Thoughts too heavy for paper alone

And I'm Lonely

Like a man in a room full of porcelain dolls

Lots of things around look like people

Very few actually are

The Merry Pranksters and Jokers Wild

The fallacy I sell to you:

A leper fiend pariah

Forever friend to ten foot poles

2 feet tall and porcelain

The feeble nature of my soul:

Vivid, green and red and blue

TV tubes built right in

Both Blasphemer and Pious

The punchline told again:

un-named on the honor rolls

Needle-junkie-type Messiah

Take the cup from my lips too

Titanic Things to Say

Words like ice upon the sea
Float

Unsinkable

White Star to illuminate the mind

Lines a perfect hint at all that lies below

Frozen for eternal slumber, Living

Barely Breathing

Eternal in its memory

Ephemeral on the page

I wish I was a Cowboy, Should Have Been A Cherokee, Turns Out...They Both Went Extinct

There are infinite ways of looking at a person, of judging worth and passion too.

If anyone were to look at you would they see more than a reflection on the surface of a stagnant pond? If anyone were to seek to see the other side of the image that you portray, what would they find? Is there substance beneath these words that you seem to think so important that they must be shouted above the screams of the dying that have fallen all around you?

I once found a dead bird on the side of the road. The proper procedure for such a find, at least in this day and age, is to send it in ( to where I haven't the slightest clue ) and have it tested for west nile virus. I simply picked it up, gingerly, with all the respect warranted the dead, and set it in a dumpster behind a Jack-In-The-Box.

If there were only three people left on this earth, what would you do? The most obvious answer is to attempt to procreate, to prolong the survival of the species just like any good organism. Possibly far more noble is to bash all three over the head with a rock or similar blunt object.

The meek shall inherit the earth, the slave will become the master, so where does that leave the pseudo-wonderful?

Doo-wa-ditty-ditty-dum-ditty-doo

I used to watch cowboys on TV. 'Have Gun, Will Travel' that kind of thing. The whooping of the Injuns as the wagons were circled. How many scalps, how many? I always wanted an eagle feather and a rattle snake hat band. I always wanted to be Brave. To be completely honest...

You are Beautiful
Even Now

After all is said and done
I think a while aloud

The translucence of your skin
Lightly touch your cheeks

The beauty of forever
Souls like ribbon, dancers, glue

The smile on your sleeping face
Silent as a prayer, Angel

Like champagne, bubbles to the top
A laugh just beneath the surface

I hold you
Even Now

Alone in crowded elevators
To the top, among the sleeping stars

Alone among the phantom planets
The tides a distant memory

Together drinking sweet surrender
Embrace in subtle ecstacy

Falling further now than ever
Falling for eternity

Senseless

...and my heart continues to beat, a perfect machine inside a colony of independently living, breathing, reproducing cells. The blood it pumps sometimes feels as if it were scraping out the insides of my veins. No clogged arteries here.

...and I continue to breathe the heavy air. The smell of sweat and flesh, the scent of the breath of others reaching my nostrils in nearly visible green contrails, wafting up and into me.

...and the air feels cold on my skin. I pull the blanket tighter around me, my only sheild from the cold that awaits the unsuspecting, those foolish enough to venture outside the safety of their homes. I am ready for it. Alone, waiting to face the spectre of winter.

...and the buzz of the flourescent lighting massages my ears like a jackhammer. The sounds of night reach me in a chorus so beautiful as to bring tears to the eye. I long for the peace that comes with silence. Solitude.

How To Build A Warrior Robot Saint Nicholas Army Ant Machine

Mis-matched Cogs and speaker wire
And Blue lightbulbs and Yarns
The tracks to nowhere take a while
In this world of Company Time

Where shotgun shells and trashcan fires
Are comforting and warm
And children sleep, while devils smile
And pastors do their pantomime

Honest Abe's a Fucking Liar
Hypocracy's the norm

With Bah Bah Black Sheep, Ceramic tiles
And lots of Love and petty Crime

13 years and counting

Daddy swung a heavy hammer

Driving home his points with force

The impact always closed my eyes

A child, startled by the noise

Daddy: You Really Missed It All.

You gave me a name
That left handed smile
The girls always did like...

I gave you a good-night kiss
The way your cheek scratched
Cologne from that green plastic bottle

Brute

Your boots seemed so huge
Typical Father colossus
Brown, caked with Red clay

So many times, so many
Birthday-cake/Bennies
Teardrops or Balloons?

Missing

some people might have a clue as to what I am doing here... he doesn't.

one more i suppose.......

Somber Occasion, one more, one more
A father sits and wonders
Twenty one years, one more, one more
The boy who carries the Name
Estranged, Alone, one more, one more
The mountains may swallow his tears
Solitude, Solace, one more, one more
Country roads can't take them home again
Wonder, Wonder, one more, one more


well. I made it. I survived to official adult status, 21 years. My dad never did call. I miss him. I say often times that I am over it, that it doesn't bother me, that I don't cry over him anymore. I lie.....i carry his name, 2 of them. I have his face. I have his smile. I have his nose, ears, mouth, hair-line. I can't forget. I try. I try. I try. I want to. I NEED to. It's killing me. It's the reason I grind my teeth. Its the reason I love cigarrettes. It's the reason. HE's the reason. I'm the reason. I am him. I just wish he would call. I wish he would call me and just say sorry. I don't want to make small talk. I want to hear the word sorry and then sit there, on the phone, silent, me and him, TOGETHER, not talking, just knowing.

The smoke hangs thick
Like curtains on my life.
The actors masked in tones
Of yellow and green.
Immaculate in its splendor.
Dive to the bottom to breathe;
Where the air is thick and heavy
With all the meaning of our lives.

On Mobius Strips The Mayan Calender and A Boy Named GOD

As I sat upon the Topsy Turvy precipice
that is my office chair,
I wonder that will come of us
When all is said and done.

The Mayan calender ends
with the year 2012. Not ENDS...
begins, starts anew
The circle of time continues
on into Oblivion
Rebirth just like before.

Pondering a mobius strip:
circular and curved around,
like ice dancers in December
Somewhere near Golden Pond.
Cut right down the middle.
Linked forever hand-in-hand
Chained; Like snow-tires in winter.

Words etc.

?

They find me in a Spider-hole
Out behind the wood shed
Three years from now
Bones and Dust and Shiny Teeth

*

Watching me

I looked into the

Mirror

This morning.

Smiled at the image,

Even the red

Splotches on my Nose.,

Too big for the space

God has provided
Reflexive of my words;
(Wooden puppets and Compromise)

Truth, like alabaster and gold,

Shining in the sunlight.

Heavier now
Than I can remember.

Falling forward,

face down,

-in the sink-

-end-