Know Me (day 1600)

You don’t know me
You don’t know my pale blue eyes
Looking longer every day
Into this dusty mirror 
Decorated with tokens
Of some mysterious lust. 
You don’t know the color 
This silver makes at midnight
When I don’t know what I’m doing. 
You don’t know the whispers
I tell myself as I unlatch the front door
And check myself into society,
Knowing that two small words
Have the power to change it all. 
And I have three,
Just in case. 

Hell is My Political Agenda (day 1356)

Our political agendas are nauseating.
They’re stuffed so full of capital letters
That the underlying messages of our society –
Hell, even our cultures,
Are suffocated with exhaust stacks and bottom dollars.

If I could have dreamed up a Heathenistic Hell,
I’d put city roads and destruction for progress
Right at the top of that scorched list.
I’d decree land had suddenly become a commodity
We could sell simply because we had a gun that said we could.
Just like young adults unable to find their righteous paths,
Explicit lyrics contaminating the innocent minds,
My Hell would be a prescribed better way, mothers.

Did you feel my heart as it’s ripped out every single day
When land mines help fight swollen populations,
Planted in a war to help save lives?
War to not war! Fight fire with fire!

And in my Hell, in my political agenda I call my country,
I would give us hope, every.single.day.
We would wake up to the smell of progress
And desire to capture it in any way possible
So that it could be shared with anybody we knew.
We would mutually feel good about the loss of our trees,
Because our heads were buried so deep in our electricity
Where we were collectively dreaming about
Ways to continue our progress.

For my simple pleasure I’d have dandelions everywhere
As symbols of true health and prosperity.
I’d pull up my old lawn chair, warm beer in hand,
And watch as all the sinners pulled out their organic chemicals
To spray the evil yellow root to death.
On the cold days when there were no death machines
I’d read my botanical books and let the rain
Wash tears into my Hell.

For me this is the saddest thought of all,
Because in spite all my attempts to rectify ignorance,
I would be a black seed living in my own true Hell.
I would be a puppet, inspired to raise my voice
And told that I do mean something to this Hell.
There I’d be, red faced eating my poisoned earth,
Handed another blank Party card
And told why I should be excited.

San Francisco - 201202 (144 of 809)

Opine (day 1074)

I was born into a centrifugal force,
A suction cup of heartache, of proverbial effort;
Cause and effect.
A slow line moving along Granville St.,
Caught in excitement of teenage free spirits:
Fashionably conscious and disregarding etiquette.
A night life on Hastings
Wish-washing lines between law and desire;
Societies dream of an everlasting image
With a reason for being a mother-fucking
Pop icon.
This is a history book documenting trend-setting hipsters,
Glossy pages filled with alluring sex tips.
Designed for those of us left standing on Commercial
Wondering: “who the fuck’s opinion even matters?”

In Your Teeth (day 805)

I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
Taking them in your teeth and letting the camera capture your raw moments of sex
I want to understand what it’s like to plan this desire like a premeditated killer
Drinking tea over strewn socks and dirty magazines in a black and white image

I never thought I’d hold your hand walking down this hall
Penis stuck between your legs and there isn’t even any kissing
I’m not sure I understand the lines being blurred here
For they exist singularly in figments of imaginations
Directed by lines of square adults and their best intentions for children

I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
As you walk away veiled in a cloak of mastermind and glitter
I’m not sure the intention towards my understanding and which end is right
But this is my effort to blur my own lines of this never ending puzzle

Canadian Pride (day 761)

My pride
Ripped from it’s socket
So suddenly
Like the drop of a hammer
With peace
An illusion seeped in history
Fleetingly
Waved about like a wildcard
By those
Beseeching higher powers
For us
Citizens of this fine country
Canada
So much beauty spread wide and far
And yet
So much ugly centralized and clinging