hear me anyway

stop the think tank

aimed to destroy

on the path

wherever it may lead

only follow with speed

pick up where left alone

to figure it all out

all are struggling to come to terms

with what is going on

hear the scream

sunk deep down

dirty hands wash repeatedly

tortured for who knows what

it all might mean

need to work a little harder

to clean the dirt off

from the top back down to the bottom

can't cut the hand off might never come clean

can only try harder each time

cars will speed passed another milestone

left turned upside down from where it came

up with all these false hopes and dreams

are never as great as they are in the mind

might explode someday might even get to see

another smile and return the generosity

or greed or whatever faced will be overcome

watch if you like that sort of deconstructing of the mind

a terrible thing to use too often stuck with only it

might never make sense to anyone around

don't even know don't have the time to complete one

never mind the sympathetic return

turning the heart back on determination

to make it last time confidence reached so high

got snowed in and stuck

what's the purpose in these lines

see circles forming barely enough time

to hear the words are only words

repositioned to confuse those following

leading or reading or thinking

about plans for tomorrow

won't remember by then these words

anyway so what's the use

in standing here

me anyway...

embrace peace

oh America

when will you open your arms

and embrace peace

allow true justice to shine

without doubt turn the policing eye

on the corruptions all around

pushing until only chaos

can push back when confined

when will the politicians

see that the people can lead

force doesn’t lead to peace

it leads to more control

someday we may recover

but the real illness is internal

peace is what happens

when power is not based on

who kills the most

who will survive unless

we realize the power of peace

oh America

what would allen think

being Buddhist

being dead

travelling the between

what would henry think

being alone mind always

at walden

a state of mind

finding the power of peace

oh America

the cherry blossoms are bleeding

and we are making more enemies

as a country we have enough

stand instead for peace

equality justice and liberty

maybe then the world would follow

force something to happen

and it will not be real

remembering the past

and learning from all the forefathers

right the wrongs and reaching strong

for the power of peace

oh America

such a sad situation

we the people still yet

to have our say

we trust elected decisions

but can see the strings still

attached to a power

in control that is out of control

would it really be so hard

to embrace the power of peace

oh America

this is serious too

money may buy votes

and more power and more control

but peace shouldn't cost a thing

when hatred has been transcended

peace should shine on the other side

no doubt though

that it has been there all along

unlocking the power of peace

oh America

don’t let us the people down

we have no choice but to be here

locked into a nightmare

melting pot boiling over

seas to where the money

and dollar signs blink the most

we don’t have the option

of trying somewhere else out

we are here so why can’t we find

the power of peace…

death by loneliness

it isn’t possible to die from loneliness

what ridiculous thoughts pound the mind

un-expecting why do they sit there

and why don’t I ask

returning for a second visit

to this somber place

wonder what the girl thinks

as she says “back again?”

not really… I think

smiling as I put my head back

into my book onto this page

it tells me to write

what thought says is irrelevant

but I will write it anyway…

absolute uncertainty

a rainy day
might clear
my mind clouded
vision when I sit
punching holes
in the carpet
thick under foot
spins my head for a spell
it backwards sounds
the same raindrops
used to know exactly
what I wanted
feel something
without a doubt
but then found it all
at once too many rainy days
in a row make me worry a bit
about a future full of
absolute uncertainty…

spilled coffee

spilled coffee
all over my thought
spin dry and continue
on another page
but are they the same
as they would have been
on another left a stain
lost a page others
will arrive doubting
any wasted space
being such a vast area
for thought to dwell in
what do others think about…

nothing concluded 100

the sky's starting

to lighten up

guess we could

all learn from

absolute fear

in the end

of a dream

pure truth and reality

don't even know

what tomorrow

might bring singing for

the end of sorrow

holding on tight

to the one and only constant

nothing concluded...

rainy day laughter

the joker just sits there
in the corner with
that cackle that doesn’t stop
just laughing because he
is trying to make the best of his life
two dollars to his name
welcome to the nut house
so much chemical imbalance
the whole room might tip
the staff just tells the rest
to ignore the guy in the corner
but he fills the entire room
with laughter without diagnosing
the problem we are all left
to observe a rainy day with muzak
singing silently as cooking sounds
echo from the kitchen
the joker still roars with laughter…

sick ones

just one of the sick ones
when eyes met what was
the thought two years
later you would hope to know
instead we doubt it all
and resort to thinking
the we might be sick ones
who will be looked over
as part of the human experiment
and the crazy doctors
line up to cash these checks
while we all try to figure out
what it could possibly
be keeping happiness away
one of the sick ones
sucked dry to the bone
by many who are more like
sponges absorbing it all
and always remembering
getting close
and being close
only results in being
left empty when the experiment
has ended and like the dream
and isn’t initially believed
but must be for someone’s sake
and of course I can admit weakness
but not defeat or realization
of some kind of mistake
and of course bringing
it all upon myself which
is part of the experiment
and I just cannot understand
how contradiction so heavy
and extreme can be accepted
as real and maybe not alone
in being confused
just one of the sick ones…

blue and black

never any fairness

in some game

getting played

using bigger blocks

up higher

the walls made

it impossible

to get through

and a barrier formed

around the spot

a comfort that

warmed

now the spot

cold cement

becomes the seat

breathing slowed

feeling the heart beat

face down

for the moment

near water

covered with sand

reach up finally

still hard to stand

stayed too long

got caught in the web

of blue and back

very little strength

for an attack

sickness

left walking through

the emptiness of this head

out of it and spinning

like the walking dead

hearing words

someone else sings

knowing the truth

daily bell rings

don’t ever know what they

meant with three small words

don’t ever know how death

took all the birds

at once heard them sing

their high above song

all that is gone

and it’s been too long

still see the eyes

looking into the glass

still hear the wind

as it passes by fast

it’s never been real

and truth will reveal

too much to not feel

and emptiness at the wheel…

the muse is dead

the door is locked

no way to get in

won’t make it without

immediate attention

attention forced onto

older aspects trying

to find footing

where I was before

the sickness took over

and I killed my muse

merely to see if it was real

seen as the bridge

must meet in the road on your own

washing away selfishness

with acts for others

imitation is the beginning

but can lead to dangerous

misunderstanding

light teaches but light can fade

we are all students deserving respect

rafts for others as we need to be

a positive way to reach a different

possibly new understanding

or just see things in a different light

maybe that light too fades

maybe everything can be questioned

eventually and seen as the bridge

to get where we are going

rafts are useful too but need to be left behind

thought thunderbolt

who moves the pen

writes as if it has its own set of thoughts

for any emotion

becomes a topic for internal discussion

can turn ugly at times

it is so easy then it’s too hard

on the hand

limited in movement

towards the positive

emotions will bring smiles yield to sadness

ends as well

realized to be deeper than once assumed

it could be done alone

the moon can be seen

as bringing some happiness

the ultimate goal to shoot for

tomorrow might come

back with pen in hand

placed tight over a wanting mouth

hungry for truth and to regain all lost

in battle or in vain

love and lose sight of all that’s important

things become struggling points

finally to the sun center

thought thunderbolt

forced concentration

knowing what the orange sky means

a pure white cannot be predicted

when or where the pen will land when thrown

into the ring with the champ

who I do not know

what to count on one hand with a ring

at the door and no one is there

maybe spirits shifting through the between

two points there has got to be a voyage

extending the limits of what is understood

or get confused with all the words

will hide the importance

lies right here in this moment

when emptiness enters the heart

can be broken daily

affirmations astounding the skeptics

still don’t see but eyes given are tools that fail

heart forced clear vision using the third

attained through unlearning what’s taught

clearly without distraction

and the pen moves without a choice

to rethink teachings to accept it

what may or may not be

here and now is the only moment

thought thunderbolt

forced concentration…

count on

wisps of hair

across a pale face

in the right direction

and just keep on walking

out to the edge

maybe best to throw myself

to the mercy of whatever

situation ensues

pursuing the inevitable

truth will be exposed

with dry skin hands

watching the page bleed

scratch it with this thought

flat back and waiting

sirens sound and brakes screech

the sun gives hope though

tomorrow is too far away

to be counted on…

hard to believe

hard to believe

still somehow thinking

there is a chance

to run with the bulls

throwing down at the table

couple of real high rollers

nothing to lose

words in the ring with

heavy weights

won’t go down for the count

unless knocked out

within the mind the battle

toughest to win

who is watching anyway

words spin silent

watching while many pass…

thinking rebirth

snow giving up

after filling the night air

the sun melts the cold

almost spring thinking

rebirth right around the corner

stopping in my tracks

to watch the snow melt

tears of winter darkness

light lifted to new heights

without help this time around

shouldn’t get any tougher

the wait is almost over

snow is almost gone

rebirth anticipated spring arriving

an end to winter

doldrums of the mind…

assuming heaven

arms extended side to side

those of a plane aimed upward

assuming heaven

will weight burn the muscles

the roar of the engine

seems unreal

and landing gear becomes

useless at forty thousand

selfish as it seems desire doesn’t fade

only a crash seems inevitable

only ocean below unless caught

in the wind skipping across

the atmosphere likes rocks on a lake

arms becoming heavy as gravity forces

a deeper descent tranquility

momentary as earth doesn’t move

a moments time energy enough

for an eternity shared one moment

assuming that’s what it is like…   

sort of contentment

found my balance in uncertainty

then lost it somewhere in happiness

the walls came down

relaxation took over

and the fire burned me

this time it felt more real

was somehow convinced

the world wouldn’t take my word for it

keep it moving to avoid

the bullets aimed at feet

stumble still smiling stand staring

the mirror has always been cracked

from end to end

realization there is none

lost the game

didn’t want to play the song

never knew the words

balance returned with over due

library books never got to read

no matter how fast

driving away from the setting sun

gets me nowhere fast

darkness still arrives

home still holds

a sort of contentment

and it is happiness stifled

at the moment

it avoids me …

empty suitcase

the November moon

remembered

to send the letter

all I have left with me

is an empty suitcase

and a pouch of rolling tobacco

lack of something else

withdraw from view

in order to survive

where none of the faces

are recognizable anymore

trying to remember still

the eyes I no longer see

happiness really never left

smile still strong

even if no one sees it…

on the pot

overheard them say

‘he must be on the pot’

not even sure I know

what they meant

figured they were referring

to me sitting in the corner

writing as a semi busy breakfast spot

listening to their conversation

felt I could since they

included me to begin with

can’t figure out how

they came to their conclusion

don’t really mind

wasn’t going to stay long

just had to get a few thoughts out

thought this place might be

as good a place as any…

over and over

how so other thinkers do it

night and day

beat themselves up

for thoughts left unwritten

forgotten as the smoke fades

only traces remain

on an unwashed shirt

can’t shake the urge to sit and write

so many thoughts not knowing

how they got here

what a journey

until I put them here

pushing out to an edge

so sharp make it mine

over and over

feet might fail

and my mind unraveled

in front of you

what is the point

just thoughts its all I have

screaming and can’t fit

into the mold

swing and miss

over and over

already having exposed too much

of who I am

where I haven’t been

brought me here always

anywhere better than

inside the hollow…

everyone wrong

trying to clear the smoke

does a number on the body

craves the feeling

a depressing burn

causing the mind to flip flop

back and forth

time around today

day three times and the day is gone

the body shakes a bit

and tries to be free

snap out as the match breaks before

making a flame catches the eye

distracts the mental formation

of torture and the battle

just begun

to make sense enough to see

the damage done with this or that

won’t satisfy the strong

will survive this detox from smoke

may fail but hoping to

prove everyone wrong…

shining corpse

sun shining and

the words are stuck deep

the body lies in front of us

we do not want to kneel and pray

it’s no longer who we want to remember

the bible is quoted to ease

pain of the departed

the journey in between

strange the way we look at death

sun still shining

and the words fade

as the color in the face to gray

a tear or two at the edge of the casket

words stuck deep within…

who's the fool

the day is winding down

slowing to a halt

can’t find where it was

left off yesterday

could tell me where

my mind is

won’t ask

instead ten hours pass

like clouds in the six o’clock sky

who is he trying to fool

with this new attitude…

don't always know

up against and in front of

a wall don’t know what

she is waiting for

her hugs just aren’t the same

its simple

she acts like she doesn’t know

this is her practice

hard to understand what all of this is

up against the wall

see it all fear the fall

wind nearly tears my hair

out as a withdrawal

finally cooled midday

to midnight

calling out to her

sleeplessness

train going the wrong way

on the tracks barreling

toward oblivion

the birds are flying in place

as if they need the practice

shiver as she calls to know

trust the judgment

but still not sure

what I am thinking…