sitting here listening

sitting here listening
the sound silent voices screaming
keeping me sane at times
I see his face in the glass
hold in my hand
splintering shards
my bloody hand drips for a moment
who have I become
what has become of my rational thought
trying so hard to overcome
this extreme anger seething inside of me
trying to squelch my angst
cannot stand still sweating
my fear and pain explode…

nothing concluded 46

another call

eyes still filled with sleep

heart filled with

sadness and it is

no longer

a part of this life

what can be done

to hold onto

do not digress

live in the now

not the past

leaving it all behind

still see eyes

afraid of the tears

too many these days

and too many

ultimatums

alone and quiet

content as ever

nothing concluded…

beginning from the end

after words are spoken
in a speech so highly regarded as nothing
can be of any help
me untangle the web where
I, the spider
wait anticipating what I may see
me as I stand below
us lies no answer, question
all that we are forced into believing
all is fantasy, all that is not
special enough
to be considered reality.

adventurous delusions
of grandeur, think
I am the king of random thought
I was right
in the middle
of a conversation leading
me to the water
cooling the fire, easing
the pain brought
on by creation
of thoughts
and actions
speak louder than
the constant pound
of the drum beat
the beast bursting within
the confines of an area
too small to contain
the years I have seen
better days
pass but today
is the tomorrow I
dreamed of yesterday.

remembering the idea
popping into my mind
stuck on one
out of a million or two
selfish for me to stick around
the corner, the action I despise
the thought of the cell
dwelling cold alone
I can conquer the world
is coming to an end, but
I do not recall the beginning
of another thought
I was right so many times
standing still at this moment
I hope in vain for answers
do not come
to me it is all one big question
everything I am faced with
the task of understanding
why I am here
the train whistle blows
out the flame that burns
us as we wait at the end
of the line drawing
footprints in the sand
bag hits me in the back
again.

beginning from the end
is quite near
to my side, I pull you close
the door
and remain silent
night, but wholly confusing
me with two
many words scattered
thoughts and things
always appear a little
strange simple sign
on the side of the road
leading me to the start
from the beginning
of the story
told in a round about way
off the point now
and then realizing nothing
makes sense words
whirl to the end
of another thought
I was right again
I am wrong
answer my friend
is gone.

so young I was
stuck on thinking
about you are my desires
gone
down to the station
of the cross where
I learned to believe
me I have changed
all of the dollars I had
but one thought
for sure this time
will not wait
a moment and I will explain
this to me and straight
the crooked pathways
leading to the same spot
where we stood
holding hands
waving good-bye
at the corner store
up all the things I need
an escape...

nothing concluded 45

the mind maze

blank like the page

stared at long enough

white as the snow

and cold

these last few days

people want something

warmer gripping

with white knuckles

not to be blown away by wind

trying to salvage one or two

more days and it

won’t bother the

toughest skin burn faces

numb the fingers

a powerful presence

soon all will be joyful

when winter is gone

here in new England

never knowing

when or

how early it will return

with the final word

dropped on—

nothing concluded…

trap of time

as I think on subjects not so foreign to me
think about flying saucers
aliens wearing head phones
listening to sweet pineapple sounds
having coconut dreams
whipped cream on crackers
water so they don’t speak with cracker dust voice
sitting and waiting time passes
“that’s the trap of time,
as long as you want anything in time,
it’s going to pass
because time passes.”
and so did the long bus ride into spring
it came yesterday by degrees
the third burn on a hand between two dry knuckles
bound to go up in smoke as I sit and wonder...

nothing concluded 44

again the mind

swings to a screeching halt

he nearly falls from

the spot so messy

must clean

seeing dreams

no longer the reality

that was

never to be again

accepted

at last

the book is closed

and the final chapters

written in a rage

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 43

can’t get the mind

off the night

still in question

no answer to the problem

in sight

eyes blurry

numbers will do that

still can’t figure

this one out

nothing concluded

a whole lot

of indecision

swinging like a child

from a rope swing

in the back yard

cracking skin

in this cold

fingers yellow

from smoke

it all enters

as confusion

spinning the self

into the ground

digging into

the well being

doing laps

in the head

hardly able to stand straight

enough to form

the perfect balance…

more of a letter

there are so many around right now
saying they cannot deal with their lives
it is not what they say
not what I say
writing a paper on Taoism
difficult to understand

“Tao is eternal and has no name. Though its simplicity seems insignificant, none of this world can master it.” (Tao 32).

many of the things over the head
of an average reader
some might stop
I won’t
taking the time to study
how simple it actually is
many things so complicated
discouragingly enough –

“Doctrines are very easy to understand and easy to practice, but none in the world can understand or practice them.” (Tao 70).

this seems to discourage
who is trying to learn and understand
this is why I am comparing it’s philosophy
to another
Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
I suggest these two books
and leave you with that…

surrounded by darkness

can’t seem to settle into the spot
created for myself
always seem to be writing when the sun is setting
always seem to miss it as it shines forth it’s last ray
everyday saying “I will see that last spec tonight!”
for one reason or another
always seem to forget and miss it
never realizing until I am surrounded by darkness.

“I alone am inert, showing no sign of desires, like an infant that has not yet smiled. I alone seem to have lost all. Mine indeed is the mind of an ignorant man, I alone seem to be in the dark.”
-Tao Te Ching

again missing the bright spot
the last rays of daylight
already gone surrounded by dark

clouds covering the moon and stars
I am alone…

it will be dark

off on the horizon
the remnants of today
painted in light colors
pink and purple
as the sun sets on the opposite side of the sky
what will be in a matter of minutes
I will be the same
it will be dark
the painting I viewed alone but quite publicly
vanished now into the tops of the trees
came across a great quote today in the book
Be Here Now
by Ram Dass

“all you ever find: Yourself, you only read to yourself, you only talk to yourself, you only ever know yourself, that’s all there is! Strangely enough!”…

nothing concluded 42

acting as if

he doesn’t know

she is quite the actress

no longer

offering the support

the high point

has come and gone

the closing credits are

done and stopped rolling

the movie is over

two different eyes

for people now

one that questions

and the other that

doubts

he doesn’t even

know these people

never

really thought

he did

disagreeing with

sounds pounding

the air he clouds

with these smoky

emotions

has he been standing

in the cold

so long that he is lost

for feeling

numb

the other face is the one

he is looking to see

if it is the entire illusion

it must be what is

beyond the illusion as well

he doesn’t

have to be the desire

simply has to be

here and now

going to the same over again

discouraged in a cloudy

haze he has created

a mess as usually

is the case

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 41

walking backwards

and I can’t see

where am I headed

nowhere no doubt

too fast

ending up

side down

but turning

each side

to see what is to be seen

no one can tell me

what it is

that one painting

is like no other

inspiration comes from somewhere

brushed strokes

illuminated by

the golden eye

of the universe

can’t name the color

spot still surrounding

my sight when I

close my eyes

thought on one

far from here now

days counting

backwards to reach

the day when I

travel again

to watch the moon rise

and setting

thoughts cleansed

long walks with mother

sitting by the stream

being

nothing needed

but the voice

and the eyes

desire’s flood

receded completely

prostrated on

the hard wood floor

mother created

waiting for the moon

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 40

leaving the side

of my bed shaking

no I do not know

the reason got

up because I couldn’t sleep

trying to collect

all that I have

accomplished realizing I do

not have much to show

can’t stop

the dizzy mind spin

cursed this spot

where I stand

these passed few months

shaking off

the day’s weariness

if possible

but it’s not gone

by morning

sleep didn’t help

soon I will be out on

my own with new worries

don’t want to rush the future

anymore than it goes

on it’s own

solitary confining myself

in the present moment

in the regular

spot a mess

and I can’t wipe it clean

no matter now

mind clearing

stretching

achy as hell

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 39

sun shining

through a green bottle

onto a white page

and this pain

will it stay

a man with a bat

appears and is angry

for what appears to be

no reason at all

swinging and missing

the point of the thought

barbaric in nature

and for some reason he remains

still with a smile

ignoring your ritual

swing the bat at the mirror

on the door

shatter the glass and reveal

the spineless ignorance

what is the goal

the western attitude should

prevail?

because you actually

feel as though any one man

is better than another

and one might deserve

a beat down

for being themselves

or searching any avenue

who is beating who

ignorant lessons learned

need to be unlearned

and why should anyone

share such violent ideas

and who

are the supposed flower

people how are they a problem

open eyes to see what this

nation has become

breeding more violence

nothing concluded

as the spineless man

sits low in his chair

offended that others have found

some truth, he is ignorantly lost…

upswinging journey

cut down another lumberjack man
ready to take the life from the innocent tree
belmont bleu won’t stop talking about fascism
can’t really understand why he worries
about what mr. texaco man thinks
been talking to his friend arthur about it
for about an hour now

the blade spins and shakes
makes me a bit uneasy
finally realizing starbuck
just wasn’t strong enough to insight mutiny
would make a great captain
never did ask herman what richard meant to him
nothing more than a sea dwelling devil
that’s what I think about that
what do I know
and look no one has a clue
what am I talking about
now the man in black arrives
his cross trying to convert me
my mind is too strong for his scare tactics
will not be taken prisoner by his cloth and book
stories made up and meant to teach
I was taught to fear and I will not fall
from my spot now
no longer afraid
he can do nothing to sway me
know you are with me on that
unless otherwise notified
meet me on the down side
of the upswinging journey. . .

nothing concluded 38

pillow of thought

resting the mind

not always as

easy as it is written

slow beneath the black pen

blanket of hope

heavy and sometimes

it’ll smother

that which he tries

hard to hope for

heavy eyes

something will stir

the soul awake and aware

just the way it should be

always needed rest will come

the rest will fall into

place as he hits

the mattress and

drift into some otherwise

unknown reality

putting away consciousness

for now

but where will it go

when split between here

and far off

shooting into the dark

of another sleepless

night far off the mark

right on though

the same thought

thought he could do it tonight

with no ill in mind

the mind seems too ill

not allowing the ship to move

into black blank bliss

what is the bliss of this universe

he is the universe

from his vantage point

everything nothing

and something he can’t even think of

think of that thought

which one he might know

and this

one he would not know

now it’s all the same

same as the thoughts revealed

as he looks

into the mirror

eyes closed

mind open

making sense out of

his nonsense

through a few cents in the cup

today as every other

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 37

wishing on a lonely star
only because
it is there
no hope that the wish
might actually come true

my heart
is a door
shut well and
uses no bolts
cannot be opened

my mind
is a knot
tied tight and
uses no rope
cannot be untied

parts of him
he cannot understand
problem probably
he tries too hard
to find

stop trying
start doing
know the saying
there stands a wall
keeping him still

feeling weak
at any moment
a sign
he once
must have been strong

he tries for days
without going backwards
to find that strength
he knows he had
but where

he sees
the subtle light illuminating
from all things
it leads him to believe
there is a subtle light within him

sometimes that which is truly
bright appears to be dark
that which goes forward seems
to fall behind and all that is level
is far from being even

he may actually lose something
as he gains on some else
and vice versa
(you get the picture)
nothing concluded…