A Prayer

Let us burst out of life
like a blank page penetrated
but wells of ink
too long has boredom and mistrust
galloped across our songs and pages
too long have we been too hip to be happy
and too discontent to be cool
Put down your ice picks and leave the railroad ties
as the lie
Engulf your body with the lust for what's ahead
we play it safe, without realizing we can walk away from that game
we are roles being played by actors
unaware and definitely underpaid. We are tragically hip.
And it hurts sometimes. So lost within our wiring and wireless
street signs and hand signals that take us nowhere
and far far far away from any kind of hearth of any home
I stand in conviction a beggar in leather boots
with shades so dark I CAN"T even see out of them
I light my values ablaze for the cool breeze of depth and "poetic-ness"
Jesus Christ we are in need of a fucking savior
each of us in need of someone to die for our goddamn waste
of lives
We are to be living vitally, kicking nihilistic babblers in the ass
but instead we plan
and plan
and plan
until we reach the end of our list only to look back
and see all of the dates and scheduled events we missed
How tidy our lives must be
From a single corner I can wave flags and see the entire
world lost in its own maze
Its all smoke and mirrors, hiding behind our windshields
Terrified if reality even hits us square between the eyes
I miss you, you soulless fuck. I scream to the man I never met.
Save me from this fucking joke and I swear I'll tell you the punch line.
But the Hatter throws his hand in
and hysterically belts out sonic flares that engulf
what I call my art.
Let us tear off the hour hand and live within minutes
I'll wait for you in a boat by the bay
and we can drift into the nighttime Lighting candles to signal the stars.
Amen

Greedy and Wasting

I can't find a middle ground
i'm trapped behind my eyes
wasting valuable energy
on vanity and pride
You are just the enemy
chaining me to the ground
aching for divinity
while squirming on the floor

Trapped in roles and imagery
blind to who's alive
blundering automations
and no one seems to mind

Screaming at my memory
to serve and pass me by
relieve me of subjectivity
so I may finally evolve
I'm nihilistic poised and ready
to receive my revelation
and not let this opportunity
pass me by

Greedy and wasting
and greedy and wasting
and greedy and wasting
my time

You're greedy and hating me
greedy and hating me
because I can see your insides

An Ode To Philosophy

So, I need an opinion
am I wrong here, or is it
a bit offensive to have dumb people
use "smart people" words to try and sound intelligent?
Or to put out
this HIP, intellectual,
Walt Whitman Inspired, Beatle loving
Coffee house manufactured vibe
so people will listen to them?
Do long drawn out explanations
and perfectly-articulated-sentences
get anything done other than further proving
evolution's truth by flinging the same (metaphorical)
poop as our monkey ancestors? Fuck you.
You Philosopher wannabes.
We're all trying to figure out what the hell is GOING ON, we're on the same
trip, maaaan. So next time you wanna talk to me
about Descartes or Niezstche, refrain from spewing too
much excess Bullshit, or caking your boring, uncreative argument
with even more unnecessary words and ideas.
There is a Difference between confusing someone
and Making. A. Point.
Enlightenment ain't no anglish kwiz.
Come back to the real world. Talk on our level.
Because no one, NO ONE wants to hear your drabble.
Philosophy already has a bad reputation.
SO STOP FUCKING WITH IT AND MAKE PROGRESS!

Mars

I am a pompous asshole
oh and how I've lied and bit my tongue
to the truth
As i gawk at culture and mark my
ink stains I call it art
how foolish of me to laugh at the
sweater clad lads of academia while
is beg and drool over their bar mates
I swear to modesty yet have never tried on
his shoes. Such an uncomfortable fit
My legs cross as I stare into the shadowless
eyes of the very people I loath
mocking them with their own ideas
using words I read is a book never understood
I am a real shaman
too intelligent for my own good, with
an ass too big for my britches
What a sensitive soul am I
O fare minded observer
I sport the laces and jockeys of
rich old spoils and sleep in the mud
of working folk
Yet I bathe myself in a lake far from
theirs
Because I am of a better breed

I lie again

Smiling at the screen I do stare into
a steaming pile of truth
I know the words but speak no essence
live a mockery of the human experience
and reap the insights
but still I dangle from the cables
and love the cars below
It is possible to be a drop while among a river
or woods within the forest
If man is thicket I am moss
If genius is a shoe
I am merely the gum stuck below

Oblivion

let's stare into it
let us leap into the canyon and fall to our doom
suspended only by our faith
how long has it been since humanity has dared to be so bold?
do i dare embrace the meaninglessness?
do i dare mock the gods, render them useless
only to continue upon my aimless path
i live my death every second
every movement is a confirmation of its imminent approach
all is well though
for i have no end and no beginning
i will merely pass into that which i have always been
older am I then myself
let the wind sweep me into the abyss and soar to new heights
higher than any my mind may dare gaze
let the intoxication of illusion remain a safeguard
there is no reason to transcend my life
i am here to be imprisoned and bask in its silence
There is no hope for the man with nothing to lose
especially if that nothing is himself
so cast a sail and depart upon the waves of oblivion
meet me on the other side
and you will find that there was never anything to worry about
Not a Damn Thing.

Woven

We believe we are walking firmly on the ground
finding our way through the abyss
laying the tracks, in control and reassured
but consider your surrounds
look upon the blackness around
you're falling aimlessly into the forge of your very being
dangling from strings and contorted by an invisible puppet master
a maker less watch, but still within the gears
we turn around the axis
out of control yet within a frame
here we are on the edge of time
what we have done and what we will do
occurs at this very second
on the cusp of cliff
we stare at the river below, unaware of its undertow
can you see the strings?
can you see the stage?
are we free to wonder the field
or ripples and waves
breath in your final breath
its already happening
as you read you are born and have died
you are currently living your entire life.
call me a fool from your tower of conceit
but watch for the gusts of wind
that will surely knock you from your feet.
so confident in yourself and the life you've made
only to be burnt before the tracks have been laid
feel the breeze of the absurd
and embrace your fate
they are happily wed
and have woven your place

Poetic Cliché.

Poetic Cliché.

seaside weary, lifeblood
of an American oversaturated love song
am I not the ground beneath my feet?
the dirt between my nails
and the footprints in the muck?
Watch as I race,
drink, and breath eternity
down every bottle, every breezy path
lined with oaks and plastic bottles
My nature is to observe
to stand as a cascading mountain observing
the clouds pass through each other to
form a wonderful storm

I wish
I wish for who I am not
as many men do
I envy the top sand of the big hourglass
in the sky
wishing to return to times less noisy
less efficient
less preachy.

How I yearn for a fire
a pyre of saints and homely wives
intertwined by ions and millennia
of gracious nebulas and spiraling
black holes

And how I do pray to the earth
that she will forgive us
only to fall on deaf ears
on a silent breeze
and calm zen of her Wu we
We are of her nature
all our warts and freckles
our suicidal desires
and whimsical dreams are bred from her
plains, her valleys, her oceans
and soon we shall return
and breath new life into the children of another age.
Stars.

Within us

I write poems to be something
to be someone
to imitate my way into the truth
to live as some character that is somehow more
myself than now.
This is not immoral, inauthentic or foolish
but the same pattern, lightly altered by time
that every man of words or song has ever sewn.
I drink a beer, a coffee, smoke a cigarette and
drink down their words and notes
hoping to revitalize my own life
to endure the profane as enlightened as they were
To make a dull day shine like a gold coin
or to take tragedy and laugh heartily with
poise and concise construction like
Bukowski, or to make the absurd dance
like Frank, as he whirls molecules enough
to make me smile and clear away the grey
I've tried to splurge my heart into every moment
like a symphony or lymeric
Embrace my joy and my human desires
to become more like Nietzsche
while denying my self like the Easterners
I stare starry eyed at the bookshelves hoping to
be read and be cried over much like I have my saints
to read my own thoughts on aged paper
clearing my conscience and reminding myself
I am not the only madman
and we are all in an asylum

I stay up in bed wishing for longer hours
for better phrases
and kinder words to spill
onto my readers.
I lie until the truth is stumbled over
I have seen beneath my mask
and felt the cool wind sift through my psyche
I wear masks again to preserve this
Forgive my unoriginality
my copycat lines and images.
I have forgiven my idols.
We all speak and live such close lives, so goddamn similar
that we may use any word and feel it penetrate us.
Feel it live within us

The Joke

I used to care about things
but that passed
now i take my time watching as everything
just moves on by
as if I were a street sign
taking it all and serving a minute purpose
i used to hate people
i used to love people
now they just wander passed, throwing me signs
smiles and frowns
I used to think
I used to worry
Now all the clouds and highways of words and images
passing through my head are as distant
and disconnected as the floor boards beneath my feet
There used to be hope
there used to be despair
no more do I bother with these martyrs
i have been so close to death that birth stared me in the face
feeling and end and beginning converge into something
no poem song scripture or revelation could
ever even touch upon
I used to write
I used to read
the ideas of drunkards and geniuses used to
evoke feelings of life as an infinite well
to be tapped into whenever needed
There used to be an image to me
used to be a person behind these eyes
now I am not the ground I walk
nor the words I say
I used to be a joke
but now I realize
the joke is on all of us.

What is an Ode?

we sit on the opposite ends of the map

divided by mountains and highways that exist only in our minds

he smiles the way I dream of

gleaming at authority with the utmost contempt

screaming into the darkness

"Look at me, I'm Happy with Who I Am, so fuck you"

How bold, it must be quite chilly up there

on your mountain

leaping from peak to peak just as the

old wise German spoke of.

While we sort through life's filing cabinet

trying to assemble a puzzle missing the

most important pieces maybe we'll be able

to make an educated guess to its make up.

We're both tortured and amused by the words and

ideas of enchanted bullshitters like ourselves.

We're of a long lineage of confused and hated motherfuckers

sneering at the conventional light of modernity and antiquity

let us raise our pint to those blinded by their own conquests

we will dine with them in hell

Who would have guessed a cigarette would light the way?

quite ironic without having to be too obvious.

How many times have we snickered at what so many have stumbled over?

Cliché's become novel in our universe, and friends become allies

against the axis of normality in a crusade towards insanity.

We both wear the veil of genius while trying to remain nude

to tease ourselves and keep the undesirables out

I swear we're not elitist, but we cannot help but to be outcasts

What is it that makes out Kool-Aid so much more enchanting

than the others?

Maybe because we realize its all sugar and water

I hope you understand what I'm trying to say

Otherwise my words are shadows upon the heavens

never to be decoded, and never to shine amongst the stars.