We have packaged all the deals,
though they are combustible,
into a great bundle that congeals
for your dining and dancing pleasure.
Please accept a token gratuity
before we eat your lunch.
We surge, we merge, and urge you to
remain silent and uninterested
in our gradual debasement of all
you hold dear. Is that clear?
You are not covered in any policy
we hold, but also you are not covered
in oil. Be grateful, just fold.
We could clue you in, but we hope
you remain clueless. Stand over there,
there will be some nugget bits
plus chits for you to sign
before all dignity is gone, & you
are in a bind. Hey, there is still music
as you know, and we as yet do not control
all its flow. Night gathers us high above.
Do not look up. Do not cough. Do not
organize against us,
for the gloves will come off.
The distances have composed a message
that will continue to become clearer
as it rolls toward you, some days
silently, all oil and promise
and at other times the scraping
is overwhelming. Otherwise it blinks
like decaying neon on a roadside bar & grille.
Once Ruscha-like it dared resistance.
Hey, doc have the wheels come off?
We do fade in and out of coherence
as twilight approaches on its sliding
Potemkin boards of dismal science.
Placated by the tips of trees counted
out the windows flipping by on the ride
to dissolute summer and its relentless
beating against all tranquil defenses
brings to irresolution a quiet coma
and drinks at the picnic table. Light
chatter of no consequence follows the crumbs,
& bees, our knees touching to comfort our hearts.
The crowd roared for answers.The people, the people finally stood up for something.They finally stopped being stepped on and spit at. This dictatorial of democracy was nothing more than a reign of corruption.They all knew that their politics, their state, city, and town representatives where all BS. Hungry rabid dogs who ate from the hands of bribery and shit the remains on the people.Tax hikes, pay cut’s, job losses, all plagued which was once such a profitable and happy community.
At one time the people of this land held their heads high. They looked upon one another as a friend working towards the same goal. But those days have long deceased and the back handing from the government, the congress, the city, and state has left the once humble streets a war zone.
Families blunder and kill, not for riches or from insanity. But for food and water. The average man now travels to one of the few jobs available no longer with a briefcase and coffee cup, but a prayer and firearm. I have witnessed the changes in our community first hand. A downwards spiral that suppresses us and continues to do so. A man is only limited by his vision, and ours is dimming. The whole world is becoming the dim dark place that I always perceived it was, it is just that now every one else can see it. I guess at one time a world like this will be of the norm. The babies of now will have babies of then that will be raised in unforgiving times.For the next generation that inherits the bull shit of this one.Please, let me be the first to apologize.
I get called positive a lot.
“You’re a positive guy.”
Why does it sound like a racial slur when I hear it?
Like a show, applause thunders in my ear, the lights
Shut off and the theater empties out.
People shake my hand, tip theory hats but make
No move to join the number, or shuffle alongside. They travel aways, a way.
How to forgive a person his trespasses: believe in nothing with the belief that you are to expect nothing, and you’re crazy if you do.
I see the glare of impatience, the “yeah, come again, Charlie” roll of the eyes. The glad-its-not-me grin and stale nod of approval.
The theater’s now as black as pitch. The stage hands that lent to the glory
are now heading back to the Bowery cigarettes perched on bottom lips,
half-crushed packs in ripped back pockets, sucking in black clouds of reality.
They raise tattooed middle fingers in unison back at the poor bastard they left looking flush into the spotlight on stage.
Is he bound to make it? Then he’ll turn it off himself.
The one on stage hops off to watch who will take his place.
Turned out in the street are the dreams
That could do more washing dishes
For minimum wage. No more washing windows
Or panhandling.
The stories got too tiring, too much
Energy to be that convincing for hours on end
The dreams trick sometimes.
Close your eyes, see the dream. Open one’s eyes and your mind goes to sleep. A wall goes over
The place where it was so easy,
So easy to walk through: now it’ll take more than what you’ve got to make a new way.
A pretty trick that can be.
Opening up mind and eyes at once to step through. Whole. What dream is worth an arm, or a leg lost if you’re too slow getting through?
A long slow kiss, se lovemaking and a goodbye anecdote dreams away.
What do becomes a dream. What you have becomes.
Rough surface
purplish pigmentation
deep sores on pale skin
but whats underneath it?
does beauty exist where scars live?
do your hands touch without judgement?
i feel the sensation of the articles of my clothing against my skin
they could grow and attach themselves to my jeans
and when you would unzip my pants they would rip off one by one
and blood would stream down my leg
i screamed for a flash of a second
inside my jeans there would be those sores
still attached
still thriving off my insecurities
and not your hands
while your hand are on my breast
scabs creep their way off my jeans, laying on the floor
sometimes it hurts to walk
and the water running down my skin, it irritates it
it happens at night
under the covers
when you are next to me
my hands become shy when touching your bare skin
your eyes can see right through the cracks in my skin
a bad preview for what you are about to see later..
for what you are about to scream later.
are you ready
to catch incoming
or are you laid back
strumming
as the scene slides by
trip hopping
while you’re busy
mopping your unused brow
pick the one
that holds you up
take her hand
sup from that cup
that we all could share
if we owned more
than just a tare
the true weight being
just elsewhere
& forgive me this aside
detour as I approach
the next chore
of aligning the pieces
on the plate
to please the Gods’
& our ongoing skate…
Baited steps into the
places I have no recollection of
Lucky streaks have kept my
dawns from going dusk forever
I awake to the
illusion of walls and mirrors
And fall into a
trance of love and timeless becoming
Back to, and out of, this dream
I have wept over the bleak aspects
but have never been more enamored with
My patience for the meaning
My dawns and dusks give way to the
silent mornings I can think nothing of.
The laymen I am floats, basks,
And sinks into the novelty
Of this one
I could kiss you, and leave
My unabridged walking towards this
Heavy hearted me from a
Picture frame, now ordained as the
Box that I make my way around in, indefinitely
You turned out to be
Too much, for me
A real thing despite the, usual, illusory backdrop
Our surroundings cast the shadows of my disbelief
You – in depth in fire or flames
Can you blame me?
Deep breaths, scent of the places you’ve been, without me
Scare me, because pasts repeat
Your heart is mended in ways I can’t deem myself ready for
As you stand bare, revealing something so contrasted, somehow
In perfect unity
I want you.
You scare me
You’ll take all of this, and because of this
My feeling does not change, but
These off of cliff’s edges steps, you accompany
So I, return, this favor.
Forget what I have thought, and try to only consider
What you see in me
