When

Games are forgotten fables

and your past historic lore

The horizon a mission

and sentiment becomes law

 

When joy is in a complexion

and found in your reflection

Your worthiness you question

and pure is your intension

 

Ones mind is not blank

nor diluted or ill

You know a sound structure

You know pit from hill

 

Fears do not protest

Scars do not tingle

vanity subsides

to a bashful trickle

 

Humble are your words and lust, a subtle pulse

 

It’s all bread, breath, water and sun

The sinless apparition

of ever wanting none

 

Walls dissipate than close

with a farmers faith

in what he sows

 

Not a smile forced

Caress mistaken

A tongue held

A kiss barren

 

No questions of if

or wonders of why

Whens been answered

When is nigh

 

 

 

 

Limbo in Distance

What will it take to attain your presence?

 

Bend saplings like a bear

Scribe things worthy of Voltaire

Strike a pose

Bare a cross

With roses fill the air

 

A hint of your tastes

A taste of your whims

a demand

allusion

your abhorred and favored sins

 

Surrender than impair

Coy births fools

Silence kills

keep I not on the blind dare

but to pursue with care

 

Than just sitting in want on my derriere.

Solace

At times I look back to blissful blindness.

Not that I wish for such a regression

That steed I could never quite tame nor train

Was  found ever charging into folly

 

No, loneliness be but another abstraction

no more nor less than the courtesans in one’s life.

Those who take, receive

perhaps partnered in loss or bounty.

 

It’s no more task or tarry to maintain oneself

than to engage in custom codependency

 

Biology, the mother of all conundrums

Has her devious methods and all too often

We seek medications for the drugs

already within.

 

Never embracing the solace

nor the opportunity to conceive ones own composition

from which they are to compose

 

The trivial, tragedy, conflict and comedy

all can be spattered, still to be art.

But love, love?

 

That, if you wish no spattering

Unconscious strokes layered finely

In a bold yet mellowed hue

That, will take a tempered hand,

a steady gaze

A soul that knows solace.

Two Minutes

I can feel the pressure behind my eyes

Truth lies

Personality disguise

The simian rambling of false truth and uncouth Mr.’s who dismiss

Logic and progress and cash in

On pop cult and subjects that regress all success

On issues that unite

Too busy on the rewind to digress on all matters of intellect

I write like this to dismiss their irrational international

Call for fame in art

One dots the chart

A dart on the bull’s eye

As a bitch for the rich and stand tall as if they’re the shit?

In all matters of poetry periodically remind me that they’re dead to me

Illiterate ignoramus to the smart man and a scourge to the poor man

A virus amongst a strange youth looking for role models amongst clowns

Did this take long, prolonged thoughts to try to find a syllable?

to label and lambaste my target of what is and what they think there is?

Never, niet, nein, negatory

This shit ain’t literary purgatory

A nursery rhyme

Twelve Degrees of Negativity

Alive and well is my morality,

But it seems my morality recently is sacrilegious

Religion as a guide is obsolete

Pray not, and do good works, because you should.

Live your life as if it was a prayer

Cause if heaven exists, that’s how you’ll get there.

If you make a habit of receiving peoples kindness,

Refrain to seek it for your advantage.

The more you take from a man, the less he has to lose

When you have more demons than angels

Those angels cannot take the weight you’re carrying

When leaving the world behind,

Remember that in turn the world will do the same.

When molehills become mountains

And mountains crumble down like a wilting flower

Does the flower die then wilt or wilt as it was dying?

Cause it feels quite bad to wilt alive.

When you see enough people do something badly

You begin to hate that thing in general,

That’s why I’m a sociopath.

Like a squirrel trying to get my nuts across the freeway

Always forced to run back in my mind.

Can’t be a civil servant when I can’t serve myself,

Can’t be a world leader when your feel displaced from it

Myself image is a cloud of vapor confused but visible.

Somewhere between a cold fluid existence and a bunch of hot air.

Composed of rings, a self almanac we can’t see.  It all just below the bark

Yet a tree can’t read another tree.

Become a sponge for the genius of others

And a faucet for all things wise.

Dreams belong to the poets and thinkers.

Then the trigger pullers when those dreams go awry

Turn the Corner

You got to believe in something

Take a path.

Dirt, pavement, brick

And as you watch the bits of sand you kick up as you travel

You’re comforted in your expectations

Time to notice the weather

Time to ponder the ponderous

But yet, at its end, there is nothing there

A wall, dank forest path, the retrospective ocean

Suddenly, you feel the soreness in your feet

You sit a while in defeat

But you have to turn the corner.

Sitting you notice the grains of sand upon the path now still

Looking to the left and to the right

Fearing a repeat

Fearing further defeat

What went wrong?

Are you just…wrong?

Dancing incorrectly to an ill chosen song.

But you have to turn the corner

With less expectations

Maybe pavement rather than dirt

Or continue counting bricks

Learn to dance

Find anew song

Pay a little less attention to the kicked sand

Stepping quicker

As you continue on.

The Gulf

I believe I have fallen for another

Walking into the break crashing into your thighs

Like those of a lover

Not so much the thrill or the chill to endure

To venture with her

But a rhythmic roll, warm caresses

A light healing nature

Not a stone too fierce or shell to pierce

Just the misceivous tickle of the sea brush

Caught within the seas rush

She’s the safer side of women

Just happy your there with your skin a bare

Steppin

Two steps to redemption

Ten to where you want to be

Three steps to understand

Thirteen steps for you to see

Four steps to forgive

Twelve steps to forgive ones self

Sixteen steps to continue on

Four to set yourself

on a shelf

Eleven steps to mend all your wounds

Four to let them fester

and your soul fever

Twelve steps to grow

Four to let sentiment be your reaper

Ten steps to cherish what was

Two steps to just forget

1 step to decide to act

To embrace all that’s left.

Raise Those Eyes

Sometimes you just have to appreciate it.

Live band blends into the rumble of a crowed pub.

Sometimes you just have to look up.

Even the most crowded turnpike still has sky.

Despite how hazy there is a vast beyond.

The funeral pyre always has its flame,

And in turn the clouds share their rain.

Many deserts shortly flower,

And with the same desolation my life has you.

But we all forget to look up

From the dull gravel at the feet before us.

Too distracted by the pot holes

Failing to realize what it was

That has kept one from falling flat.

But when I do,

I see you.

With dark hair laced over your face

I watch eyes from shadow pulling me from mine.

If not the sky or the ocean

The music amongst the dense crowd,

It is just what you do for me.

Sometimes you just have to look up

Just for a moment you may need to look up

And see me

It’s beautiful,

It’s beautiful

For me.

Poisoned

I eat a lot of rice,

I eat a lot of beans,

I’m not a Spaniard it’s what’s in my means

A poor man’s diet but I do all right

I don’t suck salt and I don’t befriend fried

How they ravage crap and get fat, give themselves a heart attack

But they have no insurance, no clue

so that is that

Chemical concoctions

Corporate designed addictions

To ever increase your consumption and expulsion

to become in a likeness to your new gods

a cancer

and then in turn to die of one.