The silence is an ocean of afterthought.
Late at night, awake in bed,
Slipped through the cracks of my mind
come crawling moments past,
and the restless nature of what they
mean stays constant; I'll never get
Even a decent night's sleep like this.
What then, when my tidal flood drifts me
away from any grasp? Not root, no leather, not a branch, no soft, warm hand. Am I produced madness, lost in a forest of my own ridicule? I have always been a fool. Always fallen easy for warmth, beauty, and speed. But this absolute hum of nothingness I hear is a great adversary, chewing up my fight, so now I'm very much "in it." Proceed with caution. I really don't know what I'm doing anymore. I think I lost a bet with time; now I drown in all it's passing,
in my mind.

Lay with me once more.
I won't speak a word,
Just enfold you and recount
The familiar heat and breath;
Feel the softness of your silent
Grace, and feel that blissful fire
Feed warmth inside and out.
We need not speak
Of the rough edges of our past.
We don't have to dissect
Whether it goes beyond this.
I am tired of words,
And their exhaustive nature.
They never complete feeling.
I'll come to your low-lit room,
Shut the door and open up
The last bit of me you'd want.
I burn nightly for this blistering
Dream. I catch fever from thought.

I'm not about to invent
Some half breed better way
To go around the cycle.
We claim some surface,
And it's big and it's bright,
And a howl wakes in the moon
To greet the semblance of
That thought. So we run
So fast and hard that the beating
Of our hearts is rapid,
Positively racing before our
Imagined scene,
And the troubling thing is
That those beautiful circumstances
Might not ever happen.
Either that, or they did and
You missed the comet.
It flickered bright,
But for some reason
You were scared of the light,
So it burned away one night.

Music like hypnosis
Climbing up and down my mind,
Like spiral staircases and elevators,
Fraught with fantasy and fiction,
Induced by liquid concoctions;
Medicinal, herbal delights
Categorized by their indifference to lucidity,
And their incumbent wake
Of me streaming in and out
Of consciousness aboard them.
I am capsized
By the constant cravings
Of everything so deeply human,
Raw and unkempt.
But I do not adhere
To any one given thing too much.
I am a creature of habit,
I am a connoisseur of moment.
I am an angler for excitement,
And spontaneity,
And physical bliss.
I have no, nor have ever had,
Any accountability
For the aftermath
Of these things.
I am forever temporary.
I am always on pause, and play.

My own mind
Is such a beautiful,
Chaotic mess.
I live with this,
But I fail to find
A bearer of such
Massive strain.
I'd drive you mad,
Like everyone close.
So that distance,
The one I often choose
To adhere, is the only way
I know how to not
Break good things.
When I'm close I mark
Everything I love with
Hardness and cold, so
They become rigid, brittle
Things of rubbed out
Affectation. Proximity
Is key with me.
Must control or I will
Fall and fold and
Become completely apart.

It's just a world.
It's simply existence.
A brief moment in
The unfathomable
Age of the cosmos.
Stuck in a rut;
Universally insignificant.
But heart, brain,
Emotion, they all make
All this shit matter in
The first fucking place.
Good to feel good,
And know just what that means.

Stark naked,
Lying on a cold hard floor.
Green and white tile spilled
With hues of the living,
Fallen from lack of strength.
Oh I feel, I do,
But my head's mixed up and
My heart's jaded from this
Mixture that we humans make.
I made this bed of coarse
Difference divided. I had to
Prove to myself just how far I'd
Fall apart. I lost heart in all.
I gave myself to the tidal tumble
Of fast and swift, effortless pain.
But this belief I hold to be so:
Let yourself lose control,
If only to regain the course most clear.
So I'll ride a wave a while,
And feel a mess, and lost.
But my heart might ache daily,
And I might feel like love
Up and left me,
Still I'll take the ride and smile
If I can. Some things will waver;
Not my journey.

Lay me in bed like a baby
And spoon-feed me a new reality;
I've been starving myself again.
If this awkward rhythm never ends then
I shouldn't bother pretending to be sane,
Rather just sink into the abyss of a stilted
Dream, one where I don't have to be afraid
About losses and gains, understandings and
Responses. Resolutions found by breath,
Sight, and movement alone.


Of course I've lost my way again.
Of course I've missed the point again.
How can so many others think of good in me
When I only know this insufficient being
Staring back that I see.
In a mirror,
In a pool of dirty water,
Used to be
A credible heart;
Now a vagrant,
Bitten by the bitter breed
Of lonesome appetite.
Better alone
Than cursing others.
Better this way.

You can't hurt
What you can't feel.

I am lone reed,
Dressed in frozen droplets,
Tumbled heavy by a breeze.

Wind cool slowly,
Drive the life inside all
But my own, so then show me

How to again
Make use of this lost heart.
It breathes a fire, it won't let go.

When the passing
Of this convalescence
Ends, I should make time to live.

-- --- ------ --- -- --- ------ --- --

"The sparrow tears the reed
But the seeds fly on
To begin again."

You were never so sweet as you were sour. And I was cold more than warm.

In the mirth and the mire,
Waiting through this patient fire,
Arrives an answer from above:
Much is struggle,
All is love.

And it were quick that
Burned their heart;
A sad spectacle, a flash, a
Ribbon, tightly lost
Inside a breeze.

This and many moments
Of purely joyous, expansive,
Intimate, felt, heard,
Awoken, laughable, sweet,
And so dearly loved.

It is but the sadness that's
The deepest form. It aches
As if you became it much.
Too much talking, not enough ears.
But love holds no limit in the singular.

Sick on whiskey, beer, and bullshit.
I spun it, you spin it,
Others grin through their teeth
With mouths full of it,
So what's the point in trusting anymore?
I'm riding solo. There's a woman
Thinks she can claim me.
There's another that never stopped.
If all of this is about love then
I'm surely fucked. Because what is
This life apart from heart and heat?
I was always meant to fail at good love.
I'm not sad, because I never give up.
I don't mind the bloody pulp. I don't
Feel discouraged with the sadness
That surrounds my halo. I'm a heart
For the world. They use me as wished;
I gift them with uplifting until our
Time runs out. Then I let them go.
Fly on, sweet ones. I didn't mean a thing.
Temporary harbor. Imperfect lover.
I shared your secrets and kept them.
I gave you all I could. I'm going to drift
Along this life endlessly. Take stock in
Something other than a guy like me.
Take stock in peace and ease.
I'm not the one. I'm no one.

You are the beauty I never understood.
I spent a long while trying to
Compromise myself to
Compliment your elegance,
But I never really touched it;
Never got that glint like I figured.

Loyalty is a kind of beauty,
And despite my wayward nature
I would follow you into the deepest
Dark recesses of anything,
Yet I feel it's not the answer, any longer.

Oh, how we broke each other so.
We parted after such a silent battle;
This is that sad treaty we must abide.
Everything will be different from now on.

I'll never not feel the you of your love.
Please always remember mine. We,
Though apart, will never be strangers.

And now the sad music plays our part;
Two lonely beatings of one broken heart.

Let my memory burn for this forever.

Routines

She's got those routines.
They get her through the day.
She pulls my strings and
I'm never around to hear her sing.

It's been a while since I heard her sing.

I took my mind away,
To get myself some sense
And try my best forgetting.
Sometimes you just remember a song.

Sometimes you want to sing along.

She's a sunrise too early
Come on by a delirious morning
With no way of knowing how
My whole life changed in a moment;

You love; you're afraid to show it. 

[Such beautiful first exchange.]

At night when I shut my eyes
I see cascading fragments over years,
They pull and push me like waves.
Tumbling cool green foam takes me

Into the despair of my awakening.

The Me I Am

The Me I am
Is strange, is pensive.
Highly sexual.
Two-faced, rebellious,
Most introspective.
Fantasy-ridden,
That is to say detached.
Where is the moment?
I lost it. Always lose the point;
Always find a way out,
Even if I won't take it.
A little tragic, a bit dramatic.
Harbor, hover, distance,
Smother. Seek the deepest
But be impatient; an
Instant gratification wager,
Always losing every gamble.
Purely mammal, not quite
Human. Feeling it all might
Be absurd. Illogical emotions
That kill me much. I search my
Own rhythm but so off time,
And now the clouds cover
Every attempt to reinvent
Existence with new purpose.
I think it's a prison, a dragging
Lifeless thing sticking
To my stride; won't let me out,
Can't let me tell me lies.
Face my mirror,
I am apprehensive. But I'm
Also playful. Joyful. Silly. Warm.
I know I can be, anyway.
I will argue much, out of this need
For so much attention. Think
I must have been so sad and
Lonely long ago. Childhood hurts
A pain so beautiful that
Every other thing in life cannot
Cast shadows over
The very firsts of any experience.

Bursts of incommunicable
Wonderment overwhelming
Such sweet happiness and sorrow.
I am not very proud of me,
But I'm ok right now.
What more can I have?
Every beautiful thing in me
Feels good and gone.
It's all mixed up, I'm all mixed up,
I know I'm not right;
Feel that absence, so scared
It might not ever come back.
I am a good man.
I just don't know who I am.

"Bless the things we do and
Do not say to one another,
For they dictate and define us
Far better than we ourselves
Could ever ascertain."

So I found the border between
Where we've been and where
We may go. There's a wall,
And I can either knock it down,
Scale over it, or ask permission
To reach that other end.
This discovery haunts me greatly.

Bless the things we do and
Do not say to one another,
For they fill our heads with
Something better than another
Day alone, even if it's so damn
Bittersweet and hard, like candy
Too long left forgotten in
The bottom of a purse.

Bottom of my heart,
Don't know what the hell to do
About any of this.
Think I might just have forgotten
How the hell to love at all.

But I'm hoping it's not true...

I'm always, always looking for that
Perfect accompaniment. Stand firmly,
Planted by me simply in whatever
Goddamn thing we're engaged.
I guess I'm simple in the end.
I don't need much to keep this big,
Stupid heart going. I just want another
Misfit to roam about with. Someone
That can save my wreck when it comes.
Someone that might let me take lead;
I won't steer the thing the wrong way,
I promise. I tell ya though, I get lost
A lot. Visceral distance brought on by
Lack of understanding of my own
Damn self. I neglect the most potential
Things for a silly whim of the innate,
Particular to my brand. We run; we can
Also very much take a strong stand.
So it's come to this: lost and so much
More confused and abandoning the
Notion of proper love as the thing.
After all, I haven't always given proper
Love to those that mattered. I've hurt
Those close to me much. In the end
I suppose I've learned the kind of pain
You could know from a firm shake of
Everything crashing down at once.
I lost myself and probably for good.
This new guy might be all wrong.

It's been hard making an impression on anything,

Walking around this town like a ghost.

Ghosts can be haunted too.

And I'm beginning to wonder

If there ever is a place that makes sense.

It wasn't in the foundation.

I feel such disconnection. 

I think I buried my life in thoughts of 

Fear and inaction. 

The past is so vivid, so fresh. 

I look at me and wonder how I lost myself.

At what point do I need to go back?

Never can we go back.

This present is a slow mess.

Walking around like some kind of ghost.

I want to be real again.

Want to celebrate the day.

Want to figure out what makes me feel

So out of touch with this physical world.

Just a sleepy ghost wondering.

Never knowing what is real anymore.

All the while life is flying by so quickly.

So that memory persists...
But I can't waver from
The feeling I get about resurrection.
How does it all begin anew
With such long history at play?
It never could. But it would take
One hell of a renewed sense of purpose
To propagate that dead matter.
No amount of endless pavement,
Nor bright lights, nor fantasy
Could create some of the moments
That were simply natural.

Maybe we just didn't know what we had.
I don't understand my time,
And you we the best filter.
Like the whole damn world
Didn't make sense, unless I asked
You first.
All that is gone now. The bitter
Memory persists, but we can't get back.
I could be closer but I'll not try.
I'll stay on the sidelines because
I'm afraid I can't take it again.
Fucking fear.

Thoughts About A Past

Hello.
You've been going in and out
Again. Are you settled in this format?
Maybe those roots got pulled.
You sort of grew up;
Took a few hundred vitamins and
Started looking for a balance.
Thought you might have almost had it.

Goddammit Daisy, you make me smile.
You were pretty much my world
For a while. We kicked it down,
Drug it around, and finally
Took a good look at it in the light.
Now we're both quiet.
Quietly wasting away the night.
Goodnight.

I know there's a good man
Buried beneath all this;
I know that he exists.

It all comes down to this:
Found is the avant-garde
Tomorrow could bring us.

When I'm losing my mind,
And the street is empty,
A flicker shines a light

And I'm awaken fast,
Rupture sieges the whole,
I am built to control.

This man is good but lost.
He works to find the path.
That one that learning's on.

Stop with the self denial,
And the thrashing at your own spirit;
You're near it but can't see,
I'm not that good a man
As you think of me.
I have wandered, head and heart,
When I thought the chips were down
And I could tell you were sad and blue.
I might not be the man
You think you knew.
I've survived in this life
By cutting through it
Like a knife. Heart of the matter;
I found it out quick,
And people are all the same, some ways...
Yeah, you see. And that is all
Just mostly some of me.
You know much, but darker curtains
Skirt the much of stuff
I haven't shown the world.
It's mine, blessed and wicked.

Favor takes all kind of help.
Dusty jar upon a shelf,
Slide into a palm receptive to embrace.
But oh so quiet and sad;
Afraid to give too much and
Be devoured by the change.
Can't shake the past,
Don't want to.
But it lingers like a finger
Rapping table top anticipation
To what ends the eve will allow...

Kids.
So esteemed.
Caught in something.
It was big.
Tough pardon;
Evaporate.

Give me a piece of bread
I'll take it.
There ain't no favor
I can't wage.
You might be thinking
That I'm odd.
Most of us wander;
Leave without cause.

Let's just burn it.
Give in to this good thrill.
Shake and shiver
Out through the open windowsill.

You go on talking that trash.
Let's see you
When you meet it. I bet this
Moment's proud
By the way you've been reading.
I've seen it,
Feel like a fool once you see.
Then you'd be like me.

Let's just burn it.
Give in to this good thrill.
Shake and shiver
Out through the open windowsill.

Post content.
Spiral rhythm sky line
Rippling on repeat;
Treading time lapses
Found incomplete.
Surreal sonata...
Dance, dance the children do.
One a wish,
The other two come true.
Beautiful ignition;
When it cascades that horizon,
The explosion delights
In favored, awkward eyes.
Play on then, drifting
Like a firefly.

Was gone for a very long time.
I held myself to a prize,
But I lost it on the other side of life.

She looks like me,
She sings like me,
Trying to find her in the mirror;
Burn into that light again.

Blank pages never stopped this fire.
But I burned a hundred just
To stay warm at night.
And the long, late hours I admire,
But in the soft sunlight I am scared.

Because she looks like me,
And she sings so sweet,
And her eyes I meet inside the mirror;
Will I burn into the light again,
Or just burn out without a fight?

Was gone for a very long time.
I held myself to a prize,
And I'm coming back from
The other side of life.

I am simple.
I do not need much.
Good hearts, true vision,
And a warm place of my own.

I have measured this life,
And manifold it's a fucking mess.
But I navigate anyhow
Through the monotony of absence.

Do I dare disturb
What strange visions surround me?
Do I challenge all this
That has now found me, that's abound?

There is a sleeping spirit inside,
It lies in wait, it permeates from
My eyes, but I fight against it;
Too afraid to let it out and find me.

Because I'm grasping at what
Used to make me laugh, and
Stumbling faster against time and
Change, I've lost the meaning
Of almost everything.

But maybe time will sort me out...

Teetered on the perfect noose,
A dusty grave I did intend;
But followed me did my sore wound
Around like clouds, all the same.
Bet ya think I'd learn by now
About all the things that test
Your very best, your heart-
Any other part worth saving in the end.
There's this quiet lonely that
Surrounds me mostly. It's not so
Bad as you would think... Well
It's easy, anyway. Only I
Can't drive me crazy. Only I can
Keep me from another collapse.
But sometimes it is nice,
When I want some trouble,
But just a little. Hard to understand
The man I am sometimes.

I don't go to movies anymore.

But I'm optimistic I will one of
These days.

So you're passionate with no aim;
You've got a lot to talk about and
Learn from, but it's always the same.
You never bothered to understand
What is inside you, you take the long
Road out of town, that way it's simple:
Everyone rejected me.
Haven't you learned? It's all a mess.
The whole lot of it is shambles;
You have to fill your cup
With what's around you.
Any good given, take it. Any one note
Troubadour is welcome, so long as
It's promised that truth prevails.
My great fault is a lie.
I have paid for it a thousand times.
I accept it's full weight.
I only hope you can
Appreciate this awkward toss
Of fate.

Where the fuck were you
When I wasn't capable of
Sorting myself out?
You didn't carry it all, ever.
I stood before the tall,
Wooded banks and said
Let's go ahead. Let's try again.
Maybe it would have been sad,
And quite possibly dreadfully
Distant, but I guess I missed it;
Don't get it when you come home,
And say it's over.
Share that place with a stranger.
Make me run away against my will
Because some band-aid saves you
From yourself. I could have saved you.
If I can't help anyone else I'm doomed.
I don't care about me a minute.
Quite actually I bore me to death.
But now I'm left with this sad asshole;
What else can I do but be busy?
Everyday something to attend.
Somebody please fill my day,
Else I'm at Lake George looking for
The white duck in the fold,
And thinking how I feel like a
Little boy, lost in the abyss of what
Might be my final movement
In this slow sonata of my life.

If it weren't for the late nights
I'd be lost too deep in thought
About abrupt stops, big hits,
And the everlasting remembrance
Of almost love and truth.
All this change is hard to take.
All these different faces,
Meanings and places replayed.
Apparently I'm something valued...
Grasping differences abide themselves
While I reconcile bland differences
Between places; just the esoteric value
So very falsely created in vain.
I can change, I can change,
Can't do it the same.

So I pace around sometimes.
Yeah, I'm restless for a change.
Dammit, anything bigger than this
Would be just fine.
Am I so wrapped up in myself
That I can't see the beauty?
Shit, perhaps. Lazy and sloppy,
I resolve to now do what I please
And watch the fine wreck of me.

I cannot tell you of how many times
I have missed you this last year.
Some have been small; a scent that
Catches me right...a phrase I heard
You say once recited. My memory
Started to advertise you to me
Much more after we parted. Suddenly
I remember more places we've gone,
Things you've said, times I was wrong.
And it's this bit lately about worrying
That I wasn't much on my own
Without you to stop my tangents,
And without me to grapple your will
Against mine to see which would win.
And sometimes I wonder if what we
Thought was love was merely a few
Shades; that we will never know
The full spectrum of our color any
Longer with our us not us anymore?

Bound together, two misfits
In a spiral of existence,
Nowhere going, going anyhow,
The world before them restless.
So, the night breeds thoughts
Within, without a worry where
They'll end. Easy when you're
Two misfits simply being,
And there is no reason
To drive anywhere particular,
Heart and mind free.
And the one feels every appeal
Of pulse and rhythm spiral
And cascade down upturned
Ears; he knows that it is necessary.
And the words too, and where they
Turn and how they linger long
And crisp, it lends to closeness.
And a tender feeling lights
Upon his inner sanctity of reason,
Pre occupying momentary thought
When she explains her name
To translate "she sings".

3:46AM

To be human
Is the will to fall
And do it with grace.
We are not a race
That knows very much.
But uniquely feeling
Everything, we touch upon
The most sacred stuff.

Drop does the bass and
Movement everywhere around
Bright shining eyes, glowing
Beads and wet wood floors
Flooded in misused emotions.

Better be to bed now,
Since the best was spent
But went bust. Slow drive
Home alone and fine anyhow.
Transcend that emotion
Across the cosmic fugue
And tell me, will it echo?

Milk And Honey

Sweet and soft;
Tip of my tongue tranquil
Sliding cool down.
Feel the pulse,
That rhythm gets me
Heavy and needy;
Cool breeze thinking ahead,
And night is just another
Invitation to some magic.
Lost in this smooth mood.
Tender and crisp is the voice,
And when it goes slow,
When it cools down just so,
It's exactly like milk and honey.

I dig that beat,
Is it still beating?
In what inexplicable places
Do we find ourselves?

Do you see that bit
Of what you want inside
That mirror? Can you accept
That proud beauty devoid of pain?

Lapse, the time stops,
Rewinds, constrains my mind
So that my thoughts waver...
It is to be alone and wander.

But there's that beat sometimes...
I swear it sways me to and fro
And I am dizzy all too often by
It's power. Resist this blissful recount.

I am but a sorrow wakened.
This is embers elegant and stirred.
It is only desolation.
All of this might be absurd.

What makes you tick?
What's the heart of the matter?
Is it all just transcendental planes of existence or is there a balance in this chaos we embody?
So many avenues of thought and presence to operate upon; how does one sort the surreal from the same old shit?
Every glimpse of magic becomes distorted by every passing year alive.
Love is an illusion. Either that, or some grand experience none of us have felt yet.
Because it was almost love. Almost honest. Almost great in every way except first promised. Is it my personal error in not seeing the problems and addressing or forgiving, or is it that I've not yet felt thus?
So much drink and not a drop of satisfaction. So many faces and yet so alone.
So much music in vain and for no one in particular.
I think I've ignored my happiness to such extremes that I do not know where it would be any longer.

Lost in a sea of thirsty faces,
I'm resolute in my attempt
At a life where the first crack is
Mine to breach the night and
Sound awakening to every bit
Of heartfelt fiber I encompass.

BARTENDER

It's clock in,
Look around,
Frame my mind...
Warm up, nice and smooth,
Just two orders at a time.
It's "do this" and "that's the price",
To the new staff.
It's wave, wave, wave,
Burnin through the goddamn
Whiskey fast.
It's glares, it's snickers,
It's bros, it's tits,
It's, "can I see your ID please?",
It's double shot,
It's hi-ball, lowball,
"Do you have it?"
"You gotta get it."
"Make us four!"
Don't even get a please,
Ah, fuck it with polite.
Make it fast, get it right.
"Can you call me a cab?"
"Go outside!"
"I'm not serving you pal,
Leave the bar."

...

It's late. It's heavy.
It's wet hair and long pauses.
It's a damn fine cause.
It's open bottles, clinking glasses,
Surprises, chances,
Random acts of coalescing.
It's a last beer after a long sweep.
It's the company I keep.
It's just work.

How my days wind me down...
I could climb the social summit,
But there'd just be another peak ahead.
Whose got time to deal in that display?
I'd rather stay simple and sane.

No reply from a wayward thought.
A vision of smoothness
That I'm better off not
Finding alone to wrestle all
My thoughts;
It might cost much but it's lost.

The void to fill is my own.
Let the rest of this year be the
Continuance of a good challenge,
And see me win the rest of me back.
I had a place all my own;
I had a vision right from the start.

Cold apples
Are what it's become.
That's what it all boils down to
With me.
You feel them on your tongue;
Smooth, cool slivers rising up
To press your gums;
Whole mouth sweet and numb.

Better buy the whole bag.
Not my favorite, but still so good.
Delicious red hues and shape;
Every one so different in taste,
Yet so alike in so many ways.
Cold apples in the afternoon
With sun spilling everywhere
Upon me restless.

Restless for a change. Change
My number, change my game.
Some great thing must be
On its way and soon. This vision
Of Life changed quickly;
Dropped it's secrets a little and
You know they all make sense.
But I'm still me before this for
The cold apple still remains.

All our lives,
A public display.
Exhibitionist fashion persistent,
So transparent;
So undone by deprivation.
Seeds a reason
Not to ask the hard questions,
Rather decipher fragmentary
Thought, and assume
To know the cause.

Put the machine down a minute.
Put your face before your face,
Look deep and long and see.
Put down the machine goddammit.
You have to admit it's all just shit.
There's nothing worth saving
In this temporary, superficial game.

So much work
Just to get at how you tick,
And all this time I've realized
How the heart of the matter
Just isn't in it,
Just not near,
And further from you
Do I get with the more I
Soak up page by page.
But you weren't there;
Say a bunch of things
But you're always hiding, dear.

Put the machine down this instant.
Put your face before my face,
Look deep and long and know.
Put the machine down for good.
I must admit it's really quite tragic,
When electricity becomes enigmatic
To the point where I don't know
Anyone anymore.

Back peddling all the way,
Even in the simple grace
Of a beautiful face before me;
I disillusion any circumstance.
Guess I don't want that gift.
Guess I'm not ready for that
Landslide of feeling to
Come driving down my measure,
Making me open and exposed
To the elements of the heart again.
I just can't give anymore.
Feel like I need a break.
I've built a plateau so high
That very few, if any could reach.
I'm getting by on my own,
But I shudder to think of what may be
When someone reaches that peak...
So scared to understand that nature.
So burdened I might exist
Without a witness to it's arrival.
I laugh out of habit.
I recount the rising hairline.
I suspense with superficial pleasantries;
I want all of the real. I want to
Move and be moved by it.
I need all of what is. I cannot
Function by design without these.
I am afraid I've missed the chance.
I skip along despite this loss
And hope again to
Join in this awkward dance.

Take it all, and be content.
The good and the bad,
The long and restless;
The easy and sweet.
You do not get both worlds.
Find the image
That reflects your true nature
And please embrace it.
Do not be afraid.
It is no matter
Of hard importance.
Only a simple obligation,
To accept that simple vision,
The one that is you.
Dwell not in bitterness.
Don't fault the choices
You could not make.
Just stride and live on
The right way, for once.
Give yourself room for error,
And abide the consequence
Of great loss ever so often.
Of misinterpretation;
Of unfortunate circumstance.
Be you, and no one else.
Hard to find, impossible to ignore.
May the best be always won
By such simple presence.

So for my transgressions,
And the adopted behavior I create
To compensate,
I release this beast to the wild.
Let him go and be forever gone.
I'll think about that wild nature,
Look about my soundings still,
And make decisions that make sense
From now on. The heart is lucky;
It feels implicit and correct.
Minds get in the way, and try to
Correct the course. Stupid minds.
What does tried experience know
Of innate instinct?
Still beating, still breathing.
Still wondering where it leads.
Going to listen implicitly.
My brain fails. My heart still tries.
Whatever road it leads to I will abide.

Dear boy,
You're a good soul in the end.
Why hide behind
Such petty display,
When you could triumph,
If only you gave it a day.
Don't you get that the true display
Of you is the perpetuation of
Shear humanity? Give you always,
And don't be afraid of reprisal,
And all of life will pull their boot straps
Up, trying to catch to your momentum.
You've got it, never lost it. A keen eye
For what is right, but assimilation
Takes aim, and you become lost.
Don't you lose sight again,
For as long as you live.

Air is thick, grass is heavy green;
It's the beginning of July.
I can already hear the percussive
Resonance of preemptive display
For the celebratory night,
When there is no spare in the
Feast of light in the night skies.

Many a summer calls me here,
To join in the display of favor,
But none so awkward a holiday,
To be spending it alone after
Such a long while.
Being alone is a good thing.
Teaches you who you are,
Or are heading to be. Am I happy
With this outcome? Happen to chance
That someone I used to know was
Best suited for this accompaniment,
But that is all now the past.
Why dwell? I can let myself explode
Like a mortar shell in the darkness
And dissipate in a flicker of
Beautiful, impermanent flames.
We are temporary from the beginning;
Why try to counteract that notion?

I have had long hours cast in shadows
Behind blinded windows low lit.
What lay behind them silenced by
The drone of highways, rustling covers
And wood creak floors paced upon.
Brooding as a strong suit, waiting to be
Hidden in the cloak of night's turning,
Where even I can feel some end.
I have counted days of rain and sun,
Seen them all coalesce in fine grace
In their own way, but kept myself hidden,
I do not go out these days.
Though the paycheck serves to cause,
And really I am lucky as such,
The only reward I've gained
Is a bottle for a friend, and long distance
Phone calls to pass some time.
From the moment I've drawn breath
Was given a good life, one that I
Cannot command; there is some
Meaning I've yet to find in this dance,
And every time it rains the walls drip;
The ceiling threatens to cave in.

I've passed miles of empty road,
And the only bliss I see anymore
Are the big fields at sunset, the great
Grazing beasts lazing in the evening hour
As I glide by solemn on a motor bike,
Knowing I must turn around,
But never wanting to.
And where would I go? What to attend?
Spend a long month visiting friends
Scattered about this land like
Monuments? And after, what then?
Board a ship secretly and sail away,
Never to be seen again? What good
Would that cause, for a runaway like me?
I cannot find my way out of this box.
It fractures my structures, it echos
All my sense out of me.
I am locked and I am lost. I do not seek
More advice. I only wish to be at peace,
To be left alone,
Until I am complete.

What is certain in the light?
Hoping that I'll do it well.
Spoken softly in the night;
World has crumbled but oh well.

You use to know you used to know,
Just how to put on a good show.
I might as well move on, ahead,
You're running in my mind too long.

Wishing on this star ain't right.
The past is seen in a new light.
The darkness is alot of miles ahead.
But this candle burns on in the night,
A river shimmers in the faint white light.

So, sun gone for the move back home
Where I'm a stranger and a ghost,
Gonna see just how damn clever I've
Become, gonna see just how much I'm wrong.

Just because the substance doesn't
Arrive the way you thought it'd be,
It doesn't mean it isn't there.
Volume is a manifold perspective.
Stupid hearts try to adhere it,
But they never see it,
Hardly hear it. Pulse, rhythm, beat.
Why don't you go ahead and
Drown those memories for good;
Let them sink deep and heady.
Tie a heavy rock and watch the descend
As the new revelations make haste.
You could grow from that.
We could all grow something,
Some kind of thing from that.
What else is there to do?
We are all lost children.
We didn't get it right, like some do.
We fucked it up a bit,
So we contend with time,
And try to reconcile the difference.
But it may take a long while...
Are we Ok with that?

No armor now. Wide open.
The world comes crashing in.
And the light burns these fresh eyes;
The darkness makes them afraid.
Can I contend with the ghosts of
My past? Can I combat this new image
With nothing of my own to defend?
I'll be alright somewhere, somehow.
I'm capable of being alone.
But to think of all these thoughts,
Feelings, witnessed beauty,
And to share it alone, so sad.
I do not mean that I need some love.
As far as I'm concerned love can
Take a long vacation from me.
But a friend, a close body to confide;
Someone whom I can understand,
Who understands me,
So pleasant, so nice.
We were not made to walk this cosmic
Body alone. We were built to unite.
I am not in unison.

Every single person is a gift.
Beautiful spirits, we float.
We glide this earth strident,
And hope for the right being
To open us up. Some may stray
While waiting. Some find it fast,
And hold on for dear life;
Life becoming dear the moment
Of meeting. Whatever the harbor,
Love abounds. It does not discriminate.
It presents itself to all.
So keep eyes open. Do not hold back.
Instinct is love's implicit act.
Oh, you'll find that sweet ease and release. You were young once. You
Dreamed of all this so. Sometimes it
Takes a while. You can't make that plan,
How are you to know? Just let it glide
On down to you sweet and easy.
That's the way it's going to come.
Trust in this and not much more.
The meaning is less complicated
Than all you've been searching for.

Phosphorescent wake delights
In the quiet evening observation
As I'm swaying to and fro from
Intoxicating liquids.
All is quiet now. Faint hum,
Sea foam breeze, incoherent.
But that
Was all
Miles away from here.
I hear the bugs chirping now,
And tree frogs serenading.
Something has the right mind
For such a night.
Perfect humidity,
Temperate and unafraid,
The evening comes strumming in,
And soon I'll leave it,
In tasteless sleep,
To dwindle perfectly idle hours away.

The trials of human to human
Are clash, burn, rash, big.
Distant, close, want, soothe.
Ache, stop, go, stay.
Human to human. We are fucked up
On connection. How does it work?
How can it happen? How did it go?
Comes and goes like the tossing wind.

Nearing a time I ought collapse
Under the weight of someone else's
Ideals, I stumble forward resolute;
It's not my time to shake my heart dry
Of anything that hurt it.
It can take much more than I ever
Knew it could before. Toss it into
This distressed sea of connections,
Let it fall by the countless tumble
Of wave after blue green wave
Until it becomes as the tide,
Easy come, easy go.
Like a simple chord on a piano,
I'll wither easy into night,
Unafraid for my future, for once.

~Wanted~

A place to call a home.

Must have ample space,

A vibrant local lifestyle,

A good hand in the arts, including music,

Visual, and random.

Plenty of variation in people.

Parks are a plus.

A place to grab a drink,

And the potential for holding hands.

Geography is important, but not

Absolutely necessary. Temperate weather

Is preferred, but not essential.

A decent local economy is nice.

Please reply as soon as possible.

Everything changes
All of the time. How am I
To keep up with these swings?
To bear my heart, to breach
My center surrounding all the
Armor I've built up to stand against this?
Yet I lay my hands down.
I can see the truth, the pain.
I cannot change a thing.
I can love or I can go insane.
I can rearrange some things.
They have woven out a chord,
I might hear it or ignore it.
I might conquer this for good.
I might crumble and dissolve.
I, I, I, have too much me in mind.
Live for the living,
Love more for the trying.

Act on impulse.
Uniquely human.
Isn't that correct?
Why save all those moments
For something not guaranteed?
Take what's yours
While it's given.
This life, this body,
It's fleeting horribly quickly.
Might as well savor while
The breath is viral.
I will drive this presence.
I will not suffer by others' faults.
I want my own,
And fuck fear for it's state of play.
I'll not be swayed,
Much tougher than that prison.
Tell me your story,
I'll hear it fine.
Just so long as you don't confuse it
With mine.
I'm me.
Explosion.

Curry favor of any proportion
To touch your lips to mine
For a moment.
I've imagined the smoothness
Of your skin a hundred times;
Gracefully bowed before your
Presence; captivated, completely
Absorbed in your surface,
And how you might act
With the lights low, alone.
I don't know much else, don't care
For the moment. Want to take you
And breathe deep rhythmic breath
In consonance unending:
My intentions are not sacred,
The fire is deep,
The water is warm.

Can I conquer your depths?
Am I allowed a moment
To crave this beast of feeling
Given by a lark of time and
Distance? I feel that willing
To crawl to you humbly
And beg a fraction of your flesh.
I am soaked in its thoughts;
It breathes and begs me onward.
I've been sleeping so long
This awakened thought stirs
My motives so distorted that
I would wind the world for a portion,
But I'd take it all-I'm greedy.
I want the sting and pulse,
Want the grapple and tumble
Underneath woven sheets
Soaked in our fine disgrace.

Graduation

Present me to the world
Fresh and unbridled by
Any one thing, but open
And alive. Let this be my
Great commencement
Into the rich journey of
Life. Let all things be as
The beautiful first,
For I have won much today.

Grasping Straws

Eternal youths, and the harbingers of
Grasping straws.
Fold my collective like a piece of paper,
Momentary shiver,
Is there a window open?
See the lines spelling out some detail
Of some framed fortune I bid on in
The past. It did not surface;
Eternal youth will never last.

Grow a little older. See a bit more plain.
And though the time is speed and sloppy
It cannot be completely in vain.
How I question...
What is right, and who is right?
Inner monologue depreciates the value,
I grow tired from this fight.
Wanton just the same. Want a reason,
Simple, sane. Framed fortune;
Did I fail to ascertain?

I did not acquire a peaceful heart.
I have been out longing from the start,
Tried to be wise, tried to be cautious,
Found out how easy it is
To be torn apart.
Rebuild, reshape. Reinvent the self.
Always shaving off a layer.
Never savor very long.
Always strange and new behavior.
Can't I write my simple song?

I am wilted, it's a wash.
The tidal flood has ripped the boughs.
The cosmic churning isn't crossing
This plane I'm on, it's just a loss,
And I am grasping at straws...
See me dance to this rhythm
In the chaos of a spinning wind
That I began, and I can't seem to end.

Before the summit is the hill,
Before the storm it's always quiet.
Amidst my struggle in this night
I look around me and I'm frightened.

Lightening quick flash,
And the pang of that feeling
Brought on by a not so distant
Memory of a lonely little house,
And a song someone wrote about you.
I remember the first rehearsal;
Crash, wave, cosmic suffering;
Climax, then low longing as night
Came through the window and squinted
At all the lights left flickering.
My cup was half full then,
My heart drunk on distance.
Telephone recovery.
Proximity illusions foreboding.
Now a silent afternoon of
Insignificance.
Everyday is dull and dismembered
From the once remembered meaning
That I presently do not feel.
Someone took the man in me
And made him his own worst enemy.
Call it by the shades of indifference
Witnessed, can it be like this?
Can it be so?
Everybody has a plan,
I'm sitting on my hands,
Pretending I'm still capable of
Being a good and solid man.
I drown in the wake shifted
By this passing vessel of change.

Time gets away from we that
Have much to long for.
Framed in a fortunate blaze by
Degrees and sections we see ourselves
Stock still, stopped motion,
prolonged history rewound
And binding together the cadence
Of every feeling felt all at once
In the circumference of our lives.

That sentence is chock full of
Elongated bullshit.

Feeling is real.
Feeling is a great friend,
A fond liar,
A tall teller of stories past and present.
His best friend is Memory.
They often laugh at our expense.

Feel and me war much.
It's a tough battle of high praise
And words and fooling one another
In and out of choice.
Choice is the boss.
Choice doesn't care who wins.
He's only there to see it through,
No matter who brings the argument.

Choice is a necessary asshole.

Heart in pieces.
Believe what you need to believe.
I want to believe in something.
I want to see a way out,
But it's always dark and quiet.
Inside my head is a riot,
All these voices shouting at once
For the things that I can be,
And choosing is impossible.
I am lost and lost in being so.
All is automatic.
The things I know to be real
Are fleeing from me in haste
And I push them away too;
I'm not going to hurt another person
For as long as I live.
I've died in that plight so many times
I think the body is all that's left
And the mind can only
Pump blood, feel bone and
Draw breath.

A flood of words just yesterday,
But nothing now inside me.
As if like drink I consumed them
In haste, now I'm left with the
Bitter taste of afterthought.
When they leave I feel empty.
Starved and used. Vulnerable,
Naked and afraid. They are not
Me any longer. They are aloneness.
Like good people, they take bits
Of me I'll never have again.
I worry what they'll do without
Their host. I let them fly anyhow.

Busy little bee, and the nature of this
Suffering;
Wilted flower, I follow your limbs
As they brush against the incognizant
Petals of my lazy existence.
Fortunate freeing by a drench, a drop
Of your lifted nature,
Favored visit, the light, sun-spatter
And a sway of memorable delight
Rippling throughout a meager life
As mine.
If you still need my nectar, please collect
In all that is in me to be had.
I am simple. I give all that I have.
From you will I grow again.

All your life all you ever wanted was
A young Bob Dylan;
A rebel child, beautiful, sired from
A fractured home, formed so
That his wandering heart
Was itself his own. And he would
Take you deep down into the truths,
And sing on banks of gentle waters,
Ignite the spirit within you,
And you would wander too,
For all your life that's what you'd do.

And you might settle for something
Close, might lay your hand inside
A rough palm, remember a psalm,
And decorate your room with the
Fragments of all you once knew.
You'd hear the words wailing inside
A speaker, and wonder of that
Longing voice, and when he chose
To make the choice,
To choose to filter the whole of life,
And think about it later.

Don't care about the outside world.
This carnal fever, this thing that we do
When we're together...
Play on time, and words we love.
To throw them all about in the mood
We trust, I feel, you feel, we embrace
The electric fever of persistence.
Something stormy is going to happen
Tonight;  I can feel the air thinning,
Like the space between you and I,
Evaporate in a cloud of smoke and
Clinking bottles, while Leroy sings
A sad country ballad in the background.
Sing to me, sweet siren. Christen this
Night of active blues beautiful.
I am wilted flower, I am desert rain
Inside you now. I am lost in this
Collection of pavement without you.

What is the meaning to one's life?

That is the question. The question of all questions. Some tumble through without giving it a thought. Some find it in the aftermath of many years unfolded, sitting in a chair, watching a sunset settle. Money brings me little comfort. I imagine what it would be like to come into great sums of the stuff. I would buy this or that, visit this or that place, but I would end up right here where I am. So money won't fix it. Some find it in God. I admire to the utmost those people, but I don't think I fall in with their kind. Some find it in helping others. Maybe that's my path. I'll admit I haven't been very active in that department. Some find it in art. That's where I want it to be. It would be easy for me to sink into some music and fall freely towards the rhythm and pulse, the melodic drip by drip of ecstasy. This culture is cruel to music though. Everything is changing and fleeting to fast. Doesn't make the endeavor all together worthless, just a harder fight. I grow older every day. And now, being home, things like marriage and children and that other bit of life that everyone ascertains as the next logical step arrive at the doorstep in my mind. I feel and fear for it, for some reason. Is it because I'm afraid I might fail? Possibly. Is it because it would eliminate any last glint of a chance that I might have to find my meaning before I can teach it to others? Probably. Fatherhood is among many other things a personal tour guide through first experiences. You witness every one of them and hope you can react to each one with the right calculation, so that when your child grows older he or she will walk the world with grace, bravery, a steady mind and a fearless, open heart. These are all traits I am lacking. I'm currently afraid of the world. Afraid of what it will do to me if I venture out into it again. But it's also like a drug I can't kick. The highs are so very high, but the lows nearly kill. My grace is unsteady. My heart is severely bruised and my mind is riddled with so many questions, the chief one being, "what is the meaning of my life?" It's not an easy question. Try asking yourself once and a while. I would love to hear your answer. It wouldn't help but it would be nice to know someone who has seen journey's walking path. I'm not going to be guided by fear, and I'm not going to be blindly running away from this quandary. I must be still. I must meditate on this and these thoughts long and with clear-minded focus, and hope for the answer. Let the painful process begin.

One day, how I wonder,
Will I ever get it right?
So many forces against a rally
Of Time's cadence, and where do I
Find the time to harvest the grain
Of My own mind?
Will it bear something of value,
Or will I keep starving the crop
To grow lean and resilient against
The elements of this life's offerings?
Oh, but time grows me older.
I feel it by minutes, days instead of
Years of overlapping graceful trials.
If there is such a thing as dying in
The living, than I can only hope to
Be reborn in a short while.
Under the moon I feel my wake
Pass to a close of lonely thought,
Feeling not quite right spending
All my hours lost and in these fears.
To change, to break the cocoon is
One of the hardest things under
Drenched stars, and know you're
In the darkness. Spend enough time
With squinted eyes and the light
Frightens you back. Weak and weary,
Somehow this cannot last.

Too many voices are swimming inside my head,
And the choices, changes, spaces
Leave me feeling dizzy dread.
Panicked by a life that feels it's being
Plucked for me already.
Troubled by a foundation shaken
Underneath my feet.
So I'm falling all the time,
Falling through my time,
Losing every notion I once had in mind.
Where do I go from here?

Can't back on words.
Flare for the dramatic.
Static mind, stale smell
As Winter dies slowly.
This is the part where
I would beat me up proper,
Being a proper fuck up,
But refrain, abstain from
That for just one night.
Sun pours down as it
Tells me It will leave me soon.
Thanks.
Feels good.
So does the beer.
You know, I'd be a better drunk
If I could afford it.
Budgetary deficit will
Only allow a shot of brown,
Two or three beers,
And maybe that can do.
Found out some things today.
Two wheels feel awfully nice.
Pity it was only to work and back.
Found out how much it all hurts.
But if you sort of step back,
Check your limbs and breathing,
Stay away from the heavy rhythm,
Then it might just be okay a while.
There goes the sun.
Told me goodnight.
What an old man.
I won't be to bed a while,
And beat that son of a bitch
To waking, and workout, shower,
Spill coffee on the counter,
And be bound for labor
By the time he stretches his limbs.
Easy job. Probably good benefits.
Singular perception.
I know his game.
I play it to.
To burn.

I can't write my way out of myself.
Don't like who I am.
Don't like what I see in the mirror.
Don't like being bad to
A good heart when it's near me.

I'll take myself into the wood
And kill or conquer whoever this is
That's taken my body
And made a mess of my life.
A stupid boy. A scared shitless,
Little coward who delights
In the curse of tragedy.

I give up. No more words.
They are as knives that cut
The best intentions into pieces.

How many are the shades
of dismantle and recovery
in the human heart?

What lengths, what brevity do
these features seek to transpose
themselves and tear the very bit
of what we have left to fight with?

I imagined a triumphant upbringing
of my self before my old self,
standing tall and taking no shit,
but here I am chock full of trouble,
wading inside a lonely pool of confusion.

What lengths must the heart
achieve to withstand a new semblance?
Where is the safe harbor hidden?

Tastes that last and tortured thoughts
that forego any avenue of originality
transpire to cause me strife in this
hour of an evening now measured in sadness.

Sensory perception from across a small
universe reaches out to me and asks if
I'm alright. I might be broken beyond my
own belief, but I will last the eve;
carry myself into tomorrow somehow and stand.

Robot looks into the mirror:
Sees reflection, greenish blue
Hues, with a belly ripened
From some age and loss
Of the inner workings he used to abide.

Day by day,
That bot sits somewhere inside,
Trying to remember what made
Him tick, the honed refinement
Of a concentrated measure
Of the world for which he's made.

Factory life. Day starts early,
wades through monotony,
Ends in saturation and short circuit.
What once was a brilliant machine
Of golden glow is now a piece
Of metal, rust and mold,
Daring nothing, rattle bolt and
Sawdust resignation, optics,
Movement, throat.

Coop

Let me just say:
It never pleased me more
Than to please you four.
Lump in throat,
Thinking about every note
We bounced off one another.
Dare I say
That I'll never find that again.
But I've got so much stock,
You could call me
A majority shareholder
In the worth of that magic.
Timing and life;
Well, it is what it is.
Maybe I spoiled the fruit
Prematurely. Maybe I killed
The essence before it truly began.
I'm sad but not regretful.
I've got such stuff
As sweet memory at my grasp.
You are all so loved by me.

I feel my pride shatter
For all that's before me
In this waking.
I do not know
Anything

Anymore.

When a heart aches
Without a reason

What does that say?

My past is pulp.
My future is fog.
My present is
Unbalanced.

I long for that carefree tyrant
Of good nature.
He walked off into woods
And left this lonely child
Afraid and shivering.

Was it a good departure?
Will the boy grow up again?

I stay in this box a while,
Because it's too hard to embrace
Simplicity and warmth,
Like I don't want it,
Like I don't deserve.

Where is the road this time
That will take me peaceful,
Purposeful,
Without such unsure passing?

I long for this.

Lips like saccharine
Scale an expanse of frosty
Memory's recumbent status
On a Sunday alone in a bar.
I keep fogging my lungs for
Company of self destruction
To anticipate some reality
That might stop me cold,
Like the sweat from this fresh
Bottle of beer.
The first time in months that
I've been on my two wheeled
Machine. The wind was strong;
Forcing me in directions I've not gone
In so many years it's hard to remember.
Some habits are old. They beckon
You back like a favored friend
And ask subtly, "do you recall? "
I do. But these visions are skewed
By all the new, newly forgotten,
And hard to remember fractions
Of what I used to be here
In this place.

Some choose to carve a path
Through life's journey. Some
See it as a road to traverse.
Some let it roll them like a wheel
Down an awkward hill,
And still others lie in wait,
Watching a picture show before
Departure. I do not know of
Which I'm classified. I only know
That whatever I'm in feels
Like a dream in many ways.
When will I awake?

Smoke morning air the color of
Sun soaked pavement on dead highways.
Deep green and burnt brown,
The only lasting shades throughout
A bleak and saturated winter.
A Lincoln prominence on every
Young man's face. Obscure is trend
Is stale in an hour
Is commonplace.
So informed by low-lit faces in
Every corner of every building.
Little glowing faces searching
For constant connection,
Not in the face before them.
Feels so hollow.
Seems so sad. Like this dreary
Morning I've awaken to,
Buried in my own futile device.

Wind me down like bicycle gears,
Pull my weight to a speeding stop
And find out that the world still spins
Regardless of my motion.
Take me out of me and filter it through
A hue different than this black and blue
Expansion I've raised myself on all this
Time.

Branches shiver in the cold night of
Winter's summit. Find me out on a limb
Working to the beat of this chill I
Feel closing in on me quickly. Brutal
Instrument to feed the heart sick
Longing for a place to call home.
Travel anywhere in the world or do any
Deed worth mentioning but it won't
Suffice to fix the speed of this
Momentum. Salvation is within;
No exterior can wield such results.
Light inside, it screams at me to open
My eyes and pour it out from my fingers.
I'm trying! Stars collapsing unto
Themselves never felt this presence
Nor pressure to feed such feelings
As those of lost children coping with
A winding wood of never-ending
Paths that yield no way out.
The animals close in and we aren't
Ready to be slain by mediocrity or
The causally incomplete.

Before the madhouse
It was noise, drive, write, and do some shit.
Slam, slam and slip and dive,
And congregate to stripped-down rhythm,
Strident, headstrong, full of it
Which is that thing of ignorant grace.

Middles are always long.
Some great purge of place, or solo,
Find and follow, rest, repeat,
Appreciated value for the seemingly concrete,
Can't jump too hard, turns out the ground was hollow,
From the get-go. I stopped; no rhythm.

Convalescing in the silence.
We are a lonely people in this house.
Big spells so trigger some big head
Full to the brim thinking.
Arrested in motion. Maybe it's the snow.
And to make up my mind
Three bits at a time, look at what has passed...
Theorize, embrace, revise, relate.

Deep inside there's still some fraction of a voice I used to hear spinning all that talk about a bright-light future. But all this shotgun speak really gets to me. We're all each other as we pass. For the love of anything, you have to know yourself by now. Dilated eyes of something seen and wanted much, and many, many feelings scattered like specks of red comet dust
Encapsulate the view perfectly strange.

AK North

You young son of a bitch.
I remember the day after you
Got that mark that's still not healed
On your nose. You have style;
You never waver in the way
You spend your while.
I'd pick any day to play along.
Laughing, you were always laughing.
Looked for the best place
To park your thoughts.
Costly a deal it's been
Watching time go by without
Sharing a drink, or a warm talk.
It's been a rough one far away.
Never felt defeat so much
As I've felt these days.
Used to know a secret about this place.
Now I don't know shit.
I wander aimless along old roads
Or hide away in quiet rooms
To kill the time. I shop for steel tip
Darts online because I once
Had some fun playing fucking darts.
Darts, mi amigo, it's quite sad.
Not shit compared to the times we had.
Brief, too brief it all was.
First the latch came loose,
Then the coyote stormed the coop.

Been a lark all my damned life.
Waver to the serious nature,
Constant giver to the happy and serene;
Perpetual loafer to the easy ways.
My days are numbered in that game.

Might have to find out something big.
Possibly I'm bade to get at the grit
Of some great feat surmounting
My life with speed. I can no longer ignore
Plain facts: the comeback story
Of my life.

Stuck in a secret love inside this broken old town I used to tramp about.
Not the same since my youth left me.
Found out how growing up can grab you and hold you to certain standards. We cling to that which we feel the most love.
I think I was always born to be an outsider. Took me a lot of changes to know this. Took some brave execution of my heart to push certain standards away. But I'm not ungrateful for the outcomes.
However bitter the wine the effect is so suited to be the same. I'm destructive. Drunk on the abyss of moments like this. Kids used to play about but the kids grow up and wonder why it had to change. I wonder how it changed so fast, because that was just a moment ago. And in a moment this too will pass and become a different outcome, again and again.

Legs get cold if you don't stretch them. Hearts get cold if you forget them. Friends get weary if you don't call them.
I might be lonely in the end. But I'll always pretend.

Spun round dizzy from the whirling years
That landed me back in the falling leaves
Of long Falls. How do I pick myself up,
And sort through this confusion I've
Come to feel about myself and everyone?
I'm worried about a heart,
Worried of my own,
And to what extent and what capacity
They will or won't unfold.
Sailed out of serious water to the calm,
But I looked down and the depths were
Greater than I'd ever seen.
If this ship capsizes I'm sure to sink;
Lose myself completely in the abyss
Of heavy seas that I can't understand.

I come from simple folk. We work hard,
Tend to each other in rough, direct manners. 

Never was I given to extremes
In any circumstance; never will be.
I go sweet and easy and hope for a life
That finds that pace and rhythm with me.
Too many hard truths been thrown at me.
Too many ups and downs, cold beds,
Cold love and monumental sacrifice
To bear for the sake of others. It gets hard sometimes...
So what am I to do now? Can I be the lifeboat and the sinking ship
At the same time? I don't know. 

Oh God I just don't know if I can take it again.

Lonely; I'm afraid again of this life I'm in.
I'm trying to be still and quiet. I don't want to pray, I want to do it myself.
God is there, no doubt, but right now
He needs me to stand on my own. I don't want a crutch, want to hold myself up.
Where to be? How to be? Who holds
Rightful claim to this heart of mine?
Whoever it is it must be declared. I'm
Tired of chasing ideals; want to be wanted exactly as I am. No deals, no reformations, no alterations. 

I am wholly what I want to be, plus or minus my own complications, and I'm tired of that not being what somebody wishes to see.

I want to simply be and be simple and that's not finding any part of me so I will crumble momentarily.

Maybe I'm not what you were after, after all.
Maybe it was sweet and simple while it lasted.
You start to learn the details,
See the creases up close and wonder,
"Is it the vision I want to see before me?"

Distance of physical,
Distant tonight and wondering if it's really right.
Can't help but feel a little helpless.
Can't stop my mind from brewing madness
In the ever-expanding future before me.

I could be simpler. Could fall down lightly
On the bed of a familiar house,
Tend to my mind and make myself right.
Spend the procession of years in
A quiet place and retreat from chances.

I might just run my heart down, like this.
It's all I've ever been good at doing.
Because I'm better at pushing away,
No one gets to see how much I struggle
With a given day. Easier to turn away.

Turn away, don't turn away. Stand up straight,
Don't fall for this. Come to me, stop breaking me down.
Stop caring, please stay. Are you running? Why
Am I running? What is this? Who am I to you?
What is this I feel? I'm scared. I'm scarred.

The Sleepy Watchman

Any clang or clatter
Is what my mind used to sound like
On a drive on a dark night
Through the places of my old home.
I don't speak for ghosts;
Fractures featured by small changes,
Used to be, has not, now is my home.
Wonder what the nights
Will turn me into this time...

Felt a warm wind pour over me.
Found a keepsake seemingly misplaced.
Turn it round my hand, I wind.
Pouring over in a semblance of divine.
Look to you, my butterfly.
Look and stare and long to answer
Exactly why. Attraction, action, reply.

This town made me wretched.
Kicked the life out of me
In good measure, I'd say.
Picked out a place for all my dismay.
But the boy is a calm soul.
Might watch too long
But the feelings are strong
Enough to will against my control.

I surrender.
Bow down under the changing weather.
Give me meaning.
Show that I am starting to believe.
What was once again can be.
I release.
Yours to be, to touch, I feel it, motion
Form and breathing...
This was one so performed
To increase.

The epic struggle of our lives
Is riddled with moments, rhythm, change.
You are you perpetual forward,
Caught inside a cyclone,
Motion for a pace of peace in line
With what you've always had in mind.

Resolution to a bittersweet evening
Is that my feelings are subject to my believing,
That all is temporary and true...

Let me say, it has been good. All of it.
Despite the distaste of hardened hearts,
Despite my seemingly comatose state
These past few years,
And, of course, despite my follies,
Losses and wayward viewpoints
On what it means to be close,
It has all been good regardless.

Traverse the sky by slight degrees.
Open up a mind found slumbering easy,
I pierce the limits of my connection
To what I feel and love and need.

Going to hope for something...
Going to open up again and be.
Might just take a blow or two,
Run through the fire and be discovered
More than compatibly complete.

But this night was golden.
A perfect sequence of semblance
For something always best admired;
When it happens it's a magic.

I have nearly ruined myself on poison of misunderstanding.
Evaporating underneath the sink of brown, warm water trickling
From the bottoms of pipes I sit, afraid; so worried it might stop.
Gave myself away like a cheap display,
Let my worries build and bind until I saw
All of the mess I'd left behind,
And took a long moment to pick up broken glass,
Fragments of me spread an speared into these last
Hopeless years of a good hearts neglect.

Now I'm awaken but stricken by a shift in my division.
I am about to find life but life is leaving.
Just goes to show that I've great timing.
Suicidal with this heart of mine.
Clever ways to sabotage all the good I've found,
And consecutively lost.

Me now sick of me for everything I feel and fail to see.

Two sides being worked;
One to maintain, one to subject,
In a mind of which time to reflect.

Forgive my absence to care;
Rejoice in my display of favor.
One is to behave, the other to impart.

It's a timing, weather thing.
Sometimes it's the driving rain.
Really makes you work your heart.

Simple but so unsatisfied.
The glaze and the glow of nighttime eyes.
Drenched from so much indirect.

This is where I feel the need,
And this is where my heart directs.
Fall down by the both of them.

Blame it on the best of years,
Through all my worries and my fears,
It seems that it really all worked out.

I sing the body electric.
Naked notes are ghosts of rhythmic prose
That shake inside aching ears.
Primal outburst;
Sudden attack of molecular disruption
Into quiet atmospheres.
Struggle to bind, might break,
Might collapse upon myself
In the afterthought of this chaos
Forming from foaming fingers
Pleased by punching beats
Out of this mind machine.

When the flood began,
And the water came rushing in the room,
I didn't mind that I
Was about to be swept away.

Told myself that this might happen.
Told myself I'd be prepared;
I didn't imagine how quick I'd be stricken;
My heart said something but I didn't hear.

So the walls collapsed and everything
Fell out of place for me again.
But I like the space, I can move in this place,
A mind at ease in a voice that learns.

I worry about storms.
I worry about my feet in my mouth.
Will I ever get settled, and not be so bad
At the simple life of someone who listens?

I have a thought, if faint and distant...
My hand warmed by another grasp.
A place to park the car every night,
And christmas lights in the middle of July.

I've become a puzzle of quietude.
I sit all night and wonder why
The darkness makes me unsettled.
Perhaps it's because I'm counting on you.

Sea Collins

Dear friend,
Singer of stages and random acts
Of weathered joy bound by memory,
Hear me out...

You and yours are dear,
True light bound by beauty
Found inside your ever - constant
Struggle for the perfect melody,
But our time may soon be near it's end.

I watched your many faces fumble,
Watched you crumble when none
Were looking; saw you draw a breath in
And steal a second chance of bravery.
We raised the music like a child,
And it fumbled and called on
All our grievances in waves of culprit
Behaviors and syncronicities.

You go with your heart- the reason I've
Been loyal so very long. How do I
Reconcile the difference my heart
Aches to take? It's buried in the dust
Of distant land standing, and I'm
Afraid of myself losing more light
Than I ought to, anymore.

I seek a path that might not be paved
For us any longer, and I'm so very sad.
You can't stop now; you've got that
Fire we bonded about long ago,
When I heard your foreign tongue
Mash out all those strange sounds.
You broke me down,
Emulsified my measure, and formulated
A new instrument of production
I'll never not want to be.
But I'm limited in production;
A temporary feed for the meter,
And anyhow the time's soon to run out.

God blesses the beautifully acute.
A vision of a meaning found by feeling
And believing to achieve what you're
Seeing and I'm really quite impressed,
For what it's worth.

Quicksand

All I want are easy answers,
And right now my life's a disaster,
But with some beautiful things
That pull my heartstrings.
You'd think it'd be simple...
To know which way to go,
But it's so incredibly hard.
I talk one way, think another.
I want to be near it all,
See it all succeed,
But deep in my heart I know
You can't have it all,
At least not in the way everyone thinks.
Sometimes waiting it out is the right answer;
But for me I feel this reality sinks,
Like quicksand.
Quicksand in the boots on my feet,
Almost knee-deep,
Until it softens the sound of
My heartbeat,
Then covers my eyes,
To shut out the light,
And the waiting is complete.

Calculated Degrees

Ooh, It feels so fine.
To think of love cascading down the mind,
Like a drizzle in the heat of July.
You stand outside all day to feel that drench
And be happy and warm all the while.

I can't imagine much better...

Put me on a stage,
I'll be a machine, and play my heart out,
But I always save a little bit for one,
The one that saved me first.

That's where I'm headed,
By slight, calculated degrees.

So what,
If I buy broccoli ambitiously,
Thinking I might take the healthy route.
It's sitting in the fridge,
From God know's when,
And I'm not about to dig into that mess.

Is that a metaphor for life?
Probably.

Calories, fuck them.
Ingest them beer by beer, if I may...
I'd rather smoke a hundred cigarettes
And talk until my voice is ripped apart
Than waste a simple day.

What is this mess I'm writing?
Well, you have the beer,
And the cigarettes,
And a lack of broccoli, of course,
And a low caloric intake,
So it's probably just drunken banter.

Figures.

Habit

Almost down for the count,
Splitting open from the inside out.
I smell her...
Can't think that way right now.
Got a whole big other thing going on too.
Got a whole bunch of life being lived up here,
Locked in a little house on a rainy night, and busy-brained.
One way or another, or both;
Does that work?
Probably not.
Habit is habitat of natural dissent accommodated.
Hiding in the back round,
It's easier.
I see a present so radiant I can't think of anything else,
But it's wrapped in a golden lining of such material
That my hands, and any other tool at my disposal,
Are ill-equipped to breach inside,
To gain entry to the heart of the prize,
And I don't want my undeserving hands
Handling such a beautiful thing;
Just doesn't seem right.
Can't solve the dilemma.
Can't feel natural at all right now.
Sort of swimming in too much stimulation.
Dazed by a dance of bliss and occupation.
Like a country giving way to the next great ruler,
I've surrendered my hope to preserve my homeland,
And am falling prey to something bigger
Than I have the strength to study and beat.

My waters run deep;
My expanse is immeasurable,
But only when I feel complete.
So there's time to spend
Until that happens again.

I stood outside a gas station smoking a cigarette with a coffee, thinking about this place and these last few days. A man walked by me and as he did he looked me in the eye and asked, "Howya doin' today?"

For some reason that was just what I needed.

Freedom

Sunny afternoon dispels
The mundane of today's work.
If I look at freedom,
In all it's issues of basis,
I think I might have at least a crumb
Of the the prized posession.
I am free,
In that my mind preserves itself,
Not in that which fills my pocket but
Rather in words and music
And the joy in keeping company
With all walks of fine people.

I really despise money, truthfully.
Though it gains to one thing,
It costs so much to acquire.
It makes people driven in very silly ways.
But we are all forced to reconcile
These things, and can live accordingly,
As our hearts desire.

Some people feel a need to impose
Themselves into the world by
Impressing achievements.
Be it land, wealth or fame,
A need to make their mark in eyes
Unknown. How silly. There are too many
Of us to be impressed, and to impress,
But if you can make a good impression
On one dear fellow, and do good by it,
Why would you ask much more?

I live for the love of words. They bring
Something in me much more valuable
Than any day's wages.
I live for the love of music,
The true currency of humanity.
I live to seek and give love.
It is so honest and right.
And freedom is thus manifested.

Rock and Roll Show

Got a bit of the night fever again.
The lights blazed themselves in me
And bright-eyed I came home late;
Still partcipating in the last three hours.

But the bar left the people,
And they riddled the streets riotous.
"Where you goin' now?' 'I don't know. What's still open?"
We watched the glasses and bottles float away.

Banter, business, cigarettes in the basement; away into the night, and home. Music blares and blares in us...us.

Finally home, I think of that which
Escapes me nightly. Maybe that's why I stay up- looking for that jump. It's got
To be around sooner or later.

But the company I keep are music, cigarettes and booze. Disorient my morning so I can wake up grumpy and full to the brim with fire. I work better.

Let that day roll on by sweet and swift and find a comfortable spot to deduce the logic of my thoughts. Tonight has become a pleasure.

The Variable

Twisted and broken down,

You can find the essence underground,

Voices ringing out in daunting unison;

A vision disrupted by a prison of

Decaying matter,

Barely registering on the faces of passers,

But so the spoils go only to

The very best of us not affected.

My mind reels,

Pull back my eyelids to reveal

A cosmic fugue of dark matter

Binding together that

Which I’m assembled of,

Being stardust.

We are those that choose no choice.

Living only by a screaming

Inner voice.

There are no ways to reconcile

Inevitable,

Because we are the variable.

October 4

The streets sheen from the rain,

Reflecting the glow from houses and streetlights,

And I'm walking down the avenue,

With a cigarette and a small umbrella.

Fall is come,

And all its manners are cruel and real.

Cold comes flooding my face

With gusts of wind and rain;

The snow is soon to find me,

And everyone else I know,

And we will all complain of its coming,

Until we've resigned to the fact that

It's just plain here to stay.

Tonight is reflective,

Like the streets.

Not a clear picture,

But vivid enough to conceal

The reflections of the inner work.

To brave the evening, 

And to settle the substance,

I pour a glass of irish

And sort it out as best I can.

I'm sitting indoors,

My coat still tightly bound.

The only comfort I can fathom

Is too far away from me to be found.

Isn't that just the way,

Isn't that just the way it is?