The Worst Times...

The worst times aren't really the worst times
The times when you're in a frenzy
The times you're in self-doubt
The times of struggle
The times of danger
The times of horror
There's always some form of
  Hope
  Resilience
  Purpose
in times like those

The worst times are the nothing times
The times of utter banality
The times you'll never think of
The times you'll never get back
The times you did nothing
There's nothing learned
  Nothing gained
  Nothing lost
but time itself
 and perhaps
   your soul
 (obliviously)

The worst times are nothing comparatively
A pound of flesh paid for a life-lesson
A scar to remind you, your life endures
A cautionary tale to impart wisdom
The worst times bring something with them
Even in death they amount to at least an end

The nothing times bring invisible death
They kill your spirit
They defile potential
They murder hope
and leave no evidence
Abandoning you with blame
 estranged and entwined

The worst times aren't a result
of bad luck, tragic fate, or anything
the world might vomit upon you
The worst times are the fault
of all you would have done
  all you should have done
  all you could have done
being neglected in exchange
for all the nothing you do instead

The worst times are nothing
The worst times are nothing

Through the Fires of Hell...

Would you walk through the fires of hell
If you ever live, eventually you will
You'll either choose to walk through hell
in pursuit of your aspiring will
or fall face down when you take a bad spill

If you fall into the fires of hell
and manage to rise back to your feet
where will you go within this hell
what end will you journey to meet

Would you walk through the fires of hell
or run screaming without direction
Can you see a way beyond the fires of hell
or do you lack some means of detection

If you can see beyond the fires
but can see no way around the coals
will you be tempered by your pure desires
or terrified by evaporated souls

Would you walk through the fires of hell
If so, what for
When you walk through the fires of hell
it should be for something... more

Everyone will feel the heat against their skin
and some more so than others
When all that is, is all that's been
are the burn marks yours, or another's

Would you walk through the fires of hell
If you ever live, you know you will
When you do, may you do it well
with wonder, and grace, and ultimate skill
that the heat you encounter from the fires of hell
may be the fuel to power the life you instill
along your own way to a truth you'll fulfill

In Darkest Dreams of Sight...

In darkest dreams of sight
the closed eyes view
a world of black and white
with no color and no hue

Shapes shift in a shadowy fugue
Amorphous fault-lines fade
Every lineament runs askew
Oblivion is there   displayed

In darkest dreams of sight
the closed eyes view
an abyss of constant night
that no light may undo

All sound is but an echo
Each voice a muted tone
In a silence like a stiletto
piercing deeper than any bone

Each motion can only mimic
the causal movement lost
Every acuity is but a gimmick
Each breath is of exhaust

In darkest dreams of sight
the blind are in full-view
Here is no wrong nor right
Only banality can imbue

The dreaming dead are equal
to delusions thought alive
Eternity becomes a sequel
to hoard what will deprive

In darkest dreams of sight
closed eyes keep the view
beheld to behold this plight
and validate dreams undue

Hell is a Real Place...

They were out in the summer heat
Running down shoppers in the lot
Handing pamphlets to all they'd meet
Screaming a summary of their plot

Hell is a real place
and heaven is far away
Everyone needs grace
The world is in decay

Most of the shoppers were polite
in agreement or neutral disposition
A few knew verses they would recite
as if contributing to the mission

Some were rude or less discrete
bothered by more than just the heat
demanding reasons more concrete
to alter the natural cadence of their feet

One man walking near to me
spoke softly in measured words
He spoke beyond the sights to see
like a shepherd's gaze beyond the herd

Hell is a real place
and heaven is far away
The world needs more than grace
especially on a fevered day

Another voice came passing by
with another perspective to declare
In words recited like a lexical-sigh
oddly reminiscent of Voltaire

Hell is a real place
that's here today
Upon the face
of all dismay

All these things seemed so unreal
for me to witness without occasion
What truth did all these words reveal
What meaning derived from this equation

It seemed the whole world had professed
that hell was real enough somewhere
but heaven only some confessed
with speculations of how to get there

So I suppose that this means hell is real
enough to the world, so that all must act
as if it's part of the existential deal
despite obliviousness to conclude as fact

Reality is a belief in much the same
An idea that mortals can't disclaim
without risking more than blame
An idea that proves belief in shame
And shame is why we play the game
that makes hell & earth seem all the same

Hell is a real place
as real as anywhere
Revealed by its debase
in all of everywhere

Crickets Stridulating/The Lotus Far Away...

I'm not the first to notice
crickets stridulating feverishly
in the molten heat of summers
or the symbolism of the lotus
blossoming in streams brilliantly
emerging from murky unders

I have only heard of the lotus flowers
and cannot bear witness to their truth
  they remain far from my own view
I have heard crickets stridulate for hours
like clocks ticking away at fragile youth
  with something sinister to imbue

I hear the crickets now
incessant in the scorching heat
vexatiously vociferating banality
As my eyes wonder how
in rivers I might never meet
a lotus drifts without sentimentality

I wish the cricket stridulations
were as silent as the leaves
of the lotus so serene
and the heated tribulations
would relent to recitatives
and drift away like lotus flowers
that remain to me unseen

I imagine the lotus drifting now
as it is no longer of, but from
what murky waters hide below
As it floats along its Tao
with nothing to succumb
beyond the constant flow

My mind is carried with this
drifting along the lotus stream
and the strident crickets
I dismiss
Awakened, now I dream

There Are Only Words For This...

Uninspired
I try to write
I try to think
I try to live
& all I find is
there are only
words for this

Unsatisfied
I try to work
I try to remember
I try to forget
& all I learn is
there are only
words for this

Unrelenting
I try to leave
I try to be
I try to arrive
but in all I do
there are only
words for this

Uncontrollably
I toss and turn
I scowl
I yearn
but despite all conditions
there are only words for this

The spirit wanes
The soul wilts
The specter warns
"...there are only words for this..."

With only words
I can say nothing
though I know
there is much to be said
With no words
I could say anything
but I know
it'd be mere sounds in my head

So I chase the things
behind the lexical-scene
Trying to find something
that such words might mean
I fail, I fail, I fail, and fail...
but someday I will prevail
There may be no words for this
but in my mind still now
there are only words for this

Muted & Maligned...

I played my song
and no one cared
It took so long
to be prepared
Where I went wrong-
  I should not have dared

Eyes search for more
than what they see
Ears quickly bore
and turn absentee

The shadows grow longer
The lights dim down
The weakness is stronger
There's nothing to renown

I put the song away
and silence there arrived
I could neither leave nor stay
as nothing was derived

Eyes search for more
than what they cannot see
Ears constantly abhor
as oblivion's detainee

The gathered depart
The doors close
The void will impart
what there will then dispose

I leave the song behind
and the silence, and the shame
I lose my foolish mind
and accept all of my blame

Eyes roll over white
to whatever isn't there
Ears ring with spite
amidst the stagnant air

The night continues on
The earth inside the dark
The celestial pause to yawn
with nothing to remark

Dreamless there
 awake or sleeping
Blindly stare
 with eyes un-weeping

Silence then
 as every ending
Until again
 the chance pretending

How the weary sun can rise
and cast light onto distant skies
How the dead are made to rise
and clear away their sleep stained eyes

Ask the wisest of the wise
and all they say, they just surmise
that life is lived until it dies
and all will fail until it tries

As graves are marked without replies
I breathe enough to make a sigh
and flap my hands to ward off flies
unaware, but still in search of why
till muted & maligned goodbye

Forget About The World Gone Mad...

Forget all the shadowy figures
cast from the dark of past failure
Forget all the blind tourists
trying to be both accuser and bailor
Forget the outraged masses
that formlessly pool their rages
Forget the fickle dunces
that lead fools to call them sages

Forget about the world gone mad
Forget about all the lives never had
Forget about all that's just too sad

Leave the dead to their forgetting
Leave the wicked to regretting
Leave the mad to their abetting

Return to the light within you
Return to the truth you once knew
Return to the love of all you do

Remember the life you own
Remember what you are alone
Remember how you've grown

The shadows are bound to the dark
The tourists will go home in time
The mass-voices are all nervous bark
The words of fools are merely pantomime

Forget about the world gone mad
it isn't going to spin the other way
Forget about the world gone mad
it isn't more that a place to stay

Find the faithfully forgetful
and remember them in your graces
Bring relief to the fretful
but do not trade them places

Forget about the world gone mad
it certainly won't remember you
Don't let the universe make you sad
it certainly won't shed a tear for you

Remember the joy of your own life
Remember the illumination of living
Remember the elation that's still rife
Remember the world so giving

Forget about the world gone mad
Forget about the world gone
Forget about the world
Forget about mad
Forget

Souls For Sale...

For what it's worth
in silver,
in gold,
magic-beans,
false-promises,
time-shares in eternity...

Your soul is for sale
(All souls are)
and you name your own price
or accept the terms you're given

When death comes
you'll pay with your life
and all that will remain
is what your soul was sold for

What is it worth?
There are no guarantees
Every sale is a gamble
What is it worth?

Death recycles everything
that life will ever see
and if there's more beyond this
it certainly won't be free

What's your life
What is your soul
What are these things worth
What's under your control

If your soul is alive
If your life bears your soul
May your life earn its keep
so your soul may be full

When you do sell your soul
be sure it's worth losing
because down in a hole
there's no more refusing

Time & Space > Earth & Humanity...

Time is too long
Space is too big
The world is too small
Life is too short

The age of the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old

According to NASA the universe is flat
and therefore the size of the universe is infinite

The total surface area of Earth
is about 197 million square miles
(71% is water and 29% is land)

The earth is about 4.6 billion years old
Humans have inhabited earth for 130,000 years
Worldwide, the average life expectancy is 71 years

Time is too long
Space is too big
The world is too small
Life is too short

The average person spends 99,117 hours at work,
sleeps for 229,961 hours,
waits in lines for 6 months,
and watches 11 years of TV

The earth's urban areas occupy
approximately 3.5 million sq. kilometers
The population of earth is approx 7.125 billion

The earth has a maximum capacity of 9-10 billion people

The earth may remain habitable for another 1.75 - 3.25 billion years
 
Time is too long
Space is too big
The world is too small
Life is too short

What time is it now?
Where do you stand?
How big are your ambitions?
What are you doing?

It is now.
You are here.
All ambition is small.
You are alive.

Time is too long
Space is too big
The world is too small
Life is too short