Years

Time was, all the pieces fit
Every edge was sharp and piercing
Every surface shiny and smooth
Then the new time came
Bringing with it merciless erosion
That grinds and scuffs without remorse
Luster leaves not without struggle and
Resistance fails before the harsh wind

Delicious Dream

Adrift on a sea of butter
With no oars for my biscuit boat
The hungry sharks are confused and blinded
As they're basted on the hunt

Don't Forget to Breathe

The pain is like an anvil
Weighing down my torso from within
Broken emotion made physical
Sometimes I forget to breathe
Like the breath has been stolen from me
By the merciless hands of heartache

Power of Two

It's hard to maintain hope right now
With all the clothes wrinkled and hanging from corners
Won't you come save me or
At least back me up as I save myself
A rope
A chain
A tied-up bedsheet
Any would suffice
Although the greatest gift
Would be your hand
When the quicksands of time are pulling me under
I'm stronger if connected to you

My Friend Tim

I bundled up with hat and coat and gloves
Walked across the street to see my friend Tim

It was snowing that day
Enough for me to leave deep, crunching footprints

When I got to Tim's door I realized his car was gone
No one was there

What the hell, I knocked anyway
But unsurprisingly received no answer

Dammit all
I really wanted a friend that day

I turned and followed my footprints back home
With a quieter crunch to contend with

Blackbird

I broke someone's heart
In the sad, ugly process I consequently cracked my own
It left me unconsciously shaken and vulnerable
So when the blackbird turned and flew from my window
My heart was shattered
Bleeding and carried away like a mouse

Lampshade

He was tall as a tree
With a head like a flesh-colored lampshade
He had a small top of red hair
The texture of which was thick and yarnish
He was dressed to a tee
Looking the part of a college professor
Legs conservatively crossed and patches on his elbows
He was writing on a pad
Sometimes furiously, other times lethargic
Crafting the great American novel?
Perhaps making out the week's list of groceries
The chair he was sitting on was balanced on a sharp ledge
He looked ready to fall at any moment
I hope he can finish his work before he hits bottom

Heart

Shut out the noise and listen
Listen
Listen to your heartbeat
Pushing and pulling you
Such a tiny engine for such a complex machine
If you're lucky, you can hear another closely and
Synchronize your rhythms into a beautiful tandem
Stronger and fuller
When the two become one
Shut out the noise and listen
Listen

To Whom

It's a cold, cold day
As we carry him up the muddy hill,
Lower him down into the deep waiting ground
Zipping my jacket and tightening my scarf offer little resistance
Against the chill from the icy wind of death
The minister eulogizes and finally I listen:
"Speak every word as though it's your last," he says
So, just in case,
I forgive you
I'm sorry
I love you

For Chris

Liar on a bathroom stall

Further adventures

Hand towel w/tacks

Telescope

This virtual existence
This carbon copied glut of 1110001100100
Let me touch the future
Let me reach a place that hasn't been made yet
Filled with the children of today
The liars and saints of tomorrow
There will be no ground
Only clouds and noise and information
Let me see where it all ends

My Wishful Purpose

Lying on the couch
Back stretched against supportive rigidity
Half awake and half asleep
Never enough of the latter
Adorn myself with the black of the evening
Walk forlorn and distracted
My thoughts of one thing and one thing only
Is that goal achievable?
Anything earned, be it object or circumstance
Is attained through devotion
Devotion
Devotion
Devotion
My mantra, my desire, my wishful purpose
Embrace the sweeping harmony and
Turn the page from within

The Pillar

It was a pillar of crimson
Bound by invisible restraints
Until silver shears brought separation
The pillar then unfolded and bled
Downward and outward
Washing everything in red
It lapped and tumbled like a churning sea
Burning...

Desert

There's a clenching of the throat muscles
A dryness
An itchy agitation
My voice becomes harsh and coarse
Straining to find acute listeners
The soreness is coming
I reach for cool water and drink
Here's hoping Mother Nature can soothe me

I want to live,
I want to give
I've been a miner
for a heart of gold.
It's these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
Keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

I've been to Hollywood
I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean
for a heart of gold
I've been in my mind,
it's such a fine line
That keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
Keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

Keep me searching
for a heart of gold
You keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm growing old.
I've been a miner
for a heart of gold.

Poetry @ The Bean Haus

Package from Dr. Frankenstein

Fading Memories

I dreamt of you last night
For the the first time in a while
You were different but still undeniably you
Your face was rounder, almost piggish
Rolling around in the dirt with clenched fists and eyes tightly closed
Throwing a tantrum
I watched without knowing why or what to do
Then you slept
Then I was awake

Too True

Thin Red Line

Jimmy Hoffa

I dreamt I was on the wrong side of a very large labor dispute
I knew I was on the wrong side because my company had placed me in a window of our building with a sniper rifle
As the striking workers began to march closer and closer to the gate,
I began to shoot
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
They fell in crying panic
I remember an older man dressed in white who had been at the forefront of the crowd and the workers' movement
Shooting him startled me awake
Why would I kill a man who was only trying to provide a better life for his family?

Conference

Rolling sky

Sick

Feeling fluish
Achey, painy, shaking with cold chills
I'm struggling to keep my eyes open as my head sinks to the table
My vision is blurry and I've been coughing like a lifelong smoker
Need whiskey and cough medicine
Sleep and a warm caress
Too early in the season to be so vulnerable to the elements
Is it regular flu or the one that comes from pigs?
Who cares
It all sucks the same
Call 911 and tell them to send me some magical elixir
I'll start drinking and won't stop till there's a drowning
Me or the monster
One of us has to go

The Descent - William Carlos Willams

The descent beckons
as the ascent beckoned.
Memory is a kind
of accomplishment,
a sort of renewal
even
an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new places
inhabited by hordes
heretofore unrealized,
of new kinds—
since their movements
are toward new objectives
(even though formerly they were abandoned).

No defeat is made up entirely of defeat—since
the world it opens is always a place
formerly
unsuspected. A
world lost,
a world unsuspected,
beckons to new places
and no whiteness (lost) is so white as the memory
of whiteness .

With evening, love wakens
though its shadows
which are alive by reason
of the sun shining—
grow sleepy now and drop away
from desire .

Love without shadows stirs now
beginning to awaken
as night
advances.

The descent
made up of despairs
and without accomplishment
realizes a new awakening:
which is a reversal
of despair.
For what we cannot accomplish, what
is denied to love,
what we have lost in the anticipation—
a descent follows,
endless and indestructible

Spiral of Handiwipes

Dawn of Autumn

Shadowed curtains
Not enough milligrams
Infinite download space
Gray pants and socks to match
Purring like thunder
Blow away the stale air
Fifteen minutes 'till showtime
How about a little sleep aid
Beer can chicken and Cajun vegetables
Too many chairs 'round the firepit
Happy birthday to you
Hide the smoke from the children
Lame hauntings at steep prices
Pass along the random pimp hat
Not enough vodka in the lemonade
Too sober to forget the weekend

Blockage

Staring at a blank white page
Struggling to open the gates and let the words spill forth
My thoughts are corrupted and entangled in sticky webs
Nothing but snow and static are reaching the transmitters
I'm blocked by emotional and psychological barricades
Forcing me to withdraw and hold back the tide
There are times when inspiration comes like a rocket
It's all I can do to just steer the crazy thing
Other times, like today, my fingers are heavy like anvils
They crawl and lurch over the keyboard with labored defiance
My heart is working against me, and my heart always has the upper hand

Warm Chucks

Choices

Lil' Firepit

District 9 OST

Fountain

Cain and Abel

Connected through circumstance at an early age
Sharing car rides and long nights of inebriation and '90's rap
Eventually claiming him as a brother, as I had no siblings of my own
We would laugh at things thought hilarious to us
While others looked on with confused and worried glances
Sharing tears and existentialism
I found support in his perspective, and hoped mine gave him the same
Carried over into young adulthood
When shared space made for uncomfortable but worthwhile experiences
The times when I felt most alone I would reach out to him
Knowing I could count on him through thick and thin
We would drink beer and liquor around the proverbial fire
As the mad string of people changed constantly around us
Even when I felt his actions were harmful to me
I would seek internal forgiveness, to extend to my one true friend
Who knows what it means to truly love someone
But if I've known it at all, I felt it for him
A relationship not given, but grown and harnessed
Shaped and re-shaped, manipulated and adjusted to stand the test
And suddenly broken by cliche and outside influence
Mistakes of mine which I try to fix and reconcile
Mistakes of his which perhaps he doesn't believe in
I'm filled with holes of loss and deep confusion
Now that I have no brother to turn to

Reunion

I go to see a cast of folks I haven't seen in years
There are those I know, and those I don't
There are those I don't care to
I meander around a maze of an old house
Downstairs and then upstairs and then back again
The wood on the old girl is dark and strong
Many memories are kept within the shaky, worn frame
The place is filled to capacity
An odd mix of drinkers and players and awkward wallflowers
I put my small alcoholic contribution in a crowded refrigerator
Returning periodically to slowly refuel
There's talk of a clandestine meeting
Someone's here and wants to see you, I'm told
But I'm not ready for what it requires, so I avoid the whole thing
We end up passing like ships, with just a word spoken between us
Time to take myself outside and get away from it all
Alone, I think of my love back home
And worry that I've drifted too far into the past
Eventually I'm surrounded by the ship and all her sailors
I smoke my cigarette and pretend not to care
A game is played and I toss it high and long
Watching as a cold scavenger plants seeds of later betrayal
Hindsight is, of course, 20/20
At the end of the night, I follow my drunken impulse
Making a short trip I have no business being on
I'm left with a small Japanese earring and no knowledge of what awaits me
Driving away, I realize I left my beer behind
But I'm comforted by the thought of who might drink it

Thursday

Waking up from a much needed respite
I walk to the mirror and swallow the light blue pill
In time my hands and my heart go numb
Out into the cold air I inhale and exhale with great relief
The twisting and swirling of my inner demons give way
It's time to put the beasts of Summer behind me
I hear laughter among the sellers of laborious healing
Vulgarity and harmless jibes are the soup of the day
There is cause for celebration as a milestone is reached
And a moment is dedicated to remembrance of new life
I share in a great feast paid for by distant fat cats
Almost forgetting that this meal could be my last
Some think there's no room for self-destructive survivors
But of course we've really got no place else to go
I lay on the niceties as the signals go out
Receiving nothing but silence and scorn in return
The path that lies before me is wrought with great obstacles
My blood soaked bandages are torn and ready to unravel
I check my watch and see it's now twelve past midnight
Time to let the almighty Spiral do its thing

Meat!

Spirits

Morning in the City

Breadsticks: A Retrospective

METAL

Blue Skies

Sitting on a bench as a strong wind blows around me
The scent of fallen pine cones and freshly cut grass are making a nice potpourri
There are four small children of different nationalities playing some form of football in the field in front of me
The fat white kid is very slow, draw your own conclusions
A basketball rests just below the bench, near my left foot
It's kind of flat, not much use on the court in that state
Maybe I'll take it inside and resuscitate it
Maybe not, I'm feeling out of breath myself today
I could call out to that ambulance I hear in the distance
Its blaring horns and sirens are unwelcome to my ears on this lovely September eve
I hope the poor soul who's taking that ride makes it through ok
Today is no day to die

Evolution

Some Sunday Sappiness

Nine-Tentacled Octopus

I'm walking down a narrow street with my back to the soft wind
Cigarette in one hand, lack of drink in the other
On my way to see friends from a neighboring town
They've come from a sushi bar
Bellies full of Japanese delights
When I reach them they're already drunk
On wine and beer and Old Forester
Laughing and cheering, they welcome me to their table
I knock back a few, then a few more
Why not, I say
What the fuck have I got to lose
The room and the world start spinning
Round and round in perpetual motion
I revere the feeling of uncertain footing
We make our way to the street as the place closes
The sushi becomes rebellious in a friend and
She violently pukes it all out, long and loud
On the sidewalk, on her shoes
It truly is a foreign and aquatic mess
With that, we go our separate ways
The journey home or elsewhere is our collective focus
I struggle, and lean into that same soft wind
Asking it to carry me away

The Cask

Ray Charles Impression

Kirby Amid Darkness

Nice Piano

Pretty Catchy

Alice

She was plainly beautiful
With a radiant glow she wasn't aware of
Those are always my favorites
Making your heart skip with their modesty
Her dark hair was the perfect contrast to her light Irish skin
She was wearing a blue/black skirt that hugged her hips in just the right way
And her body just wouldn't quit
Taken care of over the years through diet and exercise
I was smitten
I waited to see her every day
At last striking up a conversation in a strange place about strange things
We were from different worlds but needed each other
We'd make love all day and listen to the classics in the nude
She was a pearl
Eventually the going got tough
As it most often does
I should've held strong, held her close
But I sat, oblivious, and twisted the knife into her heart
Her blood is still on my hands
Mixed with my own now and I can't tell whose is whose
Karma's a bitch like that

She May Be a Hybrid

There was a woman at the bar
Who, I swear to you, was a man
Or at least she had some man genes in her
She was tall, like a mighty tree
With ugly, worn features you'd see on a guy
Who's been working in a field for far too long
I think there may have even been a bulge in her pants
I was shocked at her uniqueness
Afraid of what her breeding would set loose on the world
More ugly people doing ugly things
Like me, secretly shitting on an innocent man/woman
But hey, times is hard they say
And she seemed to be enjoying her drink

Penance

Dark and stormy
The infinite rain is a symphony of splashes
There's a hole in my gut tonight
An evening spent with friends
Just not enough to wipe clean the thoughts
Of her, of them
I drink and I drink, hoping that tonight will be the night
Tonight she'll lose her grip on my heart
Tonight I'll be free of the people who laugh at mercy
I've been poisoned by the best of them
The fangs ran deep into my skin
Releasing their venom into my tainted blood
Time is apparently the only antidote
But the waiting is monotonous
I still see her shadow in the corner of my eye
I think it's her anyway
Maybe it's the ghost of some other love
An angel perhaps, sent to monitor my penance
Either way, the rain's still coming down hard
Creating an ocean outside my window

The Chicken or the Egg

Batman & Me

Afterburn

Longshot - Charles Bukowski

she's not for you, man,

she's not your type,

she's erased

she's been used

she's got all the wrong habits,

he told me in between races.


I'm going to bet the 4 horse, I told him.

well, it's only that I'd like to turn her around in mid-stream,

save her, you might say.


you can't save her, he said,

you're 33, you need kindness.

I'm going to bet the 6 horse.

you're not the one to save her.


who can save her? I asked.

I don't think the 6 has a chance, I like the 4.


she needs somebody to beat her from wall to wall, he said,

kick her ass, she'd love it. she'd stay home and wash the dishes.

the 6 horse will be in the running.


I'm no good at beating women, I said.

forget her then, he said.

it's hard to, I said.


he got up and bet the 6 and I got up and bet the 4.

the 5 horse won by 3 lengths at 15 to one.


she's got red hair

like lightening from heaven, I said.


forget her, he said.


we tore up our tickets and stared at the lake in the center of the track.

it was going to be a long afternoon for both of us.

Corner

Seasonal

All points pressed together
Steal the color from my eyes
Laughter shooting in all directions
A high-pitched, cartoony squeal
Perfect strangers in abandoned walkways
Sharing air and little else
Crack the skye and watch the rainfall
Horizontal as it makes its pass
The end of Summer and her disco
Autumn comes and brings a chill
Watch the rusty leaves start tumbling
Welcome goblins, welcome ghouls
The past is gone, we're left with fragments
Puzzle pieces for blissful ghosts

There is a Languor of the Life - Emily Dickinson

There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain --
'Tis Pain's Successor -- When the Soul
Has suffered all it can --

A Drowsiness -- diffuses --
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness --
As Mists -- obliterate a Crag.

The Surgeon -- does not blanch -- at pain
His Habit -- is severe --
But tell him that it ceased to feel --
The Creature lying there --

And he will tell you -- skill is late --
A Mightier than He --
Has ministered before Him --
There's no Vitality.

Saturated

Goodwill Halloween

Snowflakes

Cracks In The Black

My Mug @ 33

Under The Microscope

Glowing

Spooky Abandoned Office Space

E.T.S.

Freedom Ain't Free

12:12

Stormclouds

Tattoo Left

Tattoo Right

Maze

Morning rain

Shadow stilts

Beam

Neon glow

Spaghetti spinner

Ghosts

Helpful

Through The Smoke

Awake at 2 am
No hope of recovery
Collar protruding eastward
Tangled jungle inside me
Off to see the Wizard
Old man's jagged fingernails
Preventive sickness inhaled
Cruel ridicule from small people
Salivating at the crash site
They used to share my secrets
Now they spit in my direction
I'll never understand it
Piano keys through static
Back into the wilderness
Who will see tomorrow

Black Scalpel

The colored bulb pops as the heat increases
Pressure building from within and without
Step out of the cold and dark to see more of the same
Pouring down like an endless stream of tears
Flashes of spite in the distance
Won't show its face for fear of discovery
And the realization of what it's become
Hit the mighty C, hit it hard
Push all of it upward and out all over
Show the world what it means to be you
Through the curtains and shades of experience
Through the love and the lies and the sex and the sorrow
I'm still here
Pushing and prodding
Never letting go
Heaven doesn't want me and Hell's just way too hot
I cut my path with a delicate blade
Piercing any and all that I can

My Life As A Planet

I lie awake and listen to the bells ring
Anticipation of the next day's events is low
I'm tired but I don't want to sleep right now
Too much to say in too many ways
I let the drum beat play on in my head
The heavy rhythms bringing an odd comfort
More weight is falling off me at increasing speeds
The beaten clothes I love barely fit anymore
Perhaps I am imploding, or shrinking to microscopic
Spiraling inward, as I always thought I would
Maybe I'll leave a star in my wake
A giant coin, a pair of cherries, a bunch of bananas
Probably not
I never really liked bananas anyway

Life and Death

It's a strange thing to have survived a suicide attempt
There are days when I wake and wish I wouldn't have made it through
But I can't make another go at it
The hurt is different now
The meaning would be lost
And I made a promise I have to keep
Too many of mine and those made to me have been broken
So I get up in the mornings and do what people do
Even though I do it begrudgingly
As though I'm not really here now
Just floating along in a space meant to be empty
I'm living a life that I'd given up on
Every step is taken for someone else
These hours seem to last forever

Sitting On A Tree Stump

Hypnotic lapping of the waves against stones
A soft breeze rolling in and over me
In the distance a gospel man strums a guitar
Many relations have gathered here
The birds walk and fly around us
Unconcerned with anyone's presence
A beautiful woman brushes a huge dog
Her children crawling and climbing like monkeys
Multicolored boats race slowly to nowhere
Under the steam of the couples within them
The sun is high and burns my skin
Except for when the mighty clouds protect me
There's garbage lying at my feet
A blemish on the comforting face of the world
Discarded by careless and unthinking animals
Unaware of the problems they leave in their wake
Take a deep breath and let the cool air move me
Back to where this all began

The Flood At The High School Reunion

It started with a small crack in the punch bowl
The crack began to leak and the leak began to grow
Soon, every liquid container in the building was compromised
From drips to streams to gushing
There was no air
The water and punch and cheap liquor tipped the ceiling
The prom king and queen drowned surrounded by their subjects
With nothing left from their kingdom of dreams and memories

Sand

Taking lunch in a barren wasteland
surrounded by abandoned buildings
and tiny diners made from old buses

Turned away without reservations
My party populated past capacity
We split amidst confusion and strife

From nowhere an old man calls out

"Free the young women trapped in the past!
The 80's were neon mystery to them,
those girls just want to have fun!"

I sense betrayal in the windows above me
highlighted in frames of bright sky blue
and wholeheartedly lose my appetite

I lay down my arms to let the young girls go,
resigned to their fate my inaction provides
Time travel is foremost a No Man's Land

The old man frowns with disappointment
and stinking from the black spite of scorpions
turns to walk into the desert

I watch as he melts into the sand

Morning Memories

I awake to the taste of smoke
The fire from my belly has crawled its way to my throat
Everything is hazy
Everything is still
Yesterday's questions still linger
Even the ones I know the answers to
What has been done cannot be changed
My actions and those of others
Are forever part of us now
And I'm sorry for the wrong I've done
I ask forgiveness from those who possess it
I ask forgiveness for those who would receive
Maybe someday we'll all be well

Appointment

Difficulty driving to a difficult destination
Surrounded by obstacles at every turn
Marvel at the old boots floating in the sky
Must be the new paint smell
Orange chairs hover with no legs
In front of a large, ominous farmhouse
From this height I can see beginnings
But the ascent only lasts so long
I'll return to ground within the hour
To scurry alone inside the maze
The broken radio plays a silent tune
Come dance with me

Excuses

My stomach is grumbling
Hungry for the life it's been denied
High octane, phony aggression
Blasting into my already pounding ears
I stare into the oppressive sunlight
Thinking about my later explanations
It's always draining and liberating
To let my insides out for a while
The timing wasn't right, I hear
The timing, the timing
My time is precious and fleeting
All of it can be gone in a moment of weakness
My love is still here
It's the objects that are missing

There's Nothing Else

Beautiful piano repeating
Violins sweeping upward
Falling down to rest in lower tones
Back to the beginning
Pick up the pace else you get left behind
Anguished pleas and longing
Getting it right with a guiding light
Filter it down to ambience
A single sound in an open chamber
More powerful than any blow
Hear the voices raise in unison
Singing that one constant note
Eat the heart and bear its burdens
Remember it's an acquired taste
Mistakes are not valuable
If you don't bother learning from them
Passive solutions and forced acceptance
A swan song for every captive soul

Words On A Painting

Got a problem
Blisters on my thumb and forefinger
Argument with my boss
Revisiting dark music
Long-ass text messages
Late conversations with police
Striped shirt tightly tucked
Terroristic threatening
"Causing more pain and losing friends"
Making an impression
Delusional guilty parties
Nobody's special forever
Do what you gotta do
I'm the crazy one

Avarice

Because of his avarice
And his betrayal of the Emperor's trust
Pier Della Vigna was disgraced, blinded and imprisoned
Dante's pilgrim finds Pier Della Vigna
On the seventh level of the Inferno
And like Judas Iscariot
He died by hanging
So Judas and Pier Della Vigna are linked in Dante
By the avarice he saw in them
In fact, avarice and hanging are linked in the medieval mind
This was the earliest known depiction of the Crucifixion
Carved on an ivory box in Gaul about A.D. 400
It includes the death by hanging of Judas
His face upturned to the branch that suspends him
Here he is again on the doors of the Benevento Cathedral
Hanging, this time with his bowels falling out
In this plate from the 15th Century edition of the Inferno
Pier Della Vigna's body hangs from a bleeding tree
I will not belabor the obvious parallel
With Judas Iscariot
But Dante Alighieri needed no drawn illustration
It was his genius to make Pier Della Vigna
Now in Hell
Speak in strained hisses and coughing sibilants
As though he is hanging still
Avarice, hanging, self-destruction
"Make my own home...
Be my gallows."

It Is Her Nature

An old fable:

One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.

The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn't see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked downriver, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.

Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.

"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"

"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.

"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"

Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. "What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!"

"This is true," agreed the scorpion, "But then I wouldn't be able to get to the other side of the river!"

"Alright then...how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?" said the frog.

"Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!"

So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.

Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.

"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"

The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drownings frog's back.

"I could not help myself. It is my nature."

Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river.

Self destruction - "Its my Nature", said the Scorpion...

How's Things

Too early
Drifting in and out
Pulsating headache
Thunder in the distance
Bring the rain
Wash us clean
Passion vs. indifference
Harsh words over paint
Blind eyes won't see them
Let them live a minute
Let them serve their purpose
Watch the ugly people
Doing ugly things
Ride the lightning

To Find A Vine

You and I were in a church. There were a few people scattered around us and I was sitting on the hard wooden pugh in front of you. You were drinking tea from a coffee cup. Occasionally, one of the church-goers would come up to you and chat briefly about this or that, then go back to their seats. I kept trying to turn back to you and have my own chit chat session but I never turned more than halfway. You were very pretty, and it was like I was seeing you for the first time. Eventually, I slouched in the pugh and began to sink like I was in quicksand.

To Be An Alien

What it means to be an alien
Is to come from outer space
You may have some green antennae
Or some pee holes on your face
Your breath could smell like pond scum
And your teeth all brown with rot
Or you might have big white sparklies
And a righteous parking spot
You could fly on wings of fire
Burning man and child alike
Tell that E.T. prick to suck it
He can shove that floating bike
You could call your spaceship "Race War"
Burning rubber through the stars
Have a tat on all nine tentacles
From your time behind spacebars
To be alien is to be outside
They'll just never let you in
And the world you're from, like this one
Is fucked up

Front Towards Enemy

Deep breaths and a straight back
Cryogenic solitude
The secret of youthful longevity
Pull the blinds down halfway
So I can only see what's cooking
Three pressed shirts wrapped in plastic
Worn by the ghost that lives in the closet
Rattling chains and warning of visions
Past, present, and future
A trio of traveling guilt salesmen
I want a world where people aren't disappointing
But that's not the world I spin on
You'll be a fool if you trust and hold them
They're full of venom and poison and spiteful malice
And apathy, the worst of all
Shields up, guns at the ready
Front towards enemy

This Style Is Spoiling Me

Shaky hands
Flaming faux pas
Two silver broaches
Uncomfortable phone call
Forgot my wallet
Wired or wireless
"God Hates The Wicked"
All day sunglasses
Grease on my fingers
Less than perfect timing
Avoidance via shower
Colorful flak jacket
Grate in the asylum
Forehead splashed with droplets
Let the good times roll
Touch of a hangover
Crossword in the waiting room
Levity in the chapel
Message tone had to go
Concerned for my welfare
Still surviving Death
But the bastard is chasing me

Old School

Take that look of worry
Im an ordinary man
They dont tell me nothing
So I find out what I can
Theres a fire thats been burning
Right outside my door
I cant see but I feel it
And it helps to keep me warm
So i, I dont mind
No i, I dont mind

Seems so long Ive been waiting
Still dont know what for
Theres no point escaping
I dont worry anymore
I cant come out to find you
I dont like to go outside
They cant turn off my feelings
Like theyre turning off a light
But i, I dont mind
No i, I dont mind
Oh i, I dont mind
No i, I dont mind

So take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home, oh lord
Cos Ive been a prisoner all my life
And I can say to you

Take that look of worry, mines an ordinary life
Working when its daylight
And sleeping when its night
Ive got no far horizons
I dont wish upon a star
They dont think that I listen
Oh but I know who they are
And i, I dont mind
No i, I dont mind
Oh i, I dont mind
No i, I dont mind

So take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home
Cos I dont remember
Take, take me home, oh lord
Well Ive been a prisoner all my life
And I can say to you

But I dont remember
Take, take me home...

Embracing The Spiral

Squeaky brakes
Missing my grandparents
Silly face on a tree stump
One-sided conversations
Chain smoking
Musicals are dead
Twelve o'clock and twelve minutes
Water slide feels like another lifetime
Red shirt and blue jeans
Pile of old photos
Breaking the ice with vulgarity
Little handprints on a mirror
Flat bicycle tire
Sloppy handwriting on sad letters
Getting to be a habit
No sleep, no sleep

Day 12,192

Closed eyes and spinning
Two old phones dead
Cigar box filled to capacity
Ring fingernail annoying
The Beatles are still dead
Chili peppers on a handkerchief
Flame distorted through the glass
Great value drinking
Canceled my subscription
Lost respect for authority
Saw someone afraid of me
Tiny, tiny cheeseburger
Too old to go out clubbing
Balanced on a precipice
Poison book on the table
P. 179 left me broken

This Is Why I'm Stupid

I tried to end my life over a bunch of bullshit I should never have been involved with in the first place
Wisdom comes harshly sometimes, and has no mercy
I knew the potential for disaster from the beginning
But I stepped forward with good intentions and began paving the proverbial road
I will pay dues for my softness and delusion for the rest of my life
My belief and trust are now shadows

It's Quiet

The hum of the air conditioner stops
All I can hear are the crickets
There's a light breeze blowing
It's a comfortable darkness
I miss my true friend(s)
As I write her name with a red marker

The Healing Mind and Healing Heart

I'm lying in bed this morning thinking about the interesting way my mind and heart were working in tandem through my dreams last night to heal me from my recent traumas. These are my dreams:

1) I'm dreaming of a brief but powerful love affair I had years ago with a non-existent sister of the woman I've recently been involved with. The dissolution of my affair with this current woman is a large part of my trauma. The affair with the created sister feels incredibly real and was good until it too ended abruptly and left me feeling hurt and alone. But as this dream begins, the created sister has returned from where she had gone and we're in the midst of a conversation. My feelings for her are as strong as ever, and we begin to pick up where we left off. She is beautiful, with a very clearly defined face, so I feel like this is someone I've seen or known in my life but my mind won't let me identify her. Interestingly, she has more tattoos than before. I guess I like the rock chicks. I dream that we fall back in love, which causes some controversy with the real woman and those around her, but the created sister never turns her back on her family and chooses to be with me anyway. The dream sort of fades out as we live "happily ever after" and I'm left with such feelings of relief and contentment. This person never existed but I felt every moment I spent with her as though it actually happened. A life and a large patch of time completely fabricated but so convincingly heartfelt that I feel better in some significant ways. I still question if this person was someone I've known or met in my life since she felt so real and whole, and I'm also curious about why she was a sibling of the woman in my recent affair.

2) I'm dreaming I walk into my place of work in the early morning hours on a Sunday. I know it's early because it's still dark outside and for whatever reason I know it's Sunday. In the room next to where I enter I can hear the voice of my friend, whose involvement with my recent love affair is also a large part of my trauma. He seems to be on the phone with someone, talking about the nature of his relationship with the woman. He speaks of why he wants to be with her and how their relationship is defined. Oddly, I can sometimes hear the person he's talking to give their insight and viewpoints. Also in the next room is a co-worker of mine, looking worn and tired from having to come into the office on Sunday. He's doing something work-related in the room with my friend but I'm not sure what. My friend eventually ends his conversation and comes toward me where we almost acknowledge each other and have an exchange, but the moment is gone in a second and he walks past to the back of the office. My co-worker then comes in and we start talking. At this point, I'm jarred awake by my telephone so the dream ends. In reflection, I feel a small satisfied acceptance of my friend and his relationship with this woman between us. Somehow, overhearing his conversation put me in this place, but I wonder what more the dream would've given had my friend and I spoken.

These dreams fascinate me in the way they seem to be rolling out of my subconscious in order to repair emotional damage I feel. Completely out of my hands, and absurdly specific in purpose, despite being such elaborate untruths at times. To me, it's a testament to what powerful and wonderful psychological machines we are. I bow to the healing mind and healing heart.

Dead Alive

I leaned back in the chair and watched the clouds move past the stars
The cold beer in my hand dripping wet on my knuckles
Thinking about the chances of my survival
I made it through physically to drink and watch and listen
But I think a part of me truly died that night
Through the haze of the pills and the nightmares
Just by making the decision to take that ultimate step
I'm a killer of something that no longer lives in me
And I'm wondering what parts are left

I Saw This In 360 Degrees

A small boy with jet black hair and yellow eyes with pupils like pins
Toiling feverishly on a work bench in front of him
The room is steel and patterned with rivets
Dents and scratch marks cover every inch of every wall
He's excited, at times grinning with perfectly white shark-like teeth
His project is nearly complete and he can't wait for you to see it

Old Stuff: Must've Been A Love Poem

I must represent a lot of things for you.
Probably good, probably bad.
I feel like I'm coming from a selfish place when I say a lot of the things I say.
Or text, I don't get to hear your voice that often anymore.
I'm on a roller coaster ride inside, with a devil's curve and a demon's drop.
The force of the twists and turns are grinding my guts.
I want to vomit out the doubt and disappointment but the ipecac ain't working.
There's reasons, I know it, but your actions betray all the cool things you say.
And it makes me believe that it's hopeless.
But the light dances for you and helps you shine so bright.
I let it in, even though I don't like to, and it's warm.
I miss that.
It's a special thing to find and embrace a beautiful woman.
To feel her life and smell her scent and know that this is what it's all about.
You have a life in you that breaks me in two.
And don't get me started on Baby.

My Four Days In The Detox Ward

A motley crew if ever there were one:

The elderly black transvestite who apparently could cook like a demon
The pregnant mother of two who could've been a model if not for her various drug habits
The angry girl who felt the need to kill someone and constantly complained about leg pain
The aggressive young meth addict who used his phone time to sell stocks and increase his already large fortune
The middle-aged drunk with a fancy red pinky ring who cried and hugged people a lot
The crazy old lady who just made me sad because she looked too frightened to speak
The crazy old man always draped in a blanket who lived for the chance to get snacks
My roommate who did absolutely nothing but sleep and snored like a gargantuan chainsaw
And me, a failed suicide pacing up and down the hallway planning the quickest escape route

Late Night Stream

Sitting cross-legged
Wanting a cigarette
Beautiful violin and organ playing
Breathing steadily
In love with nothing and everything
Fingers scratched and forearm bruised
Cold air across my back
Ghosts staring at me sadly
Mirror frame cracked but not broken
Day late and a dollar short
Dreading the coming back to life
Unsure of what to do with the paintings
Left with too many tatters
No ability or thread to sew with
Aging quickly in spurts
Two otters holding hands
Tired eyes but no desire to sleep
Hoping I did the right thing
Mourning the loss
Missing the late nights
Seeing the future as filled with hardship
Alive despite my efforts

Untitled

I pounded the arm of the chair
Fighting the fear and the doubt and uncertainty
It felt like my insides were desperate for long witheld freedom
And out it all came,
In waves and shudders and powerful bursts
The need for belief in the just and the selfless
The acceptance of fault and atonement for guilt
All of it mine, all of it more than I could imagine
I know it's the truth and I know it will mark me
This life is a heavy one that brought me to my knees
But I still have this light
And my hope still streams freely
I am proud of this man
Who is fucked up and stumbling
Chin held high in the mirror
I open my arms and my heart to every one of you
These words are your invitation

Pebbles

It was night and there were three children playing in a pile of pebbles near a brightly illuminated snack machine
They were next to an old building covered in chipped blue paint
The area was lit by lampposts on all four sides of the old place
The children were very young and small
One black, one ginger, and one blonde in pigtails
They were playing with the pebbles as though they'd never seen them before
Every minute or so, a woman in a track suit would jog past the children
Making laps around the old building
The children would laugh and smile at her as she continuously passed them
But everything was silent

Red

My head lay in your lap and I looked up into your shadow-covered face
The sun streaming through your hair
We were spinning, and above you I could see balloons
All shapes and all sizes, bright and blowing around
"Marry me" you said
"No," I replied. "You'd just break my heart."
You smiled and whispered, "I already have."
It was autumn, the leaves were falling, and everywhere was red

Dog Tired

The insomnia is lurking
Behind tired eyelids, heavy like showbiz curtains
I close them to find my rest
But the mind is still racing and the heart is still pacing
Spinning the events of recent days in a dryer
A big one, like you find in a shitty old laundromat
Loud and clanky, keeping me from sleep
No matter how many times I wash these clothes
The filthy, bloody stains will never come out
Eventually seeping into my skin
And I'll wear the stains like open wounds
For everyone to poke and to prod and stare at
What dreams am I missing?
Will they pass me by?
Please wait for me if you are pleasant and lovely
I've had enough bad dreams for a while

Scorched Earth

Two paths cross in the Holiest of temples
The burden of pain and anger buckling my knees
A laugh of recognition
A snide comment passing between us
All before I lay my burdens down
I appeal to him
Seeking explanation and understanding
He replies with past slights
Relives all my stumbling transgressions
I despair
Make defensive accusations of my own
We spill emotional blood as the people walk among us
Hope for stubborn resolution slowly fading
My eyes become wet
I reach out to him
Wishing to embrace who I once called brother
But that bond is forever broken
A chapter is closed on a book no one's written and
Two strangers walk forward in opposite directions

Head Down, Hands In My Pockets

I dreamt of walking a long distance in the heavy pouring rain
The cars would splash me carelessly as they sped by
I knew where I was going and I knew the walk was the only way
When I finally made it, it was warm and wooden, and filled with light
And you were there waiting

New Life?

My first morning back home after my failed suicide attempt.
It's cold and quiet
They said they found me at my desk, smoking a cigarette
Waiting for the end
97 pills came gushing out of me thanks to the charcoal they make you swallow
Maybe three more would've been the magic number
Many friends came to see me in my hospital bed
As I pissed in a bag and laughed at the lab coats
Even then, I was thinking of the loves and lovers I lost,
Those who wouldn't care if I were dead anyway
To them, I suppose I already am

No Strings Attached

It's all about the freefall
The danger, the risk
The rush of adrenaline
A constant stream of what comes next
Never enough to satiate the unknown hunger
Filling one hole with the dirt of a new one
The field looks like a warzone
Littered with the bodies of broken men
But let the earth deal with the cleanup
There's falling to be done
No time to think about tomorrow
Yesterday will not allow it
Drink and eat and shit and fuck
Anything else is more than asked for
Don't want no love, don't want no questions
The answers are waiting at the crash site

Silly Man

Must be feeling better this morning, I'm dancing.

Letting Go

pass this along to them at some point if you can, i've been all over the place today but this is where i ultimately have to be

i'm very angry and hurt terribly but i forgive them and their poor decisions in regards to this thing. i'm sorry if i did things to them that would cause such an apparent distaste for me, as i cared for them both deeply. this way, they're free of any negative influence i've had on their lives, and i will most assuredly be the same. and i'm sorry for saying hurtful things in the heat of it all, as this is an emotional road i've never been on. keep in mind i still think it's incredibly wrong and sad that neither of them could have the maturity to come to me with how they felt about any of it, but that's how it is. i'm walking away from this with my heart and mind clean because i know that's the better way. i still hope to never see them again since the wound will be open for a while, but they can live their lives in peace as far i'm concerned. i want to believe WE'RE ALL BETTER THAN THIS so i'm taking steps to be so.

Shawn

You've Started A Fire You Can't Put Out

The Art of Dying

It's been a day of epic betrayal for me. Two people who I loved have proven to me today that my love for them means nothing, and have left me in the dust of what they now feel is more important. It has been completely shocking and heart-breaking, and sadly predictable. I have little left to feel right now, as the scale of it all is almost too much for my mind to contain. It's a level of deceit and underhandedness I'm unaccustomed to up close. I fear it may have broken my spirit.

B.A.T. (Battle Android Trooper)

Unnatural Formation