you know a lie
when you hear it
A Lie
Is Anything
that competes
with your truth.

I have a plan
Well more of a notion
It's like a plan
But less complete
It's quite masterful
Even with those holes
You know kinda
Sorta
Okay maybe not
I just need one more part
Do you have it?

There all messed up
These hands of mine
I have an image
In my mind
Of what they need
To draw
And what they make
Is quite off the mark
They don't build
Honestly they aren't
Even good fists
But there what
I have so I do
what I can.

we danced
we laughed
alas
as naught but a pauper
I was not the right sort
so I was shown the door.

I'd be
That Gray cloud
That hangs over
Your head
Obscuring the sun
And raining
on your parade
Nothing personal
It's just
The weather pattern
That I am.

There they are
those folks
they stand around
doing things
things you dislike
possibly just to spite you

What to do What to do
you could freak out
but then you'll be on their radar
and it probably won't help

you could try getting to know them
learn how they tick
maybe they aren't so bad

or you could try hiding
under a rock or in plain-site
that can be very stressful
which is bad for your heart

Whatever you do
best be quick
cause their coming
over here.

Resurrection and rabbits
sure
why not.

Cut to the quick
with plastic knives
you are weak
and not
in fighting trim
on the pro side
you go well with toast.

A green smoke
That fills your lungs
Till each breath
Is nearly choked
With jealousy
The things
That they have
And you never will
The talents they possess
That you can't copy
The people
That surround them
That you want to snub
It make you think
Things best left unthought
This noxious fog
Will be your ruin
Or it can be
If you let it.

I mean
I mean
words
the facts
specifics
in order
god dam it
out loud
I get so scattered.

Way long ago
There was a women
Pretty as a picture
Who caught a sea gods eye
They were quite smitten
But alas too open
With their affections
They angered another
The wisest of gods
Since gods are above Reproach
It was she who suffered
Under the wise ones wrath
Cursed to slither
For eternity
As Medusa.

It's amazing
Your silver tongue
Isn't burned by the venom
You spew
I see people swayed
By your passion and your volume
Sheep I want to scream
Turn away from this snake
But I don't
And they certainly won't
Among your most insidious flock
They find acceptance
And learn of the fun
Of mob justice.

Your totally prepared
To look like
Your prepared to do
What needs to be done
But we both know
When push comes to shove
Your confidence will shatter.

All things look small
In the big picture
Such a lofty perspective
Makes clear the unclear
Any horror can be minimized
It might be a wise view
Unimpeded by emotion or bias
But it isn't a kind one
And it's hard to have
Especially when a small view
Is so much more natural
And fits like a glove.

Hypothetical questions
are they worth anything
hypothetically what
would you do
really you don't know
you weren't there
perhaps if you answer
a hypothetical question
with an honest answer
we can know your inclination
but that's about it.

Your trapped
You can kick
You can scream
But it's pointless
Cause your going nowhere
Probably

I suppose escape
Isn't impossible
Per say but it is
Quite unlikely

Sooo good luck
With that
Hahaha ha ha.

It's pointless
And unhelpful
To pity yourself
As well as irritating
And now that you know that
I'm certain
You will never do it again
Probably.

My mind wanders
often to places
i'd rather not be
you might say
it
has a mind
all its own
very meta
and aggravating
but whats a body to do
meditation perhaps
maybe some mindfulness
Ah such grand choices
there are other options
of course
but they are
a tad grim.

A portal
to other worlds
that
can inform and amuse
or a horrible brain leach
depending
on who you ask.

I knew you
Once upon a time
We were close
Yet hear we are today
Nothing but strangers
What happened
Probably time
Maybe if I had tried harder
Things would be different
Or maybe not.

I KNOW
i know
but maybe
i need another
just in case.

One forever
one for always
like a god dam penguin
it simply can't be
one for you
one for me
it never lasts
and everyone cheats
or so the cheaters say
maybe there is
a grain of truth
maybe not.

An oasis
hopefully
maybe a mirage
that can be seen
should one wander
into hell
it is if nothing else
A direction.

Giving words
As a gift
What A poet thing
To do
I can't though
At least not
If it's true
That the thought counts
Cause none of my thoughts
Are Charitable.

another reason
to curse god
this and
especially that
it boils my blood
and
ruffles my feathers
not big stuff either
but little things
that seem huge
dam little big
things.

Little needles
they pop in and out
to jab me the spine
oh so often do they appear
they have no will
no particular intent
certainly not one
I can control
so just deal
is what I must do
somehow
maybe thicker clothes.

in the darkness
anything is possible
and nightmares are probable
every sound is trouble
but their is a bright side
all your woes
are shrouded
at least until dawn
when that light pours inside
things are harder to ignore.

I was told
I should pray
They say it helps
I don't agree
They say the room
That appears empty
Is full of God
Or some such
And I need only speak
But I'm pretty sure
The only one who hears
My prayer is me
And I'm an awful audience.

Run run
To enact your plan
Poor little thing
It's all done
No matter your actions
My goals are fulfilled
You are just
Too little
And too late.

like an egg
on a frying pan
plus bugs buzzing

Wide eyed wonderment
poor city slicker
seeing something ancient
for the very first time
it is
something special
you get used to it.

once upon time
there was a dude
his names irrelevant
he walked his own path
and was proud of it
one day
he ran into a tree
it was right on his track
he says to the tree
"outa the way"
the tree didn't care
and kept on treeing
the dude repeated himself
to no avail
so he starts to scream
in a very masculine way
for the tree to move
he only stops
when his voice gives out
the man is loathe
to leave his path
so he just starts climbing
he cared not a whit
for the trees great height
so up he goes
he makes it
and finds on the other side
nothing apparently
a tree marked the end
of his path
undeterred
the man walked on
to who knows where.

I have
Young eyes
Inexperienced
Eyes indeed
So why am I
Such a cynic
I've done so little
And seen only a bit
Maybe I have
Bleak genes
Maybe it's because  
I Know too much
Or it could be
I know too little
And am rather
Self involved
No probably  
Just my generation.

wandering spirits
for our tech based age
they don't herald god
or consort with the dead
their free
to run through
the power lines
and the mind.

I meant to say hi
I thought up
all the sentences
we could trade
I envisioned
where things
just might go
but you left
before I could say
anything
my bad.

A figment made of iron
that equals a million lives
there is no future
without a past
it ensnares some
offends others
and some
realize it simply
is the beginning.

No magic here
Just science and madness
I know it's so
I really do
Yet it sounds lovely
And it catches my mind
Do I have a genetic predisposition
To thinking about magic.

artificial syrup
flooding my veins
how did you find enough
to drown in
where there's a will
Dr P my main man
for medical advice
you aren't dead
so you must be good
full to the brim man
why
the locale water
tastes like mercury
it won't satisfy
but at least  you
don't buy bottled water.

Everything was lovely
once upon a time
or so my mind claims
there was unpleasantness
but all that comes to mind
was such energetic fun
laughs and good times
wait
am I thinking of
the Brady bunch.

Ah the price of a life
some say its infinity
unless said person
is really annoying
but people die
for anything
for nothing
so what is it worth
truly
less than ideas
less than rocks
less than so very many things.

The thought means little
speaking is an action
thinking isn't
but time won't stop
while your lost in thought.

staring ahead
into the void
or at the painter
sometimes I think
you're painted eyes
are following me.

Dancing
In the meadow
During a snow storm
Sneezing and freezing
come what may
enjoy the day.

the sun sets
when you wish it to
not everyone knows that
they follow
the designated times
for day and night
it may not be healthy
to let it set early
but in the end
it's up to you.

windows to the soul
is one name
for those orbs
in your skull
but I see nothing
are you empty inside
am I blind
or is that phrase
poetic bull.

The candle is out
The darkness is here
Covering you up
Like a tongue
On a small piece
Of candy
Dissolving you
And sometimes
Not even bothering
To really taste you.

Superfluous
can't feed the soul
if you starve to death
it has its place
as all things do
but is it simple luxury?

I was a different creature
When I came here last
The walls are a different shade
And is it just me
Or is the building smaller
Your still here
Just as you were
Do I look
The same to you.

A great deal
a side effect
of slight paranoia
Everything
that could go wrong
drifts through
my mind
not much room
for anything else
maybe
it's not paranoia
I can't tell anymore
if i ever could.

I knew a holy man
in a sense
I knew him
as a child knows their pastor
I wasn't told the gossip
and we didn't share stories
I knew what I was told
that he spoke the word of god
god was rather dull so far as I could tell
maybe the pastor just had no passion.