Dying in December...

The cold keeps my corpse
from fermenting into frolicking fashions
or thawing under the more temperate temperaments
of winterless wonderlands

Frozen in this December's cold conditions
my life is all just to remember
no longer lasting
  but lingering
as I'm left malingering
dying to be dreaming
dying not to be dying, dying,
  dying in December

The remnants of my remains remember
some days of some September
These memories frozen in my mind
after burning bright enough to leave me blind
The chill that saves them now
is the same that dooms somehow
as I'm lying cold, and still
still dying, dying,
  dying in December

This winter's waiting
seems wasted and weighing
Weighing heavily as snow
that melts down far too slow
As I wonder why but cannot know
why I'm dying, dying,
  dying in December

Should I become lost in the frigid wind
and be cast into that end
or stay huddled up till spring
awaiting the life it might bring?
To begin anew or end
either way is an amend
to all this dying, dying,
  dying in December

For now I'm at an impasse
one I know will likely pass
I shiver while dying to break-through
into the warmth of something new
My lungs wheeze, cough, and gasp
Time continues to elapse
as my dying is slowly
dying, dying,
  dying in December

Like a Blind & Paraplegic Coin-Toss...

Who makes the call
these days?

It rarely seems
that those of
Vision
Virtue
Valor
  or
Vitality
are those that make the call

Instead
We send stand-ins
without the capacity
to make a stand
and we put them down
whenever they dare
to try

We do this by proxy
and thus removed
not you
not me
(No I's allowed)

Like a blind and paraplegic
coin-toss
with even odds
but no chance
We flip-out
as our designees
are unable to be wheeled-out
to even attempt to make a call

What difference would it make
if they called it anyway?
They couldn't see it
if they did
and we're not watching either

Unseen scenes of the unseeing
Unmoved motions of those unmoved
a world decided
day-to-day
by the calls
of a blind and paraplegic coin-toss
where everyone's welcome
to get their two-cents in,
toss-off,
and differ
to the unseen future

Hold It...

Hold back
Don't spit in the devil's face
Don't fight fools with furious fists
Nor waste words on worthless wolves
Hold tight
When anger grips you
takes hold, and causes tremors
Don't let go
Don't let it out
Don't let loose
Don't lose it
Hold on
Embrace your rage
with calm, with control
Sooth what sears and scars
the depths of your soul
Don't melt down
don't combust
don't explode
Hold out
Wait patiently
to grasp the Truth
with your virtues kept
tightly in your clutches
Don't slip
Don't fall
Hold it
Hold it
within your embrace
within your hands
It is in your grasp
It is in your hands
It is yours
Hold It

Tears in the I's of We...

Eyes weighing wearily
not from sights
  but seeing

Seeing without
 InSight
Gazing without
 Intent
Staring both
day and night
Gawking with
 resent

Mind's eye closes blind
As InSights
are outsourced
Sightless drifters left to find
what scavengers leave behind

Too much searching
with too little seen
Too much rehearsing
too small a scene

Eyes weighing down
falling under darkness
Not the lack of light
but vision lacking
starkness

Turning a blind mind's eye
to avoid beholding why
Watching in passive ennui
without the I's to see
beyond the views 
of we

As I's cry out
In tears or voices of their own
Those lights turned out
Shine like a flood lights' cone
Illuminating scenes
of landscapes flood-rinsed clean

The tears in the I's of we
cannot pour-out like this
They drown the I's within
the depths of their abyss

Per Perpetual...

For the sake
of what's forsaken
In the wake
of what will never awaken
Per Perpetual

Ceaselessly
Cease less
Carelessly
Care less
Per Perpetual

For no reason
Reciprocating treason
To no ends
From breaking after bends
Per Perpetual

The same as ever was
No explanations/Just because
Never question, ponder, wander
To busy for all but typical squander
Per Perpetual

The way it's always been
Perhaps will always be
Passed on to next of kin
Returned from sight unseen
Per Perpetual

The Authority Of Truth

TRUTH
Is the only
Authority

To bow
for anything
else
Is to fall
on one's knees
in cowardly
defeat

To obey
TRUTH
Is to lead
Your Life
in ITS
direction

TRUTH
does not demand
you demean your self
and crawl

TRUTH
Commands
Those that walk upright
not to slouch
or slack
in their strides
but to continue
Ever Forward
Toward reaching
The Authority
Of Truth

Without Idols or Alters...

An alter
  alternative
Or another
  affectation
Or absent
  allegation

Empty monuments
  with no gawds
Within them
 hollowed hearts
  pouring out
and trying to void
  their voids

Negate the negative
Subjugate the subject
Objectify the object
Disclaim the disclaimers

What's there
  but can't be seen
Or can
  but none to clearly
What's missing
  or not quite found
Or long since gone
  and underground

 The Unknown
  implied
  denied
  assumed
Idols & Alters
  To What?
  For What?
  Or Not?

Without Idols or Alters
  what would there be?
Beyond Idols & Alters
  what
truth
morality
ideology
faith
...
  Would there
  Could there
be?

With no Symbol
 of the Ideal
how could such
 unknown abstractions
be treated as
  Real?

Without Idols or Alters
  what sacrifice
would be made?
To what?
For whom?
And Why?

Without Idols or Alters
  Could man become more
than beastly beliefs
or deviant disbeliefs

Without Idols or Alters
  Could Truth
    Remain,
    Be Found,
    Or Released?

Without idols or alters
  what idle alterations
might there be
to triumph or falter
or simply just concede?

The Alchemist's Tea...

  I watched as he melted the ice in the microwave. My perplexed face prompted him to provide some explanation for this oddity. As he filled another small container with ice from his cooler to be melted, his proud voice explained.
  "The water I get from the tap aint no good at home. I cant afford no bottled water neither. So I take whats left in my cooler, and melt it 'fore I split. That way I can pour it into my jugs to take home."
  He could have stopped right there. If he had I might have dismissed him as being a bit ridiculous & cheap. Instead, he went on with his explanation.
  "When I do get home, I'll freeze the water from my jugs so I can have ice.  I can melt the ice again if I want some ice-water or ice-tea. I like my drinks to be ice-cold. I drink a lot of water and tea too. I probably go through a few gallons every day."
  It seemed as if the thinking parts of him had been melted down along with all the ice he'd melted over his 40-some-odd years of working here. Now the thirst for validation flowed from his proud/vacant expression. I couldn't do anything in response to his approval-seeking stare, but offer some pre-forgotten/lukewarm reply.
  The Alchemist continued to turn ice into water, water into ice, &c. He couldn't seem to apply this mastery of conversion to anything else. He couldn't thaw himself from his frozen state, or freeze the ever flowing tears that he didn't know well enough to cry. All he could do was perpetuate the conversions of freezing and flow, as he guzzled it all down in the Alchemist's Tea.

As I Look Away...

See the faces
  not of flesh
  but figures
Staring at me now
  as I ponder, I wonder
How

How could one stand the sight,
  remain,
    and not take flight or fight
How dare one stare right back
  into the void
   of all We lack

As I look away
  grey skies dim
  sun falls ill
    with the loss of will
I look away
  as darkness builds
  blots out light
   & all it yields

As I look away
  the blind/dead stare
I look away
  as I still care

Through apathy, cynicism, nihilistic disregard
  the blood still flows
    from all that's scarred
The sight of all this cold blood pales
  just as the scene of all that fails

As I look away
  I can't turn back
I look away
  As all fades black

As I look away
  It remains and stares
I look away
  as nothing dares

I no longer see
  nor wish to be seen
As all I see
  Should be in quarantine
As all I'd be
  is viewed Obscene

As I look away
  Disdain does too
I look away
  as most things do
Unable to see
  what else to do
...

Dream-˃Life-˃Lies-˃Deaths...

  Once upon a dream
or more often it would seem
A tale was made to tell
  of men in heaven & hell
Through the later to reach the former
  and make hearts feel much warmer

As lives went on this way
  these dreams became the days
and nightmares claimed the dark
  as if upon a lark

Eyes adapted to this view
  and ceased to see anew
both in darkness & in dream
  No more to know, but seem

Impressions' fading marks
  within their stagnant parks
where many gather not to see
  what is there, or what might be
but stare at whatever was
  and only just because

An act of some facade
  excuses to applaud
as lies become the norm
  for all to just conform

with truth locked in some cage
  and obscured by Impostures' haze
while dreamers seek liberation
  but must tread through degradation
as the lies are imposed so strong
  and for so very long

Perpetuated, even to death
  but negated in each true breath
...

NotLove, NotHate...

I doubt that I'm capable
of love
And I don't think I can
truly hate

In both love & hate
something takes precedence
over your own concerns
As feelings become more contingent
on external things
than internal conditions

I can't get that far
from where I live in my own head
My concerns never seem to reach
much farther than my self

It's not hate
that possesses me
Not love
that compels me
For my life is all
I possess
And it is by this truth
that I am solely owned

So my hate is not quite grown
and my love is of its own
For this truth, I remain
alone

When the Mirror Scowls Back...

See the sight
of seeing through
See this scowl
as something new

The black of
dilated pupils' gaze
Swollen like a
spreading fire's blaze

Reflected in this
dark
A truth of vision
stark
  raving
    mad

When I scowl
and the mirror does
  right back
When I howl
and the echoes trace
  right back

Reflections
of projections
not just more deflections

Absorbed into my skull
Soaking blood-stained soul
Reminding of the wHole

The mirror scowls
as I growl back
Tension mounts
and leaves no slack

Anger to
and anger from
received past due
with more to come

If I lash out
the mirror will crack
Then seven years
will break right back

In broken shards
of familiar fragments scattered
unmeasured yards
of beaten paths so battered

In crimson-tinged treads
where angered steps did roam
are traces of the glass
expelled from mirror's home

When the mirror scowls
be silent, be still
contain your self
control your will
and the mirror may teach you
this priceless skill

Remised...

The Genius
The Diligent
The Virtuous
  Dying
      Unknown
      Unappreciated
      Unwelcomed

A mind given
 to deepest thoughts
Entombed
  amidst the colloquially superficial

Hands forged
  by valiant efforts
Bound or buried
  in servitude of the delinquent and decay

Noblest Hearts
  of most honorable and heroic souls
Diluted and distilled
  within the ebb and flow
   of the perpetual downward spiral

It makes those that look up
  hang down their heads
Remised
 to see both sky & solid grounds
Collapse
  Into the vastly vapid void
    of diminishing days
      and darkening dawns

Schizms...

All things are
divided

They are
separated
as what they are
from what they
are not

Things cannot be
what they are
without separation
What would something be
if not
divided
from everything
it is not?

Individual things
separate
from all
other things

Separated from
the masses
the whole
oblivion
etc,
    etc,
       etc.

To be anything
and
For anything to be
Any-Thing
at all
Must
divide

The Schizm
of self
into
its own
is an act of
synchronization
as well as
individuation
&c,
    &c,
         &c

For all that is
Is its Own
amidst
all that it is not
...

An excerpt from my book...

201.04 The Shrine…

I began to engage in deep introspections concerning the truth of my-self in this place… One night, under a heavy curtain of clouds, there was no visible starlight, and the moon’s reflections were lost… From one darkness to another, my mind slipped into an abysmal sleep… Within the darkness of this slumber, something else began…

It began in the manner that dreams do, with no true beginning… Initially, there was nothing in this dream… By nothing, I mean that there was only a black void where nothing existed… Even I didn’t seem to exist in the void of this dream… I only seemed to become present within the dream in a most detached sense…

In the ethereal sense that dreams are allowed to make, I seem to find my-self in the darkness of this dream… My-self is not something I can sense in any real manner… A sense of being drawn inwards propels me… I begin to drift inside of the dreaming void… The dream makes it known to me that I am drifting towards my self…

The greatest sense of detachment is prevalent throughout this darkened dream… My self exists apart from my dreaming-mind, and the void exists beyond these dissociations, etc, etc, etc… It’s as if there isn’t any such thing as space/time …

Despite the darkness and surreal detachment, I drift without motion towards this sense of my self… Somehow, I begin to sense that I am drifting closer to my self in this void… Then I begin to see the darkness as obscuring my ability to perceive my self…

In this non-sense of dreaming, I see that my self is not only obscured by darkness, but also by a collage of forms… The forms them-selves are also dark, and only appear as less darkened mass… None of the forms can be seen clearly enough to be identified as anything in particular… Everything remains obscured from me…

As I observe the forms, they seem to be attaching them-selves to what my dreaming-mind associates with my self… The forms seem to appear out of nowhere in the void, and drift towards the area around my unseen self… They appear to be forming some sort of formless shrine… This shrine is to my self, and precedes its presence…

Formless figures affix them-selves to the shrine, and immediately begin to degrade… Fragments of the black shapeless forms crumble away from the shrine, and become evaporated in the nothingness of the void… As this is happening, the remnants of the shapeless forms seem to dissolve into each-other… These dissolving forms are diluted into the whole of them, and form the shapeless structure of the shrine… Nothing holds any form in this dream, not even the shrine…

A terrifying sense begins to possess my dreaming-mind in this darkened dream… Suddenly, I begin to fear that my self might become dissolved into the formlessness of the shrine… My drifting presence becomes forcefully propelled by a desire to break through the formlessness of the shrine… I plunge through the formless-forms, and submerge my dreaming-presence beneath them… Another vacant void exists between the penetrated shrine and my unseen self…

I am still unable to perceive my self in this void of voids… The shrine disappears into the outer void, as I drift deeper and deeper towards my sensed self…

Within this dream, I begin to wonder… What will happen if I find my self? What would become of me, if I were to discover my self? Would I become diluted into my self, or would my self become diluted into me? How would I be able to merge with my self, or avoid such a merger? What am I to do? Terror grips my dreaming-mind, as I continue to drift through this void of voids…

I become detached from even the very act of drifting… At this point, I no longer have any intentions of drifting towards the core of my self… Instead, it is as if I continue drifting in spite of my dreaming-presence… Wondering what there might be within this void and beyond it, I continue to drift…

With a maddening subtlety, my dreaming fades into my obliviousness of waking… As I transition into waking, the dreamscape’s darkness becomes the blackened night… My drifting through the dream’s void of voids fades into a sense of falling… Instead of colliding with my self in the dream, I collapse onto the earthly surface beneath me…

Another kind of darkness follows this for what can’t be measured in increments of time… When I wake from this darkness, I realize that I have fallen from my resting place… I look up to see the damaged floor of my sky-shanty, directly above me… Then I realize that I might have been knocked unconscious by the fall… If this assertion is true, I might also have acquired a concussion… My memory reminds me, it is not advisable to sleep with a concussion… Obliged to remain awake, my mind seems to be in bad shape from the fall, the dream, &c, &c, &c…

My mind continues to consider the many aspects of the dream… Painfully awake, I think of the dream, my life, my self, &c, &c, &c… Even after the sun rises fully above me, my thoughts continue as if they are still in this dark dream… Was it the dream or the fall that had brought me down to this? I thought…

Flashing Smiles/Fading Frowns...

A flashy smile
A lingering frown
  Then the noose
  or the bullet
  or the razor's sharp edge
Slicing slow
  across arteries & veins
As if the affliction were no deeper
  than pools of blood
  or bone's marrow
As if death could be let out bleeding
and life could remain
  everlasting
    in emptied arteries and veins
Instead of draining life in blood
  and leaving only death in tact

The Reaper leaves tears
  as it collects the never seen
  but clearly missed
     like some warped & twisted Santa
 an altogether different form of clause

The remnant frown fades
  into a blank expression
as everything else is erased
and the frown is transferred
  unto another's longing face

This is the story of an ending
  with no resolution
Only destitution
  and so many pages left blank instead

A smile will flash
Though the frown still lingers
The smile will not last
And the frown will remain far too long
but it to
 will surely fade

If the blank & buried faces
Could only frown again
They would surely smile
even if only to be seen within

After the Summit...

The wish granted
& battle won
Earnings
  paid
Honors
  received
Success
  achieved

but then

Upon the pinnacle's peak
Gazing out with epiphanous eyes
Everything scene
Is seen to be beneath
For soaring birds
leave all the earth below

So it's dive right in
or fall back down

Either way
Eyes will look up again
at another distant peak
And feet will more forward
As hands reach
to grasp whatever rests above them
As the next ascent begins

Summit after
summit
The elevation
and the dive
Somehow the gravity of it all
is greater than the heights of peaks
and far beyond the sums
of each and every fall

Where Darkness Shines...

Nocturnal Conditions
See the darkness
clear and bright
See oblivion
in all its might

Breaks in clouds
admit the stars
Breaks the shrouds
revealing scars

Light seeps through
even when it's cast out
From distant ghosts, unto...
abysmal whereabouts

In darkness, light can blind
In the light, the dark will dim
In both some say they find
the glimmers of their whim

Nights so quiet
the silence itself is hushed
In shades of black, blue, and violet
reflected lights have blushed

The secrets of the moon
that know the silenced tune
Will sing in absent voices
Or howl like rabid loons

Streets lit bright
with artificial lumens
Illuminate the sight
of crepuscular/nocturnal humans

Some elated
Others despaired
Perhaps related
In darkly severed pairs

Where darkness shines
Where light is subtle
The silver lines
And reticent rebuttals

As all things end
and nights remain
The light may bend
but not refrain

Feel Free

Feel free...
To lie inside deceits
To intrude upon repeats
To throw away receipts

Feel free...
To toil, toss, & tremble
To drink life from a thimble
To merely just resemble

Feel free...
To lounge in lethargic limbo
To assuage with arms & legs akimbo
To leech, & loath, & linger
To point the perpetual finger

Feel free...
To whatever life is yours
To find what's not in stores
To be your virtuous own
To transcend archetypal clone

Feel free...
To take what's given (free)
To feel free
  to what you'll be
or apprehensively wait and see
the resultant helpless plea

Another shorted story...

The Applicant

"Where do these-things come from?" She muttered in bewilderment. "I swear to... if I have to hire one of these-things to fill the position... Aren't there any half-normal humanoid-beings left to hire?" Shaking her rhetorical-head in disbelief she gazed longingly into the abyss that always seemed to form near her feet in moments such as this. Her secretary tried to convey understanding in a perplexed expression as she stood in the doorway awaiting instructions. "Send in the next applicant. -Please."

The secretary made subtle haste to retrieve the next applicant. As the secretary returned she informed the HR manager that this was the last applicant of the day. After thanking the secretary, the HR manager introduced herself to the applicant by name. She attempted to shake the applicant's hand, but was left lingering in the unoccupied space. Then the applicant started addressing her.

"I'll maek dis quik, cuze I gots bettur pschyt ta du."
She held her composure as if by some miracle, and managed to ask the applicant.
"So what brought you to our company?"
The applicant extended a small slip of paper towards her as he showed annoyance with her question.
"I gots ta sho fur sum intervuze ta gets meye unimploymunt. Heer, sine dis pschyt sew I kan gets outta heer."
She looked at the parking-slip that the applicant insisted she sign. For reasons unknown to her, she didn't just write things off then and there.
"How long have you been looking for-"
"-Lisun heer MissEe, I kan gets au jawb anE tyme I wunts. I aent no damm slaeve dou, an 'speciully fur no skurt-runn joynt lik dis-heer too-bitt-hoal-n-da-wahl playse. Jus sine meye pschyt sew I kan gets outta heer, Daime. I aent haevin ta tak no lipp frum sum hussE nobudE."
She only waited for the applicant to finish speaking in hopes of managing to avoid saying what she was thinking. As the air fell dead at the end of his words, she felt a murderous rage of speech erupting.
"Take your little-stub, and cram it up your worthless-lazy-head-holstering-anus! That is, if your giant-swollen-empty-head isn't packed-in there too tightly to fit it. If you haven't spent all your unemployment money on forged a G.E.D., a prosthetic-phalluce for urinalysis fraud, and your obvious substance-addictions, you can pay the parking yourself. If you can't afford that, try applying for suicide-assistance under the get-the-phuk-out-of-my-office program. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something you'll never understand to do. WORK."
She pointed to the door with a finger attached to a hand that wished to be a mighty fist.
"Hoald awn a sekund ther tootz. No neede ta gets Ur pantEs n a wadd. Aent meye fult ya gots ah stik upp yer ahss. I doan neede ta tak pschit ahff sum-budy elzus' bytch. I yam outta heer aniwhey, ya dumm kunt."

The applicant strutted out of the office, and muttered expletive pejoratives sporadically as he departed the lobby. She followed him as far as the lobby, and then called out to her secretary to keep an eye on him until he had left the building. Her secretary called the building's security to assist her with this task.

Security watched the applicant on their monitors as he went into other offices within the building. He stole office supplies, ate food from one of the break-room refrigerators, forged a signature onto his stub, smashed various pieces of equipment, &c, &c, &c. Then as the security guards went to escort him out, he ran into one of the restrooms, and locked himself inside.

Inside the restroom the applicant began doing some cocaine that he had brought along with him.  It was low-quality stuff, so he did a lot of it. Then he managed to destroy a toilet, a sink, and cause water to begin flooding onto the floor.  As the water burst and filled the restroom he unlocked the door, and went crashing out.

The security guards were unable to corral the applicant, and he went screaming down the hallways.
"I gonna soo ahll a U lowsE kunz! U aent gonna gets mee, I gonna gets U! Phukerz!!!"

The local police were contacted to assist after the applicant commenced to smash several windows. There was a patrol just down the street when the call came through, and they arrived quickly on the scene. They used their tasers to gain compliance an apprehend the applicant.

After escorting the applicant out of the building and into their patrol-car, the officers began taking statements. When the HR manager was asked what happened, she gave a disavowing account.
"He came in for a job interview in order to continue receiving unemployment benefits. I guess this is how he applies himself."

The cops informed her that the applicant had several priors, none of which were included on his resume or application. His name was the only thing that matched any officially documented records. This was the opposite of surprising.

Later that same day the applicant was released from police custody. The building manager agreed not to press charges in order to avoid a law-suit. According to the building manager's attorney the applicant was likely to win the suit if it were to go to court. A small settlement sum was also awarded to the applicant.

It has been almost 2 years since this incident took place. The applicant is still drawing from unemployment due to some clerical errors, extensions, special circumstances, &c, &c, &c. He has been arrested and released a total of 72 times since then. At least 4 women are involved in paternity suits with him, including his common-law spouse that pays for his living expenses. She accepts beatings from him at least 3 times per week as a result of his methamphetamine addiction, and for being what he calls "ah twott and ah trahllup".

His unemployment is due to run out within another 6 weeks. In anticipation of this he has applied for several subsidies for low-income-and-other-less-fortunate-persons. He has also been attending several various churches of assorted faiths. Some of them have even accepted his applications for ministry in foreign lands. An application has also been sent to the general-welfare office in his area.  All of these applications are currently pending.

Open letters...

Capitalize or lower case

How does you spell
your name
in the letters
of this life?

Do you capitalize
upon introduction?
Do you use punctuations
to leave definitive marks?

or do you default instead
to lower cases
hoping that some editor
will correct things
and spell it all out properly
for you

What's the syntax
of your name
in contexts?

(No Signature)

Ambulation Proclamations...

Sometimes (Not Often)

  Just by looking

    at footprints

Something Wrong

    with a walk

Can be seen

Sometimes (Occasionally)

  By watching

    steps in strides

Something Hindering

    these motions

Can be determined

Sometimes (Seldom)

  By referencing

    the path ahead

The Destination

    might

Become Known

Sometimes (Uncommonly)

  By inspecting

    the soles

What has past

    can

Be brushed back

Sometimes (Rarely)

  By scanning

    the scene

It's Clear

    where

Things Are

Going anywhere

    is leaving somewhere

but

Departing

    isn't always going away

As we walk our broken ways

  Arriving

    Is the wax and wane

      of

Walking On...

Education Matters...

Teachings

All those that are called
Teachers
  Are actually Historians
  of one kind
   or another

All subjects
  Begin and Progress
  in time
    and are taught
  in modern terms
   of past occurrence
Not as lessons
  but as histories
Otherwise
  They would not be taught
    but discovered

Discovery is the only
 TRUE TEACHER

There are many historians
  And even some that have chronicled this
 Many have chronicled many useful
   histories
over the years
  or so the records would indicate

To teach is to relay
  the histories of others
To learn is to discover
  the history of your own

As historians go
  go ahead
there's plenty of pasts
  to relay in passing
Just don't expect to discover anything
  that time will not forget
And know that history proves nothing
  but ignorance over time

My own historic accounts
  make me laugh too
 as such discoveries teach me
The rest, I suppose
is history

It seems a shame to slumber in...

This Dream That I Die

I have a dream
  A dream
     that I die
And in my dream
  My dream where I die
There is a horror
  of accepted resign
as my mind seems to give
   Up
   In
   Out

In my dying dream
  Where I'm fading away
I have all too few
    Questions
    Yearnings
    Wonders
    Doubts
Instead I'm just fading
  from an increasing darkness
into
    Emptiness
    Nothingness
    Out

When I wake
   It's from nothing
Into something, anything, everything,
  but not from this dream

In light of this recursive dreaming
  I find it best to stay
Awake
  (For NOW)

...

Despicable

A sad scene
from a sorry sap
A bad dream
from a bad rap
despicable


the fools that feign forever
the tools that train together
more and more than ever
despicable


Imposing upon others
Supposing one's another's
Proposing all be brothers
then disposes and thinly covers
despicable


Savages as saints
Courage as complaints
Condemned without restraints
Despicable


Ignorance and incompetence
perpetual preponderance
Pathetic pathos prevailing
Weakness whingeing, and wailing
DESPICABLE

No course besides
this discourse
No empowerment
just brute force
DESPICABLE

Only words I'm writing now
What use are they anyhow?
Why must I sneer and stare
Do I really even care?
DESPICABLE

There must be some other way
Something adrift, but not astray
Is this answer deep within?
Is this where it must begin?
Or
Should I keep on glaring out
With a silence or violently shout,
"DESPICABLE"

It seems so clear that I should know
but the admission comes so slow
So I finally confess
it is more than the scene I must protest
To end these horrid scenes
I profess just what this means
DESPICABLE

The scope of things...

It's a small world after all

Before
the world
was the size of
one's hometown

Now
it is the size of
the screen
upon which it is viewed

(A Few Words) On...

Writing

Writing
is where
the lost
find a means
of searching
And where
Truth ventures
from the mind's
wandering
into the expanse of
Wonder

It bids
farewell to stagnation
and
welcomes progress

It delivers
the words
to address
even the most
secluded territories,
  distant frontiers,
    shifting horizons,
       &c,
            &c,
                 &c,
                       ...

Rest Assured...

...And Sleep Will Come

Work will be done
to make this earth
more like some heaven
There will be sweat
perhaps much of it
Bodies will grow weary
Minds will lapse
...and Sleep will come

Eyes will be opened
and see many things
Some will be compelled
into a closer look
Hands will reach
for things to hold
Feet will travel many miles
Shoulders will carry many burdens
and all of these will tire
...and Sleep will come

Lives will be lived
as others
  begin
  fade
Societies, ages, eons, empires
will rise
will fall
...and Sleep will come

Dreams will go on
and end
and begin
Nightmares will endure
expire, end, and return
Love, hate, virtue, folly,
  and everything
will be
 Seen
  Missed
   Remembered
     Forgotten...

...And Sleep will come...

Be Careful...

In Venom, Blood, and Tears

It creeps in through
unseen cracks
Seeps in, without leaving tracks
Then it lurks in shadow
and lies in wait
until its time
through fault or fate

It sinks in teeth
Injecting venomous dose
Often without notice
Then it stays so close
Even if you crush
the contaminating corpse
the venom remains
following blood's course

It makes its way
through your own
until you are moved
or turned to stone
Then it forces its way out
beating on a broken heart
till it bleeds the whole way out

It pools in tepid forms
after draining marrow dry
Aglomerates, evaporates,
sucked into the sky
that rains it down again
  and it's absorbed inside a drink
  and it's filtered into tears
for another's eyes to cry

It's never alone
and it seems that
it cannot remain in such a way
It needs a host
loves company
and is constantly trying to invade

It doesn't belong
no matter where it goes
and it's never welcomed
never wanted
but
it's either there
or lurking close by
and no matter how many times
you cast it out
it's always trying to be
introduced again
in venom, blood, and tears

So be cautious
not to open the mouth
too much, too long
So be cautious
when blood is exposed
even if it's your own
So be cautious
when the tears
are flowing

Be cautious
but not scared
for it is also found in fear
but all the same
Be cautious
 in venom, blood, and tears