I sit in the office at the cab company dazedly tracing maps on the wall with open eyes
dry and not ready to slip into sleeps sagging grip
Life and it's suffering endings
where people are building and building
where atoms are splitting and spitting the fires of creation
by mans hand and endless imagination
i digress to ingest the pill to recess into
some form of slave in mind and in pain
the strain to pay to keep things the same
low income, no income, don't come bother me
look what you got I need that too
I want some of the pie I'm entitled to
the reaper is paid on minimum wage as debts collect
our spirits fade and numbers on receipts do not matter
that designer bag and bad tan will not stand
the force and course of a rhythmic physics winter
we sold short our selves our lives in progress
bars and chains lost souls and blood stains
as we pack 'em in they become strange, estranged
belonging to something because, don't die don't
fight, fuck, feel,
run, jump, breathe,
see, share, believe

rage fades and I say oh well
don't dwell it will put you in a spell
from then fell to hell and no souls can tell
born into this mess into this all
this racing spinning pinball machine
riding into the night as the sounds of bells ding
and ring out symphonies of bliss
into the eternal vacuums of nothing
waiting to be erased from the future of history
twenty is the sum of Fibonacci
twelve jurors is all you need

f it im gone home

It is 1:16 in the morning
I don't hear the clatter and clamor
of the alley people that I've grown accustomed to
those loud rantings that rattle through the air
bouncing from wall to wall and into my ear
The cold must have pushed them inside
into little spaces gazing sleepily
with hospital beds and color t.v.

They see faces, games,
illusions, life,
things they want,
people they enjoy ,
and objects they like

The broken people lie dormant
when winters sickening face shows
they hold in the howls and hacks
that braved old warm mornings
Hot with the ferocity of liquor
passionate in some taboo quest
they gag on memories and smoke,
cackling into the night
owners of the night
whimpering rhythm and blues like anthems
in flickering pipe light

We used to drink and go to the river
skate up and down the docks
enthralled in a search for something beyond our comprehension
we would coast past the bums sleeping on benches in Liberty Park
our faces red and heads doused in sweat
often falling on cool red stones
bursting with energy in the sleeping city
as we give the ledge one last shot

Hillbilly Hell

No
Rare
Creatures

long range

I look both ways

, and cross the intersection
on forward, toward the money, cars, that run on work
on toward the light, the furthered lives, rich with earth
on people go rounding the circle so slow,
but this sight that lit these lights show
the things we don't know, wouldn't, couldn't know

creation,
one moment in time, where things began
where the formula for decisions came forward with plan
you, you feral creature,
us like packs within a hive
where we swim, run, or fly
burning and churning the world as we die

awake, you blade you sculptor
ride into smashing waves and brave the thunder
the minds subtle signs don't blind,
so resign yourself to the feeling
that everything goes as it should
though sometimes it seems that we are torn at the seams
unwinding and finding things a bit mixed up but...
wake up^
don't thrive on discredit concern for the return
it will burn with silences sweet pangs of November's rains
lazily chasing rabbits through habits pains
through every drop water set to drain,
through golden arches and maize
bowing down dilapidated in praise

old numbers written,
stenciled hastily inside the mind
pushing, pushing buttons to no where, no one.
subtle sordid and strengthened through the sun
you, who thought it true to part ways and stay late
waiting frozen like dead batteries of the earth, like
wax figures in nuclear dawn

have fun son, live life long loving, not to think that;
we are runners gunning and shunning the fact
that this system is flawed and completely off of track
I choose to boost my self esteem with a total lack
of dreams

in sleeps tired eyes
or cool salt breeze and fireflies
we all have to roll the dice
around the world searching for paradice
on the way I've grown in my mind and my eyes
a weary warrior who was woefully wounded,
through himself and he had chose to,
but life goes it gets thick with pain tears and shit,
so droned out we barely resist or persist on things
the "sayers" do proclaim and strain to refrain from this
exact exhibit with wistful wit, wise wealthy winners
win on, and are wrought up in a new bought way
well ascended from the medium range
thoughts so sullen and strange simmer slowly
under burning furnace flame,
ignited electronically
made easy and marketed freely
paid dollars, greasy, sleazy
illegally bleed those in need in due time and due place
the greed reigns supreme as it's exploded spleen
spews blood red money no structure of green
elude, allude, illusions pay, paid, due, overdue, overdraft
underpaid, undercut, interest, fee, free to see that this is you
and this is being told to be
this is you one day, dust and bone

created in this space to displace the race, the breed, the number
orders and creed, the sly, the hand, the bribed, souled up, fouled
bankrupt, spenders, spendthrifts, sold out, brought up, used up
split cells, dollar bills, change, change, glistening under moth
shuttered light in open air in calming wave drifting off
in other world in fantasy in play and in prayer in harmony
in karmas wrangling hold folded into place into play
the pawn pieces of eternities game
played till the pieces are too frayed to remain
this strain makes me say that nothing is the same
would I, you, we would, are, ok,
alright
I'll make the world made for me

old dawn cap you fisherman son
go out into the lake at night scattered
kicked leaves in the fishes funerary fire
and that trees soul does it spout out into
black oak earth like tiny skyscrapers
tadpoles sleep in hand print holes
the sandy bed where we retire

Old love, old one, given life from safety
falling apart, falling asleep, growing stranger
like the best of the days, the best of all time
sadness in a voice
and pain within the rhyme

oh you somber way
you cool bath in radiant rays
you, I take you in I ... loving arms tracing hands
warm place, the rhythm the rhythm
hold on ghost hold on old woes
hold on lost loving land lined with fantastic regards
oh eyes, you bother me so
you, you see only what you can and not what I want
forgive me self for breaking rules and regulations
for constant disregard and disbelief
for holding on to dreams
and having to give some up

woe, you, won't hold me
like burst balloon blues
like shaking the feelings loose
like where I should be
when I could be what would be the use
to linger on a second,
just a second sir I infer
that this sense in my soul
in that third human dimension

listen man the man had said before
what fabled inspiration grabbed hold and rolled us around
forgive me first of all friends I am still around
I'm bound to the sound I confound and astound you blatantly

I'm sold, I bought the parts of the nothing
now i'm out of everything
i fought gravity, and I fought air
roughly writing about this despair

i search every day I can't find you
no matter how hard I look into the crowds on streets
and in busy macy's department stores
then on and on we can all go on 'old golden fringing listing losing growing'
shedding sleeping on groggy fuck damn ok bu it up drink it up same shit different day
oh I'm just too awkward to deal well under certain circumstanes

In a complex world of nothing we are all alone.
I fought the feeling and now I call it home.
I lost lived and lounged in loving graces
fought wars in foreign places
I've drifted around the country like a loose
paper brushed with the wind
I fell victim of plans to destroy me
myself from within
I've caused pain and sorrow, destruction and more
and every time it was a dreadful chore
bliss is blinding that fleeting feeling
tempting the tips of fingers stretched
the cool smoothness of lip

gone, frayed away to pieces and recycled
in the eternal machine of time
A lone figure stands in the darkness
the empty life stands between cries

A moment

A Moment (Near The End)

Old pictures on older walls gather dust
in the houses of the dying.
Pots and pans of cherished existence
linger in cabinets with rusty finishes.

The darkness in wood’s grain that frames
our narrow doors of perception;
the stains of times ticking persistence
do not penetrate these glistening visages.

____ The green leaves hang so still there,
_____- my they have patience.

Watching the spinning blades
on life flight helicopters, past
spinning hour and minute hands
pacing between rhythms of an EKG.

Look up from the magazine and the scene
is so frightening

twisted hands in turning machines,
cradled in calm waves of electricity.

All of our ladders of insignificance
collapse underneath.

Masked in gauze under pale
halogen light, a figure of the future;
infantile and awry.

In worn skin yellow hues turn
to deeper purples and blues.
The blackness of deaths trail
flowers inside of bruises.

____They pass, they are passing, this is going to be me
____this is all this is us this is you this is me

Late calls and dim lit parking lots,
automatic doors and balloons,
magazines and candy,
____habitual subliminal urge:
____consume, consume, consume.

While...
Old objects in older spaces gather dust
in empty, unfamiliar, yet
well known places;
in waking dreams still,
dancing in fading eyes,
tracing loving faces.
Saying good by old friends
while shaking life's passing hands

_____maybe somehow, I will see you again
_____we will be created in this sweet earth again
____maybe this time I will listen
__to each note of a beautiful song that much longer
__I will be more alive, and in love, and even stronger