I was the child that once said
“Does magic exist, or is it all in my head?”
The same one that slept with a bear
And had less than a half inch of hair.

The little ‘un that wanted peace
And to this day, that did not cease
So I hopped into the past to see myself again
And stared at my own self that was ten.

He giggled at my face that was odd to see
“What are those spots?” “That’s acne.”
And he asked if I had a girlfriend
But of course you knew how that story would end.

We walked down the street and talked for a while
When I asked about his friends, he wore a big smile
And told me there was absolutely nothing at all wrong
And I chuckled when he talked and played right along

He then asked me if I feared anything
I scoffed at this question and pretended it did not sting
He didn’t look so sure, and I swore before I left
That I left within him some feeling of bereft.

So I came back to my time and sat upon my chair
And ran a troubled hand throughout my tousled hair
Then suddenly, a flash in front of my eyes
And when the smoke cleared, I had one big surprise

I saw a young man of about twenty two
He had a mane of hair, down to his shoulders, mind you
And he looked a little tired, but I knew for who he was
As he cleaned his shirt of dust and fuzz

He stepped towards me and offered his hand
And I took it and shook it; though this wasn’t planned
And from behind his square glasses was a familiar look seen
And he was gone in an instant; left behind a very confused teen.

Beginning at the dusk of yesterday.
There was never even a hint of when it happened
Or what it destroyed.
What countless minds had it shattered
Our feelings had it toyed.
We felt the earth rumble at half past twelve.
Every second that went by vaporized another city.
And when the final tree fell down
I felt the last of my hope drown.

A thunderstorm of warheads out past my window
Made me turn away from the flashes of white
When the sky turned red
“How many”, I thought, “were dead?”
The books on my shelves turned to gasoline
As the words on the pages
Ignited at the scene
This poem doesn’t have to be consistent
To deliver the problems that are ever so existent
When two boys cry from two different sections of the Earth
Which one is more sad about what they have or don’t?
What God is up there? What man is the director of this
Mad play that is reality? This insane musical
That nobody could ever dream of
For all I see are the fireballs cascading over the land
As the Big Brothers in charge stick
Their heads further in the sand
Let’s leave it all behind
Life has another plan in mind.

Chalk dust dries on the ground
Where children’s games have once made their sound
The child has grown.

I’ll open my mouth again
To make another disaster work
Worms spew forth to the screen
From my body where they lurk.
Why do I still write? It doesn’t make sense
Maybe it’s the venom from my body I must cleanse
As time ticks down from the clock to the floor
Still as a revolution outside continues to roar
The people kick down my door
See my own self at war
My lust wanting more
Your body that I adore
What do I have to pay for?
This service of which I swore
That I can pull whenever I want out my **** drawer
What’s the score?
It’s one to four
A pipe of dependence of which I’ll soar
So high up in the clouds that thunder and pour
These poems have become such a mental chore
It’s always such a grueling bore
To commit to oneself of what seeps out of every pore.

Do I deserve a spot in Heaven
Next to you?

Jim left home one sunny day
To take a trip to big L.A.
He got up to walk
But stood ‘round to talk
And he missed his flight from Norway.
Jim was rather mad
So he yelled at a lad
Who promptly did tell him off
So when Jim went to scoff
In his face did he cough
And Jim instead went to Riyadh.
Jim was so blue
He thought what to do
And looked in the handy travel guide
That told him to hide
And then Jim had died
In the ocean that the plane had fell to.
Let this be a lesson to Jim
Whose life was always grim
He beat up his wife
And stabbed her with a knife
Now look what has become of him.

When I cry softly out my left eye
I suddenly see faintly out my right
In the darkness of which I gently float
Inside the silent abyss of where I lie
A flash of illuminating light
Followed by a lovely music note.

She asked me one day if I was alright.
I told her that a poet has to have a disturbed mind.
She asked me why.
I told her that I was still trying to find out.
I told her I loved her.
She smiled and said she loved me too.
Too bad it was all a fantasy.

It’s all too much
Shout it loud
It’s all too much
To have done as such
As to have died five times
And still I am seen as living.

The dance begins.

Together on the linoleum dance floor
Do the dressed fancy humans move
From a species that sparked fire from flint
To new modern cowards with flavored mouths of mint
From the music that spells the ending of all
Inside this prophetic construction held within a ball

Inside the snowy tundra of the room
Where the snowy figures dance their doom
Does the ice freeze the plaster on the ceiling
Everyone dances; nobody feels a feeling
With their arms ‘round each other in a ballroom style
The people’s faces are straight, there is not even a smile
The fire in the hearth has extinguished long ago
Shed some light on the blizzard that you know

The summer in my brain always combats the winter in
My heart.

It’s so easy to think you’re in love
How long until you meet the souls up above?
How long until you go stir-fry mad?
How long until you don’t know why you’re sad?
How long until this dance of ours
Finally reaches its final hours?

I never want it to end.

Pause the war.
Take me back to before
When the world was pure.
When the meadows of the countryside
Were available for all to run through
When humans lived together, and died together
Not in times of bloodshed, or carnage
But when people lived their whole life
As what they wanted to be.
When you and I could love each other
And not be disturbed by society
Is it a fantasy world?
Did it ever exist?
Or am I being an optimist?
Human; the only species to ****
Itself.

Un-pause the war.
See the harsh infinite gore
That stains every door.
Where the swamps of the marshlands
Have bodies swimming through it
Where humans gag on tar and hope
Where they know they’re at the end of their rope.
Not where people sing songs and dance
Not where there’s music and love and romance
But where people lived their whole life
As what they were forced to be.
Where you and I were separated
And be imprisoned by society.
Is it real life?
Or is it possible to dodge the knife?
Questions forever locked
In the chasms of a city.

And yet, peace and war are synonymous.

I was the child. He laughed and smiled not knowing of the world.
I was the robot. It never felt a thing.
I was the story teller. He failed at recreating his own sin and misery.
I was the runner. He never won his own race.
I was the lover. He did not succeed.
I was the lust-er. He nearly drowned in it.
I was the Marxist. He was fooled too easily.
I was the Creature. He still has the demons.
I was the hippie. He couldn’t make peace with himself.
I was the poet.
I now just am.

Oh, the yellow bricked road.

(Countdown. Ten.)

Dorothy saw the scarecrow
And tried to help him out

(Nine.)

She saw him bend down low
He was alive, no doubt.

(Eight.)

He stumbled here and there
To gather about his wits

(Seven.)

She laughed and flipped her hair
And helped him with his fits.

(Six.)

They got along real well
And became the best of friends

(Five.)

At the city where Oz does dwell
They hope to greet fine ends.

(Four.)

And at the city it seems
They met their wildest dreams

(Three.)

But in a sudden flash
Emerald City fell with a crash

(Two.)

So together they danced with his hands on her hips
In the mushroom cloud of the blazing apocalypse.

(One. We have liftoff.)

A field of fire rising up to the sky
Ten thousands of people; all will die
Dozens of suns and a giant shockwave
And nobody went to visit my own grave.

Music and life had fallen as well
And imprisoned in a chamber donned by people as “hell”
Yet deaf was all real, but the one thing heard
Was the blast in the morning as soft as a bird.

A place where freedom did never exist
A place where war from society was ******
And liberty had left; and peace had too
Inside of the government always undergoing a coup.

Cities had fallen from the bombs up above
Some paradoxical world that once kept me in love
With its sadism of nature, but all that has gone
And poems were buried in the nuclear dawn.






No…no no no no no more
I can’t take this anymore
No more nightmares it’s getting to a point
PLEASE, NO MORE EXPLOSIONS
WHY DOES IT STILL HAPPEN?!!!!
NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO.


And my body rocks violently in sleep.

As long as I live
This message I give
To the people from birth
On this war-stricken Earth
Someday it will all cease
When finally there is peace.

It isn’t much to ask
Drink it deeply from a flask
Let it be all that you know
Keep it with you when you grow
It’ll come as a surprising caprice
That golden blooming era of peace.

You won’t get it from the boss
War; what a tragic loss
In the hearts that hate, but it is never too late.
To those that are willing to change
This world of which we’ll be sure to rearrange
You won’t get it from the coppers and brutal police
I speak of nothing else but that golden word, “peace”.

Shed some light on the smoke covered town
That breathes nothing but the bombs from the sky coming down
Shed some light on the shadows of the dead
With the swing set squeaking softly as the sky turns red
Shed some light on the bodies never meant to be seen
Expelled from society; their lives never being clean
Shed some light on the hand
That draws people in the sand
Does it belong to a child?
Broken dreams they have piled.

Down at the prairie side
Does the old farmer ride
At the comfort of his home
On his chestnut horse he roam
At the stable near the shed
Colored oaken brownish red
Is the little horse that sleeps
In bushels of hay of heaps
Do not fret, little horse
For soon you’ll race with force
But at the time being
I hope you don’t mind seeing
Out the view of where you lie
The bigger horses run by.

When he tells her that he loves her
What will be the answer?
Time stands still
As a million knives jab into his heart
The demons that have plagued him for weeks
Chomp further into his soul
She looks at him in disbelief
Like he suddenly wasn’t the same person anymore
He feels the temperature drop to the negatives
Ice grows all over his body
She steps towards him with her hand on his
Their eyes dilate slightly simultaneously
As all around them suddenly isn’t
Like nothing matters more than this
As she softly whispers, more tenderly than the warmth of summer
As his death winter slowly fades away
When she replies, “I love you, too.”