Beautiful Crusade

As soon as these pretty girls
Start dropping like flies
We take note
and partake
on a crusade
to vanquish these bullies
while taking no notice
as we trample over the bodies
of all the plain,  fat, and ugly
suicides

Maine

Thus he had worked

Seaweed sweat

Fishing net his hair

The ocean his debt

The coast his footing

The inland his home

Thus he had worked

While in poverty he roamed.

On route 95

They leave

Tourists, travelers and leaf watchers

With their money he can only grieve

When his children follow

With promises of better jobs

Where in crowded cities

His children become snobs

Thus he had worked.

Now he is resting

Remembering his culture

And his hard working values

He clutches his rum like a vulture

Remembering years of labor

His hopes lost to despair

Where his mind now lurks

Lost his culture, his children

Although all his life; he had worked.

Endangered Beaches

I love it when

words scuttle

across these pages

like crabs

seeking refuge

from the seagulls

which hover

in my mind

Some Days Are Better Than Others

It's warm out

and I wish

I could go

for a walk

maybe even

go to the park

and soak up

this sunny Sunday

afternoon

but alas

I'm too busy

letting this gorgeous

day

week

month

and even year

pass me by

all because

I've simply

forgotten

how to smile

No Autographs, Book Signing, Or Questions Please

Maya

you had talent

you could sing

and you could dance

I've even been told

you were very easy

on the eyes

Maya

you chose to write

beautifully

about your country

your Africa

you even wrote

about all the men

you met

on the streets

and between pillows

and sheets

So Maya

how does it feel

to be the greatest

of the greats?

while you step over

all these ants

without so much

of a glance?

This Land Of The Free

I'm told by many

"we are making history"

just a few years later

than all the rest

"Things are going to change"

they tell me

with with a pat on the back

while I stand here

with no money in my pockets

trying to better myself

while incurring massive debt

for my education

and selling video games

for my occupation

to mothers of 5

who remains unemployed

while going to school for free

in hopes to open their mind

as freely and easily

as they opened their legs

I guess that's a hard lesson

for me to learn

nothing

will ever be easy

fair

or free

in this land

we call our own

Perspective

we start

on the top

and move

our way down

some with rhythm

others with style

a few

even manage to jumble

things up

a bit

I've known some

who don't even

go down

but sideways

reverse

or upside

and around

that's what

makes us

so great

isn't it?

we are all

different

we see and

do all things

with a different

perspective

and none of us

are more right

than wrong

when compared

to the other

so long as we

strive

to fill these pages

in one manner

or another

Stove Top Scuffle

She raged like a kettle

silent

until she blew

and out that door

she flew

never to be seen

ever again

Threat Level: Dysfunctional

I still see them

come in

and check up

on me

making sure

I'm no longer

some imaginary

threat

when this happens

I smile

and laugh a little

because they never realized

I wasn't a threat

to their world

they blew that baby

sky high

a long, long

time ago

A Fools Repetition

My pinky hurts

when I type something

and move

one space

further

and I keep on typing

expecting

something different

and all the while

my pinky

keeps on hurting

every single time

I fill these

empty spaces

I must be

crazy

expecting something

different

Friendship

I'm still trying to

figure

that one out

Shedding Skin

9 to 5

people telling

me what to do

followed by

a few hours

of mindless rest

before I start

it all again

I've come

to realize

I wasn't really

ever meant

for this

I Need No Wise Men For This One

I find

moments of

unexpected

laughter

greater

than any

truth

which has

ever been

written

Just Another Day

daydreaming

in iambic

pentameter

thinking

in rhyme

trying to sleep

while counting

syllables

instead of

sheep

dreams filled with

metaphors

and similes

sprawled across

these sheets

of paper

All of this

goes on

every single day

parading

through my

head

Every Sunday I Used To Sit And Listen

I cannot stand

to watch a man

sprew forth

what I believe

with his own

tainted

tongue

his hate

his ignorance

his personal war

on what he doesn't

understand

Oh how lost

I feel

when I see him

emphasizing

in his speech

what he holds true

and denouncing

everything

in this holy war

just for him

slowly turning

us all into

his collective

that is why

I'm sad to say

I cannot stand

to go to church

anymore

I can't even sit

in the back

like I once did

for so many years

because even now

when I go

I see how

so many

have forgotten

what it is to love

teach

learn

and listen

because now

they only know

what it is

to hate

When Friends Become Strangers

3 words

filling

an entire page

six sounds fine

5 words

replied

I will see you there

and things

can never be

the same

Such Is Life And Obligations

On nights like these

I only wish to dream

with all these words

which circle my head

but every good slumber

comes to an end

especially when your enjoying

the best part of anything

something always

never fails

to wake you

up

Education Is A Must!

make sure you go to school

to do the things

you love

it makes for a happier life

in the long run

so why am I there?

attending school

when I always wish

I can be here

doing the one thing

I truly love

There Are Things Far Worse Than Lost Keys

I can feel it there

but I never

seem to find it

when I'm looking

all about

for that thing

shines above

all the rambling

in my head

I catch glimpses

of where I

must have

placed it

but alas

these things

are always

so messy

and under

pillows

covers

clothes

papers

and I'll search

again

and again

thinking maybe

just maybe it will

be here

this time

and sometimes

it is

and I can

continue

I Can Feel It But I Never Seem To Find It

Every time

I read a poem

I wrote in the past

I remember

how close I came

to catching

something which

always seems

to just slightly

escape my

grasp

Success Is Measured In A Smile

what does it take

to be a successful writers?

does it take money?

well, I don't really

have any

I live in an apartment

surrounded by

other apartments

and I can barely afford

to pay the rent

Maybe it takes recognition?

I don't have that either

I'm afraid

once in high school

a teacher did ask

if I would let her

publish

one poem which

ultimately was never

really read too much

and I'm pretty sure

I got some bruises

for being a "fag"

for what I wrote

Oh well I guess

I've heard it might take

intellect?

well I can tell you

right now

if that's the case

I'm screwed

I never received any

scholarships

for being at the bottom

of my class

I can't even remember

where to place a comma

and I'd utterly fail

at pointing out

how to use a semicolon

maybe there?

maybe here?

Yeah that's right

I have no idea

Well, I'm not too sure

what really makes

a successful writer

I guess you'd have to

answer that one

for me

But what I can tell you

is while I sit here

in my cramped apartment

with no money

or any idea

at what I'm doing

typing to people

who don't care

to listen

I find

I'm the happiest

I've ever been

and I can't help

but smile

Writing

to love Writing

to truly love her

with a passion

much greater

than just

a fancy

will always end

in heart ache

for Writing

she has no

soul mate

but instead goes

from one to another

delighted by

their pens

which slowly

trickle down

like fingers

on the back

of a lover

to love Writing

is to be mad

with jelousy

because everyone

wants to use her

in one way

or another

for pleasure

money

or personal

gain

and all the while

you must sit there

powerless

to save her

from this

abuse

to love Writing

is to realize

she will never be

faithful

and will often

abandon you

when you need

her the most

ultimately though

when you truly love

Writing

even with

all her faults

and failures

you will find

that you two

both appreciate

what you have

and you'll realize

that you both

understand

what it is

to just have

each other

I'd Rather Welcome A Nightmare!

Tonight

I am angry

that these

letters

WORDS

SENTENCES

P A G E S

will not

let me in

Zombies And Philosophy

My roomy

believes zombies

might rise

and overthrow

us

He even showed me

his zombie

survival

kit

Hell, if he

is right

he'll be the

best

and most

likely

to survive

Me?

I had a dream

I was a zombie

once

I climbed

trees

like no other

No one expects

a zombie in a tree

I told my roomy

So you better watch out

I might not last

I very well

might be the

first to go

but you'd never expect

a zombie

in a tree

and that's why

I'm that much

smarter

than the rest!

Thinking Back

I used to envy

the way you made words

so very pretty

I thought it was

natural talent

something which

I never really

had

not with writing

at least

I used to wish

I could be

just like you

when you made

each word sing

with so much

emotion

I used to hate

myself

for not being

able to speak

or sing

with words

as sweetly as

you

until one day

I realized

a blind man

can easily describe

something he has

never seen

or get around

with directions

but only those

who are able to see

can easily find

a light

in an unfamiliar

room

and thankfully

I tend to go about

with my eyes

wide open

Unsatisfied Devotion

I want to

play a game

to pass the

time

I want to

read a book

attempt a

journey

to a different

place

I want to

exercise

in hopes

that maybe

I would like

this face

I want to

talk to people

make friends

have them over

feel connected

yet

most the time

I find myself

wanting

more and more

to not feel

so adrift

and unsatisfied

with all my

wants

while only feeling

peace in what

I write

Early Morning Feelings

3 am

and I'm

not wanting

sleep

instead I'm

wanting

something

that feels

meaningful

unfortunately

for me

everything feels so

meaningless at

3 am

when the day

has already

slipped away

You Idiot!

Here I sit

cursing the heavens

at

idiots

who cannot

will not

cooperate

we are losing

a battle

which is

fought

every 30

minutes

or so

all the while

she stirs

and grumbles

something about

coming to bed

it's late

and I'm up

and i hastily reply

within the hour

soon soon

I will shortly

I'm trying to get

these

idiots

to organize

she grumbles

and I barely catch

an insult

about me

being the biggest

one of them all

and it hits me

with a bitter

taste

I'm the biggest

idiot

of them all

when I am here

with all these other

lonely men

while you are

there

and we are not

where I wish

we could be

wrapped around

each other

Still Trying

The worst part

is understanding

what makes a good

poet

and what makes a great

poem

while at the same time

realizing

you aren't there

not yet

To Each Their Own

I've now

Worked my way

Into greeting

Every sunrise

And sleeping

The Day away

Only to be filled

With gloomy nights

Trying to understand

What all these

Writers really

Had to say

I've now

Given up so much

Of what I thought

I needed

So that I could

Obtain a glimpse

Of what these

Dead writers

Had to say

About how

Everything

Really should

Be arranged

I've now

Spent every single

Sleepless night

alone

With soda

Poor food

And exhaustion

And realized

That this

My endless pursuit

Is more joyful

Than most

Will ever know

A Hard Lesson Learned

I'll probably

run out of

money

because

you just

ate

and

ate

I'll probably

not have a

home

because you

took this one

as your own

and never

stirred

from your den

or made

any money

while mine

just went right

out the door

I'll probably

lose a friend

because you

took advantage

of the one

who lost almost

everything

just to fill

your selfish

goal

of not wanting

to go back

home

ASL

No one talks

no words

not a single one

move from their

heavenly lips

which could speak

of infinite

knowledge

and yet

every single

gesture

and

movement

flows with

so much

beautiful

emotion

and in all this

splendor

we understand

completely

Somethings Lost

I still remember

how to read

and dissect

with pinpoint

precision

all the

thoughts

visions

dreams

desires

of all these

old and dead

poets

but I forgot

how to even

understand

let alone

write down

my own

For Myself

I'm tired of

Everyone

Having the

Answers

Or telling me

How things

Should be

I'm tired of

Individuals

claiming

To be

Something they're

Not

And claiming

That I should be

Just

The same

I'm tired of

People

pointing their

Fingers

Only when

None are pointing

Back

I'm tired of

Always doing

What I know

Everyone else

Thinks is

Right

I'm tired of

Always saying

The things

I know

Everyone wants

To here

Most of all

I'm tired of

Being the hero

For so many

Others

While I've

Never really

Been one

For myself

Car Ride Connections

Rainy day
Car rides
With music
Soft
And sweet
With windshield
Wipers
Moving back
And forth
Removing
All questions
In friendly
Conversation
With warm
Hands connecting
Two
In that rainy day
Weather

Refrigerator Conversations

You said
He was sweeter
Than me
Granted that
Might be true
But right now
I can't
Jump start
This broken heart
All I can really do
Is move
So slowly
While listening
To yours beat
Every so sweetly
And hope
That if you don't
See the little
Things
I've left
For you
Someday maybe
You'll see
How even when
I couldn't speak
I left something
Which whispered
Everything

A Brief Moment

Freckles
That remind me
Of glittering stars
Orbiting around
The brownest suns
I have ever seen
That shine so bright
I have to

Sometimes
Look away
Hair
That's so dark
I get lost
Like on a summer night
And take a moment
To breathe in the refreshing
Air which dances all
Around me
Hands
So smooth
That the ocean
Must have
Taken such care
As it softly
Gave them shape
There are

So many

Things
I wish to say
But never can

When our

Eyes meet
For just a

Moment

Sometimes It Gets So Hard To Look Away From All Of This

Sometimes I have to

Remember

That this is real

This is me

And desperately

Look away

From everything

For a moment

To forget

How I desire

To look

At things

Instead of

Living them

Sometimes I have to

Remember

There is more

To life

Than just watching

Everything

While trying to

Figure out

the mystery

Sometimes I have to

Remember

That even my own

Story

Sometimes

Might be worth

Mentioning

Kitchen Counters And Daydreams

I like to write

On my kitchen counter

Nestled in a corner

Where the cupboards meet

And hug me

As I lean back

I like to dangle my feet

Just above

The ground

Tapping the counter doors

With my heals

In rhythm

With each

Line I

Create

I like to sit

Thinking to myself

And wonder

If there's anyone

Else

Out there

Sitting on

Kitchen counters

Nestled between

Loving cupboards

Comforted

By the fact

That someone

Out there

Might be

Doing

The same

Walt, Did You Ever Have To Push Carts?

At Work

I took a break

To push carts

Because we needed

Someone

To provide

For the masses

Who were

Too dumb

To even

push them back

In any order

So While

Out there

In the

Parking lot

Without all

The commotion

I was able

To breathe

And listen

To the trees

As the wind

Passed between

Their fingers

And through

My hair

I was able

To see

The raindrops

Touching

The pavement

Like fingers

Marching down

The arms of

Another

And I smiled

While pushing

My carts

I knew

I was truly content

Because out of

Everyone elses

Ignorance

I was

Free

Sidewalk Stories

I like to walk

Where the sidewalk

Intertwines

With shopping malls

And wilderness

Where people

Go whizzing by

On route 95

I like to imagine

What their driving

To

Or driving away

From

Here on this

Sidewalk

I imagine

What the people

Going into

The retail stores

Must want

But never find

Because no one

Really knows what isle

Answers are found

Or how much

They will cost

This is what

I like to do

When going for

A walk

Summer Nights

I've always

Liked

Sitting beneath

the starlit

Sky

And how

You can here

The trees

Whispering

Of calm summer

Nights

To the warm winds

That share it

With them

I've always liked

How the stars

Shine so bright

And glide

Across the sky

Back and forth

Like joyful

Conversation

Between close

Friends

I've always liked

So many things

About

Sitting under

Starlit skies

But what I've liked

The most

Out of all

These things

Was how I got to

Share them

With you

And how

Happy

I finally

Felt

Finally

At one hundred

I feel happy

For I said

So much

And still have 

So much more to

Say

I Was Never Much Of A Coffee Drinker

I never really

Understood

Why people

Get so upset

When they

Have to add

their own

Sugar

Or

Cream

They should be

Thankful

That there 

Is a place

Which will

Take their

Bitter and black

Reality

And make it

A little bit

Easier to get

Down

These Words Run Away Like Wild Children

Tonight

I'm trying so hard

To make these

Letters

Behave

Trying so hard

To make

These words

Sit up

Straight

Tonight my mind

Is a mess 

And there's

No one

To clean it

Tonight I wish

There was an

Adult

To get these

things in

Order

It's What You Make Of It

I believe

All good things

Never need to be

Spoken

That they come

In time

With understanding

Smiles

And devotion

To whatever you 

Believe

And that

If you remain true

To this then 

You will

Remain

Happy

What Worked For Me

You never really

Know yourself

Until you

Take the time

To think

About who you

Were

Who you

Are

And who you

Wish

To be

Even after that

You have to 

Strip yourself

Down

Be brutally 

Honest

See the wicked

The nurturing

The silly

And the

Serious

You need to

Explore ever crevice

Every thought

Pick it apart

Accept every demon

Every gift

and finally

You don't truly

Know who you 

Are

Until you find

The means

To appreciate

To accept

That everyone else

In their own way

Is doing

The same

Attempting Beautiful

I dream of

Waltzing

To something sweet

While something even

Sweeter

Smiles back

I dream of a

Lot of things

But one dream

I always have

Is waltzing

Under a starlit

Sky

And of the happiness

Of catching a glance

At something Bright

And shining

In eyes that are always

Smiling back

I dream of

Peace

As we move

In sync

In constant

Motion

While the world

These stars

Everything

Continues

Slowly spinning

In a commotion

I dream a lot

And it

Saddens me

To know

That while

I slumber

Most are often

Already awake

Progress

I've never really
Cared much
To share
The way I see
Thing
I've always thought
I was a little
Off
From what we call
Normal
But after saying
What I had to
Say
I was met with
Applause
And people who
Somewhat
Understand
So I guess I'm
Now stuck here
Wondering
Where to go
With this
Now?

An Invitation That I Never Accept

I was sitting
In my car
Waiting for
A friend
When a blond
Girl
Walked by
And looked
My way
She was
Cute
In tight
Jeans
And was smiling
At me
I felt good
But sad too
For I knew
No matter how hard
I tried
I'd never
Belong
To that world
Or to that
Smile

Journal Entry #

I don't consider myself a poet
I don't really consider this poetry
Instead I feel like a writer
Who finds it very difficult to
Stay on
One line
Honestly I've always considered
This a journal
But others have
Called it
Art
Maybe I should stop
Being so
Stubborn
And go with it like
I've always
Wanted
But who knows
Maybe I
Will
Someday
When I'm
Ready

Happiness

I'm tired for once
And tonight
Something is on my
Mind
That I don't care
To write
Because I've
Always known
When it goes
From in there
To here
Something gets
Misplaced
Lost
And tonight
With this thing
I just want to
Remember
Smile
And not try to
Write it all
Down
So that this thing
Will not have
The slightest chance
Of being
Forgotten
Or left
Behind

Not Always Ready

Sometimes
I want to
Capture
Something beyond
My understanding
And hours later
With countless pages
Filled
But never
Finished
I have to
Stop
And wait for a day
When I'm older
More experienced
In order to
Find the answer
To the question
Why?

Advice

Good guys
Never cared
What place
They finished
Jerks on
The other hand
Want to finish
First
Want to go for the
Gold
They want it
All
And never realize
There can only be
One first place
And that if you just
Try to beat your
Last best score
Nothing else
Really matters

Where I Go

Every night
I sit
With this
Pen
With this
Paper
Looking up at
These walls around
Me
I understand that
These are my
Limitations
These are my
Boundaries
Which are no longer
There
In my head
Every night
I sit
With this
Pen
And this
Paper
Discovering
Infinite
Possibilities
Outside
My own

The Joy Of Necessity

When I write
I feel as if
I've just touched
God's finger
I feel as if
I've just talked
To everyone
who ever existed
I feel as if
I've uncovered
An ancient
Secret
To share with
The world
Most of all
I feel as if
I could possibly
Sleep
For just one more
Night

No Lifeguard On Duty

There's no lifeguard on duty
Where I sit
There is only
All of those
Who ignore
The signs
And myself
On this beach
There are those
Who are burying
Each other
In the sand
One right
After the other
Never taking the
Time
Or chance
To look at
What they are
Doing
Or where
They are
At
There are those
Who are running
In sand
Making it difficult
To get anywhere
They are going
On this
Never ending beach
There are those
Who swim out
Past where their
Feet can touch
As they get bombarded
By waves
Taking the chance
Of never making it back
Because they can't stand
The sight of this place
Here I sit
On this beach
With all it's signs
Paying attention
To the most important
One of them all
There is no lifeguard on duty
To save
Any of us
If things
Went horribly
Wrong

Insomnia, Loneliness, And Tranquility

Some people
Think I'm
Unhappy
Some people
Need to
Think for
Themselves
I'm happy
To be doing
This
Happier
Then most
Will ever
Know

I Never Said I Had All The Answers To Our Problems

"Samuel"
She said
"It's been 3 weeks
Move on
Everyone has
Their demons
But we all
Put on
This face
You see?"
She smiled
At me
"You look
Upset
Do you
Want to
Talk?"
She asked
I said nothing
What was the use
I saw
Behind that smile
The look of fear
And desperation
In her eyes
I wasn't going to
Pretend
We all knew
The answers
I just knew
I had mine

Freedom

He had
A cage of
Metal
And wheels
That limited
His direction
Hell, his body
Didn't even
Work that well
He sat in the
Corner of Starbucks
Every day
And drank his
A.W. Root Beer
Talking to no one
Because no one could
Really understand
That fucker
Had it all figured out
And as did I
Or at least I
Pretended to
So every day
While on break
I sat beside him
And we watched
Together
All those people
Lined up
One after another
Talking in a
Language
That didn't make
Much sense
Always in a rush
To get somewhere
Other than where
They currently
Stand
We sat there
Watching every day
Knowing
These people
These drinks
These walls
Or even his chair
Meant nothing
Compared to what we
Shared

Why I Left So Long Ago

I came to realize
Most will never
Be happy
Most will try
To bring you down
Most will take
All that they can
And if you live there
With most
Of these people
You'll be just the same
Too

Casualties

The pages
Were kind
To me
Tonight
At first
They went
Far too slow
But then
They picked
Up their paces
Like soldiers
Marching
To battle
As it draws
Ever closer
With hopes
And dreams
Filled with
Aspiration
Only to be
Mowed down
By the
Ratta Tat tat
Of my fingers
Forcing them
To lay still
Be lifeless
Serving as a
Memory
Of the things
We've lost
And very rarely
Gained

Constant Commotion

At work
Everyone complains
At home
Everyone complains
At the gas station
bus stop
or elevator
Everyone complains
Hell
Even I complain
Sometimes
I think
A little too much
I just can't seem to figure out
Why so many others
Complain about the same things
Day in and day out
But never seem to try
And change
Or figure
This whole thing
Out

Always Holding Back

She can't dance
She breaks my
Dishes
She tells me I'm
Lazy
Because I type
Too slow
She never calls
But always
Comes over
While trying to
Convince me
That she's
Annoying
She makes me
Get her
Almost everything
I can't tell her
That I like
Her eyes
Or how her
Confidence
Makes me
Shy
I can't tell her
Lots of things
And I don't know
If she would care
For that matter
But I do know
That I'm happy
While she's
Around

Best Birthday Wishes

What should we do
For your birthday?
She asked me
Well, this isn't
What I had in mind
But with you gone
At least I have
Better company

No One Thanks A Host For Their Hard Work; Just Their Dinner

Sacrifice
For me
Is always
Holding back
The urge
To write
It all down
Without worry
Of everyone's
Specific tastes
Without worry
Of those who
Do not
Understand
What I bring
To the table
Without worry
Of how they might
Whisper
Amongst each other
After they Digest
And pick apart
All that I have
Given them
If only they knew
Of all the hours
And labor
Instead of
Just a glimpse
Of the end result
This sacrifice
Is knowing
That I just
Entertain
Those who wish
To be amused
While my best
Work is always
Slaving away
In the Kitchen

Bathroom Rituals

Once a week
I slump
And Slide
Below this
Reflective
Surface
Mixed with
Lotions
And oils
That caresses
My skin
And soothes
My Soul
While the
Warmth
Slowly seeps
Into my
Essence
Revitalizing
My mind
Filling it with
Commotion
And I sit there
Letting it all in
Allowing myself
To let go
Of this desire
Setting myself
Free
For just
An hour
No pen
No paper
Just me

Determination

I washed the

Bathtub 

Today

I've washed it

Almost every

Day

Removing the

Grime and 

Scum

I'm making up

For all the days

It was neglected

This was tough

At first 

But after weeks

Of bleached 

Red hands

And towels 

That will 

Never look

The same

I've begun to see

A reflection

On the surface

Staring back

At me

Monsters And Moments

Some nights

I can't take off

These headphones

For fear that I'll

Break down

When I listen 

To my own thoughts

Some nights

I think I'll lose

My mind

If I don't sink

Into my bathtub's 

Soapy water

Some nights

I think I'll explode

With emotion

And all these words

In my head

If I don't clean

Everything and anything

I can find

Some nights

Which are not

All that common

I find I can write

Not because I 

Have to

But because I

Love to

These nights

I wish to see

More often

When The Party's Over

Here I am

Again

Cleaning up

This kitchen

Cleaning up

This living room

Cleaning up

Everything

I guess I've always

Been the one

Who cleans up

Everyone's mess

While remaining

Always stable

Firm

Willing to organize

Sanitize

Everyone else's mess

Just like in life

Here I am

Again

Cleaning up

What others left 

Behind

Sadly The Party Never Stops

All Right
Everyone out
Letters
Words
Phrases
Ideas
Hey
and you too
Meaning
Your all banned
From my head
I'll kick you out
Screaming and yelling
But I know
When I just
Lay down
To enjoy this night
One of you
Climbs through
My window
And stands there
In just the right
Light
And looks so
Beautiful
I'll Sigh
All right
Just this one
Last time
Tonight

Writer's Eyes

There are
Eyes
That hide behind
Mine
That are always there
Watching
You
Me
Everything
Wanting to receive
Consume
Realize
Anything
Never shutting
To sleep
They are
Always watching
Waiting for
A spark
An Idea
A flash
Of Light
To feed
Off of
Like a moth
To a flame
Or a mosquito
To a vein
So that they
Can Comprehend
Rationalize
Reorganize
Everything

Motherly Advice

"Why don't you write
Something nice?"
Why kid myself
Or you for that matter?
Go read
A children's book
If you want nice
This isn't
A fairy tale
So why make it out
To be?
"Because we have so much
Pain, loss and tears."
Reality is
Life is a job
Work is a job
Marriage is a job
Writing
Is a job
One I enjoy
At the moment
So don't tell me
To turn it into
Something nice
Because without this
I'd have gone insane
A long time
Ago

It's Just Who I Am

My life
Is a big
Fucking
Joke
But I'll
Be Laughing
The whole
Way
Through

That Hardest Part Was Knowing That To Love You Meant Stepping Away

I could never be your hero
And fight your demons
Or slay all your
Insecurities
I could never show you
How beautiful you really
Looked in my eyes
Or help you understand
How wonderful you were
I could only love you
Through all that mess
The depression
The Insecurity
The silent anger
That raged inside
And consumed you
I could only tiptoe
Through this wreck
As you slowly blamed me
For every incident
I realize
That I could never
Be good enough
To make you happy
To part these cloudy skies
And let the sun
Of your soul
Shine on through
I realize
Which was the hardest
For me to do
I was never enough
To make you smile
Nothing could
Make you smile
Except your own love
For who you
Are
And knowing this
Knowing what I had to do
I let you go
I had to
For you to someday
Even without me
Find your
Inner peace

An Email Sent To Tech Support

I tried to
Change the status
On my Facebook page
But it seems
That you creators
Of this web page
Left out the
Option to choose
Abandoned
And I figured
Hell it's coming
Soon enough
So I chose
Single
Instead

Closure

Work will be
Mad
She will be
Mad
People will be
Mad
The earth will
Shake
The Heavens will
Fall
But I've made my
Peace
Once and
For all

I See Them Circling Already

Women
Are already
Trying to
Hook me up
But I don't want
A fix
Or a one night
Stand
I don't want
My soul mate
Or even
A mate
For that matter
I just want
A little time
Before the
Insanity
The confusion
A little time
Before dealing
With someone new
And their emotions
Or their
Problems
they all got
Problems
We all got
Problems
I just want
A little time
To remember
Who I was
Who I am
Who I could
Be
With all my
Potential
Before you
Throw me back
When I forgot
How to even swim
Which matters most
In these shark
Infested
Waters

Holding Back

It's a pissing match
That I don't wish to win
Or be in for that matter
But everyone starts anyways
And one boy
Keeps trying to get a little
On my shoe
While the rest
Throw jabs at me
Shy guy
Little willy
Whatcha got to hide?
They don't realize
It's not what I have to hide
I'm holding back
Because once I start
I'll piss them right to
Shame

What Inspiration Do You Withhold From Me?

I often run into her
When she's waiting
For a ride
Sometimes, while she's
Washing clothes
I once caught her
Checking her mail
Every time
I've caught her
She doesn't say much
Lowers her eyes
And Scurries off
Disappearing
From where she came
No Hi
No excuse me
No words escape her
Awkward lips
Not even a second glance
Right before she shuts
Her door
Locking her secrets
From me
While I stand there
Wondering
What stories
She would be able
To tell
If she could only
Speak

Drowning In A Sea Of Words

Hopeless
It's how I feel
I keep getting
Letters
Threats
Harassment
I'm afraid to respond
Knowing they will
Turn it all around
I filed for divorce
Is all I wrote
The reply
I didn't know you
Could do that
On a Sunday
I did it
On a Thursday
I wrote to her,
I love you
Wish to communicate
Without your father
The reply
You cannot manipulate us
You need not be a jerk
We offer our counseling
From experience
And want to talk
About your sex life
Men are from Mars
Women are from Venus
We can talk in a parking lot
But she won't be there
We will take legal action
For slander on her father
I suggest an attitude adjustment
We have been the ones trying
To communicate to you
You haven't listened to our advice
You spread lies
Perhaps you can't look at yourself
In the mirror
Look at the mess you created
The mess I created?
I stopped replying almost
A week ago.
And it keeps coming in
Filed for divorce
Legal actions threatened
With all this abuse
I sometimes think
I'm trying to leave
So why can't you just let me
Go
In Peace?
Then I sometimes
Think
Maybe
I deserve this?

How I See It

Walking down the street
Through the park
I see
Cars passing
Me by
Whose engines
Pump out
Ideas
For me to
Collect
I see
People
Walking
In the park
Leaving me stories
That trail behind
Each footstep
I see
Birds chirping
Poetry
That glides softly
With the wind
And I walk here
Taking it all
In

A Writer's Solitude

Go to the movies
They said
Lots of flicks are
Playing
I almost went
To the movies
That day
But I knew
Once I got there
In that dark room
All alone
You would creep
Ever so slowly
Into my head
And at times
When you're usually
A blessing
You become
A curse

Reality Check

I filed for divorce
You should be getting something
This week or the next
I'll still always be here
For you
But not your family
I can't take that abuse
Any longer
Or the fingers
Always pointing
While I cried
In counseling
Alone
Sent you love
And letters
Alone
Tried to open communication
Alone
So I can't be a part of this
Any longer
Because every night
I've wondered what made you
walk out that door
but then I finally realized
It wasn't me
It was you
And that I couldn't possibly
Abandoned you
Because I was left with
No one to
Abandon

Satisfaction Of Doing Things Right

I came home
To nothing
With Mirrors
That reflected
Hatred
And letters
Which pointed fingers
I replaced that mirror
With comfort
Wrote back
With love
I waited
With patience
Forgiveness
Understanding
But nothing ever came
No phone call
Office visit
Letters from home
Just the agony
Of silence
And the embrace
Of doubt
Followed by the
Realization
That you were
Never really
There

One Of The Muses Stood Me Up

I saw
Lady Luck
While I sat there
Getting drunk
I flashed her a smile
And shot her a wink
From across the barroom
She glided over
Smooth and as cool
As can be
Spit on the floor
And threw a french 302
In my face
Father Time rushed
From out of a corner
And to no surprise
Didn't help
Kicked that bar stool
Right out from underneath
My feet
While Cupid
Laughed from behind the counter
So, I stood up
A little bit dazed
Looked around
Lady Luck tapping her toe
And as unpredictable as ever
Father Time with his
Overwhelming presence
And Cupid always playing me
The fool
Stood patiently
Waiting for my next move
So, I shrugged my shoulders
And brushed myself off
Turned around
And to their surprise
Walked
Right
Out
That door

How's The Weather Up There?

At what point
Did you moving out
Without a word
And the terror I felt
Not knowing what happened
When did this trauma
and inability to process that night
While never seeing it coming
Make me the one
Abandoning you?
When throughout our years together
Did my constant silence
And fear to confront you
Because of what you might do to yourself
Make me the one
Who is the monster?
When after giving you my soul
And having you drain it dry
While sucking out my emotions
Life a vampire
Whose thirst can never be quenched
Make me a controlling and manipulative
Person
When did your insecurities
Make me a traitor to your love
As I gave it to you without question
with such devotion?
How can you sit so high atop your mountain
And roll stones down at me
As I try to climb out of this mess

Does Your Finger Hurt From All That Pointing?

"Don't you think you are abandoning
her?"
She asked
I couldn't answer that
Because how do I possibly comprehend
How you can
Abandon
Someone who's already abandoned
you?

The Luckiest Man I've Seen

A blind man walks
Down the street
With a smile on his face
His freedom
So sweet
I've seen countless people
Searching for something
Desperately
Trying to figure it out
Grabbing, pushing, walking over
Everything
To fill themselves with something
I've seen others
Running from, hiding, and ignoring
Their reality
I've seen many more
Suffocating, withering, hurting
From the choices that they make
I've seen countless people
doing countless things
But this man
Who is walking down the street
With his freedom
and happiness
Has no care or concern
For the cars that pass him by
He just smiles and presses on
As they all swerve and stop
He never flinches
Just keeps moving
Forward
That man with his freedom
Whose sight failed years ago
Is the luckiest man
I've ever seen

Still Walking

Charles
I'm 25
Soon to be divorced
almost 26
That's a hard pill to swallow
No wife
No children
Just these two
damn cats
I don't like
cats
Well, it's not that bad
I did go to counseling
Alone
I did go through this marriage
Alone
And I write
Alone
But hell Charles
When I think about it
I walked through that fire
With my head
Held high
And boy did I look
good

Streetlight Revelations

The city lights

Seem so distant

From where I sit

At my second story

Apartment window

I rest for a while

Unable to focus

Thinking of all the

Things that could have been

better

Bust mostly the're 

All wrong

It's a struggle 

With people

Too busy

To care

Or even listen

But then I see

A light flicker on

From a house

Not too far

Down the road

And I think

Maybe

Someone else

Figured it out

Wise Men Do Their Laundry At Midnight

I met him

In the laundry room

It was getting late

And he wanted to talk

So I listened

He talked of traffic

And accidents

About gas spills

And ruptured tanks

He mentioned

All the accidents

He's been in

Along with the injuries

He's sustained

Finally, he said

to me,

You know

With all this trouble

That's I've been through

When I get behind the wheel

I just know

No matter what

Is around that corner

I need to just enjoy

The ride

As if it's

my last

Showers And Solitude

I took A shower

Today

Like no other

Each drop of water

Fell from heaven

And each splash

Echoed 

A blessed

Reminder

That in this shower

There was no church

No religion

There was just

This water

which fell

From heaven

To me

They Broke It Long Ago

When they took everything

From my house

Including

My wife

They left

My apartment

In shambles

When cleaning up

I found my cross carving

Broken

I picked it up

And placed it

On the wall

It was missing

His arm

I realized then

Just like the force 

That destroyed

My carving

Religion

Can be used

To ruin

A beautiful

Soul

Talking To A Wall

Hello, can anyone here me?
I'm just checking
You know
Sometimes
I start to wonder
When dealing with
My in-laws
If I really
Exist

Be Cautious Of Forces Beyond Your Control

When I was little
I had a hamster
One week we went on vacation
And I made sure to give it
All the food it could ever need
And enough water
To drown a cat
We came home
A week later
My hamster was dead
Crushed by a giant magnet
My dad had placed on the
Top of the cage door
Which collapsed
Under the weight
And crushed my hamster
Hopefully
While he slept

I Can't Seem To Get Past This Just Yet

Here I am again
Unable to sleep
With work in the morning
And I'm just sitting here
Looking at these walls
Or maybe
Trying to look through them
I don't know
But then again
Everyone has walls
Mine are no different
I do have one problem though
I seem to have forgotten
A door

Too Many Mosquitoes And Not Enough Repellent

Your resilient
They said
With a kind soul
And a warm heart
Your an asshole
She said
With a huge ego
And you never listen
And some others
They didn't even
say anything
Finally
Look I said
I know who I am.
Now leave me alone
So I can figure out
Who
All you crazy people
Are

From Beyond

I called them today
Left a message
"Hello, this is Samuel.
I hope Kate's all right.
Listen, I'm looking for her dad.
I'd like to talk."
I hung up
Waited
Listened
The Phone never rang
I knew it was silly
But I hoped
The dead
Could speak

The Wisest Men Often Play The Fool

I have a neighbor

He wears glasses

That are thicker

Than storm windows

And his cards

That were dealt

Were pretty low

His job

Isn't that great

He's been hit by cars

That don't care to stop

For crosswalks

Or pedestrians for that matter

I've seen others

Laughing at him

Because he's different

And someone has asked me

Since I'm his friend

Why he's always so

Happy

Even with his condition

And with his luck

I said,

He knows something

Greater than any

Wise man,  preacher, prophet

Or any of us for that matter

Will ever know

and has us all

fooled

Shit Grins And Baby Puke

We had a cart pusher

Where I worked

Every day

Rain

Sun

Snow

Sometimes worse

He pushed those 

Dang carts

One right after the other

In a monotonous 

routine

Every time I saw him

Cleaning up baby shit

Or taking care of trash

And cleaning the restrooms

He had a great big fucking grin

On his face

He knew real poetry

He was living it

A Mistake

I've lost so many poems today

Aborted all of them

in my head

Jesus,

The Catholics must be

pissed.

What's On The Menu?

A good Poem

Is like a fat steak

Some like it rare

Some well done

Others likes it

In between

And are never happy

With the service

It doesn't really matter

How they like it though

You're in a diner

And you're the chef

So you might as well just

Make it to order

Ding that damn bell

And move on

To the next

Not All Heroes Are Loved

He rung me up on the telephone

"Are you happy with the man

That you've become?" he asked

I should have replied

To this brute who called me

Up and asked,

"Are you happy?"

Yes, yes I am

For 2 years now

I've saved her

From you

Milestones

I remember my brother's

High school graduation

And now I sit here

Bored

He's Graduating again

This time from college

And I'm still stuck here

Writing

Maybe it's about time

I get up from this crap

And move on

Whispers Of The Dead

I used to write

The way the poets

Told me to

With rhythm 

And rhyme

And structure

But then I realized

What good did that do them?

Their dead

And their words

Their message

Lay on book shelves

Collecting dust

Waiting to be read

By someone 

Like me

Written With Lipstick

That message on the mirror

That you left me

Did get my attention

Of all the times

We never fought

Because I was

Afraid

And the times

I let you down

When there was never

A chance to hold you up

That mirror

Really got my attention

And it wrote back

I love you

Those Damn Legs

I'd watch her every night

In the bathtub

Blessing that water

With those beautiful legs

She always left that door

Wide open

And I thought

She was beautiful

That's the funny thing

About doors

They can swing

Both ways

And that door

Which let me see

Those beautiful legs

Closed

And they were

gone

Conversation At 5 AM

I'm up at 5 am

I keep talking

That's what this really is

Talking

I must admit though

I'm a little offbeat

But who wouldn't be?

In my situation

Wife's gone

Alone in a motel

Most people are here

for different reasons

Not me

I only sit at this table

Talking

To you of all people

We must be close

Or maybe not

Who knows

Fuck it

I'm going to bed

This day was worthless

As was this conversation

And the sex

In the next room over

How To Write Poetry

Try not to make love to yourself

with your words

because that gets

messy

try not to excommunicate everyone

with your message

because that gets 

lonely

try to

be yourself

write well

and if you succeed 

someone

finds a connection

from them

to you

and they understand

and you understand

that it's

a miracle

An Early Morning Shower

It now pours out of me

like a shower head

sometimes there isn't

enough pressure

and it's 

too cold

so I turn it up

and it burns me

but still washes away

the stench of

the routine

the pain of

not feeling

boredom,

that's what it must be

most of the times though

when it pours out

I just watch it

go down

the drain

Where Do I Come Up With This Shit?

Don't write

it's a torment

you'll soon realize

all your greatest work

becomes lost

on wet napkins

or smeared hands

on road trips

or business hours

even in the shower

and on the john

God,

my most beautiful shit

is never written down

A Smooth Transition

These walls

so unfamiliar

but the sounds are

so familiar

running water

cars racing 

to 

nowhere

talking, yelling

even laughter

it's all the same shit

the only difference?

I'm alone

She'll Be Back

She's never coming back

I know that

She knew that

Hell, they all know that

But,

Like we always do

We lied

Like this poem

Thinking

She'll be back

Soon

Use The Whole Page You Damn Poets

Why do we write

and fill

so little

space

so little

time

so little

creativity

while the meaning

is meaningless

in comparison

to the size

of all these

empty

organized

ordinary

lines

An Ugly Reminder

Obsessions

they never help

some crave pain

some attention

others spirit 

or mind

I feel these hotel walls

as my obsession

not for fame

or women

or money

but for the necessity

of things to come

Pointless Addictions

If your excuse 

for writing

is

There is no other way

never start

because

once you do

and those damn gates open

you'll never

be able

to stop

Motel Room Records

The first time

was in a motel room

I was all alone

at a desk

abandoned, desperate

writing

not for necessity

but for survival

pages were already

full

with words

so determined

and all the while

voices

in the other rooms

celebrated life

while I

wrote it

down

Women Are Some Kind of Miracle

God

Created the world

In 6 days

And rested

On the next

We all know

He didn't need

Time 

For a rest

And we all know

She'll never

be back

Motel Secrets

Everyone asked what I did

While in New York

I said,

I wrote poetry

In a motel room

She said

Motel rooms 

Are the best place

To write poetry

I agreed

And thought 

Your poetry

Involves two souls

Not one

The Good Days

Sometimes I have

Good days

Sun's bright

The right things

Are said

Meet someone

New

Read something

Good

Inspiring

Meaningful

But those days

Like leap years

Are always taking

An eternity

To make things right

No Toll Booths Just Time

Where are we going

when we drive down 95

some slow

some fast

others crazy

with their blinker

on

and never turning

we are all just

the same people

some slow

some fast

most crazy

desperately going

nowhere

Solution To My Problem

It's 2 am and I'm trying to sleep

The neighbor downstairs 

is screaming

at her own window

at her own lover

on the first floor

drunk

I sigh

pull up a chair and watch

two fucked up people

soon to be making love

while I'm

alone

An Unwelcomed Midnight Dip

On nights 

Like these
I’m too tired

For sleep
For these annoying 

Things
Keep swimming 

In my head
And exhaustion 

Is tugging
Gently 

At my sheets
Trying to pull me 

under
Into the subconscious 

Pool
Of midnight dreams
And these things 

I tell you
They keep swimming 
Never tiring 

Annoying as ever
For their constant 

Splashes
And joyful 

Laughter
Echo 

From side to side

Each with its own 

Technique
Backstroke
Butterfly
Doggy paddle
Froggy style
Finished off
With a cannonball

Rippling
In my head 
Which no pill
Can ever

still

Beyond Repair

I'm tired of this fighting that goes on inside of me.
Every day I hope someone will be able to see
The torment that consumes me

I go on with this false hope
Fake smiles just so I can cope
I tell myself it will be all right
But that dream is so far out of sight

Gone beyond repair
I like to blame others saying it's not fair
But I know when I look in the mirror
Things seem to get a little clearer

I will never let them know
I will never let them see
It's not them I hate, it’s me.

It's Not About What You Want

Did you want 

something sweet

with words 

that whisper

of lovers

slender legs

wrapped between 

bed sheets

or maybe

something deeper

like a bulimic

on hands and knees

praying

in a bathroom

with holy water 

running

down the sink

to drown out

her ritualistic 

chant

not tonight

my friend

tonight

I can't

fucking

sleep

A Vase Full of Memories

Withered petals on a pool of tears.

Once were beautiful, now are brown.

A cruel remembrance of all the years.

Withered petals on a pool of tears.

Plucked one, by one, by irrational fears.

Leaving us empty, with just a frown.

Withered petals on a pool of tears.

Once were beautiful, now are brown.

Mechanics of The Soul

Open up

Shine within

Shutting down

Disabling sin

Gears in motion

Truth being told

Friction of feelings

Once were cold

Vibrating hum

Explosive emotion

Powerful, forgiving

Inside locomotion

Mathmatics of The Liberal Arts

Madness is the teaching in his preaching

"Math, Math!" he shouts to students

Whose minds are now filled with doubts

"Is he sane? Is he here?"

They asked each other with nervous laughter

He continues, unaware of the growing confusion

Trying desperately to bring rationality

To the irrational minds of the youth

Infinity, Axioms, Distributive law,

All beyond a liberal arts understanding

Classroom Notes

Professors, preaching education to their class

Students, minds closed thoughts bare

Sleeping, drawing, wondering how long this will last

Professors, preaching education to their class

Students, minds wondering, blank stares

Professors, preaching education to their class

Students, minds closed, thoughts bare.

Classroom Attendance

Listening

To every word

While at full attention

Eyes fixed on the teacher

Gripping every bit of knowledge

In extended rows from top to bottom

The overwhelming presence of vacant chairs.

An Empty Chair

Empty seats at full attention

Bodies erect 

Eyes on the teacher

Never moving not even their stare

Listening

To every word

Wisdom of the ages reveals itself

With no vessels

To contain it

It slips away in the empty classroom

And there's nothing there

But an empty chair

College

Nights of drunk laughter

Fused with afternoon slumber

In seats of knowledge

Seasons

Summer

Rhythmic waves rising

Over sun burnt slender legs

Resting on baked sand

Fall

Preparing slumber

under colorful crisp leaves

Blanketing the ground

Winter

Cold frost nipped noses

With sticky wet wool mittens

And soggy soaked socks

Spring

Submerged rubber boots

With cheerful splashes of joy

Sinking in brown muck

Animals

The puppy is a mischievous child

in it's terrible twos and looking for trouble.

The cat is a fish

swimming in a sea of grass.

The bird is a messenger

singing the signal of approaching danger.

The flea is an athlete

leaping and lunging for the gold.

The mouse is a hermit

who scampers and scurries out of sight.

The spider is a butcher

setting up shop for all to see.

The loon is a lunatic

yelling and yearning for someone to listen.

The coyote is a punk

Prowling and pillaging his local street.

The dragonfly is a kamikaze pilot

screaming and smashing into car windows.

The mosquito is a vampire

whose desire and delight is its next bite.

Hidden Agenda

Hidden agenda, hidden agenda, hidden agenda

Hidden agenda that's not for the people

But for the big thinkers

and puppet politicians.

Hidden agenda lets tip our hat and smile

With a hand in the poor mans pocket.

Hidden agenda lets reform taxes

And drop a little more in a rich mans suit.

Hidden agenda, hidden agenda, hiddean agenda

Hidden agenda lets cast a vote.

Hang Chad for his indecisiveness

And kiss all the frowning babies faces.

Hidden agenda lets remove the tyrant

And suck their land dry.

Hidden agenda lets save the people

And wave our flag. 

Beginning To End

Bubble filled sinks and pull-up diapers

For the innocent smiles and fresh kicking feet

Sponge baths and bed pans

For the stiff bones and hard of hearing

All done with a mother's gentle touch

Mother's in the newest style

Urging you on with a big smile

Every step new and exciting

Nurses in faded gowns of white

Helping you down the hall

Every wobbly step one after another

Life's first breath released

So delicate in mother's arms

Death's fresh scent draws near

To the helpless and bedridden

From beginning to end

The Old Folks Home

There are people in old folks homes

Whose usefulness has been deemed bare

They stay, never able to roam

Forced to wait for death's dreary glare

These people in the homes of old

Once had lives that were full of choice

But now are forced to do as told

Losing it all, even their voice

Who I Was

I used to capture

the beauty of a bulimic

and the wisdom

from an overlooked crumb

I once reached

deep into the cosmos

and painted a glittering sky

of pure

unimaginable emotion

I remember seeing

people

for all they could be

and not

what they could do 

for me

I dreamed 

of sorrow then

and felt deeper

then the murky depths

of the ocean

most of all

I remember

so strongly

being able

to save

all those

who needed

a savior

but now

I am the one

who needs to be

saved.

A Gamers Crutch

My executive chair
is like a park bench
and my laptop
is like a bottle in a bag
drowning

my sorrows
ignoring those around me
it's all the same 

really
but just a different reality
one man kills himself
with alcohol 

and drugs
another kills himself
with poor health 

and loneliness

I Like To Place The Obituaries And The Funnies Side By Side

I've always known

one doesn't become a popular poet 

until they're dead.

Some poets

just knew that earlier then  most. 

Some, 

found this the the most amusing

because they also knew 

they were running

desperately

out of time.

Good guys don't care what place they finish; only jerks do.

Some sort of recollection

I used to watch the 6 o clock news. I used to be concerned about a defective chad. I used to think I could change the world. Get out they said and raise your voice. Get out they cheered and spread the word. You are the new generation. The generation of change. The generation of many voices singing in harmony. One rhythm of peace and prosperity.

I was wrong

I now watch the entertainment channels. Weekday specials and season finales. My only concern is what now hangs from my belly. I sometimes rearrange the living room. Raising my voice when I stub my toe. Every other weekend I get out and cheer. Cheer for my kids soccer goal. I am the new generation. The generation of subservient behavior. I am the collective of one voice. Droning out with the work force. Each waiting for the hand that feeds us with debt and despair.

I used to watch the news. I used to be concerned about my president. I used to think I had a voice.

I was wrong