When I was a kid I loved to go outside. I loved to walk with my mom anywhere in the sun. Climbing trees and digging up anything interesting. The world was cool and full of amazing things, at least wherever the confines of dependency allowed us to be.
FTW
pass it to the left hand side. going counter clockwise. Like a clock turning back time. Three steps and turn behind another child of mankind. I carry my weight. I carry it in plastic bags tied wrought around my waist. I turn every three steps and keep my pace. I've traveled all around but every time I walk I turn around. Around and around the spacious places under foot, underneath, unknowingly.
Blind side and I don't sound right. High and dry I don't feel right. I've fallen so far and now the clouds are empty bars retaining invisibly. I'm frightened for me. in stereo and on tv. bland dinner my palette doesn't taste like it should, wish I were good enough, or something that someone might love. I'm powerless against antics and secretly drink from a cup overfilled and it's spilled making me plain, insane, gone over the edge once again.
I blither and blabber as the mud splatters on me, and trees look like burning fiends tired and swaying in the breeze, dissolving me, and I see that you've made it home again. It's all over again, this shadow that won't repent and I resent all the things that you said. Party on Wayne, party on Garth, on toward the new sights the new sounds and forget your cough, the coffee is cold and it's time to move on to something I like, something I dream, and don't you forget, we've all been absolved we don't have to pay rent
and the company calls us again. The phone is wet from streamin, it's no surprise, it's my demise, it would be wise to just hang up my hat. And say goodnight.

was what you said just not enough
was it all red in the middle of love
do you need some time or someone new
ready for nothing, nothing new
god is impossible
impossible to please
please please me
wait wait don't tell me you've been waiting
in straight lace pleasantly
peacefully shine deep
dissect the shit out of me
till that black lung can no longer breathe
you can't kill the heart, my heart
even though it's on my sleeve
even through bitter warning
thoughts, and eyes wander over me
steadily growing patient without apathy
slow liquor pour downed four
steady as I roll and lose control over
you your mind me
self prescribing
loss of dignity
escape of my esteem
the blackness of my dreams
the doctor I haven't seen
the pain in my kidneys
the tired glaze of eyes dazed
fastened to laptop screen
spreading words like sacred code
into flowing streams

all of your love
life is forever
words you said and didn't write or vice versa
words written so well but lacking vocal devotion
thoughts trickling down and too shy to spout them
to weak to fight your hand
to hold it on to mine
fear, fear is a cold black creature
that spouts from the face of death itself
as it strengthens my god the change
in brain waves
in processing and computing
in putting it together and getting your shit together
why bother getting old when you can get crazy god dammit
why bother filling the holes that were left from being cradled. Expectation. Relentless. It figures. The math doesn't work because I don't fucking work. The cards are all shit and for me they always have been, fuck, fuck, fuck. the house and the shadows, the slips and slides, I am built from scraps of life that we have in this parade of shit. al;;;;;;;;jks f;ajsdfiwepoirquweopiaefujdsl;jkfhgawsjkgdflzj fhdskjah;akhgakldsjffhsldksjsoiieuuthfdjsal;a;apqlwnvxmvn,zsoojwoayfnglsjdssmcjsnflajgeja;ljsjflsjfjfsfljsfljs
jfslfsliejejejeieieijejejeejjejejejejejejejeejejjjejejejejsjsjsjjejjsjejiwiwiejwijewijeijwieijejjejeelkjwrw;ljqq;lkwjerlwqkejrsadifiuq[ruworwowfsoujafskj

the feeling is still there
the madness is still there
i am still there
the smell is still there
the brief moment is still there
shit luck shit for brains dumb shitty shit

i will



win

Stars and Stripes

http://www.stripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=66798

this is an article with a portion of an interview with me about poetry and healing PTSD. It was a great conversation and there is even an excerpt of my work in the article as well. Thanks to all the folks at Stars and Stripes, David Allen the articles author and fellow Vet Poet, Lisa, Jessa, and everyone in the Vet Art Project for putting together platforms, which make this knowledge and methodology available to any and all.

Check out David's blog at www.davidallen.nu
and his e-zine at www.eatwritecafe.com

basking in the glow of a million exploding grenades

oh my eyes
through dusty splinters
searching the ground for losses
torn scraps of metal, holes in the walls
ceilings caving in, ears ringing
hesco hotels and radio calls
shoulder launched disappears in the sparks
green light white light go
lined up in sight no where to go
cradled in ammunition
weakened but still strong
violent hellfire rage rips the atmosphere open
eyes adjust
itching trigger fingers til dawn
sights lined and set to call
no telephone, no satellite, no alcohol
tango oscar november india golf hotel tango
india
whiskey alpha sierra
delta echo alpha tango hotel

without which would i be better
without which would i survive
i was outside within
lost in a lasting transition

on and off a wagon without wheels

people live
grow
search
to get out of the darkness

some look into it
with glowing eyes
bombarded by the desperation
that comes out in sodium filled sweat

Delirium Tremens
testing mortality
the cold turkey freeze
bitter liquidity

it matters not where I lay my head, but where my conscience lies. in gulleys, galleys, ravines, in mechanical dreams, in political seams, it seems like we are distancing our selves from each other and everyone needs different things, it makes a difference to me whether we know and see or we make hearts bleed when in need. make it stop. make it stop please.

liquor stain tongue smoke ring rolls
awkward hands shaking in the cold
heavy heart still fresh in the folds
filling emptying living tissue
bitten and waiting to bite some
not enough, have to be something
have to be worth realizing

shame, old dog
dirty bomb drops
silence in moving scenes
where trees sidewalks and soda machines
melt together in light radiating
where loss is lossy and negating
Where I am nothing
in a confusing consumer dream
where acting is real reality

I can't count the beats in your chest. I can't fight that beat in mine. Life is but a series of fights, of lonely battles on waterfronts unseen. We watch as those who run forward changing the matter they are running from, toward, with , away from as they go. Trails of papers, and videos slide in that line as they move. We watch and look behind us and see a smaller, dimmer trail. Those who are burning bright rise as they go and escape those bullets of pain that fire down from mountain tops impossibly out of reach. I often feel as if I am crawling on that sandy beach. Spitting the taste of salt and seaweed from the side of my mouth and disappearing into the cover of being an outsider. From this view I can see the world and everything from underneath. Things you wouldn't understand if you only do what you see, if you only read what you need, if you are too scared to bleed.

If you have any I will eat your sin
transferred from you to me
I'm going down anyway
if there is atonement it's latency
diminishes with me

Well god damn here we go again,
sorry sad sucker feeling low again
everybody put on some new damn shoes
everybody put out all that your used to
barreling down barrels of oil in our machines
into our plastics, smokestacks and everything
choking carbon floral chlorides destroying me
destroying the children in arms

fuck these days where i sit alone watching tv. I get nothing, no inspiration, no happiness I feel cold and unamused. All I can do is write. It's a supplement during, before, and between drinks. And as I sip more my memory leaks, words become tweaked repeats of all the things I've said before. I have nothing new to say today and hardly ever come up with anything nearly as interesting as I did on something. I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i ii i i i i ii i i ii i ii i ii i i i i ii i i ii i i i ii i i i ii i i i i i i ii i i i ii i i i i ii i i ii i i i i ii i i i i ii i i ii i i i ii i ii i ii i i i ii i ii iii i ii i ii i ii i i ii i ii i ii ii i i i ii i ii i ii ii i ii i ii i i
who am

Avante Garde Duty Free

my dreams are sunken in obstruction
lacking satisfaction confounded by abstraction
this distraction lackens my senses
penetrates my defenses
devastating smoke screens
of living breathing beings

I love the blur,
the motions,
shadows casting slipping by
how our words and symbols
slyly collide in our lives and minds
disappearing reappearing everything
winding tight wrought ropes of eternity
flickering lights and energy releases in space
till blackness dissolves any trace

I held my breath all night. I drank between grinning teeth, ate, and sang some I think. I strung strange instruments and played to everyone's disbelief. I've been reading about mythology and the human psyche. Are we all Odysseus the champion of gods and men. Are we noble rogues in eternal struggle with nature's paved ways. Am I living in the scientific realm to hide myself from Ra and Zeus? Is my mana holding traces of ancient remains?

3.14
0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55,89,144
all it is is anything

curves and straight lines flow through the reflections in my eyes
cones and rods capture and analyze
I see said the blind man,
but I don't even try