heard enough

sir speedy special

delivery arrives at the door

open and around the corner waiting

anticipating what he knows

cannot see what he can see

from where he sits      

he stops and looks around and gets the chills

don’t know what to think about things

maybe a little too much given

hands are empty

not asking for anything at all  

in fact a little slow returning to his spot

after such a long period

that ends the sentence            

beginning all over again for the first time

awhile passed where he once stood

waiting anticipating and new light brought

upon a dark time passes slowly

a thought returns to

returns to depress

he knew things were not right

or wrong

no one can say

he doesn’t care

doesn’t stop

have you heard enough. . .

it will stay

skin burning

flame ready to ignite

looking around notice

the night

time to lay me down

until a new day dawns

waking in the morning

smell fresh cut lawns

sun burns down

wish myself away

feeling that I have

hoping it’ll stay…

hand in my pocket

corporate America

hand in my pocket

two hundred million

not enough

one cuts

and we all bleed

and feel the pain

standing tall as one

will not fall unless divided

will not cross lines

for six forty after six long years

we are the reason they

made two hundred million

and the CEO one point six

stand tall and hold strong…

me in the mirror

me in the mirror

of you minus years

two of one kind

words sent

back of an envelope

all I need

nothing but miss

you most of all

this will pass

by the mirror

not what I see

you as well

you have shown me

beautiful things

that taught me many more

days stack up in the already

used pile reaching new heights

sinking to new depths

a thought bringing light

to a darkened mind

wiping tears from eyes

surprisingly not sad

to hear spoken to not often enough

though missed just the same… 

stagnating mind

to be someone else not me

even if for only a moment

just to look and see someone else

in the mirror

said he sees me in the mirror

wishing those words so true

amazing how small the actual size

and importance doing what bores

the rest and myself at times

parents wishing for me

to be more like someone else

not even knowing what

someone else is like

having only what is here

and even that is not mine to have

asking what is the problem

there is one idea existing

manifesting itself in the recesses

of a stagnating mind…

don't have a license

still on safari

and don’t have a license

we don’t break the laws

just having a good time

such a cough

and he returned

same bartender

“thought all you nuts were dead”

half hour late because of the drinking

these sinuses give him

quite the head ache. . .

sitting next to a serial killer

twitch in his eye
know what he meant to say
that he was would be an assumption
would not directly ask him what kind of work he does
not answer smiles cracking his knuckles
with this I knew I shouldn’t have left my bed
who is this strange man
and why did he choose me to sit with
and tell his story
goes a little something like this
and that is what I am
his outlet to the world
can not put him down any longer
I sit and wait the more impatient he becomes
show no fear for I realize I will not be harmed
by this man he would have never sat down
if I was in any sort of danger…
so strange to hear his tale and
know what he hopes to escape from
now on I will look at things quite differently
strategically positioned close to the highway
and loving where he lives because it is a
comfortable neighborhood the man told me that
people would be found all over this
wonderful city and how it will change
the attitude of everyone
will see things a little clearer
once he completes his masterpiece
an artist is what he said he is
I could see the truth
is he never told me what he has done
or will do
feel as though I could read his mind…

a new chapter, you are insane

and a new chapter

entered into a whole

new atmosphere

new beginning

where did the end go

what is it keeping me

from clear vision

or progression

where am I headed

what will I do when I

get there.

do you know you are insane

not the word you are speaking

closed doors behind

kept locked for a reason

not knowing what any of this means

don’t have the key

don’t know who you are

talking to shot down

a cross to bear

right at the corner

where we sit and wait

for change to happen

so fast we don’t notice

what we don’t see

you are insane yes

but I don’t mind. . .

nothing concluded 68

so many days

come and go

just like today some

the same but this one

very different

wishing to somehow

attain an understanding

just standing back

a moment or so

letting the picture

find it’s focus

early afternoon

feels like evening

and night time approaches

too soon again

ten years from this day

still sitting in the same

spot or by then

will they have torn this place

down to the rubble it is

and as the pen spins

over and over in hand

as it too moves across the page

dark circles under the eyes

sunken deep

in need of sleep

and missing the only brother

and the peacefulness felt

when he is around

nothing concluded…

thirteen hours

thirteen hours passed
the time I can’t remember
how long
have I been sitting here
all this time so silent
awake again no more fog
in the eyes
see clear but where
will this road lead
astray again then back
on track take a trip
won’t slip the feet walked upon
another spot once new now nothing

rain running down the outside
of the window by the side
hiding what needs to be found
at a later date like 
some sort of emotional time capsule. . .

no matter

how long will it last
time I thought like this
wall came crashing down before
my eyes could tell me
that all will be well soon
and thoughts create
disruption and in the middle
again sitting how can I reach
the edge impossibility
always on the outside
looking into what cannot be reached
from where I stand
not so sturdy
as the guru
and they don't see him the same
as I
out under sky wondering
thundering and rain
no matter no movement. . .

scale

so do you know

not this time

six o’clock on the nose

running out of space

travel does not interest

too much money spent up

time wasted

all that paper burning a hole in a pocket

shallow as the puddle forming

from the tears he doesn’t cry

laugh while you can

soon we will be gone

across the border        

such a perfect frame

no crime committed

will not disclose detail at this moment

disappearing and become infinity       

too long for him

and the sun shifts deep downward

an inch saw it move over there

not enough room for the two

bump elbows

no one wants to see the mess

he has made it this far

do not give up on him yet

knowing you are in no position

who put you there

right back to the start

slowing down

soon will see him for who he really is

not the man you know

true dreams not revealed to the source

all mistakes occur for reason

cannot see what

the others do

his perception is not the same as another

same as it was when he was an infant

crying for mother father

whatever it takes

to balance the scale of inequality. . .

burned in with the fire

watch the moon
shiver as he spoke
singing another tune
turned into a joke
covered with a cloud
he can barely see
shouting out loud
he says “they can’t hear me!”
saying what he means
or intended to say
what is it that seems
now drifting away
down to the last line
where earth meets the sky
behind a great pine
that fell down to cry
but he can’t find the strength
to fell the emotion
shattered at length
by the wind and the ocean
an island arrives
and under each step lies
uncertainty in the sand drives
him and extinction soon flies
into distortion’s view
obscured and unclear
something might be true
underneath what he’s got right here
so distant it might seems to be
don’t recognize
him under that fallen tree
his transparent disguise
unmasking with power
go where he must
admire the flower
feeding the trust
growing each day
surviving every night
what did he say
that put them in flight
understand this
no harm intended
innocent kiss
and friendship has bended
not breaking the tie
or disturbing the peace
destroy it and lie
and friendship will cease
growing instead
understand how we live
so many just fled
got so much to give
glimmer like that one
star shine like the moon
jumping some gun
saying too much too soon
smothering the flower
let up on the rain
water over powers
drown without pain
tales from the book
that no one might read
needed no look
he will follow no lead
the galaxy’s small compared
to the large mind in his head
not stopping, might stall then repaired
something to find before he is dead
so much to speak
the night light will expire
no longer weak
burned in with the fire. . .

nothing concluded 67

hearing the sound

footsteps up and down

the stairs reminding of

how much is actually

forgotten

the first sound

remembered

silence taking the time

to be

quiet

finding that spot

back to it again

finding it here and there

another shines too

in and out

moving onward

still missing

that smile

and the bell sounds

calling back to mindfulness

enjoying the spot found

gazing inward

eyes focus and closed

relaxed can be there

nothing concluded…

nothing concluded 66

so onto another

and it could take hours

to get where

you might mean to go

not traveling far at all

stationary in the moment

another destination result

miscue wrong place can’t see

that’s how far off

at times

turned on to the inspiration

a song and the voice

never heard again

onto another as

if nothing ever was…

back in the shadows

don’t care about many things

possibly a bit more paranoid than others

with good reason

another nail

though he won’t lie still

the air in here is getting harder to breathe every minute

are you the thief he fears

when night time arrives

he stands back in the shadows

watching expecting what he doesn’t want to see

waves of anger crash onto him like high tide

on the most fragile rocks

creating cracks and shattering the hardened surface

a pied piper pushing yourself out of the river

onto a higher stage

the game where winners and losers stand all around

being neither a winner nor a loser

refusing to play the game

relaxed posture watching everything slip away

with the ebb

been the welcome mat for so many

the mat has worn many holes

and may crack and crumble under foot

what makes him any stronger than before

the knowledge of how weak he really is

many stand around and try to hold the lid

not lying still keeps them from keeping him destroyed

he can’t stand the thief

stealing not material possessions

he has none of any importance—

thieves of the past

gather with nothing to show for what they have taken

empty souls and hands

have nothing and the emotion that they steal

they know not how to use

take heed—if your ideas are on thievery

you need not steal from him

if what he has is not content

where it is

then he would be willing to give it to you

never have been able to stand up so high

fearing the crash

will not settle for the pedestal below

the stones of failure

completing the enigma that he is

hear too much

nothing without the emotion

deceitful wiles and half smiles

salt on his lips touching a forehead

think he doesn’t know

don’t expect any explanation

words written

rain or dew drops

still sit soaking as it is so easy to remember

so hard to forget what he has said

meaning to be found in any of this

cannot be found by all

that man that stands alone

needing not the support

all have departed from his side as will you

and all promises made are made in vain

the rain will drench his soul

without harm to anyone

no one sees him in his thought he is alone

never becoming anything more than what he is

at this moment

right now ready to go

see him shine as stars in the ominous sky

that is the mind

truly understand that

a step ahead

when the clouds clear

see the shine of thousands of stars

then will you know. . .

wish i could

wish I could be of some assistance and wish the gap

was closer feel as though I stand on the         

porch not allowed to sit at the table

take what I have and add it to what I desire

look into empty hands and that’s what I've got

on the porch and although the door

separating me from the rest is a screen door I still

cannot see in too well can’t hear what is

being said still standing wondering who put

up the door was it I, am I the reason I am on the

porch alone

wish I could make a difference in just one

that I meet in the doorway speaking through

the screen

wish I could do so many things

don’t quite fit where I am

sometimes I don’t know

wish I knew how to walk in and sit down

for now I remain on the porch and it is nice out here

I wouldn’t mind bridging the gap

filter myself through the screen

wish I could...

why we are here

sometimes he wishes he was someone else

with many great talents

he has none

no one can really understand why

words spoken and responses given

what he hears makes little or no sense

a sign or is it something

so elementary that all should

know that

he is alone in thought

everyone is struggling in

a dog eaten world

and no one really understands

why anyone is here. . .

the vicious cycle

the vicious cycle of frustration

and suffering

that is samsara

give all profit and gain to others

take all loss and defeat on yourself

be here be now be all things

all sorrow is joy ending

the end of sorrow is joy beginning

from this point on

another page may tell you a story

gets too long

to tell you the truth

only half told him he would be all right

this is always now

never then

can’t be there only here

the mighty om in all that is done

spun into a web tangling thoughts

and emotions live and die as you and he

retreating with such care

only about what matters most

the spot where silence is found

rest awhile

needed the place

trace a thought

a knot untied

lie down the ground will surround

where he can’t understand what they say

tomorrow or a year more

fear not tear in an eye

no good-bye—learn to fly—become

the bird the river flowing

flying above and below the tree

living in and feeding the tree

crashing a soft landing 

all is nothing

all is something and everything

never knowing what is wrong

does not matter when he can see what is right

going with that

it is all he needs. . .

eye disease

watch the clock on the wall constructed without

intention builds up and eyes go fast and         

faster still will not stand for burned coffee

burning my lips turned upward in a smile for those

around the corner can’t compete for a prize   

I wouldn’t win some sort of race

I won’t run to the clock to check the time

—only moments since eyes fell on two hands

tell me the day passes slow

this day and not that day any

other way is bad

this way serves its purpose     

well aside from the dance eyes do

with the hands of the clock

ticking down to zero hour

don’t know what is different at this time

eyes won’t stop

wondering about time

to go and I hate it too...

nothing concluded 65

to write down another thought

possibly no point intended

sometimes no point made

points found unintentional

random like raindrops

falling into the blank

of the page

paper or screen in front

rereading and seldom

impressed with thought found

rewriting thoughts

once had reworked

nine or ten years later

better state of mind

circles spinning

dizzy

going around in the mind

outer and inner limits

stretched to the edge

dizzy

finding one thought

and a word

and seeing there

is a point

one finger to the sky…

11nd

did you get the message last night

he said he would forget it for now

looks like you will have to trudge on unprepared—

surrounded by fee-bo and the stank is sickening

what a life to live free as a seagull

picking their food from scraps

what other people do not eat

about three months ago when he was in vermont

someone stopped me on the highway outside of montpilliar

and gave him a full body search

then let him go

he was not the one they were looking for

when will the world be peaceful

when will the rain soak up all of the grime

since he doesn’t know he is packing his things

and heading for the hills

flying south for the summer 

until next time

keep what he has revealed to yourself

do not try it

it has become beyond repair. . .