The human doesn’t live here,
Emotions don’t appear clear.
Everything he is feeling,
is off like a robot alien.

Confusion is the normal.
Uncertainty, totally natural.
Calamity may come to me
but what he sees is destiny.

Every day he’s learning,
trying to understand,
why what he is feeling
makes him feel more
machine than man.

They never let you go.
They keep you encumbered
identified and numbered
classified and moving slow,

while a big bad beast barrels fast behind,
terrible trouble hunting to find
the tasty morsel that is you.

Sleep deprived you still try
to run and hide to survive.

But you left deep imprints,
so easy to track and that
was their sick intent.

Set up to be a sacrifice
so, they can stay alive,
you succumb
become cold and numb
then end up being
dinner for the dark thing
that was pursuing you
and every other human being.

He lets it get darker.
As each sin begins
to cave in his skin,
he feels the death
of another friend.
Then the passing
of treasured kin.

The ground collapses
and he descends
to face the final
stage,
and rage against
that awful fate.

Streetlights go dim,
and a warm wind
starts chillin.

The sidewalks cracks,
and after that
the sounds of animal paws
and raven caws
ceases.

People stop speaking,
and he starts seeking
any redemption
to prevent him
from facing
that creepy sleep thing.

Not a bright light
or a dark scythe
cloaked guy
flies by.

It is just a light drip
like a leaking drain
with no pain
that that slows him
down.

The chasm calls,
blackish blue
and glittering pool
of infinite reflection.

The liquid is cool
as he slips and falls in
not quite drowning
but losing the outer edges
of conscious thought.

Foot, then up to his knee,
and he can see
sparkles firing lines
of lightning
sparking then fading,

Up to his but
then pass his gut
as each little light dies.

Lead heavy eyes
still crack red and dry,
as the murky water
gently summons him
to fall in.

One last breath,
then his mouth and nose
goes under as well,
followed by his hazel eyes,
and ***** brown hair.

The he sinks
no more thoughts to think
after he drinks
a little bit of this liquid,
and ceases to respire.
Instead, he expires
and his body
falls slowly disintegrating
in the space of eternity

The space bound
non-painted clown
acts like he is
on fire waiting
to back down
from the fight
he hasn’t found.

He is seduced
by the lies he uses,
for the art he confuses
with truths.

Paints reds and blues,
with pink petal hues
and terrible tints
that don’t compliment
him or any artistic endeavor.

Still, he believes he is as clever
as any other creative.

I am talking to myself.
Every verse that works
is a conversation
of my own making
with the brightest
fool I know.

Its not so bad.
I am the almost famous
Cinderella man
looking to expand
my influence
over a land.

Too bad I got good
just in time
for mankind
to face the boot
off of this planet
that we abuse
and pollute.

I'm afraid
Of
Eyes
Seeing me for
Who I truly am
That "they" might
Hate me
Because
I'm different.

I'm afraid
Of
Ears
That "they" might
Hear what I have to say
But
No one will want to
Listen

I'm afraid of
Hands
That "they" might
Make a fist or
Worst
Point a finger at me and
Single me
Out

I'm afraid
Of
You
The public is
Dangerous and
THEY have no time
To care about
My opinion
Only
"Theirs"

Bravely the sun announces night has flown,
Its blinding rays far and wide it casts;
Reluctantly the moon descends its throne .......
Nothing lasts

Contentedly you'll hear the robin sing,
Her egg-filled nest she proudly broadcasts,
Then one sad morning her fledglings take wing .......
Nothing lasts

The withered rose that once nourished the bees
Now treats them like bewildered outcasts,
Her drops of nectar no longer appease .......
Nothing lasts

Sad hearts rejoice when Love knocks at their door,
So glad to forget their shattered pasts;
Soon they're holding hands with despair once more .......
Nothing lasts

For some, life holds honey;  for others, rue,
And then suddenly the trumpet blasts,
The Angel of Death comes to claim his due .......
Nothing lasts

the sun turns our thoughts into sweat
so i curse at the sky and blinding heat
for taking your voice away from me

(from the beautiful messages some of you send me, this my unintended answer, my thanks, my concerns, all brewed and blended, emerging in this the first second of this say, this day)

the day’s light is undecided. Alternating currents of cloudy
and peek-a-boo sunshine are reflecting outward from my insides onto the world exterior as personality is the best envisioning filter, making you and reality mirror each other, and there are no lines, no divisions.

you awake and instant watch water moving; the currency of
water are the surface wavelets, like wind blown hair.  So, what notions  I have going on is that the water wears wigs (shhhh!) just to keep its integral integrity of constant dishonesty, that being its
natural state.

and
recall nature is just your insides eking, leaking out in...wavelets
and wigs.

all this wonderful nonsense is my heart deeded  eking, leaking, in droplets, in constant motion, this water is never placid, never perfectly still, always moving, sometimes rumbling...and she and I talk about not having a child to take care of in the morning as a sad freedom to
pamper and experiment ourselves even as we co-exist in sweats and t-shirts which segues into a conversation how we moderns crave simplicity over the complexity of living in “modern” times, making us vulnerable to leaders who offer promises of draining, return to the good ole days, forgetting that in just forty years the world fought two wars that killed millions, destroyed the landscape, left billions in miserable existence, and yet shaped, still shapes, the world via today’s unraveling global structure...

so I return to the water, marveling at its life long deception...motion
constant, to the human eye, random and disorganized, yet balletically
organized with synchronicity and yet above and underneath is a whole world in random cooperation, but not necessarily peaceful coexistence...

a mobile, ever changing jigsaw puzzle where the pieces fit together
for just a second before devolving into a new puzzle and on and on...
the surface calm of our appearances, flecked with expressions, our body reshaping with every step is a testimony to the inconstancy of living and I think I could never write a good enough poem to explain how we each inside and outside coexist with engines of turmoil inside, churning, and the oceans and the rivers exist only to remind us that water comes in many colors, and when we dip even a finger in running flows, we  alter the course of history, humanity, eternity, and all words that end in Y, that are really big, the all encompassing ones;

every thought, every blink, every word, is so revealing and I rejoice, secure in that knowing, for it is the source of creating and here I am creating this one second’s summary and I must stop for here comes another second, another glance asking for love,

like a child climbing into your early morning bed, ear to ear grinning, announcing their presence as their gift to you and the world in general, and of course they are exactly right, like every fluid body of water...

I am not a really fit
dude who can take
a super anime hit.

Even though, I
have a great gift
that lets me
write a bit
I don’t expect
my words will
change ****.

I am smarter than
most humans,
but this brain I have
won’t solve the world’s
problems,
won’t beat
the greedy goblins
that I meet.

I can make people laugh
but I know that
is not uncommon.

So, my greatest aspect,
or so
I suspect
is my gentle disposition,
desire to show respect
and above all else
be kind.