not enough rest

not enough rest

stop too far off

got to rest now

on the side of the road

if need be the road

leading home

run to the store

at midnight complete darkness

can’t slow down the speed of this train

riding on and on not getting off

when it stops too comfortable

enjoying the rest too much

hoping not to be abandoned

so soon after reaching that bright star

day or night shining

not enough rest until now

body reprimands him for not caring enough

the rest can’t wait the phone ringing

will go unanswered

when double occupancy achieved

even if only for a few present hours

a couple of extremely happy people

greater connection than one would imagine…

who created it

are they going to poison

everyone of us

with mail

only a couple got the letters

those who were

trying to show restraint

the patriotic wave

who is at fault

who created the poison

for exactly this purpose…

another comfortable month

jumping from one idea

to another thought

so many times before full

of nothing but doubt

the feeling will arise

this time is different

when the clock strikes two

or three strikes and he is out of luck

followed the trail to his house

on the hill side growing flowers

under constant light

the darkened planet he inhabited

alone for so long expelling negative

energy better spent on the positive

side of things started simple smile

unfolded the story keeping him reading

and writing he can’t remember

most of the time not spent

thinking about the next step

focused on the present step

present moment wonderful moment

warmed by the rising sun

how many days now

making this month another

positive one…

moving madness without a sound

don’t really know how much

he can handle

bars bent and dripping

candle wax melting down

until it’s all but gone

smallest flicker

approaching darkness

drawn on the reflection

in the water like glass

staring through the darkness

falling down stairs

ends up back on his feet

somehow always finding

the same old seat

day after day seems like

a long drawn out afternoon

song to be sung but he forgot the tune

left with words and no music

to go along with words he speaks

can’t invent the song to  express

what he is feeling inside

and even if he fails or falls again

at least he keeps getting back up

moving madness without a sound

warning or some sort of sign

of what’s to come maybe around nine

when the lights get low

as the sun goes down

below the horizon

city of champions, brock-town…

hard to imagine

hard to imagine sometimes

things actually working out

out of habit expecting things to get messy

but those times look to have passed

like cloudy days with no sun in sight

now the sun is all he sees

even at night with eyes closed

imagining the feeling

until it is the reality

inside and warm tonight

usually cold on the outside alone

minding his own business

right there where eyes first seen

for some it’s hard to imagine

spending so much time in thought

he might try to find a comparison

but nothing will come close…

can't sit still

almost can’t sit still

boiling over with excitement

halfway across the room got noticed

each time shining like a golden fork

on the first night

watching out the window still

no questions yet still only smiles

hope they last forever

even if that is a very long time…

soon enough

waiting for the sun rise today

with blue sky shining from above

coming into a thought

has he been right

how many times

running out of the cold and into

the eyes of the sun rising

to hold warmth in arms

reaching all the way around this time

sun will rise soon enough…

how long will he stare

how long will he stare

at the page without

making a mark

out in space somewhere

thinking about other places

he might want to be

if he wasn’t here pondering

his next move and then another

thought springs him to action

not guaranteed but expected

standing crooked at times

still as tall as he can be

without a fall how long will he stare

into the empty coffee cup

will the waitress notice his downward stare

deep breath sitting upright

the signs might say run and hide

he knows the answer is not that

but to stand tall against any obstacle

until it falls faster and harder

than he can imagine…

toast the day

it’s a blue black sort of darkness

starts to take over

head down whatever road

rolling listening to many things

stuck in between hours of the day

number too many at times

not enough to complete a thought

far away from a smile

two meet at a spot again

back for another blue black night

only so long before the sun rises

to warm the chill of early morning

new light after the darkest night

serves to protect at least

a few hours so precious

a stone shimmering like eyes

and ocean under one of those

magnificent sunsets witnessed alone

no longer lonely nights escaped

through cracks in the ceiling fan spins

circles form in front of eyes

close repeatedly seeing what another

might never see straight across the sky

like a bird carried by wind

whipping dirt about the ground

trembles in the new cold

created by a falling season of change

gathered enough to get coffee

for the regulars who never sleep

like him and unlike him at the same time

their ideas hidden and his exposed

keeping it warm winter hat wearing

before it is time to bring out the gloves

to go another round for all those still

remain sitting only one raises

the glass to toast the day…

...or reason

can’t pretend he’s not a little

lonely today but most everyone

doesn’t want to hear it

and neither does he

but the one without the choice

while others can simply walk away

from the flaming bird

headed straight at those who would never

expect a delay in service

suspended until a complete investigation

has begun again

as if no one knew

vision of beauty outside

after rain in the sun as it sets

in the rocky mountains

brother guru in the hills

discussing happiness and how

one day it will just appear

and it did not like those

whose name he might spell backwards

for no apparent reason but to build

strength in solitude some may in fact

misunderstand because he’s been called

a walking contradiction but who isn’t

changing constantly is still the same

if done long enough in the same place

same time same words no rhyme…

naturally flowing

under three shirts

it is almost too hot

the idea taking the weekend

to analyze the amount of effort

really fortunate at this moment

under the blanket he ceases to dream

continues to live through rapid

movements of the pen

tightly gripped poised

and ready for the next thought explosion

under half clouded skies

thinking of some beauty

some miles away portraits painted

and installed inside the mind

under the impression that the street

finally two way allowing for the commute

naturally flowing to that

comfortable place…

been so long

maybe he is afraid

because it has been so long

since he has had this type

of attention paid his way

maybe he just doesn’t want to drop the ball

and lose it all before

realizing what all this really means

maybe he doesn’t want to be disappointed

maybe he just has an unbelievable

amount of patience stored up from

all those past mistakes

turned into lessons in life

in losing in leaping recovery

road to over-standing everything

maybe it’s because it’s just been so long…

set up

he wants to scream

it out so loud

he has learned hardly

anyone is listening

and no one really cares

half the time

he might freeze right there

in the line of fire

might consume us all

what if he is just profit

for the money makers

what if we are all

being set up…

leaves haven't changed

the leaves haven’t started

to change the flat tire

on the side of the road

less travelled

and because of this

no one will pass

and offer a hand

in the solution to his

slow down and come

to a complete stop

the madness

building for hundreds of years

and could this time now

be the end days

like they say

filled with all that is ready

to destroy freedom

as we think we know it

it’s got to come to a head

at some point a limit

will be attained

one that cannot be surpassed

and even the educated ones

will buy the stories told at eleven

on the news filled with commercials

advertising things

none of us really need…

(strange pop-up on my computer

for gas masks as I write these thoughts

wonder what that could mean…)

sunshine smiling

with the pen Henry walked tall

proud to say some will read his words

never knew they cared enough

he knows he still doesn’t know

if they really care enough

it’s Saturday afternoon

and Henry’s got absolutely nothing

to do and because idle hands tend to

get themselves in trouble

he strikes up a conversation with the pen

on page a hundred miles away

clouds come and go back to clear skies

sunshine smiling from some distance

away back to days when simplicity reigned

king in the corner of each page a number

and how long it has taken

him now to reach back and draw

the line which no one shall cross…

hate our bombs

smoke only half as much

now that the story is told

how many times now

be careful better yet

mindful with poetics

or that thought randomly placed

filled with anger

in a specific situation

as it burns a hole in the mind

some say ridiculous

ashamed of the history

instantly branded anti

but shouldn’t we make sure

and question the intelligence

supposed to protect all of us

checks and balances so that

no one within the system

is too powerful and controlling the rest

everyone instead grabs a flag

and parades around the street

as if the war on terrorism

needs to be celebrated

tear it up by the roots

and some of the evil lies

under the lies they use against us

making us believe the rest of the world

is filled with jealous ones aimed

at destroying our way of life

can’t anyone else see that the leaders

are all naked we don’t worship

their invisible robes

so they have to invoke fear

trying harder with each story told

to scare us into submission

and someday tanks will patrol

the streets then what

wish someone said something back then

but it’s not too late now

are there are real terrorists though

most definitely

but do they really hate our freedoms

personally I think they hate our bombs more

and our ignorance to the empire our military

has built around the world…

world spins crooked

whipping around corners

as if he doesn’t care

the world spins crooked

he has his head tilted

as he looks out

the smoke stained windows

into the busy street

stomping over cars

passing thoughts and

all the ideas forgotten

like soldiers on the battle field

or out in left field now

his ideas got his mind cramped

with thoughts bottled up

as the glass siding finally cracks…

reflected off the full moon

its never the right time

for it all to come full circle

the desired answer to the questions

everyone might ask

and you might just find out

what you need to know

know him then and now

under new light

still never the right time

for him to be right

around the corner

comfort he feels everyday

night when sun reflected

off of the full moon

rising now as if it has something to say

no words to describe the thoughts

swirling in and out of time

no space can contain

the weight exceeds

all normal limits merely a guide

can he even hope to measure up

what is desired not always what

might be necessary

escaping the cell he locked

himself into another thought

abruptly not noticing those who fall off

can’t keep up at this feverish pace

so relaxed at times you would think he was asleep

truthfully explaining the mind

if asked but never asked

recently left desolate eventually

maybe the record will discourage

he still never considers failure an option

never expects the worst

he is always doing the best he can

even if it’s never good enough…

probably better off

it just isn’t that simple

to think it’s all about him

whoever he might be

has he even explained

what is going on here

it just isn’t that easy

pen to page and explode

and have another take

thought is serious

just isn’t always clear cut

some may speak of things

but it is about the thought

and the struggle to understand

it isn’t that easy to pretend

to be something else

when he is trying to figure out

what it is he is

nine out of ten don’t even know

and they are probably better off…

caught writing

gives him the confidence

put it there for others to see

what might they think

only matters if it’s what

they think not what

everyone might deem important

creator of thoughts

grouped together

forming disjointed stories

if stretching out from end to end

one could see the entire story unfold

riding the wave at a height

once thought impossible

must started it must be done

until it is done

or he is no more a thinker

than anyone else

he is the one caught always

writing it all down…

harder to breathe

midday sun light

shining through dusty cracked shades

drawn so no one can see

into the mind

made up to create all day

everyday little time to write

no interference plunging

into depths immeasurable

light guiding the way

to the surface skimming

along collecting evidence

and thoughts constructing

a masterpiece in the verbal fashion

standing aside if he has to

in order for everyone important to pass

standing in the shadows

hoping not to be noticed

and at the same time stand out

in the crowd and no one can explain

the minimum that a crowd can be

here now still circling the mind

what’s to find deeper

under thought flipped into a twist

contorting what it once was

easier to pen the thought

harder to breathe…

maybe he dreamt it

felt as though

he might not matter

because status seems to

and how much dirty green does

today a ring runs away

maybe he still doesn’t matter

as much as he had hoped

maybe he dreamt all the conversation

before sunrise he stands

a little bit more careful

sometimes compliments

can be delivered with razor

blades attached

somehow he has to figure it out…

turned quickly

who’s going to say

what now that words printed

on white pages

turned quickly

looks like someone is running

out of time

stands still silently

pointing out similarities

and differences matter

less with each moment

passing quickly

eliminating any fleeting

thoughts of doubt

in sincerity…