we'll see

called all I know and
no one is home
most will sit back
he's hidden up in the dome
lights on he will
drive all over town
can't get caught up
in the confines of being down
for whatever
can't find one to talk
the wind blows through
the trees at night I stalk
from the porch
to yard in between thoughts laid
out for him to see
all the thoughts I have made
some progress even
if I don't notice
ink on the arm
peaceful thoughts flower lotus
moon is
the scent in the air
dreaded locks
are in my hair
might all fall out
someday not worried about that
what did ya do last night
they asked, I just sat
and tried to understand
the creative side of me
what's to come
in a month or so
wait and soon we will see...

missed a day

missed a day in more
than one sense of the words
all jammed up for a day
in the life two days
can't move fast enough
a solitude I can't seem
to see my way out
of the mind and onto
the page after page
love it how ink sprays
paper so randomly
like the words that form thoughts
when read by many
if any randomly scattered
thoughts tattered thoughts
how many have this kind of time
and would chose to do something
constructive with it as a goal
as a light at the end of some tunnel
destined to do good
missed a day but who would miss it
switching to a less obtrusive method
of madness in pen out pouring thought
soaring and searing the page under it...

grind out

on a break from
the grind
out another ten pages
instead of stacking
fruits stacking thoughts
sitting in the car
the only place
to find some quiet
too much smoke
needing to clear the air
all around
four days until
something to look forward to
time off from the grind
out more thought
drop it onto a page
when most just sit
and watch the tube...

morning's first light

only for your eyes
waiting to meet
mine again exploding under foot
thoughts of not letting
the knot slip away
lose the loose grip
on reality possessed
great patience writing
about morning's first light
in July then September
finally came and I never
expected to hear the voice
and now more true
inspiration like wind in the trees
through cracks in window panes
through tree branches still
cluttered with wet leaves
that haven't fallen as I have
from the curb of the road
time and time again
impatiently waiting on morning's
first light it's November and
everyone I know is a Scorpio
on the opposite side of the zodiac
I wait for the perfectly imperfect
match and that first light
might lead in that direction...

14 hours in the dark

who would've guessed
paths crossed for no apparent reason
years ago at the most unsuspecting
place where he always drinks too much
luckily it was only coffee
might have made things different
had it been alcohol glad it wasn't
for his sake and all those around him
anger would no doubt swallow him
whole time he was here writing
down some thoughts
who would've known
anyone would take any interest
enough to ride fourteen hours
in the dark...

thoughts he thinks alone

making up for lost time
all in one day
he might get understood
until then he will move a pawn
in a defensive position guarding
a queen he hasn't seen in years
constant pen movement
leaves his arm throbbing at times
too complex for his own simplicity
watches the ink in the pen dwindle
after only one day of use
only to those who might well
think this much
as the well is too deep
for any of his wishes
to even be heard
an hour goes by too fast
under smoke when it burns
the eyes are all dotted lines
signed crossing bridges and t's
when need be silent like he
has been here too long
he thinks his thoughts
alone one day
it will pay off and balance
achieved right in the middle
of a lonely month
relief might well
arrive with dawn...

really real

not too cold to sit out on the porch
best thoughts captured here
fifty books later what have I learned
of myself seen many artists
work the hardest knowing their best works
completed alone without intrusions
solitary like this mind
night after night
and maybe everything will
work out for the best
still doubting that any of this
is really real makes for a non stop
thought slam one into another
and get a flow going
never slowing down
for all the road bumps
like an expensive stereo
in a car too small...

no one to count on

bringing with him others

who too might need to explode

onto page continuously

girl in a club off to the side

on the floor feverishly writing

only days from now

time shifts and nothing can be believed

spending the raining day in thought

rubbing the head

as if it could reveal

some truth will be revealed

only dread waits at the end

with a flash light turned on

he still doesn’t know the way

back to reality his pen strokes

are choppy writing may be sloppy

bringing with him thoughts

from all parts of the mind

play then stop rewind

play it again hear it another way

bringing with him all the thoughts

today tomorrow beyond Sunday

closer still to sorrow bring it up so high

he sits in a cloud as he jumps ahead

five days when he will shut off

the real world and exist only to himself

bringing everything he needs because

no one else is coming therefore

there is no one else to count on…

all the leaves should fall at once

the wind howls

as if it knew

what doom lies ahead

of the game until

new ruler took over

who elects who knows what

all the leaves should fall at once

it would make the pick up

a little less on the back

looking up into cold rain

and it’s November

that’s probably a song

he wouldn’t remember

if he heard it before the storm

took over at least it’s not snow

would slow down this fast

paced race to nowhere

no matter where he is today

more himself today than previously

believed he would be saved

does he even deserve salvation

as he knowing or unknowingly

follows the script reworking daily

the details contained within pages

with no excuses straight out the brain

who else would just hope

to reach one or two who can definitely

the leaves fall randomly

with no pattern emerging

every fall individual

wind howls different

for everyone… 

will pound the mind

how many nights

will pound his mind

back into shape

trying to pull the wool

off eyes in order

to see clear the table

for new thoughts

set up to be knocked

down like no other

voice can be heard

but the one who warns

of great disaster

is ignored by the multitudes

knowledge suppressed

to keep the flock

in line together

conquering the fear

of being misrepresented

by those who make

the rules we all must fall in line

follow the lead the mind

to freedom, the only freedom

not stolen while we are all

sleeping…

case closed

he doesn't play
well with others
but we are people of the earth
all sisters and brothers
some would hope
not but there's only
one race it's the one
called human
completely closed
is the case...

air is exhaust fumes

then who will carry the torch
sit here on the porch
light dim
future still grim—
ace held in the hand
don’t know where to land

safely without trouble
hardest pitch and still hit a double
off the wall
into the cell crawl
on the belly as if a snake
still holding the corner down like a tent stake

medium well, just like well, but a little better
sell all the stock and enjoy the calm weather
or not vision is clear
hoping the war won’t be nuclear
random thought non stop
from rock bottom down low somehow on top

of the world as if in Tibet
peace still something unseen yet
no one despair
some of the answers still blow in the air
is exhaust fumes in a future that’s dark
new world map with no room for a park

all just little pieces in a machine out of control
the ladder is miles high still can’t escape the hole
world’s crazy don’t even have to say it
it is the rich man’s game and the regulars won’t play it
for much longer leaders back peddle on tough words
maybe fearing the anger of the herds
of truth seekers who just won’t shut up
they knocked it over, it was full and our cup
holding liberty safe inside
spilled to the floor then swept to one side
too busy at work
or watchin’ the game
but this one’s important tell them
NOT IN OUR NAME. . .

hope it rains from now on

hope it rains from now on
condemning their decision
to wage war
let the politicians fight
give them the guns
who will suffer but
regular people just like me and you
everybody hardly represented
rather repressed called foolish
to think our interests are in order
how dare we dissent from public opinion
how dare we stand up for our rights
the interests of the people
need to be priority
who pays for the war
the people
who fights the war
the people
who dies in battle
the people
instead stand for peace and solidarity with the people of the world
the war mongers
should be banned from the land of the free
should be subject to their own harsh
war mentality
should be forced to reveal the truth...

nothing concluded 123

words that work

they don't know what he means

no offense intended

pliable mind bended

into positions

he won't soon understand

holding the future

in the mind from the hand

spouting truth skin covered

in ink they can call him crazy

can't say he doesn't think

not satisfied with complacency

somehow he still sits

pushing thoughts into word's clothing

looks funny

behind closed doors

keeping thoughts from

becoming vocal pen creates

the pitch would you scratch

without an itch...

silence reveals noise

finally reached down deep

found some spare change

found a snack

something to get him over a cold

whether it sneaks in through

a screened window

the neighborhood’s silence

reveals so much noise

a few lonely crickets

and the distant hum

of the highway on the other side of town

finally reached and found it

what has been the blockade

no revelation need be found

the strength to plow through

the tool of choice

relaxation determination

in any situation…

nothing concluded 122

deeper as if it could get so low

solo journey

if he chooses to go

westward back to thoughts

that worked making others

think he knew it all along

the path he left it there

where some might care

or silently stare

at the knotted hair

smile and a frown make a nice pair

in the round room now

he thought it was square

nothing concluded it might be part three

something has intruded

tough shit it is still he

who put thoughts down

for others to think on

top of it now sturdy standing on

what he won't sink on

deeper below report from

unrealistic journey

alone nothing concluded

forget the caravan he walks

run tires and falls

asleep in the sand

sun burned back

he walks and realizes

it's a dream

does he want to get up

from where he fell from

nothing concluded

continuous thought

fifth year heard it right here

all thought nothing clear...

no fire for miles

when did I get like this
is a recording by hand
what I have been given
thought and a feverish pace
with which I write no wrongs
are intended for simple and or
persuasive purposes
with no regard for another
but there is no one there
so how am I wrong
to be self involved
the only self here with which
to be involved at all
this must be stopped
all at once stones thrown
smiles to the face
waited until I turned
walking away got hit by rocks
from weak throws who knows why
probably upset over something trivial
but still when did I get like this
much criticism will break me twice
just to be sure I am broken
trying to stand every time
I fall back another step
until I am so far from what I meant
to say was I can't find where
my friends went vanished into
thin air short of breath they think
it is the smoke but I know there
is no fire for miles of open road
been told many conflicting stories
won't just end when they are all over
they begin again thumping the table
to signal that I have had enough...

thoughts an open mind can't help

last thoughts on the liberties
we thought we had enough
of that servant/master
shit out of luck
might be the only way out
of the cold staring into warm eyes
might be the last time
we felt this way we rebelled
and we weren't the same
and we might not include enough
to do any good to come will come
in such small pieces no one will notice
as liberties fade away
the sunlight in the sky
after sun has set belly full
we are still hungry for what
they tell us we already have
history to prove our voices
must be in tune nowadays
silence of difference of opinion
silence of dissent met with cuffs
then cell and trumped up charges
keeping bodies imprisoned
for thoughts an open mind
can't help but want our forefathers
to send a sign that liberty
won't crack under the weight
of a war hungry regime
obedience dressed up like security
and it's not quite Halloween
what in the world do you know
about that time when something
has got to give us all a little truth...

some will argue

some would argue with facts
because something greater
is at work behind closed doors
the war machine spins propaganda
so say it ain't so normal citizens
need to follow the law or face
consequences it seems as though
there are some who are
above the law
some would argue
my country, right or wrong, my country
after hours searching through facts
and distorted history
might end up more
confused even when
less ignorant do they
really believe all of us
are not paying attention...

dis-informed

been watching CNN
& MSNBC all day
wanting to be informed
with what is going on
in the world
every hour they talk
of evil and the weapons
of mass destruction
what about last year's evil foe
did the powers put that
terror to an end
have the terrorists been brought
to justice no one has been charged
tried or convicted
trying to take the approach
of an average working taxpaying
American citizen watching
CNN & MSNBC trying to understand
why another war must rage
and destroy innocent lives
ignorance can no longer be bliss
the public deserves to know why
wars will be fought in our name
from now on even if they are illegal wars
covert economic destroying operations
making the world hate
the average American's ignorance
trying to understand why our government
informs us today that the warning level
went down to moderate
just watching CNN & MSNBC
wondering if they are now paid
to try to keep us uninformed...

never ready

never ready to pack it up
and forget the pen
tearing at the page
never ready to shut up
or curb what's got to be said
no matter how unpopular
it might be never ready
to bite my tongue because
everyone can be bought
when it comes to silence
never ready to believe
it all at face value
have to investigate and report
findings in whatever
way is most useful...

regime changes

so much evil
at work
we just need to look
at it properly
what about the facts
that no one doubts
but facts that somehow
contradict what the powers
are telling us
we are not being protected
but globally victimized
by imperial powers
and the media denies
and denounces these claims
suddenly free speech
and disagreement are no longer
American liberties
enjoyed for how long
taken away for our own good
they have some brainwashed
and thinking we need to give up
liberty to maintain security
we don't get to make that decision
our elected officials betray us
and repeat the protection mantra
for our own good
shouldn't we be allowed to voice our opinion
be is support or unrest
that voice should never be silent
freedom cannot continue to be a cloth
they cover us with making us think
we have it so great while they stir up
hatred for us world wide
the people's voice is as important as ever
provided it doesn't fall for their slick lines
individual freedom is being labeled suspect
when it doesn't go with the flow
how are these true American values
how can anyone claim pride
under this war monger regime...

discovered

it needs to be discovered and
requires too much time for the average person
less than they would think
mental stamina needs to be increased
effort to move passed injustices before they become future precedent and
to combat blind nationalism and ignorance
condemn the real evil among us more
than one may realize
to reinvent the self and
think for a change...

it grows naturally

those thoughts we keep up in the mind
who do we think we are to dissent from popular opinion
always asking why and never willing to blindly accept
work to create
never allowing the mind to be controlled
have a place in the mind always for original thought
anything is possible and the opposite is true as well

those thoughts we keep up in the mind
who do they think they are taking our hard earned money
never using their power for the common good
work too much already got us to do more for less
enjoy the wealth us common folk provide
everything has a way of working out is the hope of allowing
solidarity needs to be taken from the trash
of by and for the people but somehow all kept working class fools
interests put on hold for another day
is the American dream realistic or
non existent like the freedom we hoped to always retain

social situations sometimes yield uncomfortable results
harmony only when peace actually becomes the goal
is it wrong to want what might be best for everyone involved
but some are always calling themselves more powerful
a change is necessary but no one can get along
myth replaces what we know to be reality...

understand temporary

most don't understand
because they accept the role
within the economy
and some will fight it
at every turn
the rat race into inspiration
escape the fists of greed
clenched around that almighty
dollar bill cages the mighty mind
only stays locked until
truth opens the door
and most don't understand
because that is the point
most won't take the time to understand
what it could be
or what it has already become
most don't understand
how expendable
how temporary we are...

can't find it anywhere

he walks around
all day like a zombie
waiting for something
to snap him
out of the funk
he is flat out mean
at times
to those around
the corner
wish he never knew
head down
keep walking
as if he knows
no one
maybe
on a day off
he will find peace
or rest
although he can't seem to find it
anywhere else
some might wait longer
torturing himself
as he can't find it anywhere...

closed eyes open

closed eyes light trapped
beats to some rhythm
with no sound
thud of the car door
cat sits and waits for my next move
closed eyes for a reason
digging darkness
like a good movie
or a song with all the words memorized

closed eyes recite the number
she remembers standing out in the crowd
closed eyes made the call
from far off now
returns in the mind one night
closed eyes sleep easier now
for some reason not as lonely
closed eyes not necessarily sad ones
time spent emptying the mind
of a days paid distraction
what's important

closed eyes can see from close up
someday soon it might make sense
roll over closed eyes
open and it's sunrise...

how the mind is spent

the smell of rain

refreshing everything

cooled down a bit

like the night

call on dawn

to put sun into eyes

open for all the beauty

of the perfect moment

of each day

when nothing can distract

from the only moment that matters

a pointless job too early

at least dawn blows a kiss

from the horizon

and realizing the reality of existence

being how the mind is spent

twisting and turning

thought it would only make sense

if written before eyes to judge

a life written out long hand

hiding the key that may unlock

that mystery within dawn

that perfect moment

turning darkness into light...

complex

hearing screams of pain and pleasure
not the physical kind of silence
it could be cut short or in a line
move forward faster
a line is drawn never straighter
now and then others will ask questions
with no answers
this being impossible he continues to type
while no one looks on
in awe or disgust the task at hand
remains ominous and no one seems to care
that much or at all
the funny numbers and letters spelling nothing
meaning full of thoughtbut that’s it just thought
not necessarily anything elseconnected to the words
spoken outside the book looksas if it would be normal
who knew it would get complex this fast…

full of something

there are so many words
never spoken to one who has listened
so intently to what he thinks
he has got a good idea but
by the time it is verbalized
it's weeks later and the sun is down
waiting for dawn to arrive
sits in the dark with no smoke
time alone and he would be a hermit
if he didn't have to work
48 hours a week
way to spend the time
dribbles away and some days
he feels so old and others
young and full of life
or something no one wants to talk about
those who see him daily
may not give a shit but
one far from here
feels the same...

it's sunrise again

the sun rose this morning again
the dawn only on his mind
and clouds cover the sky
and a hat covers his head
into the mind flows beautiful
memories a smile now
hundreds of miles away
would drive to see the sunset
and sunrise again
dawn right before eyes
for now only a wish
waiting to be fulfilled
like an obligation to comment
on the perfect parts
split separated for hours
then months pass without words
found one afternoon in a phone call
unexpected like the weather
when the TV stays off all day
and night molds his thoughts
to fit into these books
whether anyone realizes it or not
satisfied with a job
as a label of life for now
his life is collecting thoughts
and dropping them here
the sound of the sun rise has a name
and the memories are as beautiful
as the face it reminds him of a place
he no longer lives for what's to come
only for the moments he has stacked
in front of him like pictures
to be viewed over and over
like the thoughts he collects
like someone else might
collect coins or sea shells
and what is all this worth
the time it takes to push it all
right into the stream of consciousness
debatable at this point day
dreaming of dawn
when sun rose
a memory snap shot
face beauty froze...

color of the day

the color of the day
before today seemed
easier than the night
before no one had
a clue how he knew
what everyone wanted
to ask how and why
does he continue
to move the same
spot as nearly ten years
ago standing as if
they never knew
idea to sit back and wait
for the truth
to come back to him...

see things clearly

it's not necessary to figure
it all out merely necessary
to see things clearer
Vincent sees as clear as any
of them but others
will cloud up the vision
and it's always beauty
laced with absolutely no interest
held here and maybe words
get read but left to write
or right then wrong
move and one by one pieces
get taken fighting off checkmate
as if it were a cold or the flu
it's not necessary to figure out
the whys and what for(s)
this years is the year of wasted pages
on insignificant speed bumps
circling the train of thought
times standing still
and eyes get crossed
and dotted tees never come clean
but vision cleared and the wonderment
is the same as it was the first
time around hoping to come close
to a smile connected to someone
who isn't walking in the opposite direction...

work another day away

and most of the time I am
my own worst enemy
constantly critical
over nearly every bump
call it a mountain and difficult
facing it proves easy sneak
a moment for myself
and waste it staring
into a blank book
filling it up with leftovers
from n Ohio call out of nowhere
coming somewhere at some point
reaching a comfort zone
missing the face of dawn
a new day's thought
little or no smoke today
to speak of above or below
the perfect three days
remember march two thousand
wished for the end of loneliness
replaced momentarily dawn's
shine woke me each morning
still my own worst enemy
not so alone take a step away
from the edge of whatever I might be
this time around dawn may be
the only witness nobody knew
but nobody asked
so it's no wonder to me
silence follows hours of workplace chaos
watching as they constantly
come and go sirens blare and engine
race getting closer to here now
then right on by thinking
of dawn he will already be back
at work another day away...

got his own reason

he's got his own reason
to struggle through the day
a sense of loss
and now more than ever
he has got to keep his hands
busy thinking over and over
about how he did it last year
woke up the next day with a deep breath
breathing more clearly than ever before
putting more concentration into it
like never before and never again
picking up where he left off
forget the rest he thought
he might take a few minutes
to gather these thoughts
thrown to the side
where once held tight
his own method marching
toward the cure but the air itself
feels thick enough to cut with a chainsaw
too much all at once
now blind to the obvious solution
comes in a bottle but he won't drink
so he has to tough it out
not to bother with the broken bottle
glass broken promises somehow
achieving the necessary security
when will enough be enough
he has is own reason to struggle
today head not in the clouds
concealing what he needs to be revealing
clues to a puzzle he will eventually solve
even if it takes his whole life
not wasting anymore...

lied to daily

things are extra quiet
today, what's the date he asks
everyone knows only one year
since and it already has
a holiday without an investigation
how can we properly mourn
if we are not willing to find out
the truth how many times
will they scare us with tragedy
before we realize the game
the official story will not stand
admittedly 'we the people'
are being lied to daily...

have faith in their agenda

just another day remember
whatever you want
but think for yourself
not the consensus driven
fear based thought
one lie after another
still not moving too far
and too fast it will effect
the balance found
at the end of the tunnel
but everyone wants to have faith
that our interests are their interests too
they have always had their own agenda
lies and denial and thoughts that would
never be believed are proved true
while tell lie vision keeps the crew
distracted eyes glued
as if brainwashed or hypnotized
or lacking the ability to think freely
like someone who teaches the youth
regurgitated lies...

last thoughts on this past year

nothing to do with holder

of pen to page thoughts explode

into fragments of what once thought

secure in thinking history

can’t continue to repeat itself

tearing through the thick reminders

tell lie vision brings for what

do they think any of us would forget

a changed world now

who can really be trusted to tell us

what has happened

crying wolf so many times

while the truth is constantly ignored

how is any of this considered civilized

have we learned anything

from the past or

are we doomed to repeat it…

very few enjoy

just seconds ago

closed eyes watch him fall

into space or a sort of day dream

in the twenty-third hour

and probably could have written

a bunch of numbers

but he has counted thus far

doesn’t anyone understand

and want to make a difference

instead of just accepting the role given

seconds turn into hours

a time not easily forgotten

most of what we learned in our culture

the rat race around every corner

a promise or mirage

some sort of trickery

to keep everyone just far enough away

continue to struggle for a dream

very few enjoy…

top speed

phone call would be

all he needs

at the moment

don’t want to talk

about them

everyone surrounds his idea

she may have kicked them all

back in line

waiting for something

nothing comes

barreling down the track

at top speed…

nothing concluded 121

the thunder not from

the sky above only white

clouds paint the blue day

off from the job

may in fact be only half done

forgotten like plans anytime

made night or day

never fail each time

falling off the wall

like clock no reason

just got tired

of hanging on to

the rusty nail

on the dusty wall

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 120

changes tune like the wind

changing direction in the trees

like fingers through the hair

the neighborhood quiet

mind out loud

still enormous raindrops

landing in the eyes

watery enough without help

struggling to breathe

plenty of air

around each tree a yellow

ribbon but the president

doesn't care

hard to think rationally

everything is confusing

the brain may

overload and spill over

ash trays shatter

when thrown to one side

or the other

how many nights left

until the wick is buried

beneath hardened wax

makes everything shiny

trapped as fruit in Jello

something fell over onto the floor

tripping falling getting

right back up

it's what life is all about

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 119

time and time again

bet he's said that at least

a hundred times when will

he learn to keep to himself

and stop talking to strangers

he's got nothing to say

and he enjoys

the solitude and can't

handle anything correctly

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 118

rejoining the scene

in progress many thoughts

splatter pages what does it all

mean rejoining the world

where we left off

a point long ago

when every moment

seemed to matter

none do or so he's told

we all just keep on

rejoining our lives

already in progress

(or digress as the case may be)

he knows he hasn't

missed much

he knows he has been wrong

too many times to contribute

guessing at what matters

most daily reassuring

himself with every step

on solid ground

still walking around

as if he's going

somewhere else might be

a little quieter than the back porch

tonight and it's almost

tomorrow again

and he's disturbed

that it keeps happening

quickly nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 117

twists in hair and in the road

a head be hind

how long has he been

walking in circles

when will he follow the road

everyone else seems to be

getting along fine

what's his problem

when will he cut his hair

and start listening

to those influential voices

the do know best

or so they say

nothing concluded

in the middle of Saturday afternoon

nothing concluded

all night and twice

tomorrow will bring new

thought he would be somewhere

by now understanding

the web his mind

spins like a spider ready

to feast on the catch

seeing the empty chair across

a dark table nothing concluded...

silently he comes and goes

silently he comes and goes
and suddenly he doesn't have to ask
at the store they recognize him
even with a different hat on
greeted by the same smile
might be the brightness
on a cloudy day
he meets how many smiles
but how many would sit and try
to decipher the thoughts
in this strangers mind
how many write down what
pages might stand out
from beginning to end
or flip it does it sound the same
as all the rest that might
actually waste his time
or could a new smile hold the answers
to questions he hasn't thought of yet
he will probably need something
soon enough to see another smile
when words praise his thoughts
he might squint at the shining light
being a complete stranger with a truckload
of thoughts packed in tight
they can be hard to understand
what do they find
those few minds that take the time
to look passed the complete stranger
appearance whatever eyes might see
changes when swimming in the thoughts
without even knowing most of the time
outside the sky constructs
a fiery painting his words cannot compare
there is no color only his mind
and his emotion pen page and strangers
eyes absorb his thoughts and
appreciate his randomness...

up until 2

up until two they all said
and now he is the only one
with eyes wide open and not worried
but a slight bit concerned
that he might fall asleep
forgetting something important
up until one thought someone
would at least be here now
but everyone is tired
the wine did go great with the company
might as well been hand selected
perfect mix
up until twelve
thought for sure
the trees would still be rolling
but quietly instead
everyone files to bed
by this time
and he is left up
until two alone...

vigil

he will keep the vigil
if he has to every night
it became illuminated
again when the guru
stepped back into the scene
solid footsteps on shaky ground
below might give way
under too much weight
it will change everything
like the weather in New England...

until they are all tired

proceeding making plans

to overcome the obstacles

a stagnating mind

puts in his way

back machine turned ahead

in time never late

but he’ll wait

until they are all tired

of their schedules

the rat race they run

into the ground seems

like everyone is digging

or killing for oil

isn’t going to keep the hungry belly full

more money for millionaires

‘who wants to be one’

they mock us all on

tell lie vision operation mind warp

spin of the day

distracting from the diabolical deeds

devastated and the popular ignorance

is obviously the plan

put in action before he picked up the pen

like an axe to chop through doors

closed to the people proceeding

making plans to make the best

out of life is our choice how it is lived

up to him what he writes

as the stagnating mind has kicked it

into rapid white waters

cooling the day’s heat

burning new ideas

with old hands…

it's amazing unquestioned

it's amazing how events

shape the days ahead

even when the reason seems

flawed facts flashed

in news bites

giving all what

they deem important

but leaving out the more disturbing

facts public outcry for

true justice seems to always

get smothered somehow

it's amazing the ignorance

is bliss meter rises to the top

everyone keeps on

like nothing matters

no one is trying hard enough

to find news from other available

means to escape the propaganda

machine spinning what we all need

to hear next following directions

out of fear and it amazes me that

so many believe all the hype

put the facts together on your own

make up your own mind

everyone is given the choice

follow the herds

or blaze your own trail

it's amazing all these voices

can be silenced

and this silencing can go

unnoticed...