those nights

and then there are those nights

when I don’t feel like going anywhere

or doing anything

sitting in a cold dirty restaurant

about all I can muster

the wind chill outside

makes it feel like thirty below

and my face might feel

like it might crack

and then there are those thoughts

that I can’t explain

and no one I know is around

if the train would stop

I would jump off

feet first tuck in roll

or something out of a movie

like standing in a lit hallway

waiting for some door to be open…

forced freeze

how many ideas will it take
confidence built and stored up
for the battle of words
when someone challenges
the thought
how many days
alone tired
after waking too early
can barely lift the arm to move
how many cold windy nights
will he be forced outside
to freeze under the starry sky…

how many now?

can’t quite

grab the understanding

reading one sided words

turning something beautiful

into a dirty lustful ordeal

that only has one purpose

granted it should be guarded

not forgotten or forbidden

can’t quite

see what is supposed to be seen

in words only thing they have done

cause confusion in a mind bent

on understanding

another school of thought

been close to it before

decided to broaden the scope

of thought continuing

to add ideas to a list

of how many now?

back-flips off the keyboard

so much thought then

nothing at all to follow

without direction

lost when eyes are closed

one month ago

no idea I could have

made any of the stories real

life drawn out to the extreme

middle of every road

winding around corner and down

the straight and narrow paths

laid before him stopping

in the middle of a thought

to jump to another might swing

but he only hangs

gravity becomes the invisible rope

that pulls him straight down

into a depression created by one

of his many idiots

he has them all employed to perform

certain tasks during which time

he tends to the fire

in his mind spinning

with so much thought

and most would watch it float by

with no reaction

some grab at it and pull it close

and for one reason or another

they are internally

instructed to put that thought down

and forget that it exists

a swimming pool overflowing

and he’s doing back flips

off the keyboard…

take your time

got no interest in politics

but when something’s wrong

it’s wrong and politics shouldn’t

be an excuse to justify what’s wrong

leonard and mumia still wait for

mr. president to address the issues

they sit and stare at stone walls

and steel bars for twenty plus years now

and the leader takes his time

luckily it’s all they have is time

the leader will never address these

important issues

innocent men living in cells

for their beliefs

for their thoughts

and the actions just can’t be proven…

inside and still

the mind is so blank
it's painful
plenty of noise
and the muse may wonder
if the pen still moves
how could the mind wonder
at a time like this
less likely to understand anything
now where has all the thought gone
who has stolen the inspiration...

look the same

want to get off the ride

want it to stop

and let me off

it is too much for me to handle

at this moment

the thoughts

don’t even sound the same

or look the same

for that matter…

run their course

1209/2000 445pm

said to have rejected god

what does it really mean

to let desires run their course

rather have them put in a cage

out of respect for the will of god

being passionate

somehow signifies openness to lust

and not compassion and caring

said to have rejected god

somehow if he lets his passion

run wild somehow this

doesn’t make sense…

no opposites now

spinning the top up from the bottom

stares as if it has got some purpose

what time is it really

thinking out loud at times only harms the balance

someone might fall back from the edge

ready to go and night won't slow it's approach

no matter who is ready and who is not

spinning the top off the table and back to the floor

less distance to fall is he is already there

where everywhere and nowhere are both lit

ends of the same candle

there's no one here to hold it steady

and light the darkened path

spinning on top of a layer of ice

forming on that which dry only days ago

sliding from one side to another

no opposites now as everything seems the same...

plenty of noise

the mind is so blank

it's painful

plenty of noise

and the muse may wonder

if the pen still moves

how could the mind wonder

at a time like this

less likely to understand anything

now where has all the thought gone

who has stolen the inspiration...