Thursday, October 12, 2017

A Shot Rings Out

A shot rings out, echoes through the canyons of buildings
Rolls through the ground
Another person dies, another crowd

How many dead, lost count
300 mass shootings in as many days...
Another Mom gone, and another daughter dead
Another man, someone's baby, red.

And we spend our money building prisons
And closing schools
Which would give skills to earn a living...
Other than cheating, stealing, lying  ..killing..

Another shooting 200 injured
Gun Control being gutted
Health insurance being gutted
Mental health funding gutted
Social Services being gutted

It's almost like big-government, big data, and big money
Don't care about the people that are creating their value
In their money, but in their bills, too
In their bills, but in their house
In their home, but in bed, too.

The wealth of nations' resides in its humanity.

Friday, October 6, 2017

Tryst Twixt Cupid's Psyche

My Psyche with beautiful wings
Dances with the couches
Reading books and playing games
Plays all day with the dogs of Diana
The sheep the cats the horse
Brings dreams to Cupid
To forge into arrows

My Psyche can't sing, can't dance
But she's beautiful in the meeting
The hot dish, the cup of coffee
Her body sings in my blood like honey wine
While reading _poems to f*ck by_
And her wings take her to eternity

Narcissus even fell in love with her beauty
But she left to play in forest wild
And his will left alone
Gazed on his body, it was something,
Until he was struck with vanity
And binded yellow and dumb.

My Psyche I would suffer mockery
For her kind heart does not know why she laughs
Does not know cruelty
My Psyche I am in love with
And hope to steal a billion kisses +1

My Psyche is a beatiful rose
Meant to spread her glory
Reaching into heaven's sky
With roots in hell
To bring love to worlds' story

My Psyche is another love I cannot compare
And I hold her dear
Oh, to hug her in my arms again
To feel her body heat
To feel her heart beat
To press her lips against me
I should love my Psyche, with butterfly wings.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

You Don't Write, You Don't Call... don't you love me!?!?

Where do people go when they work
The hive eats them up
Borrows them while they're out
Finds them returning
Gives them  back to the world

Where do people go when they die
The dark eats them up
Borrows them while they're down
Finds them when busy
Gives them back to the universe

Where do people go when they laugh
The joy eats them up
Borrows them while they're bored
Finds them when light
Gives them back to the joy

Where do people go when they love
The fire eats them up
Borrows them while they're lonely
Finds them when surrounded
Gives them back to their family

Where do people go when they're anal
The pedantic eats them up
Borrows them while they're critical
Finds them when they're awake
Gives them back to the asshole

Where do people go when they read
The focus eats them up
Borrows them while they're spelling
Finds them while they're concentrating
Gives them back to the library

Where do people go when they flow
The role eats them up
Borrows them while they soul
Finds them while they're creating
Gives them back to the woald

Friday, September 22, 2017

And When My Mom Left

And when my Mom left
The cellphone stayed on
And sat there wondered
How to tap into that connection
But try not, do. and I did

Wonderfully, Amazingly
To find myself in Heaven
With a Pocket full of movies
And lightsaber by my side
While the Devil and Angel battle

I'd.. finally'd... seen... the first scene
Of yesterdays fair play, though suspected day
And scripts was playing, perhaps season finally, today,
Caught in the middle of two chessman, until board,
And let loose light enough to knock the devil down.

The series between heaven and hell,
And finally caught the first episode.
And still I wonder what curosity caught me...
To initially listen to hip-hop and chill,
'Cept, it's great when it's conscience.
Fun night, I smiled, briefly, but don't usually.
Found a trip light, and laying on the ground.

Just thrown in.  I was just thrown in about ankle deep.
A different life I had to learn in and swim.
But now I got an apartment that keeps me...

And when my Mom left the cellphone stayed on.
And on and on and on.
My Dad though, frustrates me, as he ages younger
I get upset with him, though he says very little
It's always hard to do everything oneself,
When everybody knows what one should be doing.
Plus, what one has to do for him or her self,
When they just criticize you for it.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

The Moon Rock that Pined

A love of mine
Has never felt closer
She walks with dignity
In the world of dirt that is life

And yet, I've never felt lonelier
Or more isolated
That.. isolated, from opinion or judgment
But also just from the messy thing life is
That I've studied...
That I am...

Like a piece of moon rock,
I reside sterile and forgotten
Having been ejected from some cataclysm
To rest on ground upon some forest floor
Non-plussed with the sticks and close views
From each of my nearest neighbors

There isn't a we, here
There is a me, but I rot here
With the rain and snow
With the sun and the thunder
Slowly splitting to dust
An ancient relic of foreign lore
An ancient wisdom, too

And this little moon rock
Feels alone
While a maiden nearby
Forages for her rock garden
Having passed me by
For easier, cheaper, stronger, better

But I come from the stars
I have watched nebula explode
I've seen the rise of man
And continents collide
I've lit up the night
And rest now, watching empires
Of ants marching along a deer trail
For the love of a queen and a scent

I wish I had a love of my own...
!For I am Moon Rock!
With a longing so alone for companionship
_Unrequited... Even_
As I rot to rubble, under a leaf by a beer bottle,
In the great Emerald Empire of the carpenter ant.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

For My Food is SPARTA!

My house is still after long nap
Oddly the dreaming continues
And the conflict..
    Takes presence.

An old arguement resurfaces
As I peel a tomato into my bowl of rice with rosemary
Diced.
And the food has centered me.
Grounded,
Cleared the agitating smoke
       From within my room.
Without having digested a molecule of ATP
Without really having absorbed anything, yet.

Somehow knowing I'm o.k. is enough
While I'm not waiting for it to be o.k.
Okayness is on it's way
Where I'll meet it, with a bigger belly.
And my mind is calmer, and seeking comfort.

Is that heretical?
To seek comfort.. calm... silence..?
It totally isn't.
Just like fun in of itself isn't a sin,
Or a laugh somekind of putdown.

Its the quiet, at ease with itself, Night
That spreads rest at no cost to one
The relaxed activity that says why bother...
Comfort, that boon of health,
Even the sick have an ounce or two of,
And the cool night has enough to shake a stick at
While the crickets mark it's passing tide of calm.

How ridiculously harmonious
Should I have a small bowl of rice and tomato
And two slices of cheese every supper,
Would my time always feel velvety?

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Memorandum

Not much to say to an empty room
But I just saw a man and also a woman
Shrivel to death instantly
After placing a small amount of sand
Into their mouth.
Sounds like a plot bunny

Their bodies blew in the beach wind
Away rolling up the hill and away
Over and grey, clothes tattered and frayed
Until a man came to say you must rest on packed earth
"Because it's hard!" he claimed as I poked my finger into it
Leaving a hole, and scooping up a chunk to show
Him how soft dirt really is, packed or not.

Was he another of the kind of nefarious creature
Whom abhors the taste of Earth in their mouth?
Another, whom dirt is poison Extreme! too potent to portend
Too real to be mitigated?
And what's up with his need to make me uncomfortable,
If I just magicked him up to keep me from being lonely

I've heard the calling Reason on the borders of this world
Whispering, "come back, you're too sensitive"
Whispering, "come back, these are your imagination"
Whispering, "come back, that is all in your head"
And I in my loneliness and humility have invented life Extrodinaire!
While some of the people I invented, hate me...
With long days spent undermining their priviledge to be here.

Forcing me to endure yet another day with people of my unchoosing
Though every therapist everywhere for all eternity will claim otherwise.
That I do have a choice! I have a choice...
It doesn't feel like it, just as one does not choose the family they're born into,
Or pick the genes one enters into lottery for.

But perhaps I live because it is one complicated environment
Hard and difficult for whatever seeks to devour me as food
With lots of hard to reach ideas and books within which to hide
And I in my fecundity, will outsmart the naysayers,
Like a crow, and enmasse...  To one day feed on them, whom eat on me.