Friday, January 31, 1997

nothing concluded 25


the mind explodes
with confusion
and faces collide
head to head
in mine
 
explosion
skin smooth
beneath any rough hands
probably not mine
thoughts within
 
the road definitely
starting to fork
and a decision
will have to be made
nothing concluded
 
will I have a say
or will the decision be
made for me
just my size
all alone
 
clouds cover
all that is seen
it is okay
they are clouds
this mind created
 
the rising sun
reminds me of two smiles
couldn’t pick one
if it is up to me
nothing concluded. . .

nothing concluded 24


a bluish gray smoke
twists and spirals
upwards
as something pounds
inside the mind
 
not sure what
it was that set
the storm a-ragin’
the thunder
is deafening
 
escaping one reign
and stepping into
another
this time on the other side
of the glass
 
half empty
an observer
strange day by day
trip and fall
and laugh
 
laughing to attain
peace of mind
watching two play
the similar game
nothing concluded
 
closing the doors
behind me when I leave
hope the shadows from the attic
leave as quick as they came
when the sun finally shines again. . .

Monday, January 27, 1997

nothing concluded 23


over a month
since
the picture passed
through the mind
nothing concluded
 
thought the thought
was no different
than all rest
never gave up
on that hope
 
sometimes ignoring
the hope helps get through
the tough spots
seeing the moon
through the trees
 
thinking of
a night
some night
long since gone
calling out
 
anyone listening
hope for someone
to hear through all
the darkness of this
or any night
 
the sun
in this early morning
sky makes the left
side warm
it’s cold out there
 
always knew that moon
could connect
those already connected
somehow
not something to be laughed at
 
smudged finger
prints illuminated
on the glass door
has anyone else
noticed this small detail
 
sitting collecting
thoughts in a place
where everyone is thinking
and if not
well they waste their time
 
this early in the morning
everyone sits
alone
no one looks comfortable
nothing concluded
 
the shadow of this pen
dances at dawn
across the page
with no destination
here with me
 
remembering all
the sunrises that came before
and a sunset
given as a gift
purple flower attached
 
does anyone remember
anything interesting
about an encounter
with the holder of this pen
nothing concluded. . .

Saturday, January 25, 1997

nothing concluded 22


done it again
let too many people
come in
always ends up
slicing somehow

medicine man
one said
can’t find the cure
for this inner
pain
 
this awkwardness
this awkward-mess
who will have the patience
it will take
nothing concluded
 
sometimes
implosion is the idea
or light bulb above the brain
not destruction
reconstruction
 
even when far
enough from the situation
somehow pulled into
the middle
nothing concluded
 
hearing ear silent
with open arms
no critic of mine
is tougher
than the one in the glass
 
in a palpable cloud
right about now
don’t quite know how
to expel this fog
nothing concluded
 
tears and lies
no need to deal with either
only needed the ears
to hear and offered the same
not selfish as is said
 
too tired to continue
or is it all done
one or the other
smoke billows out
mouth and nose. . .

Friday, January 24, 1997

nothing concluded 21

visiting one
less in years
more in the eyes
than anywhere else
across a busy place

more in years
less in the eyes
maybe walked right by
instead across this place
nothing concluded

shouldn’t ask
what is being seen
might spoil the surprise
if there is one in the box
like jack

most will never
read these words
forget hearing
them read
aloud

almost choking
smoke and hot
coffee
the dream
years away

two might make
the difference
is three times
running out the door
won’t look back

it isn’t a bus stop
my car is outside
and nothing keeps my
steel horse tied
to the modern day saloon

twenty-five minutes
past the hour
look up to the walls
flat paper flowers
nothing concluded. . .

Thursday, January 23, 1997

nothing concluded 20

it’s tough to know
why he continues to talk
out loud by himself
in the corner
everyone’s uncomfortable

not actually bothering anyone
but people like
to come relax at this place
and he makes
everyone uncomfortable

babbling about
Russian girls and things
no one cares to hear about
nothing concluded
sitting close by I listen

it doesn’t bother me
as much as the waitresses
and manager I just
like to sit
drink my coffee and think. . .

Tuesday, January 21, 1997

nothing concluded 19

more than one year ago
locked eyes
no idea
a day would come
nothing concluded

seen many things
together and
alone made many mistakes
all and all
things aren’t so bad

never expected to be
what he would be
simply what I am
and I thought
I might be more than that by now

not that what I am
is somehow less
it’s just not what
one might have expected
nothing concluded

wishing well
on the future
wherever Iowa is
hope all is well
finally hit me that you left

sometimes it’s hard
not to wonder what things
may have been like
had things turned out different
an artist

no idea what’s being drawn
until it’s done and gone
and on it’s way
keep the lines tight
write all night

nothing concluded
and they will say everything
happens for a reason
sometimes it just isn’t
a good enough one. . .

Monday, January 20, 1997

nothing concluded 18

standing on the water
catching my breath
eyes of the idle
peer at my
thin frame

not knowing
why
or for what reason
can’t complicate this
peaceful journey

ignoring what I have
learned obviously
just to see
sometimes these actions
contradict

can any of us
escape this samsara
without it though
thoughts of understanding
and nirvana are illusions

sometimes I wish
the illusion was this
I am
and as always
nothing concluded. . .

Sunday, January 19, 1997

nothing concluded 17

polished silver
and I know it’s
not real
second place tonight
like this

given a ring
but does it mean
anything
because the phone
never does

not angry
or bitter
just commenting on
the sound of silence
used to it

there is nowhere
at times I choose
to place myself
one night a week at least
enjoying the silence of the mind

trying more often
and failing to accomplish
at home
what I can one night a week
in silence

caught up in selfishness
my own thoughts
disappear into
the recesses
of this mind

not completely negative
as some might think
and sometimes
it even helps moving
from one step to the next

eleven o’clock
the night is young
no longer worried
for some reason my eye
is watering

a constant hoarse voice
babbling in the corner
and it is
annoying to the point
of total distraction

young still feeling
older with each day
that passes and there
is still much to be learned
nothing concluded

alone
and treated kindly by one
knows me only by
face and name
alone

eye am listening to the river
first I had to find
and sit near it
quiet comes there
nothing concluded. . .

Friday, January 17, 1997

nothing concluded 16

under a strain
and it won’t release
it’s grip with anger
breathing in
then out relaxing

don’t know who
or what to believe
everyone is lying
wondering why
I am even included

pushed out to the edge
forced to travel
this path alone
fifteen months
and now you tell me

a lot of good
this knowledge does now
when all the wounds
have healed
or at least they appeared healed

don’t exactly know
how I should feel
instinct says anger
my mind tells me to
be calm and unattached. . .

Tuesday, January 14, 1997

nothing concluded 15

advice given
to me
never ignore
listening, processed
and considered.

seems as though
each one I meet leaves
a stain
as on a shirt
and I can’t get it clean.

my fingers are numb,
but my emotions
passed that spot
days ago, don’t know
where the feeling went.

words spoken
are heard and
neatly tucked away
but are my hands tied
once revealing too much.

need to be given
a sign
when I go too far
with words and
generous actions.

it’s one p.m.
and I am listening
to bROCKtON-
elevator music, but
I’m not going up or down.

trapped inside a box
no one, but me can see
I am a mime and
not so good at it
can you see?

how many other people
in the world
wished on the same
star as I did
last night?

feeling as though I
have accomplished
nothing as of late,
no one to blame,
but me.

don’t have any enemies
except that man
in the glass,
provided I chose to look
at and acknowledge him.

I remember new york,
hundreds of miles away,
but people, the same,
seemed so real, but
my phone screams silence.

it’s five a.m. and
I lay on the floor
in the kitchen   
and
I want to sleep.

waking up and I can’t
stand to look
in the glass
why and
what do I fear?

pushing everyone
away from me,
but realizing I don’t
have to, they must have known
they are gone.

am I the welcome mat
for all? do I really
allow people to walk
all over and
wipe their feet daily?

how can I change
these things? do I
truly want to change?
wasn’t I happy alone? am I not
happy because I don’t know I’m happy?

there’s a spot on my spoon
too much smoke in my lungs
not enough love in my heart
and too many helping hands lent-
and knowing nothing concluded...

Sunday, January 12, 1997

nothing concluded 14

can’t understand
their words
intoxicated
with babble
they transmit.

silent one beside me
uncomfortable
but why
the others
put off their vibe.

enjoy being
who I am
whoever
that may
be.

hear the words
telling me to
stop
embarrassing
those around me.

can’t be too loud though
they do not leave
and then they
come back
tomorrow.

forced to wonder
if I make
a difference at all
I wouldn’t exist, to them,
if they never saw me.

silence, to me
never is a bad thing
two or more people
should be able to share
silence.

bathing our thoughts
in conversation,
but even our minds
need rest
from time to time.

I watch my smoke twist
toward
one who
is uncomfortable
with silence.

sitting quiet
as the wooden one
up on my mantle
silent as I remember
nothing concluded...

Saturday, January 11, 1997

nothing concluded 13

recognizing my dharma
but will not
accept
the title
of a bum.

there are
a few with me,
join me nightly,
as often as
they can.

all of us
at different
stages of our lives
but converging
on this spot.

such a strange
and trendy spot
for us; those
who do not fit
mind-wise.

believe, myself,
that we are all
similar, but
still for some reason
I feel uncomfortable.

jack spoke of japhy
and the beats
as bums
dharma bums
am I similar?

the one who
has parallel
thought to mine
no longer comes
to this place.

all looking to him
as his plane
is much higher
state of being
revered, my guru.

many get lost in his
appearance
not important to him
knowing as I do
it is only the outer package.

know him as I do,
impossibility
only a dream
for the groups who stare,
but I won’t call them bums.

am I the only one
who knows, recognizes
my dharma
they seem inspired,
are they?

all that seems real
is only a dream
parts of the whole
incarnations circling
the cycle to escape.

bleeding my mind
nightly, here
but what is it
that I hope
to accomplish.

spinning thoughts
as the ceiling fan
with four lights
below and reading
the truths into them.

not all as accepting
as I
frowning upon new members,
but who
let them in?

no one has anything to say
and to think they
can exclude some
flaunts their selfish
attachments, afraid to bend.

when they tire, if they do
I will not make any stay
alone I will be
awaiting and remaining

so still, nothing concluded...

Wednesday, January 8, 1997

feeling inside

those thoughts
came back to the mind
can’t seem to figure
how to release them
volcano ready to erupt
covering everything around
the dust remains
these fiery thoughts
not much anger
very little real pain
have to find the one within
deep cleansing breaths
finding new strength
still shaking a bit
only from the cold…

Tuesday, January 7, 1997

nothing concluded 12

loud obnoxious teenagers
making my ears bleed
my eyes hurt to look
at them
seeing ten clones.

facial piercing
not an expression
of self
instead, a billboard
screaming ‘I’m different!

kurt cobain died
two years ago
so wipe your pseudo tears
and jump on the next
bandwagon, as it trails by.

sporting hair as strange
as possible and dog collars
wonder why they stare
I am drunk off of
their senseless babble. 

taking center stage
the freak show circus
of this place that once
was so quiet
and allowed my mind to wander.

eight girls two boys
shock value teens
afraid to be themselves,
desire to fit into
the puzzle somewhere.

starving for attention,
but they only create it,
although I am not one
to judge
looking as I do.

if I could get past the
pseudo-intellectual
conversation, I am
sure I could find ten
real people, but

they hide so wide,
comparing therapy
stories and what
they saw the last time
they took acid.

wishing I had some answers
for them, but they cannot
hear me, I am not weird
enough, I sit and observe
and still nothing concluded...