Thursday, April 29, 2010

Smile wide, my friend, smile wide

When I feel powerful I do what anyone else does: ruin it. But isn't that the beauty of it? If perfection was rampant then nothing would be random -- can you find the purpose in what we see as accident? We trip, grasp hold, lose it all, gain the world; and maybe this list isn't complete. If you dwell on the past, keep up the grudge, you won't be the one that makes it past the last step. Everyone is judged -- just not in the end. Before death we are evaluated by family and friends, society and pre-made plans; judgment is doled and the Judge hangs his hat. Regardless of this, please be who you are. If you're as crazy as me wear it proud/cross your heart: a patch or a button won't do. If you are like who I know then I know who you are. Like perfection, although false, people strive to be...us. Realize this, and you'll see; that media's a mirror -- and beauty is cheap. Put prices on facial structure, body weight; believe: people are people and they all believe in greed. And belief is as dangerous as a blind grenade toss. Throwing cause to the wind begs for fresh graveyard plots. And isn't that an image of how many survive: monochrome methodologies built and buried in effigy. Will you remember me when I'm gone? Can you make a mark on the world if it truly doesn't care? No one listens, so why bristle at thoughts of failure? I'm not saying we're all equal -- that we're lost -- too far gone...

No we're not. And I love you and hope you'll do well. For yourself and whoever gravitates to your life. In and out I will go 'til I feel I can rest. I'm tired but tweaked out -- freaked out by science. No. Violence won't harm me, just the fact that you smile and dismiss me as just someone you'd rather forget, in favor of favoring someone else; yet, I can't be jealous so I'll just never forget. Turn you to song; assimilate your mood. Your face and demeanor speaks volumes. It's true. You're a novel you won't write nor let me read right. Will you call me tonight? Text me tomorrow? Follow my life or refuse to allow my name to cross your mind...? Meh, I wouldn't follow me either, I've drawn my own lines. I agree we're all human and I know we all die. I know that you'd love me if we gave it a try. So smile, my friend, smile wide.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Last Night (Was Nuts)

My mind says,
"No. Don't turn down that road."
"Don't flirt with disaster"
"Take the money and run!!"

But my head has separate intentions.

...
I think that I picked up a hitchhiker.
My memory is hazy in the morning.
But I can see his face - blurried and frosted.
It was cold, but I didn't notice.
I think I took him past Main.
But I didn't have a car when I woke up again.
Nor did I feel trust or peace refrain
within the four white walls that house
my sanity.
He knocked it out of me.
Pipe probably. Swung laterally through the dark.
It had to be small. Light but lethal hard.
I felt the warmth, and yeah I noticed:
when picture bled to smear.
In the end its desperate separation that helped us meet...
I was delighted you were there.
...

In the end I think we all meet, although we haven't yet.
We know everyone and no one all the same.
How can I hope to pierce your skull and peer at what's in your brain?
It's gray all the same. I know that much.
So maybe we can meet again - some other time
with different circumstances.
Maybe that would play out different.
But that's just maybe.
And I have a headache.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Do/Did You Think?

I am free-form, without wings or paddles please push my raft into cold current, white waters. We all breathe from the same source, waste words on sand, grains number our plans. You've been in the air straight levitating state, affairs of Earth-walkers ember your flame. It's not too late, breaking stride, dig a ditch, fill the void, make amends, rebuilt frame, circle slowly, nest again.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Psalms of the Begotten V

We speak in words unmarred by verbs, syntax, voice, pronoun, or phrase.
Otherwise silent, I'll beam you my subtext, nestled between our brainwaves.

It takes time to make time just as it takes words to make rhymes.

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