coming back home...
back to my life
my back to a chair
My friends in back of me
a winding road in front of me
I take it everyday

and so now I sit on the train
after my mystic experience
on the mountain top
where we discussed dreams
and talked annoyances

REHAB

day 3...
immediately battling off the old perceptions
is this what it means to go through withdrawal?

I stand
the only soul left in the middle of a battlefield
their bodies lay at my feet
dead
another next to it

one still happens to alive!
I spring to action!
it's only a matter of seconds...
before it's dead too
with much relief

but that was just one problem
only a precursor
for the battle soon to come
there will be more

a horn sounds!
i look up toward the hills
and that's when i see them
more perceptions charging in for battle
hundreds
maybe thousands

at that moment i start convulsing
falling to the earth and
vomiting her name and being
over all my executions

ok. that's it.
unless something comes to interrupt this battle
i think i'm done for...

ManBoy

This is the story of the old man boy
A boy born with the face of an old man

He lived at home with a parent
But paid the bills
Tried to buy adolescent issues
But his face made them shrill

So he took on adult worries
As such
He packed his clothes
His worries
And his problems
And threw'em in a suitcase
And went to live on his own

He owned his own business
Owned his own home
Owned his own car

And the key to a heart

And made a promise
From that thing
he would never part

For it was the one thing
That his face didn't shape

But what didn't shape
Were the adult choices he had to make...

TO BECONTINUED...

Brothers

The night a cowboy was born
an Angel's prayer lost its virginity
A foreign feeling found immunity
As
in his brother's care
the cowboy born discovered his new world
with mischeif and naievity

And his brother
an urban artist jazz child
quite shooken
By a birth from his mother
finally slept past night's edge
While his younger brother
stuffed
teathered
coffee-stein paged
books
full of societal normms
under his brother's bed
and painted societies walls
with graffiti

And so his brother woke
under red morn
to find a cowboy sleeping
emancipated by a half-soul made whole
from the dispell of a life
absent a cowboy younger brother
and their meeting

The jazz child
hides the cowboy in a fridge
to sleep for an expected eternity
and leaves
to toil fields
with the rest of their
dysfunctional family
spawned from an arranged marriage
between low self-esteem and pride
facilitated by a shotgun wedding
the trigger
held by maturity

Meanwhile
the cowboy sleeps
holding in his eyes
the other half of a jazz child's soul
Content
but anticipating his rise
His dreams
showing moments of happiness
fun
freedom
and the absent face of his mother
prideBrothers

REHAB

day 2...
Hi.
I'm one of the workers in Benjamin Black's brain and i'm going to be speaking with you in this message.
Huh?
yea i know. it's weird. Heh, but what can i say, he's going through a lot right now.
Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, unlike some of my co-work-
huh?

oh, i've been doing pretty good so far since they recently switched me
Where i worked before?...uh, well let's just say, for a serious work environment that place was an amusement park! That's why they brought me over here
yup
My boss told me, "when we saw they had a diamond in the rough we just HAD to have it! There was absolutely no cultivation"
yup
and so they brought me over here. Into an environment that will
"
gear my talents in the right direction". You know? Cultivate me.
An environment where people want to actually do work!
Yup! No lallygaggers here! No sir-ree bob!

i mean, don't get me wrong
.
I still get calls from the last branch from time to time
. Like I said, they were "fun" after all. Fun and friendly...so...yea. That's how i got here

oh hey! I think that's them now.
.....
yup! They left me a messa-oh. heh, my mistake, that wasn't them...
oh well. I have work to do anyway

What's that noise?
oh. my fax machine...oh! my fax machine!
I heard they were suppose to send a fax in about another option!
It's around here somewhere!
Sorry, i don't mean to scramble! but- those papers?!
Well those are two reports I need to-aaahh ok,ok. i get it.
Your right. I need to get back to work and focus
That place ruined me so much. i'm lucky to be here
*sigh*
I have a lot of work to do. So I need to get back to work

I need to get back to work and focus.

I don't think that fax came in anyway.

war poetry

scraps of prayer
rain from above
Quick
unexpected
Blood helmets
shielding silence
and keeping pain
protected

the living
roam around as ghost
The dead
scream as they run through streets
butchering the spirit of killers
when hunters
shield bounty from enemy fire

and this?
this is war poetry

relentless
it follows you to the grave
and is placed as meaning
above your head
that is
if your head can be saved
after-sex poetry...
Sex.
The bitter container of thoughts and expressions;
actions and corrections
which you've never thought about before.

Another world.

Inside this world
eyes turn into hands.
And every place I want to see
my hand has already seized.

Inside this world
hands turn into noses.

Her smell is as euphoric as a newborn
fresh out the womb
using their nose for the first time in a flower shop.
It reminds me of those times we're together;
in bed
on the couch
on the sidewalk
in the middle of silence.
It reminds me of the emotions I feel when i'm around her and the ones
generated toward me.

I smell her scent as if it were some kind of food.
I normally don't have access to it, so when presented with this splendid dinner, I gorge
myself to makeup for times past and when I'm starving in the future.
I save as much of the leftovers as i can, in this harvest, anxious
for the winter soon to come, whatever the left overs may be.
I eat up as much of her scent as I can
till i can't eat anymore, despite my attempts
because the glands in my nose and memory are bursting from the seams
unable to hold anymore additional weight.
And force me back to experiencing her sensually:
with my hands, my eyes, my nose, my everything.

REHAB

day 1...
I wonder through rooms
and into the common area
as if searching for her
dazed

She left me here so i could heal
the slight cut of my independence
meanwhile she tries to slit hers

But she doesn't know what i can do.

from out the ancient times of humanism's birth
i study alchemy

and then
use the lost art of transmutation
to pool her belongings and personal artifacts
and recreate her being
A complicated procedure
The ingredients must be precise
The process requires
bleeding one drop of your desperation
Cutting off two arms of independence
And you must pour in 2 quarts of addiction

I stand there
Watching the belongings and personal artifacts create her again
infront of me
my magic works!
I can see her!

and it's sad...

because I KNOW it isn't her
and never will be

When I touch her; SHE isn't there
When I speak; i don't hear HER voice

what is there
is an amalgamation of my imagination
and desperation
a mistake
I bow down
Squeezing tears out my palms
In realization that i'm at the edge of my addiction
i need help
i need to take advantage of this rehab...

but it's hard when her ghost torments me
Poking at my sight
It spins and confuses the words that exit my lips
and then sits back
laughing as they bump into strangers
snickering when they vomit on passerbys from dizziness

The Mistress


Another naked moon smile
Between escape and beautiful passion
devours sacred love promises
In perfume and delicious flames

Fingering dark kisses for days
To bleed love sleep
and drink champagne
on haunted cuddle dreams
machines...
You're a machine now
wakeup!
You can't sleep in
you can't sit and talk
You can't see friends
you can't spend time doing things that bring you joy and make you happy
Unless work makes you happy

But happiness is for humans.
Feelings are for humans
You're a machine
You're a machine
You have responsibilities

You're a machine
You're a machine
You're a man
Giveup
It's ok to giveup
You're not a boy anymore
Just giveup
Stop daydreaming
You're a man
You have too much fantasy
What you need is reality
Work
That's what you need
Not just work
but keep busy
So busy that when you're not suppose to be working
You're working
Even after retirement
you don't know what else to do but work
So you keep working

You're a man
Work
keep busy working
busy
busy
busy
busy working all the time
That's a machine not a human
There's nothing more important in life than the act of working
and working hard
and all the time
that's what men do

ignoring annoying obstacles like sleep
sleep when your dead
ignoring romance
Save that for later
Right now
Romance gets in the way of work

And i'm a machine
So i should know
I should be working
Not just working
but keeping busy working
Hard
all the time
there's nothing more important in life
and i'm a machine so i should know this
Because this is how a man acts

Love? Love at first sight?
Men don't believe in that
Because their not human
and i'm a machine
Lower your hopes down a little
This is reality
and that's how machine's think
that's how i think
because i'm a man

the glorious exclamation point!

i'm really annoyed, not upset.
I come in, kinda tired and beaten. frustrated.
You
Invite me on a trip you KNOW I can't go on, and I feel guilty
Invite me inside, when you KNOW I can't stay and I feel like a coward
Invite my opinions, when you KNOW they won't work and I feel like an intern

yet when I come home, drop my keys, and sit on my bed. I'm wondering if you left a message on my phone, called me, between the time I left to come home. Hoping, really.
GOD!
YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY! SO FREAKIN CRAZY! WOMAN IF YOU ONLY KNEW!
change...
funny how change can shock things so much sometimes.
Just a little.

Like a little rain in a desert full of people

can make them scramble.

The change of a boss

A schedule
Of pace.

A best-friend leaving town for a couple of days
...

I miss her.

cheap wine with chinese food

being with you feels like i just
wandered in from the rain
exhausted

i fall into a lazy boy
Clothes still on
still wet
I'm still fresh from outside
with only the slight grin of silence massaging my joints
and whispering sweet nothings in my ear

While the rain tiptoes in the background
on the lawn furniture
and window seal
after-sex poetry

afterwards
she haunts me throughout the rest of my 
next week
like the experiences of a veteran to war

Flashes! during an all-important task
Visions! that force me awake during the mundane

Treating all my daily activities equally
Seeing no difference or discrimination

Arriving at a time of their choosing or
whenever they see fit

And when they do
they demand all-attention from everything
Mind. Body. and. heart.
Like a merciless slave driver
almost more than you can give

Lightning

THOOM! CRACKLE!
Barks the drooling cloud
In the night sky above

Covered in metal
I take deep breathes
Before my first step
Onto a grassy rug

I've always been afraid of lightning
Scattered thoughts:
"I'm an idiot for coming here!"

KATHOOM!
Only another growl
Not a bite
You see
To check for any fear

I pull out my metal pole
With nervous hands
As if undoing the lock
Tying its chain

And that's when it barks! lunging at me
With an unforeseen fierceness
Tearing away flesh til it reaches my brain

And when my bodies burned to ashes
It stands over its feat
Sounding out a howl that shakes the grave

As an audience
Of nightly chirps and curious critters
Overt their anxious gaze

Epochoflips

Mistress? Thy kiss be more than genesis
Much more! It is the world's audacious end
The devil calls cue and limbo dismissed
And the whole of earth begins collection

Buxom beggars cheque cheer in merchant rows
Til overfloweth their hearts desires
Festivals explode with the coranto
Debauched with passion til flesh expires

Knaves cease honesty' and board the bosom
The hearts of maiden ghosts unseal death's guise
Whil'st men of eld agnise to colt forums
And barns sur-reign themselves with festive rides

Why make her budding rose or summer wind
When true beauty is seen by dying men

my last christmas in Berrien Springs...
1ft.
2ft.
3ft. full of white
Sheek as I watch the snow flutter
beneath the streetlight
While inside I can hear the distant sounds
of carol being sung
for the 20th time
here I am again
once upon a time...
it's not the obsession
over her looks
but the fading impact from the punches
of my words
to stir her sky
How when I tell her
She's beautiful
it doesn't mean anything
anymore.

No matter how many hearts
or eyes she has
if its not the right one
it's not the right one
She wants what she wants

while from under her nose
i quietly slip out the back door
for a moment
waiting for her to realize
i'm gone.

Like that memory
The memory of where you last placed the remote
"Where did I put my car keys?"
ode to WASTE OF PAINT...
sometimes i feel like the books i read and the poetic observations i make on the world around me are a pathetic compensation for my own lack of self-identity.
Everything I make is trite and cheap and a waste of paper, of ink, and time. In the end my art envelopes my being like a malicious blanket trapping my every escape route inside this marry-go-round identity quest.
You can see me fighting to breathe but i never get out.
This beautiful woman walked past me the other day
with the saddest smile when i said "hey..."
i wonder what in her life was going wrong

she said she get's so stressed she wishes she could just crawl up in a dark hole...
so there's this girl that passes by me everyday and smiles, i think she likes me, but I can't think of a good conversation starter.

i mean i made a joke about her pee dance and we laughed but that's it.
discoveries...

Sometimes you need to let go of your control over a situation, a situation or a relationship. And hand it over to chance and circumstance. Those confusing motherfuckers. Their confusing as hell and don't always do what you want. But sometimes it's good to let them take control of situation, it might be more stressful but it's often what you need. Often.. sometimes...

Home Sweet Home

Coming back home
I feel wedged between my old persona
And the frontiersman forging a new path
Through muddy terrain
This position puts hearts to sleep
Old furnished smells
Running races through time
Smiles burnt like coffee steins
On rusted dimes
Treasured paintings
Old album records
Minds ripped apart
As if peach, cardigan sweaters
The truth scales walls
As tall as giraffe necks
To escape its prison cell

Filthy Vacuums

The sun rises
Then the moon takes control
Then within our eyes
Looks to close
In Licentious eyes
It looks to close
I grabbed a life
And watched it die the other day
Insects they call them
But under Hiroshimas’s breathe
It told me
My eyes were vacuums
Filthy Vacuums
Stuffed to their seams

So did the horse in that cage
The homeless beggar
As I passed his trey
The ghosts from the Amazon
The decapitated ghosts from Iraq
The stranded teen violated
In the back of a greyhound bus
The zombie roaming

Her senior citizen home

Tiananmen Square
Nigeria
Ethiopia
Baltimore
America
Africa
My soul

And so the sun and moon
Find closer from our eyes
So they can see it in dissipation
With a tease of daredevilry

Unfortunate
They can only see the sea churn
Songs from birds past
The grass tangling its legs around the winds
And stars smiling from a clear Sunday night

The sun and Moon
Bargain to trade their eyes for mine
But I pick up the call on my cell phone
A motion to a passerby

Aa JOBday ATin THE publicDAIRY

A heard of cattle in stalls
Crowds of people in lines
The taskmaster coerces them forward
The greeter makes them wait
The police deepen their voice
To make them move faster
They use stun guns
They use brutality
They use brutality
Cries from irritation
Cries from irritation
Movement coerced from mindless
Obedience
I watch lines move drudgingly
I move with them
In the lines
With drudgery

,is to the Brain, what the Heart said

Thinking with her booty
And not her head
Is to the brain, what the heart said
By now
I'm almost dead
Is what the heart
To the brain
Said
The loud trains whiz by her head so fast she can't think
So in her bed
Is where men sink
Stop! stop!
Someone call the cops!
There's been a homicide!
Her self-reflection was just shot dead
Were there any witnesses?
Well, it was just witnessed by her
Two kids
Infection
Misconception
Don't step on the cracks
Or you'll fall through the surface of society
Fellas why can't you hol dback your erections?
She challenges to kiss
Thinking if she does
It will strike her trust
And her heart miss
Is to the brain
What the heart said
But hidden hearts are found by anubis
So burn the golden fleece once it's found
And let drunken sailors pee on your grave
In a wasteland walking past random clumps of hell
Don't drink anger
And kill the theif whose stolen me
Is to the brain
What the heart said
Because there's something to be said
When I die of starvation...

Eyes made of Clay

I Know a girl
Who once broke fear
And hurt pain

But like a ghost
Fell through wooden floors
And melted in the rain

Inside her are-
Glass mountains
Stone flowers
I'll always be there's
But
yet I cant's
That stop confident trains
Like superman for the day

Stripe less zebras
Cheshire cat humanist
Inside
what am I doing here's
Eye's made of clay

Love is her droit
But she denies it three times
That's three times the pain
Three times the suffering
But three times to much lassitude amounts to nothing
Sovereign glutteny

Because 2 + 2 - your third eye in eyes equals suicide
Cross your t's and dot your
Eyes made of clay

Have no fear
Have only the soft joy
In a laughter that speaks louder than words
And makes darkness cower with fear

Breathe in and try not to exhale
Until he inhales all of you
Because fre better or worse
To be unconscious than conscious
With your breathe unreceived
You said you wanted love
I said Sara! Sara!
You said we would eat lunch at the cafe
I said we'd have passion for lunch
Enough to consume a whole bears dinner
You said not to caress the flower
I said the thorns would not bleed my finger

Don't stop
Can't start
Don't stop

None the less

A feeling of strangers arises
That breaks souls
And consumes barriers

And now she's a machine
Broken down
And discombobulated
Abstintious with the individualism
Though her A.I. is often under estimated
However
They did say the only things natural found on her
Were her eyes
Made of clay

Love-Gods

- this is an old poem i made. i used to be a christian.







The whirlwind consumes the void
The soul
That is me

Insane
Planets spin out of orbit
My knees rattle and I shake my fist in fear
As the cosmos collide I prepare myself for torture when
Love grabs my collar
Pulling me out the chaos

Love chases me with androgenous gesticulation
But I runaway seeking regret
But he abandons me migrating westward

I hear gunshots ring in the air
It's love
A ways behind with a .45
But I've still got space so I hide behind the nearest masquerade

An injustice crosses my path
I cower
And it licks my feet
But it doesn't taste dirt
No
But pain and suffering
Because I've perserveered
Even though the cage bird still won't sing

The footstops of love crunch closer
Tenacity drools down my neck and shoulders so I breakout
and run
Stumbling into gang territory
Power and fame are at odds

I run through the crossfire but my attention's shot
Dragged before the two by weakness
Love appears
and strikes me to my knees and forces my head down so I
admonish respect

Let go
I commence in circles
With love close behind
Tripping into a delimma
Spraining my pride
Love quickly comes to aid
Pulls me out
And dresses the wound

Striken with grief
My throat dries
And cold drops of reproach bead my forehead
Out of nervousness I swollow dry lumps of suicide until it ties
knots in my distress

Not galvanized
I don't absquatulate from Samson's tendecies
I turn my head and continue running until the rooster crows three times
For God so loved the world
But for not so my loves can be forgotten

And its in that selffishness
That I make myself at home
Pour a cold glass of trials on the rocks
And stretch out on the couch
Challenge-less

Suddenly the sky is falling
And my problems don't seem so big anymore
Love's hand stretches and pulls me from the broken car as my world caves in

I sit on the asfault stunned
Dismantled
In anger, I start beating love

I scoop it
And start throwing blows until I break its jaw and blood seeps from a crack
in its forehead
But love doesn't flinch
It catches low with quick intentions and drops me like a bad habit

Its attacks are relentless
Tearing flesh
Breaking cartilage
I'm paralyzed
Shuttering in pain
Cursing in vain

And its then
God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit approach us
Loves forces me on my knees
And begins teaching me how to pray

Becaue poetry isn't taught
Its learned
The true mysteries of the world are the visible
Not the invisible
And God's love
Is love absolutely

Spiritual Illusion

And as the captain
Spreads his hand
To preach the plan of action
On the feild
Troops
Replace action with satisfaction
And churches bleed
Made of more than nothing
But bricks
But seeking angels who matyr
On RED hills with GREEN sticks

The sulking truth lies behind
The trash can in that alley
The one you pass by everyday
And grimace because it's funky
Walking around and seeing terrorirm
Created verbally

To crucify the disestablishment of this terrorism
To hate anti-disestablishmentarianism
Children's minds turning into war casualties
All something we can't untie
Because the choir boy talks
As the preacher philosophies

Political Affliction

A box
A maze
Amazement
Stretchout your hand and touch the surface of this wasteland
Out of my WAY man
So caughtup
So braught out
Sold out a long time ago
Some would say I sold my soul
Over some kids empty bowl

Raise your left hand not your right
Just because I can man
Starv the homeless
Cuz your runnin'n afghanistan

Like t'see someone stand up to me
A straight G
Said King Kong aint got nut'n on me
And my words?
They gotchu spinin like you was a cd
See? I'm even on tv
Could care less if you hate me
And even less if you hate that
Mm! Yea!
Come on!
And true
We say your actions speak louder than words
But that system breaks when we use nouns to kill verbs
Smiley faces stamped on
Ejaculation
Off
Political masterbation
But I won't say that I'm hate'n
Pleeaase
Can scheme acid rain
While playin game on dat mike
Cuz I'm a G?
Maaaan
I'll be chillin in dat stretched
Black car
Holla at me!

Elections


Glass soldiers on stage
Pulling the fang-riden
Smiley face words
From the anywhere the pormises victory
Statued puppets on stage
Who've murdered their owners
Engaged conversations by the doll owners crowd
The dead
Don't hesitate to spray the crowd
With a mental euthanasia if they get to rowdy
Scientific Terms

Reality- a sour tasting, corrosive substance - the opposite of freedom.

Truth- The smallest particle of a chemical element that can take part in a chemical reaction without being permanently changed.

Hope- the blanket of air that surrounds the Earth. It is thickest near the ground and gradually fades away to nothing in outerspace.

Freedom- a bitter tasting substance (and often slimy) - the opposite of a reality

Trust- the upward forces exerted by a fluid on a body in it.

Irrational- the state of an atom that has lost or gained an electron.

Marriage- the path followed by an electric current. Electricity must flow in a circuit to do useful work.

Anger- a unit of measurement for sound, it measures the loudness or volume of the sound waves.

Survival- the ratio of the mass of a body to its volume

Life- the name given to the ability to do work.

Heartache- the resistance that occurs when two objects rub together.

Happiness- the attractive central gravitational force exerted by a celestial body

Morals- incapable of mixing or attaining homogeneity.

Dating- the tendency of a body to remain at rest or stay in motion unless acted upon by an external force.

Love- often defined as the amount of matter in an object.

Religion- the force on an object due to the gravitational pull of a planet or other heavenly body

Affection- the application of a steady force upon another object.

Jacky

I once knew a girl
She was the
Glass flower holding up the vase causing cherubs to die from her sight
Her eyes
The colour of two kids
questioning their parents apathicly
It doesn't rain in heaven or hell
Star-speckled diva
With spidery fingers in your eyes

Two children playing on a blue moon
Inside you smile
A checkered smile with frowns in the gaps

You leave a taste of thunder
In the minds of those that see you in their third eye
Your real smile sending starwars through satelites
To leave Martians pondering if they can swim into your reality
Where criminals burn self-portraits
With their hearts
And pigs create masterpiece eye-drawings of queens
With their words

Two satires dancing on Hittlers grave inverse umbrellas cheek kisses legs needed to be shaved
I would like to make a roadmap of her thoughts in all directions
If you would like to find her attitude
It lies in Narcissuses reflection
While her skin is the colour of electricity
Hah! she's so stylish, she did it so it would match the colour of her being

Though it attracts he's
And makes their lips move in the words...Jacky...Jacky
Did u see the world end?
I did

Death destruction tears in children open mouths under mushroom clouds when
Two cannibals came colliding at me

I survived the wake and tried to erase everything from my head
But even though I saw the world end
Like a lingering perfume
Everything are in the word...Jacky
Jacky
They hang out with those red clad succubus
Trying to exchange the secrets of loose girl for their names
Playing with Delilah who wears thigh-high morals
And white for a lie
But you can't hide
Inside
In the end
You know you want a girl like...Jacky 
Jacky

California Woman

I know a young woman who once told me
she was
beautiful beaches under nightfall
burned by kids in play
I met this young woman from California one day

a contradicting Shiva
With further inspection
Just an androgynous soul reincarnated through each transgression

In the first life we knew each other well
Inside it
we were good friends
And then her smile became the means to my end

In the next she was Medusa
Wearing her face like a pin
Love ballads carved on the edge of bullets by the wind
A hooker taking head shots of smoke from congressmen

California woman
who once told me she was the desert sunset
Over the corpse of a beaten mob hit

California woman
Just an androgynous soul seeking hosts
but we're all crying flowers who echo its life the most

In my third
I play unseen character Whose boldness is pretty gross
Until the last page
Where
Alone
I carry mirrors by my side and play charades
while in search of a pheanix to dance gambits over their grave

In Hers
She's a roaring pheanix spilling blaze over carrion in its wake

California Woman
Rippled hair between her teeth
as she pumps smiles into her tears with dirty needles
used to carve wounds into desert heat

A little girl senseless to car detection playing ball inside the street

California Woman
your seal of patriotism is a neon sign tinged affection
The frowning, clown face resurrection
A brush stroke and canvas
Forced to bleed themselves
Until they accidentally bleed their own slipshod grown erections

Eat your fill of my suicide
It's trash after this reflection
It's all glitter and body paint
No one wears clothes anymore
In the land of perfection
Scattered words, itchy, dry-humped frontal lobes, and
protection

California Girl

California Girl
With rippled hair
Between your teeth
Camaraderie
Your seal of patriotism
California Girl
Your life cadence
Carves wounds into April showers

Lay on your back
And spill childish frivolity
With the thunder of maturity
As contradicting
As the Shiva you are
The sun sets in the east
While the tide reverses
Eat your fill of my depression
It's been a good harvest