Unsellable Unnumbered Unique edition

There is something mad about me

My mind woven from cloth

Never known

My language unheard and I am suddenly talking alone

Some ramble on about the government

Corporations

Poverty

Wealth disparity and bad health

Still I do not pierce the ears

Made in the shiniest of metals

Receptacles for trash

A thumping, bumping, humping goes on in my head

On life

Poetry

Irrational fears of death

Music that calms

Keeping the beasts at rest

Perfect green grass

Keeps me afloat

Still there is this lingering gnawing at my chest

I feel this heart pumping

While others keep still in their breast

My feet are tingling

Felt vibrations through the floor

Am I mad?

Gone to the moon

Lost brain cells while locked in a cage

To feel unlike the rest

I must be

I must be

Be…be…mad and I am glad

To have turned out to be an unsellable unnumbered unique edition

Us poets

Us poets write words and tell tales

Then they become stone in time among the clocks and history books

We poets listen to rhyme and meter

To fill up the reader until the die

Us poets narcissistic with a dash of peppered ignorance

Then make love from a line

Us poets give names to the unnamed and sound to silence

Us poets keep intrigued by the hands of humans

Who still abuse each other with blame and regrets

Tearing flesh from soul

Hearts and minds

Us poets defy stereotypes and label makers

Us poets call ourselves beatniks and dreamers

Us poets take record tapes to the world

To turn on the cameras for the first time

As if they were the first words ever taped and recorded

Us poets do not have a rhyme or reason

We are humans with beating hearts

We are men with love lost thoughts

We are women who have been broken

Missed hops off the train

Us poets are told not to be but we are poets

That is just how it is going to be 

Puff Pass Poetry

My friend you think you know the hills and plains of my mind

They are covered in a green mystery

That only those who partake can judge

Whether it is friend to me and you or a foe which is I still

A question we all are asked

By the 4 line boxed fools filled with scarecrows

Rattling against the grain

Too afraid to touch it

Or to say fuck you to the square across the hall

This green mystified thing is for those of humanity poetry and passion

Filling coffee shops and book stores listening to the tales of emotion

People have to share on puff pass and poetry

Bad Memories

Sounds of thunder bring her back to me

Hugging her tightly

A jolt of electricity trickles down to pain to unknown stimuli

The relenting nemesis of familiar places I have seen

Where people sat around me and listened to me be free

Now gone to the machine listening to their regrets bang clash cling

Echoing until they have found the reason to their regretful enslavement 

Dear boy

The warden calls out

Dead man walking!

Dead man walking!

For all to see

The scuffling feet of the deceased

All is silent but the echo of his soul

A new world locked out of what was not new

Bars and violence without windows and peace

To sit the wise men down upon his throne

In which metamorphosis can begin

With which no reprieve shall be written

So he gives himself to it

His words to it

His image to it

Planning and plotting for freedom

To be readied at the gate

Now is for the waiting

The doing part will come when it will come

Dear boy

The sounds of the Earth

Solitude and silence

Perfect and quiet

To feel at peace

A family of one

No worried strangers to depict my life

No tug and pull on my chain

No doubt is set upon my head

Isolation

Nature

Music affects us

In the wind

Water

Earth

Fire

Puts its tune to a track

Now just words are necessary

Sands

Fleeting birds flap their wings away in the dark of night

As she is hugged tightly by the grey clouds

Water droplets roll of me like snake skin

Peeling away to a new and then I am this

Lost nostalgia does not concern me

As a shriveled raisin does to time

The sands go further and further down

As I go further and further down

Until time and the beckon and call

Persists to a spot where no longer does the sands of time

Be a worry of mine

Sheep

I have fallen into a crack

To a spot I do not desire

People who choose indifference over care

Numb versus emotion

Stifling me and styling me as a black sheep

To become white like the rest

Never shall I be

A dwelling remembrance of what not to be

Stares me in the face

Scolding me for emotions

Swelling in my head is a cancerous anger infecting every cell of my body

Pulling me from flesh to stone

Standing up and down

Ready to lie blows to the great oppression before me

Ambitions of mine

The trends of a boy

Waiting on me to do a thing

I shall never do

Ode to Traitors

In the age of America people all too fondly wage wars on the page

They sit at desks and write of travesties and tragedies

But do nothing

Activists

Revolutionaries

They call themselves

Revolutionaries do not write pages on GMO’s and Monsanto

Or the NSA and prism

They battle with rats for cheese

They scuffle with bums for rain

These men and women are more American then they care to admit and do nothing

Their patriotism includes the practice of tolerant complacency

Activists do not care for job security and 401k’s

Never do they accept omission

Being charged with the responsibility of change

They are always vigilant holding the dim lantern at the end of the tunnel

Always flickering

Dirt to a tree

I have written poem of poem of life of life with no reprieve from either

These joints do not get any smaller until they do and these mushrooms keep getting wilder as I go through them with the trouble ones I see

School never lets me breathe

Around absurdity most of all

Vain comes second closely tied with a train of vanity drying up the walls of creativity

Dreams

Hope things

Am I not a man?

When puberty stifled boys and girls try to instill in knowledge in me

The bias from dirt to a tree

To think one only comes from thee 

To my sister

I find myself speechless with unmoved blockage in the entrance to my words

For the stupid things I say and will say

For me apologizing is something that cannot measure penance for my sins

I shall try to find a way

So you know how special you are to me

The intelligence you rein encompassed dry arid deserts engulfed in your fury that once held green grassy pastures

The humor donned on your head

A gift of armor against the sores from yesterday and to come

I know the deed has been done long since past

Crept inside your beautiful soul

Corrupting inside and to the outside

I know not what they do

But loving you is something I can persist throughout time

To never falter nor quit nor waver in times of the merry battles of wit we share

I will always love you with or without your permission 

Phone calls and questions

A call comes to all of us

We all answer in on way

Where we communicate the reply that echoes into your own history

Text on paper written in inerasable ink on indestructible paper

Non-flammable books

Where you of the conversation…what will you see?

Will you have done the right things?

According to practicalities’ sake

Will you work to live?

Locked in 4 walls where above the door says “you are done when you are dead”

Will you be like a child, and go through life because it makes you happy?

Then never shall regrets be tattooed on your name

Wishing

Suffering

As the Buddha once said it these things that lead a path back around to each other

Desirous of the things other have and never will be yours

Will you carry smiles or frown’s in your bag of things for the road?

Into every doorway

Into every building

Into each face you meet through the doorway in the buildings you will cross into

What will you be?

Toilet Paper

There are these things that come and go

Go and come from you to me

I see no use in the, his or mine

The wild scramble for scraps

Like mice, they are irratically running for cheese in the trap

The stick under the bucket quick as a bullet to the head

Just not as quick

They believe in mines versus ours in mastery

They are a master of materials

King of gold and crown

Queen of theater and cloth to the toes

Dancing on stages for the between their waist

Leaving nothing of them but what is required of them

What must be done for that pocket change thrown to you like toilet paper

Frolicking with the devil's maiden

My hands are tied with hammer and nail building some factories railroad

My mouth is bound by one sided truths blindly denied as fact

Demeaned as the ramblings of paranoid doped up liars

My eyes stay glued to poverty and woe

Loveless days that never end

My head is locked in a position where disrespect shall be felt through civil disobedience

Unable to see the world beyond themselves

My feet are stuck in mud

Slowly progressing millimeters at a day

Nothing changes

Nothing moves forward

I speculate in a windowless room

Where some drug has been forced on me by my captors

Where mediocrity meshes with conformity

Behind enemy lines

I live under guard and watch and key

As I must exist under a false face

Death comes with the revealing of what lies beneath the lies and underestimations of my maturity

My sanity

My emotionality

Hinders a door from feeling the knocking of my family

Their coat of arms I bear is not mine

The house I live in is not mine

Hiding out here

Waiting the enemies’ barrage to cease

For the friendly fire to stop

I hideout in 4 walls while a battle rages on

As I scribble stories and journals entries to soothe my mad escapist soul that remains in chains from the great mystery circus act

I intend to employ on my loved ones

Until I find free

Find love

Find life under a tree

The Mad Conductor

To the famed influencers of my pen

I write to you in fear

I write to you unsure of what lie ahead

Set a blaze to always be sitting in the fire

The experiences that crushed me below never-ending worry

My rambling feet wondering when the mad conductor will yield

This wild purple fire of passion thrusting through each cataclysmic explosion

My pen wiggling in wild quickness

Goes the mad poets thoughts to page

Wishing

Hoping

That jack and Allen approve

Seeing all I can see through time and chance

Opportunities and generosity are curses to which I bare

Like a badge of honor with scars do I wear shredded upon my chest

For all to see

I write to tell my tales

I write to say it me

Sincerely

The Mad Poet

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

I join in

There is this metamorphosis approaching the dawn

I feel it creeping towards me like the boulder left at the top of the hill

It is coming straight for me

Reckless haste hath not be a thought of mine

I do as one pleases

Kiss a stranger

Fight a jolted lover

Run from the police

Hiding in an alley full of those who have lived so hard

The streets hold them to it

They cannot leave

That time has gone to pass

Just as they are howling to the moon

A light has found me

So they take chase

I rise to the rooftops and see the minds of my generation screaming for more

I join in…MORE!!!!

I join in…MORE!!!!!!

I join in…more

Still I pursue

I read a poem to my mother and felt its memory flash by in a kamikaze of expression

Suddenly I was alone and no one stood in my presence and blackness had taken over

I came to by the lights as it flashed from a switch and just as fast

Her scoffed reply fueled a burning fire, never put out, only dampered

Expression of truth blindly out in the open

No concern for yours

It is the page the paragraph the sentence the line the very word

That begins to transcend us into evolution

We moved into a darkened hallway and in the halls a daunting shadow causes cowering to become us

Only enough times until you stand with her and dance and dance we have done

 In Rome and In Paris

Drank the wine made for the gods and started a merry war for my heart

Those days have long since passed and she tallies 1000 victories over me

Still I pursue and I pursue

123

1…2…3

Tonight it is raining and cold

While the stars are dripped on by the succulent fruits of the moon

As this goes on an orchestra of colors fall on me

Triggering a collective of light in my mind

There are birds singing on branches

Cars driving by as water splashes through the tires

Horses brush in the grass

Hooves falling on the dirt incognito

I feel my butt become wet in the dewey grass

The rain falling on my head

In a world I made

By a trigger at 1…2…3

It’s a week gone and lonesome sadness holds me in its embrace

1…2…3 I am numb and gone

Drifting in a timeless cage

1…2…3 I write pages of my soul

Darkness…silence…perfection

1…2…3

In a timeless cage clocks stop and no longer ticks nor tocks

Until the ink is dry in…

1…2…3

In the bloodstream

In the bloodstream

In my life war has been the always flickering light lead men to light

Seeing the muzzle flashes like mosquito’s to a bug zapper

Why is courage symbolized in gun or country?

Once gold coins pressed to eyelids as token for passage

Death came marching in with flag and national security

Playing his war drum

Invigorated by the rally for a warrior

As the con men of democracy tattered them across flag and newspaper

I have lived in 15 years of war with no change in sight

War and propaganda

Winning over hearts and minds with oil and protection

While we stand dying like a symptom of a disease embedded in the bloodstream 

When I was dead

When I was dead

I cannot remember how the days ticked and tocked with the clock one hand dragging me through the endless monotony

Before the reefer diaries were handed down to my ocular path

What I felt

What I thought

Said

Expressed

Experienced

Was like a black and white T.V without sound

I was unheard

Unseen

Unfelt

Unmoved

Closed up and afraid

Now I feel every misty spray from every wave

Like a wave of emotions from the ocean

Like kissing the lips of your lover

Like time stopping

I am no longer immune to the colors of the rainbow

I am no longer shut off from the evening lights on those hot summer days

My mind has opened up

Into the depths of its truths I lurk finding what I find

Dumpster diving for the things I missed

Aesthetically visualizing the anaesthetized numbing of my frontal lobe

Flash backs and memories fly back

Slowly remembering when I was dead

show me the ground

Revolutionaries seem to be that of color
black
brown
whatever you are
but if you are white
then you have no right to complain
you are white
caucasian
cracka
gringo
life is easy for you
you got all the money
right....?
wrong!
i am talking about the lost warriors of literary battle fields
the artists whose parents said goodbye to
the drop outs told to grow up
the lost souls given to the work force to figure it out
who is here to speak of you?
who is wondering will you make it?
I know this feeling like a tattoo from birth
if i was ever found to have grown up recite my poems to me
if i were ever to wear a tie, steal it from me
and if i am ever to put my pen down from paper and shout out
show me the ground

Apollos's glare

It has been said and retold of the beasts out there on the streets but no one sees
They are too busy with getting fat and famous
getting too dumb too quick
finding a women's heart through her naked body
being too cool too high too foolish too fast
they forget what is going on around us
distraction is the game and the young do not stand a chance
the warriors walking with the wombless and the hungry
sometimes fall ill to distraction
watching gladiatorial games while Caesar feeds war and conflict not of the people
distraction she dips her venom in all of us
sometimes to the point of delirious complacency
to job security
to meal stability
to shelter capabilities
but forget revolutionaries do not write and stand still
they do not eat feasts but search the dumpsters for scraps with the unwashed
revolutionaries do not quietly into the cold dark night
they shout in the square upon Apollo's glare

Step 3

Step 3

Construction has begun

As they bring rope and man to build

Along the four sides

They gather in droves

Not quite sure of the ramifications or what ramifications means

They build when told

In the center of these four walls

Just nothingness

Lies the foundation of the unknown future

I met on the construction with the architects and no alterations would be made

The walls will be straight, motionless, and colorless and this formula will be duplicated four times more

They will then only build structures to this equation

These architects will not budge on their vision

So I lay without structure in a 360 degree circle with no walls

No architects

No vision

Only that of mine and they shall never again replicate such a process, so pure

Because it is not theirs but nor shall the originator of it all

Just a visual representation of freedom

Step 1 duplicate

Step 2 duplicate

Step 3 initiate

Sorrow and woe

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

walking alone

What would you do if you were taste love sweetness and tenderness and then have it taken from you?

what would you do to return to her or him?

what sorrows would you know?

what nightmare may lurk on your night whilst she lays knowing not of your efforts?

In the eve where lovers dance

you may walk in the dark alone but not in her hands 

what world so cruel lay this night on me for eternity?

tis the world of limitless purgatory 

a world i know oh so close to my heart 

is a pain i wish on no man or woman

Magic of love

One may not know

One cannot know the steps to or the steps to endure or the where after

One cannot know of her face

Her body

Her voice

One may only know of the waiting

While she or her may do the same preponderance of you and I

One can never know the how to get her’s or him’s

It is not the knowing that concerns the magic of love

It is the love itself

How one may be lifted as if wings were raising me to the heavens

Only know this

Uncertainty and there will be no time or mental preparation

Thou shall keep you readied for the devastating beauty with the witchcraft of love

Just nothingness

Empty stares

I am exiled from a place I once called home and beyond the walls of my homeland lies no other world just purgatory

As all unworthy eyes may look upon her

Except I

I who knew her intimate as my very own heart

I who share nights as lovers do

Who share beds

Kisses and hearts as one

All may gaze on her but I

There would be no force of man

Would peer my eyes onto another’s gaze

Until my eyes see hers as I do in the sunlight

Will I stop

Will I move to other worlds

No hell

Nor heaven

Just nothingness and empty stares