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…

another heavy

taught many things

one being compassion

others include respect

and understanding

love will conquer all

of that I am certain

the path has been showed

and now the guru is gone

meditating with a picture

of green tara four noble truths

burning fires in the heart and soul

like an eternal candle

seeing with clear light vision

beautiful yogini

goddess of the realm of truth…

sit down talk non stop

the girl has not stopped

talking since she sat down

reminds me of days passed

a few people in the history

of this life strange memory

brought up as girl talks on

and on still talking

right through as food arrives

is eaten and table cleared

still talking so glad to be sitting

on the other side of the room

watching her friend squirm

and you can tell he is ready to go

she isn’t done talking

I think the building could burn

to the ground

and she wouldn’t stop talking

then and now

everyone is becoming annoyed

with the snow

remember it being so much worse

cars stuck where we were

at the beginning of knowing you

so much older then

not much younger now though

guess the good ole days

but so are these

think it strange

when change happens sudden

all at once snow comes

as we stand under the orange sky

similar to then wondered

would we make it together

here we are

together similar to then

but now…

its a sign he says

faith hope and love

the only three everlasting things

none of these things are tangible

he truly believes he is the embodiment

of these things and he says he is not alone

he sees everything as signs

that this is true

and he will be resurrected

son of a man putting him back

to nineteen seventy

super-bowl Sunday at noon

time for him will become

a rerun of the passed twenty-nine years

he sees this reality deeper than

the one he sits in

he is right in his mind

and no one can argue that…

winter hat does no good

it looks like a wig

but stands strong

in the wind

as it almost blows away

all my thoughts on a voyage

out west with her she carries

her book by VC Andrews

under her arm never read

but heard of the flowers

with me a notebook

and a pocket full of pens

only time will tell

most definitely not a wig

at second glance

she doesn’t even know

this pen dances about her

being here in this place

young like me might be too young

to understand the potency of words

so much happening

in short time sitting

watching three men

figure out the bill

wondering what she reads

and is easily distracted

by all that is going on

nervously tapping her cigarette

into the ashtray

not even realizing the lit part

fell off into the glass

always wondering

about what it all means

knowing that a winter

hat does no good

if its not covering the ears…

wander alone

travelling to a spot

people known

and some once knew

seeing some of the things

others might see through

watch as the worried man

wanders far from home

wondering about his thoughts

as he kicks the dirt alone

when do we find ourselves

swimming in confusion

searching our reality

and moments of illusion

cannot imagine beyond the sky

as the light illuminates

that same winter sky

worried man still lost

mind swimming in a sea of doubt

might not even consider

what it is like to get out…

when I get there

starting with the little hand facing down
to the bottom of the cup I never finish
what I start too
get relaxed and enjoy the space created
something as unbelievable as space
and all the planets in the sky
it simply is what is above us high
what we see is so much more than that now
beginning with an end
the search and the beginning
right now and when I get there I will write
counting backwards until the day arrives
bells flashing lights ringing
out for the freedom lost
my spot at the top when I fell
from darkness to light eyes closed
on all negative emotions flushed out
with affirmations strong
wind up from below the bow breaks
into so many pieces
the space we create
from what we are
not what we see
and when I get there I will write
explaining my departure
as a means to an accomplishment
to let you know I will
not stop again this is serious
in my consideration given
last thoughts can’t explain
envelope containing it all
will make sense when I get there
I will write…

Venus & Jupiter

twin lights higher than

the cirrus of 630
a deep green almost black
it becomes the face
for these far away eyes
clouds frame
the perfect moment’s picture
all other thoughts drop
as quickly as these two appear
night of two lights beaming
stumbling over the blanket
dancing above the neighbors trees
two lights again becoming the night’s eyes
rarely these two lights nearly eclipse
a grand prix of thought leaving
skid marks on my mind
stopping starting enjoying
the painting in the sunset sky…

as for the poets

only knowing one or two

reading many hearing some

it becomes my meditation

how many just sit and write

for hours with no plan

no idea where one thought

will lead to an endless flurry

all starting from blank page

blank mind

some may have found a muse

or a situation that they become

through words

sometimes I think I know

and then I don’t know

which end is up

when it comes to the poets…

sat nam

broken cigarette
on the ledge
and I won’t go back
to where I stood
broken and ready to plunge
shallow grave in pavement
no more destruction
sat nam
and I accept
what I have been given...

changing as well-intertwined

love watching
the changing sky
night day whenever
it’s always changing
when I find myself
watching I realize
I am the sky
changing as well
watching a devouring of food
and a misbehaved child
noodles hanging out
of his mouth have faith
got to have it he says
and I wonder how
the kundalini experience
and faith go together
like milk and orange juice
to me but he must know
I think staring back at the child
how unfair the life he has been dealt
doesn’t even understand yet…

bombshell eyes

the train ride
was extra long
and the man
told us we made
a good couple
“she’s my sister”
I said
“what a bombshell!”
he said
and I saw her blush
but I knew
he was a complete stranger
and it made her
a bit uncomfortable
he was asking for money to buy
lunch and he smelled strong
of cigarettes and booze
wondering quietly if the lunch
was to go along with his
leather jacket and new nike
sneakers maybe they were
gifts who am I to judge
digging into my pocket
I handed him all
of my change and a dollar
it wasn’t much
but I didn’t feel bad
knowing my sister
seemed relieved that he was gone
then his eyes returned
from across the car
as ruby lights flashing and I hit the breaks
soul coughing as sister is asleep
almost home she looks like me
some say and I see it mainly
in our eyes we didn’t do much talking
observing together and
it’s as if we can read each other’s thoughts
keep a picture of her in my wallet
watch as she grows but the eyes
always the same and freaky
when I see the same eyes
catching mine in the glass…

haven't burned out

haven’t burned out all of the wax
stands strong and burns bright
tirelessly without pressure
letting it flow smooth
surface created from the rough
edges shrink with soft light
shining for all of us
come close to burning out
at times it gets so hard
to keep on keepin’ on
and the bird still sings
it’s song and though the day breaks
the night falls hard more often
than not the same hidden thought
found again returned
to where it belongs…

lonely soldiers

the lonely soldiers
brigade has assembled
by the side of route
one two three
here we are together
once again
the youngest member
got my card to prove it
can’t imagine what the
outsider might think
a little bit strange
and in some cases beyond
help and or consideration
one woman here is named
Bunny and I never heard her speak
she keeps the same crooked grin
only changing expression
when she sips her coffee
or takes a drag from her butt
Winchester can’t get comfortable
in the wooden chair
can’t stop talking loud
eating plain crackers
and smoking filtered cigars
and passing gas so loud
laughing and excusing himself
at the same time
his right hand is always shaking
Joe is philosopher of the group
staring at each person as he speaks
out loud to himself
loves the beauty of nearly every
woman and he is never wrong
in his thought somehow directly
connected to jesus christ
he says and gambles every
dollar he has
I just observe the lot
dwelling in my own solitude
and suffering as well
no better no worse
and just as pensive
more in touch with the world
around us because I work
the meeting place is a stop
along my journey through the day
not my final destination everyday
all the lonely soldiers might
someday end up here
answers might never arrive
but all are willing to stop by
just in case they do…