were just a kid. And speaking of "just", no, I'm not "just saying". I mean this. When there's something right in front of you—look at it! I mean, really look at it. Somehow, simultaneously take everything you've ever learned about dissecting a situation and use it to utterly devastate and violate. And then, or perhaps instead of that, throw away everything you've ever learned about anything and everything, and just experienced it. Get slapped in the face by a wave, eyes and mouth open, even though you think you know what it'll be like. Check the handle to a door that's "always locked". Go over and sit at that table, yes that table, and talk to those people who "don't want to talk to somebody like me". Say hello to the old friend you stopped talking to somewhere down the line or finally ask that person their name, unashamedly admitting to the whole world that you're interested enough in them as a person not to pretend to know just long enough to move past the stage where you have to.

Mean it when you say it, whatever it is. 'Cause I do, and after all, I'm only saying this to make you uncomfortable.

Soon Enough

You know when you climb so high

That the air feels younger

But perhaps it's only because

Of how much older you feel

Having made it to the top

That it only tastes so fresh

Smells so clean

Because of how hard

You worked to reach it

Like simple foods

Becoming richer from the hunger

Maybe no experience

Can ever be taken on its own merits

For it exists, as we approach it

Only by our approach

Not to say that we create the experience

But rather in the process

Of our own selves being created

The reality

Of each moment is diluted

By all that we carry with us

And that's why the air feels so new

When you reach the top of a long climb

Because you've been heaving

Under the weight of all that

Old air

And by the time you reach the peak

Well, in fact the only way to reach the peak

Is to be completely exhausted

Of all that brought you there

Left collapsed and

Stripped bare

Carrying only the scars

From ripping off your chains

And letting go of the baggage

That had made it so hard to climb

But soon enough

Even those will heal

And all that will be left

To remind you of who you are

Is what's holding you up

Lifting you toward who you will become