a memory. a child.

i can see you sometimes
when i hold myself in the
darkness
at night
before i drift off to my real world.

i miss your laugh,
but i would never tell
that
to anyone
for fear of being weak.

but your eyes are there always
and i can't let them go.
i wonder how it would have been
if you hadn't gone,
and i don't suppose there was any way
around it.
when our clocks become unplugged,
so do we.

but i still think it would have been
nice
for you to see me now.
i'm not looking for your pride,
i'm just hoping for your eyes
one more time.
but they're always with me when i sleep
and they keep the darkness away
when i look into them.
it would still be nice to have you here
to take away the fear
of when my clock
becomes undone.

i miss you at times like these
when i wonder of
how happy you would have been
to see the same look in your grandchild's eyes
and see a little bit of yourself staring back.

i miss you at times like these
before i go to sleep
and see you one more time
the way i remember you
the best.

some babies never get to be born.
and some mothers fade away
well before their time.

but it doesn't mean i have to accept it.

born of ocean. born of sea.

i love the waves against my face
as i lay against the sand.

and the heat along my spine
as the salt goes from my mouth.

the warm along my neck
as i spit the sea
over the ripples and through
to where i sleep within
myself.

this is always the way
and the surf takes my breath away
as i lay
motionless in the current.

i hope for big things here
as the sound nurses me to sleep
and i swallow
inside of me.

this holding motion as
it takes away the urge
to be,
letting the feeling envelope me.

i am no more,
and that is fine.
maybe i never was.

i dance in my bones
from the tones
below the waves.

i feel the nature in my skin.
i bend where the warm recedes
and takes away the needs
i've had for so long
that makes me fear the cold
and the darkness
once i've grown old.

maybe in another place
i wouldn't have felt this way
and i would stay concealed
like an urchin in the mist.
and maybe it wouldn't have
taken me so long
to feel like i belong,
like i'm a part of this,
like every swing was a miss.
and that was my only wish
from the very day
i was born into this.

cost effective

Leaders aren't meant to lead,
they're meant to uphold
the principles society
has set as a common
standard.

Their basic worth is
based on upholding the
common good.

They are there to make sure
we are all fully represented
in a way that does not
impede upon the rights
of others.

All we need is a leader to
allow us to prosper
equally, to
maintain the same
opportunities
for all people, no matter
their background,
their race,
their religion,
or their sexual orientation.

It is our right to live,
to love, to dream,
and too seek out those
necessities that best
make up the framework
of who we are individually
for the sake of
our species.

Each one of us make
up the pieces to
a greater puzzle.
It is the individual
that represents the whole.
When we work within our means,
society prospers
because each person is
working to their
full potential
for the sake of
civilization as well as
themselves.

No one needs monstrous amounts of
wealth. The difference between
earning 50k a year and a 100k a year
is fairly narrow. Those margins
decrease dramatically when millions
of dollars of income are discussed.
It does absolutely nothing for
our level of happiness.
Collecting possessions
does not make you happier,
it only adds more burden
to an already burdensome life.

We need to become happy
within our means.

We need leaders who are not
out for themselves, but
for the people they are indebted
to represent.

We have to get away from
selfishness, and begin looking
at the greater good.
Consuming more products
does nothing for the individual
or the masses. It depletes our
resources and gives more wealth
to the already wealthy.

Recycling in its truest sense
is utilizing already constructed
products for the sake of reusing those products
rather than wasting energy on breaking those
products down to their
base materials to construct new products.

A true hybrid vehicle not only
puts out low emissions, but also
uses less fuel, and uses less of our
natural resources to manufacture.

A truly 'green' society would be looking
for alternatives and using what we already know
to get as far away as we can from fossil fuels.

But the problem is that we have wealthy individuals
that would make less money
if we went to a cleaner way of living.

If they can't make billions of dollars
on an idea, then it gets pushed to the side in order
to maintain profits for the future of themselves,
not us.

We already pay for water and land. It's only a matter of time
before we have to pay for our sun and air too.

step away from dogma

you don't need a guru.
no priest can help you.
the faith
the spirit
that you are looking for exists within.

it has always been there.
it is your happiness.
concentrate there.
don't let the churches
speak for you.
be your own freedom
of knowing right
from
wrong.

you are your own source of charity.
give freely if you can
in whatever way you can
give.

be the source of your own holiness,
do not rely upon others
for the teachings
you already know.

be the force that drives
the temple forward.

be your own insight.

be the dream you've always
dreamed of. be your own ritual,
your own sanctimony.

be the god staring through your
own eyes.

Jesus

this idea that religious dysfunction
cleverly disguised as freedom
takes precedence over
basic human courtesy
is rather eye opening.

at what point did religion
become intolerant
hate mongering?

at what point in the bible did Christ
say it was all right to
turn away from your
brothers and sisters
because of who they are?

whoever it is that's trying
to pass these odd laws
to slingshot us back to the
last century might have their
Christian ideals mixed up a bit.

whatever happened to the Jesus
that warned about casting the first stone?

whatever happened to the Jesus
that spoke about loving thy neighbor?

whatever happened to the Jesus
that washed the feet of those who were
cast away by society?

the Jesus I read about doesn't
seem anything like
what is coming out of the
political religious movement
in recent years.

it makes me remember a story
I heard
about a wolf
dressed up as a sheep,
or was it something about
leading a lamb
to the slaughter.

man eat man world

I saw one of those silly fights that
get posted to Youtube.
You know the ones:
one guy/girl is pissed at another guy/girl
for some strange thing or another
and one of them inevitably gets knocked out.

And I thought to myself, a monkey fighting another
monkey. This is why we can't move on as a society.
We always have something to become physical about.
I've realized that nothing will ever get better
until we can learn to use our words.
It's something that's taught in preschool,
but there are so many people who
just don't get it.

If you're not intellectual enough to win an argument,
then don't get in arguments until
you've become educated.
Read a fucking book.
Use Common Sense.
Evaluate the situation.

There's a very good chance we'll be
throwing shit at each other
for all eternity.
Life may never get better than this.
We may always have to look over our shoulder,
waiting for the next bully to
start a war,
or pick a fight,
or rob us,
or to threaten
our lives.

If it weren't for the Philosophers
and Physicists
and Saints,
and Teachers,
and well mannered,
even tempered People
in the world, I would have checked out
a long time ago.

Maybe someday we'll get it
and become more civilized than the
animals we've rationalized it is okay to eat.

like a demon on fire

at odd moments,
I want to run.
I want to take flight and
leave this behind.
I imagine my feet
taking me away
to somewhere I've
never been before,
to somewhere calm,
to somewhere,
anywhere.

the world speeds past,
a blur of color and motion,
a kaleidoscope of
unnecessary moments,
drowned in time.

and I breathe easy
in the speed I'm gaining.
everything becomes so small
that I no longer need to try
to grasp it.

I'm dreaming that I'm running right
now, taking off into the morning
and waiting for the light to erupt
in my eyes.

the people are standing still in my wake
and I'm too fast to see.

and then I'm motionless again
and nothing has changed
but the outlook of where I'm
going.

I'm still.
my breath
is slow, clam,
and regulated.

if I wasn't here,
I'd be running.
I would run to somewhere
safe where the only one
who can see me is the
sun as I burn away the ground
beneath me.

running.

show them pearly whites

I practiced smiling yesterday.
my cheeks hurt.
I caught a case of dry mouth,
but my eyes watered for some
strange reason.

today I am going to put forth
more effort.

I want to be like everyone else
I see smiling for no reason.
Just hanging around at random
places with gleaming teeth
and burning cheeks.

maybe if I fake it I can
get in on some of those
positive vibes I hear so
much about.

I might try using a mirror
to see if my reflection best
encapsulates a general mood
of happiness.

I was at an amusement park on
Sunday and watched a tiny bird
make its way across
the railing of a planter.
it bounced expectantly as
I ate popcorn.
it looked at the bag
and then at me
and then at the bag again.
I broke off a small piece
and tossed it to the little bird.
its head bobbed up and down.
everyone else was speeding by.
and out of those hundreds of people,
I was the only one to notice the bird.
I kept throwing small pieces toward it
and it greedily ate them up.

then the exit line from the ride
I was standing near opened up and a flood
of people began to exit, and the little bird
flew off toward the trees.

"where were you?" my
wife asked.

"standing over there, eating
popcorn," I said with a smile.

reflect on becoming

a shift is needed.
allow a different reality to consume your identity,
become that which you envision
through reflection
and purpose.

embrace a new emotional charge
that best fits your preferences.
if you wish to become more
positive,
make that positive purpose your
necessity,
your primary goal.
reflect on that change
every day
and include it in your life,
step by step until it becomes your
reality.

cast off that which holds you back
like clothes that have become threadbare.
this takes practice.
you cannot become that which you envision
without creating change and encouraging
purpose.

small steps every day
to journey a
a thousand miles.

make it your hobby.

trust in the transformations that allow you
to become
what you've always wanted to be.

don't mind what you leave behind.
you're on different paths,
going in very different directions.
maybe your path will intersect with their's
a little later on.

but for now, keep with your destination.
face the direction that best suits you
and forage forward.

this is how you will become
the dream
you've always wanted
to be.

subjective truth

religion
without
         a
   bible.

         faith
    without
falsehood.

crazy
without
insanity.

growth
without
enormity.


independence.

quiet.

reflection.

the
truth
    is,
we're
already
dead,
searching
          for
          life.

the truth is,
we are in
this to grow
beyond it.

the
truth
    is,
no
amount
of
wealth
can save
      us
  from
ourselves.

the
truth
     is
subjective.

looking too hard
in one direction
keeps us from
seeing where we
came from.

looking too hard
at where we came
              from
keeps us from
seeing where we
are               going.

        it
             is
      the
acceptance
         of
ourselves
   and
      our
environment
    that
allows
       us
to become
free of
      our
environment
     and
ourselves.

a small something gifted

there is consciousness beyond our
mundane scope of reasoning.
there is a greater vision beyond this
simple illusion of attachment.
our will is more divine than simple books
and areas of thought concentrated
on the idea of illusory imaginings.
we are the holiness we seek.
there is ignorance where we see nothing
other than the world we're attached to.
there is darkness where all we see
is the negative field.
there is light beyond ignorance and darkness
where we discover the god of self
that has been seated within us all along.

all paths lead to the greater source.
whether you're Christian or Muslim,
Buddhist or Jew, a Pagan or a Yogi,
an Atheist or an Agnostic,
the scope of Energy is within your
understanding based on that which
you hold faith.

there are hints all around us that lead
to a common source. Science through Physics
has discovered some of the principles. so
have the Yogis and Buddhist monks, and others as
the coil unravels.

we are simple in this.
the divinity we seek is inherited
unto ourselves.

our discovery is based on quieting the mind
and allowing for deeper consciousness.
through the pitfalls of life, we better understand
a need for self discovery.
in the idea of darkness, there is a glimmer of hope
which concentrates the bigger mind
upon divine objectives. This is holy.

when we see governments deciding for the people,
we know this is wrong. an individual path is needed
for the construction of self realization.

when we see corporations leading people to poverty,
we know this is wrong. men and women are free
to find the path that best guides them.

when we hear silence between the static noise, we
know this is right. in the quiet, we can listen to
the gravity of our consciousness to find
the very root of soul beneath the chaos.

there is ignorance in every field of religion.
look between the lines. all greatness comes
from acceptance of all living things to follow
there own chosen path. reflect on self and
allowing for others to reflect on self to find
the greater positive field of reflection.
to hinder another in their path is not religion.
religion is to guide. religion without religion.

we can no longer restrict others from their
search of source. do not hinder the flow of
the journey to yourself or anyone else.

religion without religion
is all that we should follow.

the secrets lie within others who have searched.
the answers are guided within ourselves as we
look at our own true selves. the spirit within spirit
is the compass which guides us.

know there will be ignorance.
know there will be darkness.
know there will be light.
know and you will find the source.

more bullshit based on nonsense

there's an obscene belief that corporations
have the same rights as people.
but the fact is that corporations are merely
businesses ran by people.
on an individual basis, all of those people
who work for the corporation have rights,
but the business, itself, does not.
a corporation is as much a person as my
automobile is a pet,
or my computer is a shoe box.
people only have a right to be individual,
to live life, to enjoy liberty, and to engage
in what they deem as happiness as long as it does
not interfere with another person's rights.
to say that a business has the right to refuse service
to someone based on their ethnicity, their religion,
their sexuality, or their gender
is a slap in the face to everything
that humanity stands for.
if a company refused to conduct business with
someone because they're Christian,
we would be outraged.
so why is there even a debate about
people being discriminated against
because of their sexuality?
it's just more outrageous nonsense
to ruffle our feathers.
because, at the end of the day,
no court will uphold
discrimination
that so boldly goes
against our
inalienable
rights.

I have a few questions for you

Can I hold your hand until the bombs drop and blow us

Into the last shreds of meat to inherit this fine world?

Can I be a part of you for a few minutes until we’re

Melted together as one for the objectives of the few?

Can I lick away the waste that covers you and makes

You just like me, here in this fever of Hell right now?

Can I be one with you again after they’ve had their way

With us so I can show you what I truly feel for you?

Can we find each other once the smoke settles and our

Bones are ashen representations, caricatures of our loss?

Can I hold you just one more time before they piss pools

Upon our bodies from far away bunkers in stone and dirt?

Can I cry a little tune for you so you’ll remember me when

The fire takes away the flesh and leaves nothing recorded?

Can I beat my head against the walls, wishing this wouldn’t 

happen, just for something to feel before I’m carried away?

Can I gift you one last smile and kiss your lips before the

flash melts away the sight of you from my bleeding eyes?

Can I have a moment of your time before we perish in the 

wave of static disease that will be burnt away by flame?

Can I be with you just right now because tomorrow will 

never again be a day away? Not in this, never more.

We will never have this time again.

how slowly it builds

that place at my spine
where it hurts
always

that place that feels
as if it's
coming
apart

that place where it
connects
to my
skull
and the neck
bends

that hard spot
that aches
in tension
all the way
to the base
where
it cracks
in laughter

the pain lifts
behind the eye and
into the sinuses,
building pressure
that makes me
remember
I'm
terribly alive

that place where
my shoulders
slump
and the blades disconnect
from the ribs
and the spine twists
and I can't catch my breath
from where the ache
resides

that place,
my deformity
of twisted
vertebrae,
cuts me
in half

crawl inside
and cut it
from me

I can't stand
the taste

grind it,
stomp it down into
dust

pull it out
of me

beat me
slowly

I want to
feel every blow

and I will
happily
do the
same
for
you
if you're
broken too

drip from me

beat this meat from me,
my darkest friend.
help me pretend
this wasn't meant for me.

beat through the lesions
that grow at my sides
and take the pride
for I've lied
to myself again

about the sin
committed me
upon the winds
that smear the skin
across the bones-
silent sails
torn across my mast
falling fast
into the rage
that descends
into blood waters.

drip from me.

my darkest friend,
give me your fist
so I may not wonder
of my place
in all of this.

grant me
my weary sleep
in the deep
of penetrated souls
so I may never grow
butchered
by the hands that
save me.

and I'll love you until
the end of time
if you wipe away the grime
that has collected
here on my cunting heart.

a farce,
this wicked wind
that rips the
last of me away

drip from me

my dearest friend
so I may see the evils
once again.

smear of red in the daylight

when it rapes the soul
in and out
a dull knife

in and out

as far as it will go
and back again
for another turn

the rust is course
and blends with
the blood

in

to the hilt

out

to the tip

the murder is a fantasy
bludgeoning gore
and your only true friend
is imaginary

it brings a smile to your spine
that tingles every time
you set your sights
on something real
just to feel
a little more
than yesterday

a brightness that shines
a candle no longer lit
the bonds bound to bind
and the smell of shit
on the curve of your lip

take it all away
with you
when you go

tell me if you happen
to know
the mysteries
that strap us here
fucked by fear
and daisies

send me a message
from the other side
where you hide,
a simple passage
that will tell me
you're all right
once you've died

and I'll do the
same for you
if I do
first

and that will be
our pact
to let the
other know
where we go
when the end
begins again

raping,
stabbing motions

in and out
over rust flavored
scars,
an orange hue in the daylight
to signal our plight
to the other
when we're gone

maybe you can haunt me too
I would do the same for you
if you only knew
the feelings
I hold for you
you'd do this for me
as I have done this
for you

from the mud

We're all waiting,
but I wonder what we're waiting for.
Maybe at the end of this,
it's just more of the same.
We hold out long enough to
hold out again,
infinity, our only friend.
And we replay the same sad song
until we
can no longer remember the tune.
We hum to ourselves,
but no one joins in our doom.

And then,
nothing
more than silence
until the next crescendo
brings us to our knees
and we weep the notes
again.

but no one is listening.

The chords are all the same,
and the bars resemble
the music you're used to
hearing.

And the Devil plays the flute
in time to the vicious
things you've seen
your whole life long-
a broken bone that refuses to set.

The torture of it is never being able
to look back
at those curves in the music
so you can expect what's
coming next.
When it happens,
it's all too familiar.

and you're done again.

To wake up and look about at the plain
white walls. Machine guns rumble out
at the back of your skull
where it's soft,
where you remember everything
until the next go around.

And being dead is a joke
set to sound.
White noise, crumbling the last
shards of you.

You happen to look for a second,
but the images are fleeting.
A blur of a blur
and nothing comes together
to make it whole again.

You're better off living, but to what
extent?
Everyone else is laughing,
but you seem to have missed the joke.

What does it mean when nothing is pretty
anymore? How does it sound
from the bottom,
looking up,
hoping to see
the sun?

We're all waiting, but
what are we waiting for?

and no one is listening.

you might be

saying the mind is separate
from the body
is like saying the arm is separate
from the leg,
when in all reality,
it is connected to the same core.

is the torso independent from
the limbs?

do the fingers move
without a hand?

can the Earth remain intact if there
is no sun to shine upon it?

our galaxy is
within the universe.
our mind is one,
a part of a greater whole.

one does not function without
the other in proper terms.
even if someone has lost the ability
to move their body, it is still necessary
to contain the mind.
even if the mind has expired, sometimes
the body is allowed to continue,
but not to any great degree.
one is there for the other.

...unless you're a robot, then disregard
whatever you wish.

we are contained within the skin,
and until the source of our essence
finds that the wrapper is no longer needed,
we are bound to body / mind
in a way that best reflects the
energy which drives it.

no amount of math can separate
us from ourselves.

no matter how unique we think we are,
we are still one -
the same impulse that drives all matter.
if you ever believe you're unique,
check the reflection in the mirror
to see if the image changes.
if it doesn't, you might just be yourself.

sad songs remind me of dirt

i talk to animals
like little people
that haven't lost their
innocence yet.

i can tell them
my secrets
and they
can tell me
their own.

sometimes i whisper
to the trees
and they whisper to me
like rigid
men and women
who have retained their
souls somehow
through all of this.

i whisper secrets
and they whisper their
own
in return.

i hide rocks in
my pockets
for they are wise
and have seen
many things
so i take them with me
wherever i go.

they rarely speak, but
when they do,
its always
about
losing
love
and finding
their place in the world.

i breath out small nothings
when i lay in the grass,
letting the blades
course through
my fingers.
and again,
i am reminded
of purpose.

the grass speaks
of seed
and spark,
of lives
worth living
and of those who
have
fell.

i keep a clump
of dirt
next to my heart
where i can
feel its heat
and listen to
tales
of all who
have blended with
the soil.

the earth speaks
of peace
and our need
to turn away
from war.

i have an apple
which i eat
and ask forgiveness
for biting
to the core
and thank the fruit
for giving me all
that it is
so i may speak to
the world for
one more
day.

i let the music
end
when it is
finished
and hope
to play
another tune
on another
day.

by design, we need.

i question mortality,
the bending,
shifting
shapes
of
who we are.

i look past the gravel
collected on
tired eyes
in hope
of finding
the space that divides
the rolling tides
of oceans,
of lost souls
drowning
on the cup that
has been given them.

i couldn't swallow another drop,
but i'm thirsty for more.

i wonder if i'll ever awaken.
i wonder of the smiles i have taken.
and the frowns i have received.
i wonder why it has played out this way.
i wonder for all who have grieved.
i wonder if we can ever grow beyond this.
i wonder of unnecessary needs.

i strain my eyes to see clearer.
nearer now,
the empty cup
swallowed up
by thirsty mouths,
and greedy hands.
it still stands,
this growing need
that never falters,
always bleeds.

so sudden
it is taken away
like the waning moon
in the blink of an eye.
and the innocent die
day by day.
it happens too soon,
so sudden
this way.

a once overflowing cup
is now nothing more
than rust
and jagged tin,
holding on,
dreaming of being filled
once more
with the dreams
and sudden scars
cut too deep
to heal.

and i wonder
of this often when i
try to believe
in a world without war
and monetary need.
i'm grasping at straws,
yet i cannot do much
more than hope
to believe,
to dream
a dream
so much bigger
than me.

we find ourselves apart

ourselves
divided.
gone
somewhere
i cannot see.
you were
lost
and i was too
blind to find
you.
sometimes hearts
wander of
their own
accord
and are too foolish
to return.
sometimes a soul
grows beyond
the body.
sometimes
two minds
no longer work
as one.
it doesn't mean i
will not miss you,
it does not mean
that you didn't
mean something
to me.
we are sailing
through the air
in different directions.
but i will be sure to
remember your smile.
i'll be sure to keep it
carved in the
brittle part of
my skull
where all great things go.
and without those memories
of you,
i couldn't be
who i am.
but with you
i couldn't have been
any more.
it's relative when i
look away.
and i guess
that's all i needed
to say.

to the betrayed

just because a
friend
who has betrayed you
apologizes
for that betrayal
doesn't mean they
won't do it again in the future.
it doesn't diminish the act.
if it was easy once, it will be
easy for them again.
they have tasted your blood
and they will be back for more.
often times, the chemistry
wasn't there to begin with.
how can you call someone a friend
if their acts are not friendly?
this may sound sensitive,
and in truth, it is.
it is being sensitive to future
wrongs committed in the
name of friendship.
it is being sensitive to someone's
lack of character.
it is being sensitive to your own
neglected feelings.
isn't it easier to wash your hands
of dirt than to try to wipe
them clean in the mud?
friendship is a wonderful thing.
it should be respected.
honesty should be at its heart.
sympathy should pump the blood
of emotion through the veins of trust
to maintain the flow of that heart.
a common understanding
given to care and
sensibility to hold
the structure
of that friendship aloft.
we are as indebted to the
act of friendship as we are to
to the friend which it is branded.
everyone is aware of the difference
between right
and
wrong.
everyone has the ability to make
appropriate decisions which
reflect their ability
to maintain integrity.
and when that bond is lost,
it is our duty to
find the best path
which to walk away.
don't refer to it as
growing apart
when it is simply moving on.

make a wish

the broken strand
which dangles from the heavens
binds the cords
set to the spirit
that connects you
to the function of the flesh.

and the release is something greater
than has ever been spoken.

melting away slowly
from this into the next
and so on
until
you're back in the place
that you initially began.

never ending.

constantly refreshing the essence
of you, completely

forever.

some see it with every exhale
and their music is magic,
bound to the core of what
you're experiencing right now.

others live between the divide.
they've caught a glimpse and
keep on blinking through the mist,
building an understanding of what really
is.

what they see is beyond you,
but, at the same time,
it is very much a part of who you are.

under the sadness,
past the truest joy,
somewhere between
then and now
and again
is the form you're looking for.

clarity,
pure and content.

you live there too
if you happen to blink away
the illusion.

this idea that there are a certain set
of principles which
keep you anchored here,
hoping
is nothing more than the
illusion, itself,
trying to keep you in place.

make a wish
and let the pain wash away.
you can feel it deeper
than anything you've ever felt before.
it's set deeper than the marrow of your bones,
wishing that you would wish it to be too.

pieces of birds falling

you want to
fuck away my tears
and release me from
descended grace
so i may feel again

and we can hold one another here
like weary sparrows
too afraid to fly

and dance

gazing into the sun
and the regret that comes,
through all we've become
from everything we've done

gone shallow
on broken wings,
we're devastated things
made of coal
and black bleeding hearts
as we descend from
darkened clouds
to where we lay
in the final throws
holding on
to one another
as tightly as
we can
to feel them pumping
as one
beneath quaking chests

and our sobbing
becomes lost
in the
movement of
our loins
as we grind
away the guilty parts
of us

we're too afraid
to fly

our losing hearts
in another
part that seeps despair
where the wings tear
and leaves us
falling
through the clouds
made of empty breath
and shallow regrets

fuck away the tears
before they cry

make the night
shutter
our panting
gasps

for in this
we can finally die
noble
and whole
through weeping
desire
the parts of us
made of soul
and raging fire
we descend
and the world
goes fluttering away
like the most
perfect part
of
decay

be my sick

the special decay
seeps from ragged bone
a new tone
sung from
bleeding throats

so it kills away
the joy

and leaves you empty
of all the love
you can remember

but something lingers

just a small spot
on the surface
of the skin
like cancer
wrapped up
in a bow

a special present
like decay
for you to taste
at the tip of the tongue
and roll around
like wilted shit

it's a sense of heaven
in gilded rot
to ingest

a perfect nothing
to have and hold
in a broken down,
worn out hole
that filters
the filth
in godly ways

like perfect decay
and sunshine
through rotten
sockets

it's just another day
here
on top of the
goddamn world

let the spit wash away
the sin
lick it away to
its very end
where the disease
lives in full
where every sickness
will rule
one day
not too far away
and we can finally
stand on our
own
on battered bones
and wait for
the end to come
screaming
from bleeding throats

some journeys gone farther

this hate
gifted me
tastes
humble
tastes
curiously
free

it was
right there
the whole time

left shallow
feeling fine

in this grave

dug through
rock and worm
left hallow
left torn

a dark silence here
where we lay
a gift of perfect fear
in shifting gray

someone come to
scrape away

the gifts
we are
given

and wonder why
this hate
has been driven

for so many
centuries

in the perfect silence
the trial of the lost
our sacrifice for violence
cured of cost

bring us our
daily bread
to feed the hunger
of those
already dead

see us here
for what we really are

god spits in the face
one more time
and we're left feeling the
fuck
of angels
on our backs

so hope for justice
and hope for
the rusty womb
to scab over
so we might
live again
for something brighter
like cleanly sin
washed in
eternal light
to kill away
the plight
of a million
voices
screaming
for the
very same
fucking
thing

we have to clean the kill,
dress it and find
its source
we have to become
unstrung
and live
every moment
and the times
gifted
without remorse

and everything
will be
better
one day
when we learn to
throw it all
away

when we find ourselves
lost
and trembling
with no way
to go home

left dirty, right?

stuck in place,
filtering time
like a public toilet
no one has
bothered to flush.

there's piss on the
seat, but it easily
wipes away.
and since i'm stuck
in time, i might as
well be the one
to
do it. no one else
seems to give a shit.

being alone here is good...
if you can
get past the smell.

the misery's nice too
if you can figure out how to hold it.

really, there's no reason for escape
and there's no way to make it better.

might as well sit down
for another one
and wash the hands when we're done.
clean and dry the hands on our shirt
because the blower machines don't work.
not well.

if i wait long enough,
someone might come in.
they might have the answers
we're looking for.
we'll never know.
not for sure.

the soap has run out
and the hope is dried up.
we have nothing to clean
ourselves with
when we fail.

we're left dirty here.
pigs in the shit left behind.

Be Mine

I bought her a flower last week.

I bring her candy every day.

I tell her I love her when the emotion swells
and threatens to burst from my chest.

I see the future in her eyes every time
she whispers my name.

If I only paid attention to our love on one particular
day, I would have to evaluate that love to make
sure it was real.

February 14th is the only day
I cannot bring myself to
purchase flowers
or
candy
or
engage in
fine dinning.

If there was ever a need
for a day to show my feelings
toward the one I chose,
my love would be a failure.

So I will
tell her how much I
care
tomorrow
because today
is false.
It shatters true love.
It is an indignant day
of lies that I cannot abide.
Tomorrow, I will love again,
but not today, not in the way
I'm expected to
through a made up
presentation of
flowers and sweets.

Love is too special for that,
and I cannot use its
name in vain.

Author's copies.

Received my author copies of

Down

The

Luck

Swallow

It

Whole

today. Very excited about the cover and the format. Thanks to everyone for their continued support and interest in the book. A few of the poems in the book span back to the late 80's and 90's while the vast majority are more recent. I'm really happy with the way this book came together. The eBook will be offered for a short time at .99 cents, but the print edition will have to remain around the $15.00 mark. However, i have seen a few copies around $14.00 from some retailers on Amazon. It's also available for order at your local bookstore. Again, thank you for taking the time.

                                                              Regards, 

                                                                               Richard M. Cochran

Our very Center

That sweet intensity.
Across the lips and onto the tongue.
A hint of pine as the
hairlike fibers tear away
and release the juice.
Lapping at the smooth.
Turning with the peel.
Great bursts of minerals,
and the bold pit centered
there like a shrine.
Grasping at the sticky wet,
and letting the fingers linger
in the sauce.
And we are like this,
men and women
divided at the center,
never finding the great truth
which ripens us,
never quite realizing our core.
Nectar runs down the chin,
tickles the tiny hairs,
absorbs into the skin.
The pulp pulls away,
slurped up,
tasted,
longed for
like a soul we've been
traveling toward since birth.
Heart quickening pace
for the luscious reward.
Consumed by the inward
hunger, driving farther
into flesh.
Craving a new way,
a better way.
Longing for another bite,
another twist of the tongue
to release the
treasure that hides
within.
All this I debate
while eating a mango.

unsolved

Midnight burning asphalt.

The moon bright. Clouds linger like
a lazy cat
in the shadows.

Tires slip a piss lipped squelch.
Darkness races by as the machine
pulls another gear. Full throttle,
the tach redlines and the engine hums.

A curve beckons in the distance.
Another narrow strip of roadway.
Oil slick on the glass black turn.
Yellow needlemarks divide
the flow like a bulletflash in the night.

Hell under the tread, tripping gravel,
gripping slick, burning closer to the edge.

Wrong way through oncoming traffic.
Rocks fly, headlights swerve through the night.
A quick tap of brake lights and the machine is
lost in a ghostly red along a lonely curve -

Branches whip by.
The sound of bending steel.
Windows shatter.
The frame buckles. Dirt explodes along the hood.
Tires rupture. Settling
debris.

No occupants inside.

Scrape Bottom, Merchant of the Deep.

The ocean whipping razors against the bow
as the storm begins, tearing free
the figurehead
of someone he can't recall.
A nothing of a boat.
Sea foam hard upon the deck.
The squeal of salt in his ear,
trampling the urge to remember.

Sails knotting against the mast.
The scream of monster deep,
calling wild the great abyss.

The clawing black depth of oblivion,
and the hymn she sings
from long ago
before man tried her waters.

A nocturnal song mocking despair.
Sudden, the winds whip away the need to be.
A hundred force gale in the mouth, shuttering
the teeth and battering the skin like needles of glass.

He holds firm to the lashing,
grabs at the storm winds with his free hand
in a gesture profane.
Tentacles slap the decking.
A fearful song of hearts alive
and creatures diving
as a lone harp sings his final song from beyond.

White pecked waters, death black below,
surging from the mouth of forgotten
twain. Hold firm! The shout is all but drowned
in the churning rape of ocean salt beating at his ears.
No scream can conduct under such gravity.
And the bottom is lost as he
falls into the deep blue which rests like a sleeping maiden
under the black.

He stares at the ocean surface, neither up nor down.
His legs above him somehow.
The wet pulls into his lungs.
Panic.
Flames in his chest. He gasps the air that isn't there.
All alone. Not even the creature remains.
And then the emptiness begins
like a love long lost and returning
for the finale.

Scrape bottom,
O' bravery in jest!
Rest not even where the soul cannot depart.
Rest well in the darkness
where the end has no name
and the spirit was but a buttery thing,
melting below the waves.

The Trail West of Amen Lake.

I was heading down a new trail I had
never walked before.
The spring air was crisp and it reddened my cheeks.
My boots mushed softly into decomposing leaves.
Speckles of green dotted the treeline, bringing
the maple and the elm and the poplar back to life.
The sky held an emerald blue.
As I walked through, something felt out of place.
I focused my eyes and took another look around.
Something was amiss.
The smallest twitch of movement, a slash of black
against gray bark as I stared down.
A baby fawn glanced up at me.
The brown of its eyes like chocolate
in a bowl of cream.
I looked at it for a long time.
And it looked at me.
I let out a small laugh as there came a stomp in the
distance.
Out through the woods,
I could see the doe.
She snorted and stomped her hoof.
I nodded and continued along the trail.

With my hands stuffed into my pockets,
I took in all the woods had to offer.
The pale moss forming on northern bark
near the forest floor. The rich smell of earth
that transformed the air each time my boots shuffled
the leaves below. The moaning trees that spoke
when the wind rustled them so.

I straddled an old pine that had fallen between the crotch of
a maple, splitting it a few feet along its trunk.
From a small satchel, I withdrew a sandwich and a canteen of water
and watched squirrels slink their way through bare brush,
along trees, and past the hills that formed there.

I was amazed at how connected everything was.
Every grass that would sprout, every fawn to be born,
every pine to knock out brilliant tunes under
the wild sun had their own purpose which
reflected the purpose of all other things.
It was then that I realized my religion.
My faith was in the soil, within the lakes and rivers,
within the heart of the beaver which dammed them all
up for its own.

In that is life and death,
noting when you've stayed too long and
the stern stomp of a doe
to help you find your place
if you happen to forget.

A Winter's Day on Crane Lake.

I ran.
The steam lifted and formed a cloud
around my face.
My feet sank into the snow.
I could feel a throbbing in my calves
that burnt as if my bones were coals,
glowing red beneath the muscle.
Everything else was cold.
White landscape blurred by.
Green pines blanketed in a fresh layer
of snow. Ice encased branches shimmered
high above my head.
The sound behind me intensified.
I held my walking stick like a rudder
guiding my way through the thick
Minnesota forest, pushing leafless
underbrush aside as I barreled through.
The sound came closer.
I tripped and twisted, catching myself before it
was too late, using bare saplings to save myself from falling.
Crunch. Crunch.
Huff.
It was getting closer.
I could almost taste the animal on the air,
a bitter musk draped in piss.
It let out a shrill cry followed by a growl.
Fuck!
I felt something brush against my leg just above my boot.
It was enough to find a new burst of energy.
I was propelled by fear. Even in the cold,
sweat formed at my brow and trickled its way
down in wind blasted drips, spraying my eyes.
I was coming to the end of the game trail that led along
the swamp. I could see
a clearing up ahead.
It was the lake my grandparents lived on.
I felt the animal snap at me and I arched the walking stick around my
shoulder in hopes of beating it away.
Finally
the lake opened up before me and I sped up, almost
skimming the snow on top of the frozen lake.
A deep snarl behind me.
A snapping hiss.
A hundred yards out onto the lake and I could feel the freedom.
There came a low crack beneath the snow as I weaved toward the shore.
Another crack sounded.
I could see my grandfather's dock up ahead and the trail that led
around to the back of the house.
Crack!
My foot fell from underneath me.
There was an instant flash of cold that took my breath away.
Crack!
My other foot plummeted into the frigid waters.
I gasped.
In the next breath,
I was waist deep, using the walking stick to keep myself from going under.
There was a moment of clarity. The snarling had silenced behind me.
The badger was working its way back into the swamp as
I struggled to keep from going under.
I could feel the shock of cold slither up my spine.
My body went numb,
and then I felt nothing at all.
A cool peace came over me as I bent forward on the
stick, trying to pull my legs up.
A small crack came as I leaned forward again, trying to gain some leverage.
I hoisted my legs up behind me as I lay out on the snow on my belly,  trying to
catch my breath. In a single move,
I turned and scooted up onto the ice.
The water was already beginning to crystallize.
I turned over again and began to crawl on the lake.
I distributed my weight as best I could.
An eerie silence came over the forest
like whispering secrets in the air.
I was already shaking.
My teeth chattered.
I could see the dock only a few yards away.
I gained the courage to stand and stepped up onto the cedar planks.
It creaked from my weight.
It was less than a mile to the house, but my pants had already frozen.
I felt pinpricks along my legs. My feet had gone completely numb.
I saw the house, the unspoiled snow laying out across the yard
and on top of the table in the front like a freshly iced cake.
And my body slowed.
Every step was a mile.
Every breath took a minute to achieve.
I stumbled up the stairs and pulled the door to the porch aside.
I clamored in, nearly falling over myself.
My grandparents were gone, but the fire in the stove raged.
I could her the crackling through the iron door.
My clothes were frozen to me.
I had to peel my pants down as I neared the stove.
The pain was instant.
And I sat on the floor, revealing my pink and red skin,
thankful the badger hadn't caught up to me.

never ever

never belonging anywhere.
never setting down roots long enough to belong.
never tending to friendship or love.
never knowing what blinding faith is.
never calling anyone by name for as long as can be remembered.
never pretending to be one of them.
never right.
never wrong.
never standing in the never ever.
never wanting more than what could never be there.
never vengeful.
never waning.
never calling anyplace home.
never intended.
never shown.
never a symptom of a disease that could never live within.
never born.
never grown.
never lying for the sake of telling a lie.
never sorry for what had to be said.
never encouraged so it was never expected.
never criminal.
never bending.
never lived.
never secure enough with mother's touch to let the tension subside.
never called anything but lost.
never afraid that you've never died.
never smooth.
never rough.
never tempting the machine of fate that takes the luck away.
never belonged and
never was.
never hurting without just cause.
never spending too much time dwelling on the things that can't be cured.
never standing.
never falling.
never prayed.
never found.
never giving when the giving was good.
never told.
never held.
never hold.
never bringing anguish when pain was all that was needed.
never golden.
never tarnished.
never truly broken, but never truly together.
never hugged where it hurts.
never corrupted.
never forgiven.

Caged Waste

O' this wasted mask we wear
to not have to show what we are
to keep the secrets quiet
to lend mystery
to drown away our
guilt.

O' this we do to ourselves to hide
in the dark spots
from any who would judge us.

And our guilty pleasures
that no one can possibly know
to save ourselves
from the prying eyes
from the distant looks
from the building want
of those who wish they could be
the same way too.

Of what we are inwardly
and the pains we go through to
keep it quiet.

Of our sins.
Of our apprehensions.
Our secret guilt.

She stood this way too,
building a firm foundation
around her heart so they
couldn't see the far away hurt
that lingered there.

They couldn't know that she
had a secret desire to
open the cage of her chest
to expose the tender muscle
there
and let loose
a passion stronger than
anyone had yet seen.

She constructed the gates,
bound them with iron,
and cast them into the fire
to harden them there
so they would never warp
so they would never settle for
less
ever again.

O' this wasted mask she chose to wear.

And as her hair melted gray
and the skin fell loose,
the gates stood strong in her
solitude
behind a mask made
of all the wrong done unto her.

As she fell sick and turned
her gaze toward sweet release,
the hinges finally gave
from the rust of years,
through salty tears
and gripping guilt.

When she finally passed,
the words caught on her tongue
and no one was the wiser
to who she was under the mask.

But the gates had fell
all too late
for the cage that bound her
was a sepulcher and
would not release the secrets she held.

Maybe in another time
and another place
she could set that love free,
but not now.

a finely tuned way of being through the voice we are allotted

it is our word.
our language is beautiful.
it doesn't have more beauty than any other language
and that is the beauty of it.
with it, we can move the world.
with it, we can teach
and learn
and feel desire
and capture hope.

with our wonderful word
we can stand together,
we can feel sympathy for
the pain and
the troubles
and the ecstasy
and the hope
of our kind.

we can change everything
with a few well placed words
that inform,
that tame,
that trend,
and tickle the soul.

we are the guts of the machine
and with our voice,
the machine can change direction.
it can become more efficient,
more obedient,
more caring,
more about the blood and
less about the flesh.
with our voice, we
can make a more caring machine
that is tuned to our needs
rather than the needs of the
just the machine.

no more

i've seen a lot of hate in my life
and i'm sure you have too.
hate is a given.
hate is a common thread that is bound in ignorance.
what we don't know will harm us.
it will harm the people around us.
it will harm what we stand for and
who we love.

when i talk about them, i'm talking about
those with ignorance and hate and bigotry
and homophobia and racism and greed
and... and... and...

they are everything i don't stand for.
since you're reading this, those are ideas you
probably don't stand for either.
sometimes it feels like i've been hurled into
an alternate universe where the bizarre has
taken precedence over logic and reasoning.
i can't believe that ignorance of this caliber still
exists. in this day and age where communication
is just a touchscreen away. in this day and age
where information is so readily available. in this
day and age, how can stupidity still thrive?

it is the ignorance of a greedy America
where education, health, hunger, and logic
take a back seat to profit margins and capitol
gains. we are a great country held hostage
by corporate kingpins, hellbent on creating
a nation of slave labor.

we are an America more concerned with ratings
and catch phrases than we are with sheltering our
homeless or tending to our sick. we are a nation
driven by sound bites and conflict rather than the
need to educate our children or providing nourishment
for our hungry.

i often feel like this is a cruel joke perpetrated by
the most ironic, twisted comedian to ever hit the stage.
it seems so ridiculous that it has to be a prank.
but it's not. the atrocities we endure are very real.
the world we live in is not a joke. it is a place where
we have given up reading for easier entertainment,
where we have allowed our food to be poisoned with
chemicals to retain color, add bounce, and inflate us
to bloated proportions. this is a place where we are
actually debating whether love and marriage between
two consenting adults should be regulated. this is a
place where we are forced to choose between two
candidates with an equal agenda that only profit those
who are currently in business to make profit.
we live in a country where housing was made affordable
with a twist that would ensure Americans would lose their
homes and be forever in debt to a system that fails us.
we are broken but not beaten. but when education costs
more than the employment it renders, when homes cost more
in interest than we will ever be able to pay for in a lifetime,
when debt is the norm based on invisible money that is conjured
out of thin air and solely based on faith and good will, we are losing the fight.

it is directly related to ignorance and complacency.
the world we live in is a world that we have allowed
ourselves to live in because we refuse to take a stand
against ignorance and complacency.  it begins with
loving what we have and not being concerned with
what we cannot afford. it begins with each and every
individual taking a stand because they are tired of being
kicked to the curb. it begins with a single word: No.

no more hate and bigotry
and homophobia and racism and greed
and... and... and...

no more ignorance and complacency
and fear and paying debts we cannot afford
and... and... and...

no more talking about secret societies
building wealth to own the planet for their own
wicked greed.

no more suffering for the sake of suffering.

no more twisted truths.

no more ignorance.

no more.

or we can stand by and wait until our planet is a giant
pile of shit and our children can't get a job because
they lack the education and skills to perform and our homes
have all been taken away to rot on empty lots owned by big banks
and everyone is hungry for just a crumb from the pie that
the rich have taken for themselves and no one is allowed to love one
another freely and the difference between hate and acceptance
are one and the same.

maybe we should buy that shiny new iPhone
we've been wanting
that costs a nickel to make in some foreign country that is
quickly becoming
just like us.

how it has come down to this

pain is a symptom of love.
when you know what love is,
pain becomes that much more real.

those who don't understand pain
have never truly experienced love,
they're not sensitive to it.

it takes courage to find beauty
in misery, and it takes a hell of
a lot of suffering to realize love.
trial and error.

when we have our hearts broken,
we can clearly see what it is that drives
us, what we're looking for in another soul.

those who have been hurt the most
are the most likely to love freely.
they realize that every situation of love
is different, every lover needs a different type
of love. for those who find the piece of
the puzzle
that fits them best are truly lucky. it is in
that understanding that empathy is born.

don't walk a mile in another person's shoes,
but take a journey in their skin. it is under
the flesh and bone, at the very core of our
individual selves that we find lovers and friends,
the people who drive us to our limits.

these understandings make revenge obsolete.
it makes hate a thing of the past. as much as
we feel inclined to take out our personal suffering
on those who have broken
our hearts, or on those who have loved us
completely, it becomes unnecessary
when we realize our true selves and what it is that
drives us further in our journey of love, under
the skin of someone
who actually loves us.

know that your pain is their pain too.
know that your fear is also their fear.
know that your needs do not outweigh their needs.
and when it doesn't work out, move on gracefully
with your dignity and character intact.

through this, we can grow beyond common hurt,
common pain, and common love. we can grow,
and evolve into better people, loving for the sake
of loving, living for the sake of living. this is our
moment for change, for making life a little more
tolerable for everyone else that's just making a
pit stop in this thing we call life.

it begins with one person.
it grows with acceptance.

so screams the Meat

the dripping Fuck between the teeth,
holding on,
peeling the scabs,
trying for something Great.

farther inside of you,
stabbing away the tears
as far as it will go,

like a Knife.

this beating rhythm,
pounding to the Core.
our laughing cries
silenced
through an open wound
and the bruises
never heal.

the mud stains the eyes
and enters through
open mouth.
try to wish away the sickness
that never abides.
try to scream away the glass
that rips to the Meat.

run.

run Away.

i can't let you fall
when i'm standing so Close.
hold you by the veins
cut free
and stretch you into Me.

all the cliffs we've stood
at the edge
looking down.
our fingers laced together
we do it as one.

but i can't let you fall
when i'm the only one near
enough
to save the Truth.

run.

run away.

far into the Deep
we settle in the
trap set for us
by Life.

wipe Away the dust
that settles
and stand.
greater now,
we can only save
the Best for last.

run.

run a little Faster.

the Breath is just a Scream away.
how beaten are you?

every hope you've ever had
withers away.
dry fingers moist away the shrill.
call the infliction by name.
reap away the name
of the gods who do this to you.

so screams the Meat.

The Holy Hurt Of It All

The tired wind.
This cold.
A silent scream from under my throat.
The tongue does not travel.
The wind does not ease.

The careful pain.
This hurt.
A lungful of anger, chatter the teeth.
The bite doesn't cut enough.
The pain has been spent.

All of my mirrors no longer reflect
In the dripping ink of night
And the fear is welcome
In this light of mine.

I will see you there
Behind the thin veil
Where our souls scream
Their final breath
And the laughter comes
Ripping through like the
Slow hand of Death.

It is not enough to lose Faith,
But to drown in it.
A perfect end to
Something that never began.

Our bodies
Together
Mixing like
Despair.

Our bodies
Blending
In the swirling mass
Above it all,
Tumbling down
Through the
Dripping Thick.

Our smiles,
All that is left to
Be seen
Through the Cosmic
Filth
Which we Swim.

This is how it
Feels
When the wicked
Come tumbling
And the Angels
Spit, laughing.

Our hands tangled
Together
In this perfect
Moment.
And the smile
Does not ease.

sidewalk dance

with his hands shoved firmly
in his pockets, he
kicked the curb as
he walked along.
desperate,
feeling
the need again.
it was a drug.
the want, coupling
with the ill effects of
life, tossed down,
trampled.
a little lost in it all.
it began to drizzle.
the wet felt good on
his face.
a lasting impression.
that's all he ever wanted.
just something to take hold,
something to give
a little something back.
was it too much to ask?
it was always too much to ask.
he pulled his hoodie up over his head
and bent his eyes up toward
the sky.
the miserable, gray sky,
dripping, spitting, gnawing.
he formed a word with his lips,
but didn't dare speak it.
not that word. not now.
a bus sped past. a mist of puddle
drifted up over the sidewalk.
he felt the rush of air, and then the bus was gone
into the morning haze.
he wiped at his face,
wishing it would smear away.
his jaw clenched
and he moved on
in that misty morning
air that
couldn't
be bothered
to care.
he searched for a meaning,
but
no meaning
was there.

greetings

they don't talk to you.
their tongues remain
unloving
when you are near.
their eyes silently cower away
as if frightened of the
reflection you may cast.
it's a fear of themselves,
a fear rooted in their
need for approval.
they casually look away
when you're there.
their eyes drop to the floor.
you become a dirty
secret they choose
to ignore.
and the height of your day
is walking away
from those eyes
they choose to
abhor.

the enemy unseen.

their idea of god is blasphemous.
to insinuate that the original
cosmic blast of breath
which knows nothing
outside of itself
would
have
jealousy or contempt,
would reap vengeance or
instill fear, blasphemes the nature
of an entity
that would create such a thing as
evolution.
a laughable thing, the idea that
our evolution would exist outside
of some creative idea.

this notion that we should repent,
to string together silly words
that ask for forgiveness when we'll
do the same thing again given the chance.
being sorry for what you've done means
that you're repelled from doing those things again.
forgiveness happens on a personal level.

we have to get away from
blaming everything
on god.
we are the evils that we see,
the pain and suffering,
the greed and contempt,
the hatred and denial.
there are those who would be very
frightened
if we were to ever look
at ourselves with blame.
torture in the name
of god
happened
by the hands
of man.
witches were burnt
through the emotions
of man.
corruption happens
in the minds
of men and women,
bent on some illusory idea
that they are the
direct voice of god.
the wars,
the troubles,
the rape,
the molestation,
the fear,
the hatred,
has happened
by the wish
of humanity.

it is our choice to
live life
the way we see it.
it is our doing, every point, every mistake,
every deviation outside of nature.
we are
the enemy,
unseen.

don't blame god
when you see
an asshole
being an asshole.
blame the asshole
for adhering to the ways
of an asshole.
for we
are the enemy
unseen.

WHAT REMINDS ME

I WANT MY MINUTE
BEFORE THE DEATH BEGINS.

I WANT EVERY SINGLE SECOND
BEFORE YOU OWN ME.

I WANT THE SMALL SOUNDS
BEFORE YOU TAKE IT AWAY.

I AM MY OWN INTENTION
AND THAT YOU CAN NEVER HAVE.

GIVE ME THE SUDDEN BIRTH
OF IMAGINATION
            I CAN TAKE NO MORE.

STILL,
AT THE END OF THIS,
YOU OWN ME.

STILL,
AT THE END OF THIS,
I AM YOURS.

STILL,
AT THE END OF THIS,
MY FREEDOM IS A HOAX.

BEFORE MY LITTLE DEATH,
GIVE ME EVERY MOMENT
I DESERVE.

an embrace

GIVE WAY
to the great
emotion.

FEEL IT
within the
center of
yourself.

REACH
out for the
inside.

FIND
the nature
of you
dwelling
deep behind
the thoughts,
the wrongs,
the eruptions
that sent you
here.

BELONG
to yourself
and blaze
new trails
 through
intentions.

SOUL
is not who
you are, but
who you were
before this began.

SOUL
is not the soup,
but the spices
that generate the
flavor.

BEHIND
true nature
is the birth
of you.

EMBRACE
      it.

someplace special

the only way
it goes away on the
inside

the only way
never be afraid

you're still aware
of long ago nights
when nothing made
sense and it felt as though
the walls were tumbling in
around you

but now it's better
you're out there on your own
and there's no one to help you
up if you were to fall
but the freedom
is the
realest
emotion you've ever had

what you have isn't so much
but it means something to
you

the taste feeds on your soul
like a starving dog left in the
rain to rinse away the bark

if you're lonely
you can hold yourself
and the seizures
won't shake you
to pieces

if the darkness comes
there's a candle
you keep in your
guts
for purpose
and pleasure

if the ghosts return
you have damnation
at your fingertips
to flick away the fear

you build this for
yourself
every piece
a piece
of mental health

in the burn
you burn for
some special truth
a witness of lie
in this
someplace special
a fire in denial
a grounded portrait
of what was supposed
to be

and how it has
come to this
a special mess
thrown together
in haste
from the waste
you've carried
and now it's time
to realign
your mind
and flutter past
that little gasp
in the back
of your throat
and begin anew
to find something true
in this someplace
                      special

a certain gift of sex

some kisses
are like diamonds.
they burn with fire.
some bodies
become trapped
in one another.
let's call this
an action
of desire.
some flesh
catches
the light in
just a certain
way.
it makes the
tiny hairs
stand on end
with the right
amount of play.
a heart can creep
its way up through
the chest
in infinite
jest
as far as it will
go
with the right
amount of breath.
the sex in the air
tonight is
just right.
the tension
too tight
to break this
fallen flight.
the slick of skin.
the pain of plight.
some love is an
extension of ourselves,
blending in our own
personal wells
somewhere deep
where light
does not dare.
let's call this
the extension
of a perfect pair.
and in this,
the blood is one,
burning diamonds
hotter than any sun.
in this hope,
let us not fade away.
and remember of this
for all our days.

where you once rose to fall again beneath it

under
who the fuck
are you
under

?

a knife in
the face
under the
foundation.

under
what the fuck
do you believe
you're
under

?

take back
your
faith.
a fist inside
the mouth,
under
the teeth
fucked deep
through the
terror

under
who cares
for you
under

?

above
clawing your
way up
way up
above

under
the soil
gathering
beneath
the nails
under
the soft
and in the
voice
under
it all
so you
can't speak
under

la
la
la la
la la la
la la
la
la

use your
hate like a fuel
like an ignition
like a coil
turning
the
electric
in your
head

if you
ever had
one
you'd know

stepping
outside
and the air
is clear and
without death lungs,
pumping fuel

desire
desire this

la
la
la la
la la la
la la
la
la

use the
motion
to bring
yourself
higher

forget
yourself
and rise
higher into
it all from above
where
you can burn

burn the hate
let it fuel
the ignition
let it consume
you

take back your
faith.

under
under it all
under it fucking
all
under

this, for you, i give

when the sun
comes

dripping over
turquoise

sky

you are illuminated.

this,
my solitude
i hold
in steady
hands.

my precious
healer
of unfurling
hearts,
you are as
luminous
as honey
from
the stains
that bind
me.

i hold out
my hand for
a single
touch
when i
die the
unsteady
death
so i may
lay eyes
upon
the sun
that blinds
me
in this
time
of
guilty
need.

heal the
hurt
that forms
about
the wounds
and tend to
my gentle
pains.

all of me,
i give to you.

you can take
as much
as you want
and leave
nothing
to sort
when
i cry
the flame
of misfortune
that bends
from
encrusted
eyes.

how i call
upon you
in this time
of lurid
misery
to rid
me
my soul
which
parts
in the
center
where
the hurt
fails me.

a tiny kiss
where i
bleed
most
in this
wounded,
swollen
heart.

a single
kiss
to mend
the ripped
skin
that swells
with
your lips.

i can't say.

i stay still
and mute
here
for you.

the
words
escape
me
in this
makebelieve

tongue taken
and ripped
like sin.

i am nothing
more than silence.

i am a still,
silenced wind.

O' my
benevolent
stranger,
kill this
hunger
away
as you
have
done
so
many
times
before.

my tainted blood-
my horror show
syndicated.

my tainted blood-
my fear and
failure.

my dark
world
enveloping
the sun.

this,
for you,
i give.

one more

what
a
wonderful
ride.
such
a
strange
path
in the
heart
of it.

i can almost feel
the touch
when i
was
there.

i can almost smell
the wild in
their eyes,
the tremble
on their lips.

what a strange way
it has turned
in the
heart
of it.

the simple
side
so long ago
and where
you find
yourself
now that
it has
passed.

to fail
and
fall.

to live
and
breathe
it in

one
gasp
at a
time.

cradle
me,
this
time
of
innocence.

linger longer
in these bones.

play
a little
more
inside.

give me
your
wicked
rest
and let
it all
fall
away
in the
dust
of
f
l
a
m
e.

i will
hold
you
here
forever
if that
is what
it takes.

just for
a little
longer

with you.

some
dreams
never
come
true.

some
dreams
never
die.

some
dreams
gather
dust
in the
archive
of
lost
souls.

some
dreams
are to
be forever
held in the
flower of
your heart
where
time stands
still
over
needless
rivers
of
rock
and
bone.

if i loved
you,
would you
remember
my face
?

if i loved
you,
would you
love me
too
?

such a
strange
way to
go
in this,
my
journey
of jilted
stains.

there is
a part
of me
that
was lost.
all of the
pain
is unreal.
but i still
love the
way
you look
at me.

i could
hold you
here
like this
forever
if that
is what
it takes.

as fast
as it
felt,
we were
never
really
moving
at all.

were
we
?

i want
to drink
the taste
of you.

i want
to lick
the smell
of you.

you were
everything
to me
and i can
hardly
speak
your
name.

you are
the only
thing
i
remember
and my
memories
lie.

but i
loved
the way
you
looked
at
me.

and if
you were
still
here,
i
would
hold you
forever
even though
i
can't
remember
your
face.

what a
strange
way
it has
turned.

in the heart
of it,
it burns,
but maybe
i'll
remember
your soul
when the
motion
stops
and the
ride has
come
to an
end.

take

i have
no shame
of the
darkness.

it took
the light
a long
time
ago.

i have
no pain
for the
pilfered.

it was
taken
along
with
the
light.

i have
no hope
for
the
future.

everything
we do
hurts
us
in
the
end.

i
live
what
i've
been
given.

because
i
can't
take
anymore.

we leave only shit

there is a sound

in the back

of my head

that screams

for the children

of today.

it is a scrapping sound,

a grinding hum

that starts

at the back

of the skull

and moves forward

with tenacity.

it settles

in the place

where

my compassion

hides

and it growls

at the wasted

world

we will leave behind.

it is a troubling sound

like a syringe

being dragged

along the glass,

pricking the skin

when it completes

its course.

mostly,

it happens

when i watch

the news.

so i no longer

turn on

the television.

it also happens

when i see people

drunk

or

high,

fighting

to get away

from

normalcy.

so i don't

drink

or

get high.

at night,

when i'm getting ready

to

drift off

to sleep,

i hear

the sound

as the dream

takes me away.

i hear it

right now

as the heater

kicks in

and

a plane

flies low

overhead.

i hear it

in tiny voices

all across

the earth.

they wonder

why nothing

seems normal.

i hear it

through the walls

and

in the pit

of my stomach.

they can't understand

why we've become

this way.

i hear it

right now

as i

lower my head

and

forget the words

to

broken hymns.

leave them their innocence

his nickname was Happy.
it was an ironic nickname.
he had lost most of his mind
in Vietnam running through
rice paddies with jungle rot
for two tours.

thick eyeglasses adorned his face
and he always wore his Army issue
jacket with the patches removed
when he came back home.

i remember my parents pulling me aside
one day and telling me to stay away from him.
they said that he had molested his daughter, Lucy.

she wasn't quite a year old yet.

Lucy and her mother stayed over at our house
quite often after that. i was always told to go out
and play when she came over to talk to my mom.

the little girl took to me for some odd reason. she always
smiled when i came into the room. two upper and two lower
teeth gleamed when i was near. maybe she liked me
because i didn't judge her, i didn't look at he with sorrow
spread across my face like the adults. maybe it was because
i didn't know what molestation was. i always played with her.
i gave her my best toys to entertain her. she was a normal
little girl in my eyes.

when she grew up,
she didn't remember what
had happened to her.
it was probably for the best.
but the adults always looked at her in a way that
seemed a bit unnerving. there was always a sadness
in their eyes.
they seemed to be apologizing for what
had happened to her.

she was a good kid, and we remained friends until
my family moved out of Chicago. i never looked at her
the way the adults did. probably because i still don't know
what molestation is.

barking dogs

the dogs lit up this morning
at 3:00 AM.
the entire neighborhood
exploded into a vocal rendition
of rabid misery.
one sounded as if it were being
murdered.
it has calmed down somewhat,
but there is a howl here and there.
a distant yelp through the darkness.
i'm not sure why people leave their
pets outside. i couldn't imagine
leaving my pets outside all night.
maybe i'm just more compassionate
than other people.
so i got up and made some coffee
and fed my cats and sat down
at the computer. my cats are staring
at me right now. it's like a silent thank
you for not kicking them out at night.
they'll never have to fend for themselves.
they'll never have to be cold or lonely.
they'll never have to fight for my attention.
if only people could be the same way
to one another. but we have politics
and religion to keep us alone and hungry,
yelping in the night.
we have outdated traditions to devalue any
idea that we might have for a brighter future.
and like those dogs outside at 3 AM, we
have a common, broken philosophy. we have
Ayn Rand and her envisioned individualistic society
working for themselves without the hope
of guilt to set us straight. welcome to
individualism, population: zero. if you're not rich,
you're out alone, howling in the night.