Happy New Year

Nothing has changed

Tomorrow is just tomorrow

Your problems are unmoved by this declaration of glee and joy

Tuesday gone to Wednesday

No one celebrates grass growing because it is just what it does

But maybe tomorrow is like a conscious choice to make poor decisions or wise ones

To get drunk or stoned

To meet a girl or a boy

To have tomorrow be whatever you want it to be

That’s worth celebrating

Life

She was existentialism realized to the fullest

Long legs a man could climb smaller mountains

Hair falls on an endless scale and soft as the sand of the beaches we had laid

Supple lips protruding debauchery

She had life on her tongue and I was going to taste it

The joy

The heartbreak

The paths we discovered without no push or pull

Yet we found them anyways

It was meant to be

We would see the dirtiest of alleys

The deepest bottles filled with the most amazing things

The highest highs spinning in the middle of the room

I took one look at you and I could not stop

I could not turn away

Once at opportunities door

Future words to say

I never thought this day would be here

I never thought I would meet someone

I just figured I would be alone for the rest of my days

Then you just walked into my life and shattered it all

The shards lay on the ground and I didn’t even try to pick them up

I think it may have been the happiest I had been during that part of my life

Thank you for your hammer

What will come

In the middle of the road

                                                I sat cross legged

                                                Unafraid

                                                Yet cognizant of everything

                                                The map has gone astray

Somehow we met in the middle and swiveled and turned

Back to old familiar things of new and old

New and old

New and old

New and old

As I sat there a grand silence befell me

Cars whizzed and wooed by so fast my ears could have been ripped off

Nothing came of the sitting

So I leap to walking moving shaking across the front lawn at full moon in the day light

That said fuck you

No one cared

A kind of phase I am going through

They would say as they plotted and schemed for indoctrination

A cult like thing family is

With the togetherness and fake kindness and religion…Oh religion

What a fools horse hitching people do

From Bogota to Peru and Brazil to Israel

The mind boggling things they do

I left that bag of tricks the jokster peddles

Inside that bag he would reach and time and time again failure beseech him on to me

Gone from the road a man sees things needing seeing and I need to see them

The hopelessness and debauchery all whores

For attention

For intimacy for money

What a bad group they are

Whores for money will do anything

I see the devil in the south on the road and he wears sandals in Florida

High heels in Georgia

Boots in Alabama

Every day he showed his face and I snarled and gnarled at him shooed him away

Only for him to be back again tomorrow and the next day

I think it is in the air here

That American scent and ugly face

Petty

Greedy

Reckless things not meant long for this world

What do I see upon my arrival back home nothing but the same

Like time paused and played back when I came back

                                                                So I sit

                                                                Cross legged in the road

                                                                Thinking to see

                                                                What will come

Fuck you

Keep struggling for the struggle

Wrestling with reasons for the questions

Why’s go for days in spring summer and fall

As leaves fall to the floor

I rage for the homeless

The addicts

The alcoholics

The junkies

How shiny polish on this town surrounded by brightness

In front of town hall

Under bridges

Under guard

Under watch

I will never go for the lock and key deal

In spring worlds collide for the young ones

The little boys and girls with hope

With old friends and lovers

Tear rotting eye lids let go for the things they lost

In which they do not know the list for which has been stolen

They came in the night and slipped it out

In sacks they went away with disobedience

They made and incision around the top and emptied the contents in a jar

From which I write these words

A renegade using poetry as my only weapon against the tyranny of others

I write long scribbling for the children

Think of them in this

Think of you in this

Think of you in this world

Think of war in this world

Think of protest in this

Think going and go!

The streets are calling for you to forget yesterday and look on to tomorrow to find a way to say fuck you

Cold and slow

The time I spent on the road was quick and fast as it was ugly and excruciating

I met marijuana mobster and his chick LuLu 2 barrels

Who got the name on the account that she got terribly bloody from a 2 barrel shotgun

I met crazy mad men and women on the brink of addiction and obsessions possessive

Pan handled for meat and mead

The rich came down from their ivories to see the common folk who bleed and perspire for poverty as the elite gaww and gasp of the poor in cages like a zoo

They feel bad so they purchase a thing or two

Maybe they continue an arrangement of sorts like a prostitute and a politician

Money for services rendered behind closed doors

The longer the prostitute performs the duties of his or her position

The more you receive

The tools of consumerism

Quick fast to play in sweltering Florida and Georgia just after July

I was driven mad by my surroundings as they ate me

Enough for the day

To sustain the battle of today

Tomorrow it would be coming soon

So I better get ready for the pain

As teeth and blood grind away

Eternal golden red was the reason for this spell and so shall it be

My time on the road like a certain kind of death

Cold and slow

Pondering

I got this pondering in my head banging at my chamber door and it continues.  This slamming on the wood of my door.   I read and I distract, avoid the aversive from my mind, and escape the intrusive from my grave; Cognitive processes running wild with the needle drawing furiously.  Bleeding ink on the paper until I am dry

Frankenstein remade

I am devotions imagery to be free

Opposing what laid the foundation

To be a clone of their fruits and listen to all they say

I am a worshipper to vagabonds renegading down the rail lines

Watching the sparks from the moving we did

Connections particles going off like fireworks in December

The cold covered me in this uncomfortability

I have the capacity to endure

I am an ear to silence’s ramblings

The brush and leaves stepped

I am still

As the wind drops sound across

A forgetful wave crashes through on everyone

Everything

Everywhere and I am the mad scientists dream

Merry Christmas

It is Christmas eve and all the little ones are sleeping in bed with thoughts of all the things they will get

Consumerism at its best

Shoveled and pushed down their little necks

So frail and immature

I am afraid anymore and it might break

As they sleep on their ikea things

The corporation that snuck and tucked its way in

To a place where there are trees

To a place where there are mountains, rivers, and streams

To a place where you see your breath as you hike in remote places

Alone with all of it and people who may have first come

Before there were ikea’s and industry

Before there were sidewalks and bread

It is in their heads with thoughts of sugar plums and fairies

Behind the she

She likes the sun

She likes the trees

She likes mountains and rain

She likes beds

Plump pillows on feathery downs

She likes coffee fresh from the ground

She likes beer right out of the batch

She likes smoking fresh right from harvest

She likes standing at a tilt with me

While we do nothing and be still

Laughing and frolicking 

Saying pretty adorable things to one another

She likes hitchhiking in the cold wind

She likes camping together in a sleeping bag off the 405

She likes this land as do I

She likes kissing under a tree dropping droplets on our heads

I know this because she says so every night

She likes fires and me

She likes power outages and nudity

She likes broken heaters and warm fleece blankets

I like all that stuff too and most of all

I love the girl behind the she

Remembering ashy goodbyes

Disheveled hair

Naked bodies arose while the starlight sprinkles itself

A residual mark for the light

To shine on

Lower lip given goodbyes and hello’s

A bowl to share until tomorrow

These are the mornings I remember

When it was all falling down around us

Sunday walks with friends

Joints in hands

To the park

On these sunny cold mornings

These were the best of days that I remember

Political meetings on the precipice of tomorrow

Writing and helping the doughey eyed idealists

Watching on the outside in as I say hello to myself

A wonder they invited this ragged dog in their door

Shiney eyes peer on me glistening on the shards of glass

After a trip down the alleys of psychedelic corridors

I spoke honestly and they listened

These are the times I remember when it fell to the ground as rubble always does

I remember it now when the dust has settled me an ashy goodbye

Folly of my youth

I am playing a game and all these added questions keep popping up

I don’t care about the questions

I just want to play

I am on my laptop and all these things arise with the said inquiries

Do you want this and do you want that? ...No

I just want the laptop without pop ups and unnecessary complications

I watch TV and I just want the show

I don’t care about the wants on the in the between

I don’t want anything

I just want what is in front of me

I go to the bars and all I want is a whiskey neat bourbon scotch

It doesn’t really matter at this point

Tonight is one of those nights needing forgetting

Make me drunk

Bourbon whiskey scotch

Another 3 times through

Until the lights are blurry and I cannot see

Yet these propositions I make

All I see is you and all I want is you

No matter the stoned drunkenness I am

I still want you

Supple lips

Soft caress of your bosom

Your long legs

Your eyes

You

All I want is you

But I sit here drinking

Nothing becomes of it

Except foolishness and folly of youth

On top the mountain we sat

Go boy grab it

Go grab it

Grab her and life on top the mountain

Climb the bouldering mess with her

Watch for the landslides and avalanches

Screaming out but do not miss her

The adventuress who has come and got you

Let it not slip by the cliff where others left their love

Along the icy precipice

No bottom seen

Still screams are heard in the heavy air and snow

Echoing as a warning to the darers of the mountain

Yet we glee and dance and are free

A top the mountain

As our friends are far away

We love and live and drink and fuck

Doing the things lovers do

As we sat on top the mountain

We sat there making music

An orchestra of luminosity sprayed across the night sky as we sat their making love

Beautiful

For first again

Once more and more

Until the sun shone on us in blankets and embrace

All my days

I love you like I love life itself

I love the way you walk

Long legged

Brown hair

Mad and wild

Small and gentle as she is

Yet devastating

I love the way she speaks as does the universe itself telling me to go for it

Screaming loud don’t let it pass by as opportunity often will

Grab it boy

Scream

Yell

Bellow it out

Grab it boy

I love passion

A temporary lunacy envelops my hands as I am manic I am after it

I love and live

Living for life with the loved

I live on the radical end of the scale

Where the beats did long ago

Walking

Running down darkened alleys screaming for all of it as I do now

Like a dog after a bone I am

Relentless and obsessive do I chase

Mad on benny

To not forget her

Oh lady poetry

How she me haunts me all my days

Q and A

I struggle with the ways in which normal people interact speak or walk

They interact as if lying is a prerequisite but yet I cannot say fuck you

They talk in a faint speech that is okay for all audience

Trying to self that justification thing

Approval thing

That’s right thing

They walk straight up and down like children’s toys as if a metal paperclip

Gigantic

Runs from top to bottom and jointed appropriately

I don’t know the ways in which I arrived here

Did I take a turn wrong or is it coming up?

Just hold on a little longer

I struggle with how people like things…and what

I do things for myself does that make me selfish or do I know something you don’t know?

Or do you know something I do not?

None of these I can answer and I struggle with questions

Just to say goodbye

The questions recurring

The why replies replied without the whys

These are the bounced echoes hall voices at the bottom of the catacombs

I hear their rendering of voices daily

I cannot answer so they rattle on

I say nothing but a thought of her

The travels I take and took written in the canvas on the floor

Outside the clouds and tress and the moon and the wolves and the rivers and streams

Alone I started with a smile and hills full of undiscovered wonder and I leave it there for me to find on a day of lost thought

In the silence I am free

In the solitude I am joyful and in the loneliness I resemble nothing new

Is it the wind I hear but she got in somehow

A voice in the heap which is not of old friends and lovers

She is out there but who showed her the door

Into my dream

Rustling of the leaves a new sound for a new footstep

I follow the chase like a kind of cat and mouse game of pursuit

A fool I am to follow you

As night comes on me all is left are her footprints and I wonder why she came to just say goodbye

The storm

I have returned! I have returned!

Yet nothing has changed as it has stayed the same

A state of nothingness and time stopped plagues this home

Like a realm untouched by man made things

The clock never moves and sits a decoration on the wall

Jobless for rest I thought have been good

But in my rest I have seen what has been unseen so long

Cries and screams

Loneliness calls out to me and takes me back in

In home with too much nothing

Can make a man go mad and I have

There colorful walls now look white and padded to me

Deaf ears and all too familiar sounds

Be not solitude crept in and won

The interaction of others ripples through my river

Causing a disturbance where the tress started swaying and haven’t stopped

The animals sat there making noise

The grass moved about and I alone no more

But just a vision of companionship covers this place in a fog and as a long as me is just me

Gone dead to pass were isolation and contemplation and introversion

A new dawn spreads and covers the land blue amidst of a storm

Odorless and camouflaged

Unfinished and unmade and undone

Unstarted and unbegan and motionless

To be nothing but yet agoraphobic and phobic of all that is beyond that door

Her most especially

Where definitely

With whom

I don’t know

But I wonder every second of every day

What is what is

I could not begin to answer

Because I am so much already I do not know if there would be any room left for me

I belong

I know not where

Where my people are

I could not say

A black hole of people float through me but not one sticks

Like snow in Oregon

Like me in Oregon

I know what it is like to be unmade

A ghost of materials put no place but every place and words that go through walls and ears

Unheard and invisible

Odorless and camouflaged

Never thought again

It is warm this morning where the winter has flourished on the exterior

I have solved crimes of missing things and it is only 8 o’clock this morning

I have traveled to do scholarly things as I always do and yet I sit here warm in my room thinking anf thing at a blank wall

I can feel in my toes like a tingling

Can’t you?

I feel it in my eyes  

Can’t you?

Life

Living

All from sitting on my bed

I am life fulfilled

Are you?

Do you know not where you go and still you pursue?

I do

Every day is an adventure I go to the unknown and know not how long I shall stay

Yet I sit here thinking at the ceiling blinded by the light fixture

As my sight goes to pass

I remember all the things I used to see

And you still

Flash

Flash

Flash by in my mind like some fantastic slide show with no end

I feel life and you and never thought again

How do I find the words

I come here pleading to you

For the words recurring for the things I feel

The enunciable words for my feelings

I do not know what to say

How do I find the words for love?

How do I find words for love!!

The beating in my chest so loud it would be as if I was hooked up to the TV

The ways in which she pulls me in from a far

I have not met but speaking with her adds years back to my life

The pictures I have seen of you

I want to meet the girl behind the pixels in the screen and match her with you

I cannot find a way to say the feelings uprooted in my soul

I do not know how to put this into dialogue

How do I find words for this thing

The scratching gnawing at my chamber door

That is a sound unhindered by time and with its everlasting

I am given no reprieve of her

How do you find words for this

As a moment like this I have seen many a time

I have tried and attempted to do so

It is you

I sit around in a circle with others deciding whether or not to build or ask for the tools

Their stories sad as they are true rings through silence like a knife to butter

They ask, why should I renovate this or that?

It is said around their ears echoing

To change is death

They are told to bring nothing

Come time, it will require the obliteration of what you think might die

Yet people still ask of the validity of this news

I guarantee a look that it is you

No morbid calculations or speculation

It is you

What I think of poetry

I think of poetry as a romanticism of man and muse

Woman and muse

I think of poetry as a manic does of anything

I think of poetry as my cannot live without

The needle in my vein

My gluttonous desire

My breath

My vitality

My DNA encoded without rules of any kind

I have had this thought many a time and with no grievance do I display such frustration

It five me a kind of chase

A cat and mouse game

In which I am both the cat and the mouse

Once at morning

Once at afternoon

Once at the evening

The other, the same

I think of poetry as how feelings communicate into words

Emotions

Memories

Thoughts

What we feel from them

Politics

Humanity

War

Poverty

Strikes us as a single dot on the page and it is done and it is done and it is done until the page is full

A poem is the words you feel and as if they were hours long without any care

Yet a minute of recitation is all you have seen

If poetry does not do this to you

Then is not any poetry I think of

I cannot see

I search all night and day

I travel through the gullies and the swamps

I look and I look and I cannot find what I seek and with no reprieve does that aching my belly

The tormented bloating inside

Stuffed to the brim

Even with what I have in my chest

The act of finding it

Overflows from my mouth

I have ridden through every pass and traveled in every river and I am watched in the trees

But yet I cannot visualize in a tangible array of photons and light my lens do not recognize from which it has come and from where

Yet it has always been there lurking around the trees

Buried in the brush

Around every corner I have turned

Hunting me

Still I look and I cannot see and again and again

I see but I don’t and still with blurry eyes visibility of a figure and a tree invisibility mixed in the environment from which I am and still nothing and everything is there

Watching me all night and every day

In every whisper

In every action

In every thing

I cannot see

Find found

I find myself more than ever without purpose

Without a push or a shove in the right direction

I do not want school only that it may allow me footing

I do not want stability only it would alleviate emotions

I do not want a career because when would I get on that ol’ road

I do not want to be on that road all my life

Like a prisoner on either side seeing the way each other step in the grass and concrete

I wish to be free to my own sins and volitions

Whether they are yours or not

Right or wrong

They are mine to learn from

They are mine to trifle with and come out scathed or unscathed

I wish to see the fate of cold winters bring lovers together once more

I do not wish to save this world

She had died and let her control that if anything

All of which who sit upon her, let me bring a happy day to them

Let me bring a smile to a beautiful woman

Let me write unfettered

Let me speak uninterrupted

Let me live on this with others who are mad and merry

Let mary find me in the depths of my soul a pair is coming towards me

Let me lost and in the chaos find found

Perception

There is a certain travel of time that lends itself to its own perception

When I look into your eyes it stops the perceived to impossible

It is lost on me as a conversation never heard yet read

Pulling me further into the rabbit hole

When I write a truly grand thing happens that is beyond critique

Although I am sure some will try as they always do

I renegade on

The commander mandates and chimes in this morning from defecation to odor to rudeness with inclination intended

Only due to his interpretation

I welcome

I write the best at night in my head with no pen to hold nor paper to lock it in

No audience to have it read

No critic to judge the unjudged jumble of words

A symphony of beauty

A masterpiece only I can declare

You cannot say good or bad

It is perfect for my ears to hear

Just what I need on this stormy night

These words written on the walls of my mind are for me and me alone

When moon and stars appear as light the darkness does not seem so dark

This lyric and rhyme occasional when too much has been done

Mainly a poetical prose for poetry and stories told

One day when I day they will be found unlocked and sent to the world where I cannot hear the misunderstood attempted and tried for consumption

I close my eyes and see you tomorrow with whatever may come

I welcome

Me

Exclamations made on clothing are style

Naggings and raggings on the strangeness in my skin encoded in the DNA that colored me a rainbow

Instead of one and I would look out to the window in my room to see a mass mob moving with the sound of popular and in their disguises they were no different in gender and race

Musical tastes and movies preferred

A mask adorned colored white a blank facial they did not like nor hate neutral politeness

Was all that they gave to the light

How if they only knew originality of the ugly duckling

The freak traveling a path never before seen

It was the strangeness of men who couldn’t think alike

Originators of clever derivations

Improvised in a crowd

A poem recited from a blank page

Voices

A girl stood over stories and stories

Touching the clouds and feet hung on the precipice of a sorry action

She closed her eyes to all the ones who declared on to her the ugliness of hate

In slow motion their mouths spit and spat with the utterances of their words like daggers to the heart

Younger her mother was when her loathing of reproduction began and it was not known to the little girl now grown hanging a life in the balance

A time when her mother was the desire of carnal satisfaction of all she adored

In her foolish youth glitter and gold and back to this wrong step she may take another flashback of hate

In which friends befriended betrayed and frayed her soul in pieces for which to start the fire engulfing her in tears and sadness sorrow and pain

A monstrous bunch they were fed on self loathing and hate filling their bellies full

I only tell this from a view held in my eyes

I called to her and leaned in to whisper

Her beauty unmatched by theirs and ever bright

A reply of refutation laid a fate almost assured in her doubt

I countered that superficial coverings had no measure for the beauty she possessed

In her angelic shadow they stood in awe

She stepped to an early embrace and cheers from down below a crowd she could not see

Nor I

In her walk down

Was I there?

The voice she heard her own or something else?

Perfect words never said

It was so loud as the monkeys danced attempting communication for words to come and yet they could not describe nor articulate with which they felt

They stared into the eyes of another and in frustration they were silent and knew the enunciation they had been trying and with this cease of speech and noise they knew

Cars roared down the street with men and women carried inside and anger and rage came across their faces

In the ignoring of each other

A non-communicate corridor

Their new tech was useless in its walls

Nor did the speech they wished they knew the words in the page of their minds

They met with lips and blind eyes and love was the word echoed across the cab where cars passed by

Honking hooting

Beeping booing

They did not care as the explosions of themselves and others struck them at g-forces

There was never a more perfect thing said than nothing even when it was necessary

Silence was the perfect words never said

Half a man Half a woman

An unknown memory haunts

Florescent eyes blank and blind a painter paints a pair of lovers

I know not where

Half the pair is known to the lover painter

He curses her and screams to her

He is unaware of her smile

Her eyes

Her lips

Her hips

Her bosoms and butt to match

Curvaceous like an apple hour glass

Brown hair and green eyes he supposes

She is not true and is a cursed thing he adorns until truth befalls him in a person of her nudity and him under cotton covering warmth and the sweat trickles down their skin

Heat risen a cold winter night

This one is his and he is waiting

Across the globe spins a sings a song unwritten

By her hands many a song is sung untrue of fearless love but it is not true

She wishes the company she keeps be right and well done it is not

Yet false and wrong she knows unfit for ears this song plays anyways and bleeds his eardrums back in his studio

Unfinished canvas hangs partially covered with color and blank as it were he whispers at night

Pondering her and he

When would they meet and she does the same

A meeting for which they could not for see

It would come on a day when they forgot the date made in the back of their minds

Sad chains in a padded room

They have put me in this padded room

Chains ascend from the ceiling and still as I am a story tells the madness with which I have been brought to this place

In madness and lunacy a howling erupts loud in the moonlight

In two moments a communication between timeless droplets rippling through the pond a silence befalls me

When she kisses me in my dreams

The softness of her thighs

Her noises she made as we sat their making love in the room

Powers of foreshadow telling strikes me

A more important action is won and she is breathless as I am silent

Dawn breaks with a mind gone to this place

I know how I arrived and this fate I cannot escape

Again I have arrived to repetitious sorrow

The page drips red with passionless lust

Knowing what has been done I curse the moon for the daylight

As a pen is moved without my knowhow

Words pour drenched the page over and over

Night has come again and I jangle chains and they sing enduring and sad

Inescapable fate

The clock’s hand dwindles and a door opens

As a wind comes in a face reforms into another

The moment goes through a metamorphosis of interpretation

How changed in the looking glass and then so do you

A page turns and the answer echoes in a box where trick or treat

Genuine or false the trickster’s paradox watches the hand on father time move slowly

The breeze warms and cools

A book is finished

Is it real?

Perception

Deception

A detection

The mentalist sees the fate and does not grin nor frown

Yell nor chow down

He or she depending on the pen in hand

Ink blank or blue

Pink

Purple

Green

You run

Chase

Scream

Stand still and dream

Yet the book has already been written, filmed and spoken

Is it done?...

Damn!!

I remember being in Florida while waiting to move along

Because it seems I am always moving these days

Turning on some poetry videos where a big bearded man talks about dreams and bullies and a violin played by a pretty girl sets the scene and his poetry deep and shallow at the same time

An amazing thing he has done but it still is not for me

He talks on past events and past and past

I sit here now in present of wakeful mind

Knowing poetry cannot be of what was but what is and what is…is life where party goers smoking filling the room and scream and rejoice and I am there in the middle setting a toast for life and the living

Finding truth in a roach in my hand and the pile of them along with empty beers

Knowing the music playing with a beautiful woman on me kissing

 Hidden on the side of her house

Is where I want to be

Even her heartbreak on me is where I want to be

I want to be lost when the rest are found

So I will write for days in the dark nothingness

Even my sorrow can fill the pages black

Instead of common bright colors dragged across the page

I will be different still and people will look at me and stare

Saying how strange a man he is …Damn!!

Poof

Poof

I started out west and hopped on this gigantic bird of the sky

Jumping from airport to airport listening to music and writing what I could

While sound erupts not a damn thing into me that I don’t want

I fly high and high I fly

To Austin where liberals die young and imbeciles live long

Sex driven 16 year olds in a cow field drink beer one dollar each one

If it had stayed like this living for the debauchery of the night time

Might I stay for the night

Found not but judgment

For my steps

For my words

Hidden in a den of politeness

Where my thoughts true hath died departed from this world

No home for me

I pretend a lover will find me

Across mobile Alabama and Florida and back to Montgomery

Only once she did buried in sweat and anger letting sorry men beat me down

Beat down women and leisure times

Blonde and beautiful

A northern girl sits next to me and says hello and goodbye

Last and first her wet lips pressed on me

Tonight a night set apart in memory his knit pickings do not follow me but slip off shoulders to the dirt at my feet

In the land where free thought is shot at with shotguns and bow and arrows

I pack up my things and follow the stars light

This adventure cut short

No longer will my hands and mouth shoot out a nerve of annoyance and arrogance

 A remnant remains in my bed a dust bowl spells “get out while you can or die”

By Copenhagen cans and cotton fields picked clean and old racists with bullets in my stockings Christmas morning

I go now

I go west

I go north

I go I go I go

Like lanterns flame lit light

Poof…I am out

A song to a restless heart

To thine own self be true and wary of the rest of the rodents who leave their excrement brown mush and on the ground

These rodents are ugly with arrogance and experience

Longest living creatures who think they of superior knowledge

For their way is all knowing and powerful that of a God

Hooting and hollering a screech that causes blood to drip down from derivation of pernition in my mind exuded from their sound boxes

Propaganda is pushed and shoveled out and down my mouth

For intelligence is whimsical child-like thing they only believe to be true rooted in their own minds as it is not in mine or ours

I abhor rodents they stink a putrid odor and cause slumber to call me into its cold deathbed as I lie bundled up in knots from their pestilence

The only peace I have found throughout their presence of mine since laughter and joy hath died a thousand times so have I

In the midst of the night do I find solace in nothingness and lack of anything resembling sound

When the rodents sleep only then can I be still

When only is their pitter patter of footsteps cease and caged noises leave me be and with shut mouths is there an odorless scent to the air

Does peace call my name like a song to a restless heart 

Night headphones

I will plug in my headphones

To bury sound in my ear and at nights peak

Unplug them from each audible crevice to have echoes ring around each eat

No cries for why not this

No chants for quicker that

An echo of silence peace trickles down my spine to my waist out to ach arm and down it goes

Then thoughts are the music in my ears playing drums loudly

An orchestra of instruments presents their arrival

I cry in their sounding off one by one

Even while rage fills my mind with pain and sadness

I rejoice

I cry when I dream of future love

When she waits for me at terminal c when I shall return to her embrace

I scream with laughter and smile with endless happiness

I cry for weed’s ecstasy altered consciousness and the flutter of this pen

I howl

Yet my headphones are still in and the babies are crying for more of this and more of that

Why so slow and not so fast

Elmore country jail

I was sitting around in Alabama one morning resting my ass on the cold cloth mattress in Elmore county jail for crimes uncommitted

I shall repeat each offense so the warden yells and bellows at me until grey hairs stem from his scalp and face

Arriving with the silence of my replies to his belly aching at me for the things I wear

The way my feet drag across the floor

The words I speak and I speak them well and indifferent to his opposition

I do not falter nor care to which he does not fancy

I felt freedom in his departure leaving me with the darkness of the night

I have things to do in this isolation when the moon comes on for his shift at the jail

Cold and merciless

Arrogant and ugly

I have inspiration to write and words to feel and it will take all night and my solitude to do so

A failed revolution

I once tried to start a revolution with words

Now I underline the word “tried” because I failed to do so

Not from lack of conviction on my behalf

The will of my compatriots did not beholden to one another a type of civil disobedience

Instead they held a strong commitment to obedience and God forbid them to go outside the laws, where the revolutionaries eat and drink with alcoholics, junkies, and heathens

My word rebellion did not hold only poets responsible for its propagation

Artists, free thinkers, homeless outsiders, and all who were told that in order to grow up, you must do this and do that

Yet my revolt did not make it past such early steps

My liberty comrades were committed as a con man is to a wallet as they were to the cause

Collegiate acceptance through the eyes of society and peers took their mind against mine and chewed into a ball of mush

Then they were no longer individuals

They were a part of the herd

The blind mass collective of beating hearts, breathing, mobile storage apparatuses

Such that in order to live happy, one must be that of lawful accepted granted passage into a world that laughs at you while they quarters and dimes, nickels and pennies are thrown to the ground and it is called minimum wage

They peddle information that tells how adults look

How adults style their hair

How adults walk

How this, that, and the other are done

That is called conformity and the next thing to come…is death

The next rebellion

We adjourn here to be the voices of the next rebellion

Poets

Artists

Lovers

Too much for your peers

Not here we mad crazed lunatics stand laughing at the moonlight

Seeing her true beauty

Truth naked exposed forever and unrelenting

The devil revealed to us never able to escape my view again

Tattered with the markings of conformity

Where we see imperfections

We find strength

Those unseen are seen by us

Invisible to their familiars

Who call upon them to be their orchestrator

Of their selfish dreams laid to rest by their surrender

Not us

We stand impervious to concede to the ways of our oppressors

Thinking of what will be

Leads to death

We rebels are here for the now

Bound by radical thoughts and past misery

We are one

Choose

Believe in this Young apple seeds

I have seen the tree grow from your small small beginnings

He will grow tall and strong

If he so chooses

He will grow short and weak

If he so chooses

Young ones

Lost ones

Mad ones

Men and women of the pen

Expression shall be your vehicle for self discovery

Where you shall pass through the near by towns and cities of your far gone mind

Love may come

Death may stay

Sorrow may stalk you

Depression and demise may greet you at the corners of your 9 to 5

I say to all of you

All of this could be yours if you so choose

Manic hamsters

My mind runs rampant through mania ridden hamsters running mad around and around

Raving lunatics scream at me to say hello

I ignore their pull to me

The truth they seek

I believe

Blinded by arrogance and insecurity

Allowing their access to my mind

Thrashing and shredding through the female guilty bystander in my cognitive life

A moment of self doubt to define me in time without pace

I must explain to her why I am the temporary mad men laughing in crazed howling to the moon

Time

Ticks and tocks

Clicks on the clock

The ensuing pressure tightening around my neck

Closer

Closer I come to extinction

Through the intensity of my soul

Possibility and chance to drive them out and far away

My wish to keep her near

Leaves alone in the wind

Never more

How cursed my mind works and operates in webs of beautiful tears

I clasped my hands together in peaceful patience

Only to rip them from each other shredding through time

Stars and electricity tracing back to a lovers handshake

A tear hath fall

Confusion infused air intoxicate my nostrils with pine of the merry believers of Decembers end

As I feel my finger tips through thick hair

Nightmares of her hands through my hair

Nights of her body to mine I feel her heart beat with mine

Terrorized me with joyful thoughts of temptation

A tear hath fall

Down the rabbits hole I fall

Away from her I go

Until she is

Never more

Beautiful chaos

I bang and clash in my mind

With the mad man yelling in a padded room

Only can I hear the screeches of love he bellows in wild quickness

Breaking down the walls of my sanity

Into restless feet to move without rest

To move with endless risk

Where they take me

A place where fear and adrenaline and destruction and love

Lie in beautiful chaos

Old writers

To the great writers of my soul

I write to you in doubt

I write to you searching

Burning for the inspiration you had

The experiences that spewed the most beautiful words from your mind

To have seen dean

To have heard cassady

The wild rumblings of mad men with the fruits of their insanity on their tongue

The crazed monologues running through your head

I am engulfed in a magical mystery

Where the villain is the nightmare of my incomplete ambitions

Lost dreams in my subconscious

Lost to the black hole of contemporary society

Suits and ties chasing me into the depths of my conformity

Cornering me in an alley surrounded by the nay-sayers

Who tell me to stop

Who reek of the dreams they laid to rest

I write to you for the hopes of wild fiery experience

I write to you in fear of missed chances to dance with her in endless time

I write to you because I burn for the page

The pages that are the autobiography of my soul

Sincerely the mAd PoEt

Little ones

Little one you must see

Watch from a top your imagined castle

Peering out amongst the subjects of your deceitful mind

Watching the pointy edge of the street

How you get pulled in by the sultry smells lofting in the room

 of freedom

Leaves the syringes to the goners

Crush them in powerful crunch

Your mind….boy

Is the tool in your back pocket

The dead will be strong and the living will be the mad scientists

They will run the world in your existence or your absence

Little ones drop that terrible monkey off your back and be free

All I know

All I know

I know not of their walk and posture

I know not their syntax and diction

These beasts of man

Who starve all for their one fish

Gluttonous greedy things

One arrow to one place

Their minds go

The know nothing of color just variant shades of grey

They know wealth

When I know poverty

They know warmth

When I know cold

They know happiness

When all I know is sorrow and woe

Quick...Hurry

Psychedelic dreams in a crowded room alone I sit and wait for the king to come to me

My dreams tattered in random chaos

Hysterical madness with the laughter of my dead heroes

The crazed rantings of the addict to me as I watch him drift into insanity

What could have been before in wild quickness

The life of the homeless addict

The steps

Inebriation pushing me through to the other side

Where lust and infatuation sit with the most marvelous light

Spheres of magic cohabitate in my eyes

Thrusts of magical sensuality implode to birth vibrant colors from my mind

To leave my intoxication of new consciousness running fast and uninhibited

Towards the forbidden

Uncertainty to lead me to the serenity of the road

Who call out to me

With the voices of my soul

Let the voices of dead poets

Guide your foot to love or loss

To pain or happiness

For these are the steps I must take on the road

the belly of the beast

Oh fast ones

The crazed wheels turning

Setting you a fire

Burning through your mind

Days speed by like the wild horses chasing the day

Cherish this day

Mad ones

The ones who never say dull word in their days

Burning for spontaneity and uncertainty

Cold days of routines

Stifle the creativity of my mind

So I burn burn burn

For wild days filled with treacherous thoughts

Of the road

Oh how she beckons me

Sweet whispers in my ears

Pulling me to her

For these chains keep me here in the belly of the beast once more

Beautiful

My loneliness traps me in

A prison of sadness and sorrow

My spirit runs cold with each dying day

I sit in my room where pot smoke and slow music beats to my soul

Where it cannot run free

My soul sits chained to the walls of my mind

Begging to be set free once again

Screaming shaking chains violently

Yelling to freedom from its captors

This splendid sorrow I am in

Fuels my creativity

To spew the most beautiful words from my mind

flowers

I am the mad mad sick poet who chose the ways of darkness and sorrow for strength in my words

The waking from the storm reveals the debris of all my torutured days

Where monsoon of water crashed through store windows uprooting trees from the wild spinning tornados that shred the humanity without regard

I am the sad silly romantic loving the way she walks

With bright sunshines that pull me into to paradise with watchful eyes upon me

I walk through with the meadows and gardens with her hand in mine

Slowly we I am pulled into the terrible gravitational force that is love

Pulling me in so tight with each kiss

With each caress

I feel her on me

I do not wish for money drugs food air

I wish for her

In my arms

I am the crazed lover poet with stories to tell of love and loss

Breaking down the walls of my depression with bright

Orange yellow pink purple flowers

deceased mad poets of old

Oh these walls feel so familiar

That door in my memories somewhere distant

This place oh so familiar

The place where men that love get trapped

Imprisoned in the friendship they once had

I cannot do this anymore

Sitting in the lobby of your heart

Frustrates me while others venture onward

I wait for you to see the look I give you

Hoping you remove the blinds from your watchful eye

To see me

Look at me

I yell with fury and passion

Tears falling from my eye

As my screams fall upon deaf ears

I descend into the shadows of your heart

Only to remember the love I had for you

The love that is deceased like the mad poets of old