silently stayed

some say they write with only emotion

a pain driving force just like the ocean

throw back a drink as if love potion

put it on heavy fair skin and sun tan lotion

always by the same window pen ready to go

it's the same old street whether rain or snow

seeing some things they may never know

stagnation won't set in it will only grow

as the short day's light will fade

forgetting all the mistakes made

can't even hear the song played

instead of going somewhere silently stayed...

so many years, by the minute

can't imagine what he looks like today
up all night thinking and breathing
deep into the dark nothing around
to quench his thirst nowhere to direct
his attention nowhere except up
to the pre-night purple soon to be black
as the inside of his eyelids
can't imagine the feeling not knowing
who's who what's what
who he is for that matter
what insanity whirled quickly
under white hair for fifty years
exhausted from standing knowing
it's what he is supposed to be doing
can't imagine being on a minute
to minute capacity to process information
he lived his life by the minute
for so many years...

shoe city of champions

wind blows street sand

and he's got a cut on his left hand 
him the pen and don't say when he can flow

when they don't even know

which end is up or down

chillin' right here in the shoe town

or city which ever they choose

so many dunkin donuts 
and places to buy booze

not many shoes 
stores still around

and as far as champions 
only the local kind found

himself on route 24

don't know where else to go
anymore of this same old place

can't go anywhere and not know a face

in a new direction make the correction

leads to resurrection of the self 
and who he might be open 
all his eyes with third eye vision sight see

a peaceful end to frustration

sudden blue lights
license and registration

merely a profile if you don't fit the mold

no discrimination between young and old

a new brand of a stone illusion

same state of near confusion

still balanced toes right on the edge

push him harder won't fall from the ledge

and into dark night only two floors up

he has had enough but give him another cup

for the road he sits pigeon toed

on the road and then it snowed

never as much as they say

anyway more days off for kids to play

remember then to way back when

he is fine where he is at no need to do it again

only dreaming no sights set on making millions

no need got it all living in the shoe city of champions...

extra couple of miles

then there are the days
when he has to go an extra
couple of miles away from
the scene of his life
made up of so many situations
sometimes the music doesn't
fit the mood he can't see how
they thought it would
somehow fix itself
for their sake but
thought has no choice it's there
only choice would be to ignore
how many can say they do
not go far enough
to clear the mind
just far enough
to sweep all the confusion
into one big pile
at least now the day is not
so cluttered thinking
and wishing to be further away
knowing it is not possible
at this time...

eyes cross

eyes cross everything thumps
like a headache approaching
full speed flipping over cars
like a movie star stunt double
take two then pass it on
keep it going and share it
with everyone yes blur then steady
enter dimension ten
if it exists and weathered the storm
rumbling below an immeasurable
amount of weight
stop pause then continue
fix eyes with new colors defined
in a book no one has read
does anyone really need my prayers
or an invitation to join me here
with crossed eyes and circle
the point to stress significance
position matters least of all
the sky always puts on a show
around this time around this neck
nothing hanging down
doesn't mean anything
except time to relax and stretch out
put out the flame burning
differences into minds as negative
differences only reveal positive
eyes cross and that’s all....

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...

failed with words

[failed with words (lost in
translation (stumbling over
temptation (feet first can't keep
his balance (his mind detaches
itself from the rest (failed with
words) and just like the rest)
swaying before the fall) frozen
in time) trying too hard) to create
the perfect song]
[failed with thought (the rain drenches
all of us(pounding thoughts
of sunshine through the thick gray
(voices needing to be heard above
all (bellowing through the 8th ocean
(failed with words) guidance brought
to a high point) from where silence held
a hand) staring upward in a cross legged
sit) still as a statue, inside moving
outside) trembling as the cold wind
moves through light clothing]...

one thought buried

[one thought (inside another,
aside (thought breaking—interrupting
myself again (tornado twisting everything
(branches from the same tree (one thought
buried) falling over and over) I thought I had
straightened it out once and for all) as long as
I am awake) break in some action) surfaces]

[seems strange (the muse (desperately
seeking the furthest star (looking for
answers (underneath it all (one thought
buried) we are all confused) flipping over
rocks)tar covering my wings, slowing
my flight) doesn’t see me) pushing for
the impossible to exist]

[return to the long hallway (wish he could
stand closer (inching away for fear
(totally paralyzed by the eyes (doesn’t
want to speak (one thought buried)
up to his neck with thought) crazy neck
feeling) it might be screaming) heart thumping
so loud he know it can be heard) he pokes
his head out to say good night]

[darkness arrives (with no hope
attached (cutting gravity’s fingers
(re-living memories for a glimpse
of total happiness (got it bad or
hopeless, just plain sad or
romantic (one thought buried)
descriptions received) laughing
at the thought) escaping) just a
simple end) too soon]

while others sleep

stumbling over piles
of books and pages
of thought with swollen
hands writing more
memories and thoughts
how many lost along the way
too many cold nights
and eyes finally showing years
of sleepless nights
while others sleep
while others hate working
the writer performs
deconstruction on the mind...

the emptiness

in a spot not so different

thoughts and memories

right here doesn't matter

who sat across the table then

no one does now

as night creeps away

from a thinker too much

on the mind studder

step to the door

it's closed and there's no sign

that help is on the way

off the point which was emptiness

in a spot so familiar

should have made it a point

to make more friends

they were here once

the tables had to be pushed together

to make them bigger

had to wait your turn to speak

so much to hear and how much went unsaid

doesn't matter who filled the void then

it exists now and a choice

sacrifice for the craft

not necessarily helping it along

in fact in someways impeding a flow

of new ideas and concepts...

lumps of paper

another end

lumps of paper

piled high

surrounding his madness

who will take the time

to get lost in what some

might consider banter

others might not have the patience

to get to the end

of another book of thought

just wants someone else to think

tell him what you think

or what you don’t know

or what he doesn’t know either…