West (day 313)

Perhaps there were golden wings that floated by my being
On the day I looked the other way
When the cold shoulders washed away the last glowing embers
Of the landsliding memories

Indeed, without the violet flowers littering these steps
I’d have passed alone long ago
Hand in hand with the deceit of deception fondly
Clearing the way for another

But then again, who sold the calloused palms
Of the unholy man to the corporate man
Who gave the soldiers of misfortune the chance to count on banks
Of unwashed driveways sliding sideways

It wasn’t I. It wasn’t thou who hast led the unmarked graves
Blindly into the horizon, which ironically
Is the same direction of home: West
Perchance you could give a lone man a hitch?

In time that cold shoulder turned my way and lingered
Changed from the years of regret and abuse
Unmarried by chance to the same banks the soldiers do depend
Unobserved by the same furrows that shade my brow

Grasp (day 297)

There is never enough time to grasp what we must in time
For the swallows don’t stay long when wind is on the run
Do we catch the sun’s longest weapon whilst down and blue?
Do we wander aimlessly through the gates unknown?

For much to long there has been an order
Stronger than the great tides of time
Stiffer than the hounds of fate
But I bark out loud against the dead of the night
Fearless, naught, there is no sorrow
There is no lost language, sweeping through the night
Entranced in an unbridled emulation
Of all things that have passed before these eyes asleep

Time follows me slowly forth with it’s mythical whip
Slapping the stare out of my humor
Perhaps then I’ll grasp onto the unknown
As I sit here and twiddle my thumbs

Empty Bottles (day 292)

I have spent the day in a bucket of sorrow
Milking my wounds with spikes in the head
Perhaps the longer I look at my reflection in the mirror
The smaller the glare will be
Would it make sense if I chopped a little off the top?
Then I’d let the steaks burn just a little longer
To sear away the pain left lingering
Like the smell of clothes after a night out
Drops of laughter echo through the closed eyes
Into the open palms of wrinkled skin
Weathered like the sin I ate in my sleep
Like the sin I slept on in the night
When I crashed down, reminiscent of childhood
Riding fast along the single-track trails
Head first over the handlebars into the overgrown grass
Secret steps I’ve tripped over ever time
Empty bottles left behind the bed

Brothers and Sisters (day 288)

We fight for our money
We fight for our bread
We fight for the clothes on our back
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?

We fight for our gold
We fight for our oil
We fight for the car that we drive
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?

We fight for our computers
We fight for our iphones
We fight for the laptop we squander
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?

We fight for our drugs
We fight for our pension
We fight for the crimes we commit
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?

[This poem is dedicated to the brothers and sisters who are effected every day by the terror of what is known as Kony. Please give the Invisible Children a voice.]

Mattered (day 259)

This is the last draw
The strain on the straw
This is the tipping point
Pulling out of this joint

It wouldn’t have mattered
Had it been said another way
It told me all, as it needed to
I am a warrior, unafraid of you

Judgement has passed on again
Deep within this chain link fence
We battered the souls of the searching one
Wore him down like a beaten son

The wind just blew away
Left us alone here today
Are you afraid, in your little way?
I’m mad, and the killings on

Maybe (day 254)

I may have been sleeping when I wrote this
But I was told to hang my head and cry
I may have been aware of the anger ahead
But I was watching my back for a lifeline
I may have been worried about the future
When I asked you to cover my steps
I may have been dreaming of another place
When I asked you to marry me

But dear angel that floats on so high
Come down here a while and bless this guy
Perhaps the snakes and candles will entertain you neigh
Perhaps the passion now present will never die

I may have cried all day long
For a woman who had been gone so
I may have worn out the sweater of lust
To a song that had never played on
I may have bled, maybe

Let Us Begin (day 241)

Lament of a lover
Gets lost in the sea
As the islands grow thinner
And the skies to infinity

Grow long, distant lands
Mercy the horizon without grace
Say farewell to familiar clouds
Bid adieu firm soil

My feet no longer tempt
The lonely seas of your pasture
My flowers no longer grow
From the brown brown soil of your fathers land