Despair (day 326)

Deep in despair I’ve grown accustomed to the faith
Deep within the circles of sanity
I’ve learned how to point, or rather trace
The glossy edges of vanity

And for how long does the green grass grow over there
How long does the beckoning become
All that is here and lives within the fair
Perhaps more is then left for those with some

Then, with all the crowd cheering aloud
The grasshopper will be trampled and dismantled
Alone in the wilderness the sun and a cloud
Play tricks on life and deaths sampled

Death (day 322)

Death stalks us around the block
As we shop for groceries
Death watches us sleep
As we dream of unobservable sums
Death clears our doorstep
On a windy fall night
Death finishes off the card game
Late in the early hour of the morning
Death cheers at the finish line
As we develop our muscles
Death encourages us
Standing in line for lunch
Death crosses the street
On our way in to work
Death sings a song
As we lament a bad deed done
Death cries wearily
At the doorstep of our sins
Death dances a fine jig
On the mantle of our success
And death holds our hand
As we march forth into the waking eyes of a new day

[I’ll miss you Ted]

Journey Begins (day 317)

We all need to forget once and a while
The old roads that have led us to here
There is no grand scheme of things that
Haven’t been trampled by the many footsteps
Upon which the journey belong

There are no once worn-once gone soldiers of fortune
Forgotten because of the mysteries
That plague the little corners of the estate
There is no black sin that sits upon the foyer
Idly waiting with lazy eyes, slightly smirking
As if in a trance ready to spoil the story

No journey begins at the end of the line
For no line begins at the house of resting
There are no paths that lead you to misery
There are only details that strike their glare
So daringly sharp that elders wear sun-glasses
There are no people that expect what’s been left
Save the flyers that will not be guest

Dark Sun (day 311)

I’ve skinned the rabbit
And laid waste to the endless assault of horoscopes
I’ve gone and pushed away the lone
Birds that tweet sweet sing songs in my ears lately

Perhaps I could warm my cold bones
On a burning tiger who roams the flat plains
Too hungry to play in the puddles of fun
With eyes only for the dying young

I’ve come across the melting lands
That have borne down upon the global landslide
Of humanity, influenced by plastic heavens
Too many hurricanes and exploding reactors

Perhaps the rat will save the forever burdened
Dogs of paradise who scare the gangly strangers
With a smile and surfacing anger
Left alone for too long and we’ve got trouble
We’ve got too many lonely dogs that have
Gone stray with troubled warriors
Lost on a beaten path that plays havoc
With the astrologers mind

Perhaps tomorrow will arise with high-class
Windswept caravans. The kind that beg for you
To abuse it with spray paint and sharpies
Perhaps then I shall walk with the dark sun

Sinister Dish (day 306)

Sweet sunsets and mangled reminders of the only stages you’ve ever stepped on that collapsed under your pressure and exploded into your dreams of the last days on earth.

Brought to you by the evanescence, the ultra cool but oh so very hot glow that recorded the passing of time with little whispers that spoke to you like a hard boiled egg or a clinking glass of scotch [on the rocks].

Deeper, deeper I desired as I swayed to the easy listening of the devil’s music that crunched my ear drums like the vibrating stool I now sit on.

Perhaps it’s the toxicity of the room that invites me to pray upon my victim with relentless desires only my dilated pupils can explain away as if I was some mute teenager sneaking out the back door a gunnysack full of father’s liquor.

Did I ever run away from that devious sight I had designed from the first time that I set a foot on your precious neck?

I’ve lost two dollars to the little man we’ve befriended for bets that I’ve drunkenly took and never intended to see through till the end like the lot would have hoped I would have.

Yet, like the flame throwing dummies burnt up in the all to familiar smoke of the madness, I too have found my glory box hidden deep beneath my sock drawer with my fifty dollar bills where no man shall ever speak of.

I salute you, tiny panther, I salute your devilish glare as you circle your pray and wait for their moment of weakness and slaughter them in a feast of all that has been and shall ever come to pass.

This is good.

This feeds both our souls.

This proves that the only thing that has ever rolled from the base of this lone tree that stands in our way was the rupture of happiness.

And forever I shall witness the spiderwebs slowly creep further into the corners of my eyes until one day they too shall bear witness to the struggling undergrowth that shall be sworn to secrecy with the stomping foots of the passing time.

Dare to lay down this sinister dish and feed upon my gravely voice and dried up blood spots.

A Sun Drip (day 304)

The sun slowly drips its honey across my face
Sweating out last nights essence with tea
I hold the governance of all things unsaid
I will not bear the shame of almost was
I will not hear the un-named called on the hour
When dogs will scurry into their unmarked graves
Calling like the coyote into the night
With an uncontrollable longing for what is lost
What is gone, and what has been forgotten

The spots of glare fascinate this glossy mind
As it winds its way through the spiral of decay
Memorizing the lines of an old Hemingway poem
Like the underside of a frequently-thumbed sack
And no, there will be no last dance as the wind hits my back
There will be no sweet romance with the birds and the bees
While the clock slowly ticks it’s monotonous rhythm
However long shall thou steal away into the night?
Long forgotten whispers remain seated on the knit of my brow

Springs Night Air Thoughts (day 295)

A lonely walking along the springs night air
Has a traveler thinking about matters to beware
If ever there was a time for spewing melancholy
The drip drip drip of the morning dew would induce
Such a state of ephemeral excitement ensues
Leaving the steps slightly quicker
In a race against time to return home
Gather the tidbits of nonchalantly whimsical
Ideas that flow rather seamlessly forth
Did we exude the true meaning of all of our thoughts?

A Pull (day 290)

I can feel a pull
From control and class
To the kind of
Un-adulterated
Sheets to the wind
Pants around your ankles
Kind of shift

This is the kind that gets you in trouble
The kind that wakes up with a massive fucking hangover

I’m prepared though
I’ve done this before
I’ve held onto the guard rail
And eased my feet into those shoes

It’s a long walk home from the streets of destruction

Wear a coat

Sunny Skies (day 289)

There’s no room for sunny skies here
There’s no point in having those hover around
Like the festering magpies
Crapping overhead in swarms
Few thousand or so

There’s nothing loud
About sitting alone
Blast out the speakers
Make that sky forever last
Hold out those buckets and catch in that rain

There’s only winners and losers
There’s no I’m almost theres
Pull down your trowsers
Flair up your nostrils
Pull in your feet to breathe

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.]