Tuesday, December 29, 2009

My Own Worst (Best) Enemy

All these sins in the head
Guide to the rapture of the father
Like snakes slithering across flowing grass
A killer in the weeds
Sliding like ice across thawing lakes
With the grace of air
They hold such beauty, magnificance
And only appear like some
Deus ex machina to lie about
The freedom they supposedly bring
Eating heart and mind
Leaving the body to rot and decay

Incomplete poetry with no one to edit
Signing biographies with unique penmanship
Whole beings made from past torment
Memories stabbing happiness in the chest
With only ambition of failure in mind.
Damned corporate values, unkind to the individual
The end is the beginning is the end, of this.
Serpents need to satisfy hungers as well
Even if it means consuming their own venom.

How come loneliness invites
Such awful friendships?
Pals created by spectres of the past
Incorporeal yet, not exactly the emptiness of nothing
Wicked, sensative issues made worse by
Attempts resonating through airways.
Liars are at least predictable, they lie
Ghosts, however, haunt because of truthful statements
Pain leaves scars that do not heal
Just wounds that never stop bleeding.

Jumping into chasms that were originally made
To only be six feet deep
Might bring solutions, if only a bottom
Could be found to end the descent
Shovels will never aid the unearthing
Of this family pet buried in the backyard garden
Morning pills and sexual natures only comfort
No remedy. No cure. Simply placebos.
Darkness below, and trauma forward
The time to leap becomes enticing.

Will o'wisps taunt with potential
Progress in future still possible
Unfortunately, gaze is turned to the murky pond
The fetid, reflective pool
That corrupts its mirror image.
Swamps are all too characteristic.
All manner of creature to represent
Or destroy through symbolism
The bizarre humid-cold imbalance
Is far too fitting subject matter.

If only bones would break and sever
Tendons connected to heartache
Years are not seas, they are oceans
Too vast to navigate, too boundless
It's easy to get lost or drown within
Horizons never seem to be free of storms
Sinking feelings set in as oxygen breathes out
When razorblades become still in soap dishes
Resting on the edge of a bathtub.

Sleep Study

Was I dreaming or simply thinking of you?
Visions of being entwined like ivy
Climbing further up the wall, the longer
We spend together
Avian in nature, soaring upwards and attempting
To become blue with the sky
Whispering in my ear and softly melting
Away in the pillows

Doing my best to be reminded of your substance
Liquids are lost too easily through cupped hands
And I prefer not to cry over numbers
Disappearing in hypothetical mathematics
That nakedness in the classroom providing humility
A lesson learned ages ago

Once I was a vibrant plume at the edge of a cliff
Who crashed like waves at the rocks below
Faith lost, then leapt
Rediscovered in mid-flight
Never making to the rendezvous point
Gasping air and rocketing heartbeats
Ever stall that fateful meeting

I am returned to shape and your
Stethoscope breast searches for a returned beat
Knowing and feeling love in there
Frantic rhythms assure, calling to be soothed
Streets cracked and torn, singing and bleeding art
In a stunning fashion.

Was I dreaming or merely thinking of you?
It does not matter now that it passes.
Whisper in my ear as I drift
And remind me of the beauty
Of dreams and the real, found coexsisting
When I am with you.

The Beat On the Go

I once got to meet a guy who liked to wander.
He traveled everywhere, but made it a point to never go the same way.
It wasn't that he was opposed to being in the same location,
he just wanted the journey to be different each time.
Trains or cars or foot
Across skies, or paths, or roads
He strode out and set forth.

He carried as few items as possible.
A bag with a change of clothes, but
it also contained 3 books he swore were essential.
A dictionary to keep him studious,
a thesaurus to aid him in battle,
and a bible. Just in case.

When I had the chance opportunity to cross his path
I became curious, so I asked him why he kept moving
Why have no place to call home. What was the point?
He said he wanted people to think.
Simple as that.
He wasn't out to get people to change, just to think.

He told me about a woman he encountered.
Said she seemed disinterested with her life.
Seemed to just be unhappy like too many are anymore.
Said she wanted help and he told her he was no
snake oil shaman with an instant cure for sale.

Well what do you do then?, she asked.

I get people to think, he stated to her.

Think about what exactly?

His retort?
Well...he never really said what it was.

Funny how things work sometimes I suppose.
So I had to ask him what I was to think about.
He looked right at me, smiled,
and asked if he really had to answer that?
I guess not.

He left and I never got to see him again.
A shame, really,
I'd like to believe he could have told me more.

Glimpse of the Future

Man do I ever need that roadtrip
That tour of the east coast
I need it like veins need blood
Like lungs need air, like
Skin needs water
Just that sweet release from this hole
Will be an orgasm of immense magnitude
Tension unleashed with a
Tingling aftertaste to my flesh

With music blasting down to our eardrums
Piercing the brain with thoughts of rhythm
I want to see the grass and trees
Pass by us, and change type
Every blade and branch bending away
And swaying in the wake of air
As we blast our way through
Town after town, city after city
County after county, state after state
Defying logic and reason
With speeds set by light and to
Music and aerodynamics

I hope we get there and find
Of some...no, any form
Something to help us find bliss
An epiphany discovered in the escape
From the midwestern vacuum
Something to make us have to believe in
God because the scenery couldn't be made by man
Anything to justify us
Becoming runaways from home
And leaving the tyranny behind

I want it to be true beauty though
Not some fleeting love found by
Trading one hell for one lesser hell
Hopefully the air fills our lungs
With an optimistic energy
That lets us exhale art and
Melt into the colors of the landscape
As we hold hands, watching eachother
Our desires becoming one, and fading
As we become a single essence aligned
Together by our hearts
The end result being tears, joyous tears of
Love streaking down our face

It can be any of the states out there
I just need us to be happy when we arrive
Be it through location, learning, or eachother
Let's find a spot where it feels
Comfortable to feel not just liked,
But loved, truely loved
Love enough to forget the vices
Consuming our lives, here in this current home
There we can find inner peace,
Peace enough to actually sleep through the night
Curled up together for warmth

Let's just go
Go and find our state
Our glimpse of the future
So we can see eachother smile
Those kinds of smiles were you know
Beyond a doubt
The other person is a word beyond
What happy or elated can describe
Let's find that place where
The past doesn't matter and families
Can not control nor confine us
Where we can just...be

Let's just go

Holding On to the Fantasy

I can not live up to the expectations
Placed on me by those around me

All people see is the perfect me
The me that is fearless and leads them to victory
That me that can defeat anything
And helps them solve problems
The image of me that makes them feel better
By simply being close to them.
The me, that isn't the inner me.

The core me, the inside me is the one
With the issues. The one who is sad.
The depressed me who can't seem to break free.
The me who is emotionally unstable.
Who is prone to anger, cruelty, and crying.
Me, who creates an image of grandeur to keep
Those near believing all is fine.

I can not continue to attempt to live
Up to these lofty expectations.
It feeds the duality of my being.
I am not what you think I am
Me, the me I know, the me I am, the I
Is conflicted

Expiration Dates

What was it that I was
Or at least pretended to be?
Oh that's right
A person.
One that writes feelings and emotions down
One that expresses ideas, opinions, thoughts
One that doesn't need pretentious notions
Or large, obscure words that have survived
Their expiration date.

Did I write about how life passed me by?
How I lived a inane, repetitious life
Doing nothing more than what was required to
Survive another day.
Or did I write about how life ran me over
And as she pulled me along, trapped under her wheels
I occasionally grabbed hold of someone along the way
And pulled them down, scraping their knees and elbows
The tears in their eyes said they wanted to help, but
I'm sure in the long run
It was best I let them go.

Was there a time when I had no emotions?
No really, I'm curious.
Zero emotional control is more like it.
More my style.
Playing the fool and savant to anyone who would listen.
Forging strong bonds, only to test that strength
Was I alive?
Was I in thoughts, or even remembered?
Will this be remembered?
Was I liked? Loved? Loathed? Livid? Lucid?
Was I?

Good lies are believed.
Great lies are entertainment.
My life is just entertainment for someone.
Unfortunately, it's not me.
I know the truth, and it's the 5 o'clock news.
Such is living.
Such is dying.
The art of words on a box of images.

The power is not in reading
The power comes through writing.
Watching and discussing hold no comparison
To feeling and experience.
So please tell me
What was it I was,
Or at least what you let me pretend to be?
Oh that's right...
A writer,

Childhood's Gone

I remember being amazed
Grass staining my clothes as I rolled around
Scavenging the skies for another dragon in the clouds
Would it be peaceful and float past
Or would it turn color and pour wrath down to the earth?
It didn't matter
I just wanted to see it again.

I remember having energy
Building forts from whatever materials found
Something, anything make-shift to shield out temporary invaders
Known also as friends.
Saying prayers in these cardboard cathedrals
That life would never penetrate the walls
I wanted them answered.

I remember soaring
Flying across the ground on two wheels
Wind blazing through my hair
My heart's only desire to go faster
Never to slow the pace
Trees becoming one solid wall next to me
I wanted life this fast

I remember crying
Not from just the wounds a mother's kiss heals
But from the pain of the walls and ceilings and beds.
The hurt caused by all these wonderful memories
They don't mean to harm, but they remind me that
I remember crying this morning because
I don't feel this way anymore.


I don't need this
I don't need
I don't need this.
I don't.

I don't need another problem to pollute
the skies of my body.
I don't need you to diagnose illness and give me
another pill
to swallow.
I don't need sanity or mental illness,
or even the failed organs within.

I don't need belief.
There is much too much doubt for faith anymore.
I don't need to be a
Post-modern Jesus
or even a regular-joe chameleon.
I don't need the ability TO change because
the change itself is more important.

I don't need to be awful
in an awful world
with awful people doing
awful things.
I don't need to be blind to injustice
and atrocity in life.
I don't need to be a better person.

I don't need to be victim, victimized, or
I don't need to be special
or beautiful or failed
or perfect or flawed.
I don't need another hollow emotion.

I don't need to hurt. It really
isn't worth it.
I don't need the committing of suicide
because the committing TO suicide is far worse.
I don't need your colors, and smells
or even the intersection of
your accident.

I don't need someone to read this,
nor do I care
if they do.
I don't need a better life, and
I don't need life's shit.
I don't need to care, but for some reason,

I do.

American Dream (Complete)

There was a life I used to live
Reckless youth gave way to college
Then came the American Dream with the house, wife, 2.5 kids
You know the story too well for me to go on.

Then came the sickness
The rancid, nauseating feeling of impending demise
One wound was all it took to make my life a leaf adrift on the wind
One wound was all it took to lay the foundation of my new exsistance.
Sure, people knew what was to become of me
My fate, so to speak....
But that did not suppress hope
Humans have that in abundance
Even against over-whelming odds in this, this..
Epidemic of insanity

Sanity, now there's a something to rationalize
Bodies have always lined the streets
Talking on their phones, wearing expensive suits
Wondering if that person passing by would fuck them
Had they only just said "hello"
Now those flesh sacks just run without moving
Bleeding from limbless torsos
Horror still the expression on their face
Did I just call that a face?

We used to love to feel the sun
On those faces
But it has been absent for awhile now
The cars burning in the streets choke out the tar
From their lungs, seemingly to deny those rays

How does sanity live in this world?
I dont believe it does
It's just a lie.
One that I continually tell myself as I venture forth.

I feel hungry. I need to stop all this philosophy
Internal debate makes lunch less satisfying
Evolving into a being less sofisticated
Is no easy process.
I pray it gets easier.
All I guess I really know is hunger
The most primative desire of survival
My emotions and thoughts just slide south and
Out the holes in my feet, only to
Plague the soil with further corruption
All I really know is the hunger
And I'm really...so.......


I still roam the halls and roads, salivating
Over the possibility of a fresh, warm meal. One that
Still moves, sees
It seems as though too many have joined the insipid crusade
That I champion against my will

Diseased and ravaged bodies once lived solitary lives, but now
We hunt in packs. Sheer numbers destroying
Foundations of muscle
I have difficulty rationalizing the beast I've become
Yet I do not stuggle to
Be anything else
It seems such logic is commonplace amongst my
Brethren as well

There may have been a time, when simple
Things like color
Would have impacted our decisions of
Love, fear, hate, lust...but
We have become two-legged wolves that feast
Upon the flesh
Forcing relocation to our collective
Possibly less than mongrels are we
At least they choose
What to slaughter. Our only requirement
Is thought.

I am unsure how much war I have left in this husk
Part of me wishes meals would
Dissipate like steam in the night air,
Leaving our horde to starve and
Gain no momentum
Human nature too stubborn to give in
To such a request from someone as indistinguished as
There is almost no me left any longer
Only that abysmal hunger, that
Pesky appetite.

Somehow, here I am. Still shuffling.
Aimlessly drifting. Awaiting rapture.
My pack has been thined by rebellion
And my mind only wonders why
I am so damned tired

Oh God, I tire of this.

Why have I not thought of you sooner?
Maybe with you, my life would have
Survived that...that....wound
I suffered
Perhaps this is just a game orchestrated by you
This madness and decline
This being
This hunger
This life

Are we your saints to vanquish
Those that got away?
Faith is in the chance belief you breathe and
We are the sinners trapped in purgatory
Our purpose seems to be
Consuming those that challenge the masses
The we, that myself and countless others became.
We the horde,
We the slaves.

Though I am now an instrument of decay, God
I want you to know that I love you.
Or rather, the thought of you
You see, I am still too much of
An artist
Even if I'm the walking dead
Writers, artists, and poets live
For different views, perceptions
To challenge and change
Processes of thought.
My body may slave to hunger, but my
Heart and mind live free
Free of control
And free of restraint.

Like I said before, I love you.
The idea of you.
I think the only way to know
If my faith was well placed
Is to meet a friendly shotgun
With something it wants to talk about.
Willing to deliver me
To the answer, to you,
Or to nothing
For now though,
This leaf stays adrift on the wind.



It's late.
One of those nights where normal bed times are for
Normal people.
Restless as I am
I can feel that warm lover of dreams invading me like a ghost
Trying to stretch itself and reform to fit inside me.

Maybe I will lay and think of it for awhile
That thing that
Bothers me so much.
Maybe I will lay and think of it
Because it haunts me
Maybe I will lay and
Maybe I will


No. I will not sleep yet.
A noise?
A thought?
A movement, a shadow,
A fucking guilty conscience?
That is not how I work.
Or is it?
What? Now I am going to doubt myself?
I don't do that either dammit.

Settle down.
So you can sleep.
Calm, think calm.
Don't think, just sleep.
Don't think, just


I'm never going to sleep.

Choke on This

I want to give this to you,
All of you that piss me off for no reason
This is not for you, the reader
But for those I want to tell off
Face to face
Yet, I'm prevented because
I have empathy

I want you bastards to choke
On those burgers you shove into your mouth
That mouth with teeth rotting from
The lies and shit that spews forth
I want that mouth to vomit rainbows and sunshine
As opposed to the garbage you accumulate
In the landfill your consider conversation

I hope you die sad, and alone
With no one to mourn your passing
Not a soul to shed a tear for your
Journey to fucking Hell
And if you continue to be a bastard for no reason
I will get this desire

Could you at least attempt to think
About another's feelings or thoughts, and
How you might make them feel?
No. I doubt it.
You're too fucking self centered to believe
In the exsistence of others.

So this round of anger is for you,
You pathetic little pricks
You no soul bastards who can't
For one minute
Live outside your world
Now go and dance in oncomming traffic
With blindfolds on
Or take a big drink of bleach
Any way you feel like it,
Just go fucking kill yourselves, and
Stop wasting our oxygen.


There is something more
Between us, something
I already miss
More than a short affair
A few miles and a few hours apart
Won't damage
And something more than
Seafoam and campfires
I died when I saw you and now I
Die since we have parted
Maybe I cared, maybe not
Maybe I was indifferent
Or maybe,
I just miss you.

Last Smoke

Grace slides away apathetically
Into the cool night
Soft glows from the cigarette
Fail to disturb the witness
Silhouettes of trees
Shake the blanket of the heavens
The heart is reminded that
Wounds feel like promises
That lost their meaning.

Water on the Brain

Ages soared on the wind
until we ran out of gas of course
Was it only me
buried by those mistakes made?
Will you ever know
the gravity of those confessions?
Now my location feels like purgatory
A repentance of ignorance if you will
Maybe Hell is on the waves
and it baits us with a chance of atonement
I've painted the words on my chest
They just simply await the response,
though experience tells us,
childhood is only memories.
So lay beside me
to help refresh my mind of
every ounce of poison and candy.
Maybe that could provide
the freedom I so dearly seek.


Spear piercing tongue
Leaves heart need journey
Escapism the vice
Used to defy longing
A victory in the mind
Caresses the lonely
Bleeding a symphony of devotion
To a deaf audience.


Bones ache as storms roll overhead
Damned diseases keeping, forcing eyelids to the open position.
Hot coffee to burn lips and smoked cigarettes to relieve stress
Wanting to return to your side and try to sleep again
I wish it would happen but this thunderous weather will not allow it.
Conversations were interesting before sleep
You told me that Nothing was real and I can't accept that
What about the love that I feel? I know that IS real.
Apologies are meant for when you cry as
That was not my intention. I know you understand this,
But the guilt formed by making it happen, is real as well.
I suppose I can't complain about this weather too much though,
At least you got to sleep.