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

Stop SOPA (day 239)

Fight! You pretty people fight!
We have a voice
Granted with passage unto earth
The birth of our conscience

Fleeting matters dismissed
Like McCarthy witch hunts of yore
Carry your own thoughts, dear lovers
Forth, onto tomorrow

Feed not the media induced frenzy
Feed not the government sponsored hype
Feed knowledge within
Feed freedom

Know choice
Consequences we face
Raise a powerful voice of knowledge
Let it be known it’s not ok

There’s Blood Running Down (day 202)

The blood running down
The goosebumps: they fill the only void between space and all time
Lost in the backlash of over indulging
Slept on the wrong side again
Fuck, it’s the same in the end

The blood running down
The last breath holding the starlight deep beneath layers
Forever mourning the weakened desire
Forgotten by the squires
Prophesying all that doesn’t. Really. Matter.

The blood running down
The spreadsheets turning circles on masters and wizards
Poisoning the spells with lurches and makeshift cosmopolitans
Dressed up to please the ever indulging normality
Spiced with dreams of circle jerks

The blood running down
The only occasion left on this moonlit sonata passed these steps long ago
Streaking stains hid by the scared bits of light creeping in closer
But I’ve lost hope of these clever bits
My eyes grow weary, zip goes the bag

And there’s blood running down

Destiny (day 199)

I go through spells of masturbating and drinking tea
Drinking tea and masturbating
It’s like I have an inner desire to be some kind of
Fucking poet, wracking my brain for some utter nonsense
Only to release it with an unconventional treble clef

It’s nonsense, fucking utterly nonsense.

As a young boy I’d sit mesmerized by the flicker of
Angel’s wings floating through the garden on hot summers days
The other fellas would be off playing footy
Me, I’d just enjoy the cool breeze as I lay back
Slow buzz of another little creature coming to pry at my brain

Now, I’m wrecked with heartache that fails to leave me
Little bursts of memories that inflict me with so much agony
I’ve replayed it over and over again, each time with a new smell
But each time it lasts a little bit longer
Maybe one of these times there won’t be an ending to the sad verses

Tomorrow I’ll spit into the middle of the soup
Chanting my spells and adding a drop of blood from a virgin’s finger
I wont wake the dogs for they don’t dance with my words
They act stupid and make believe they don’t see the ghosts that I see
I know better, we all share miseries destiny