Some universal common ancestor,
Some roots we all share.
That's how it is, right?
**** some connection
To the natural world around us,
**** the universe.
It's in the symbolism of it,
It's by the reality of it.
What can one say?

We do what we can with what we're given.

I don't know about that,
But whatever brings comfort.

Some find comfort inside caskets;
Some in the idea of the end of it,
Some on the idea of a new beginning.

Some find comfort outside in nature;
Some in the idea of being a part of it,
Some on the idea of being apart from it.

It's recognizing you are already seperate,
Yet still totally together with it.

these days ahead
will be more difficult
than the challenges
we faced only
months ago
younger
naive
of course we didn't know
war lied in front of us
youth like
disturbed snow

so used to being on your own
you've become comfortable
only when you're alone
when you can't be
you push everyone away
or make leaps and bounds
to lead you far from the storm
leave the bodies of your woes
scattered around
your anguish on show
for all to know

If she were a celestial,
And I among constellations -
Then she would be the sun,
And I the moon.
Then I would be a star,
And her a heavenly angel.
Then I would beam brightly
At the mere presence of her.
Whenever needed,
Never receded
Neither eclipsed,
The light shone would be ours together
No matter the luminous object.
From the pledge of our marriage
There is a beauty so rapturous
In a love bathed to our family,
Fellow friends & strangers
To whom too are showered
In light of our joy & happiness.

an artist cries tears
and they smear
down the front face of his canvas
he wears his fears
like his heart
on his sleeve
and you want to help me
even though you're frightened
stuck on the thought i want to hurt you
do i want you to help
when it's you that sparks flames
my mind wandering from you igniting
the ideas of us
and you backtrack like i can forget
and go on
even though it's you that rekindled them

I'm not looking just to use someone.
Or be used.
I want a partner.
If that's asking too much,
Pass along the news.

The say,
"Profess! Kneel in submission to YOUR Lord, the God!"
I say,
"Confess! What is the name of 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 "God?""

They say,
"Blasphemy!"

I say,
"Yes! Or, at least, close enough.
And close enough is good enough for your believers."

It's intelligence that's 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨,
Emotion 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨?
Is logic 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨?
But no, you;
You're all three.
𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺; 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺,
That's why everything
Seems so confusing,
Right?

I know you feel all alone
even with me here
I wish I could be more to you
though I know I alone am not enough
I try to push you out
out of the house
on the road
down and out
my luck is **** with this stuff
and I never get it right with words;
I just want for you to blossom

i want you
not these stupid ******* games
so at least
leaving
get that through your brain
that you did this
this is what you gain
loneliness
gnawing
give you
my constant ache

**** the heart and
You leave life to the vicious realm of fact.
And now quietly, bias builds
Behind a calculated mask.
Speak your minds, and fast.
Before you lose all ability to affect any real large change.
You will be charged, regardless
Of if you said anything.
So don't say the words of other fools
Who know not even their best interest.
Talk amongst yourselves and
Find the common ground.
That is democracy's politics

The best way to goad a lie?
Believe it yourself.
But it's even easier
To convince others of the truth
Being false itself

The contrast between truth and falsehood
Lie in the whether
The inquiring party
Believe, or not;

Sufficiently convinced enough?

in space
it's a silence so deafening
screaming has no meaning
disassociating
to escape
this life
that doesn't satisfy me
in the clouds
shout
and let me know
when you come down
so i can catch you
re-entry can burn
it's something you still
haven't learned

in her shallow ******* of a life
she's nursed off spite and envy,
the spice of her existence

an fm radio playing
just to drown out her thoughts
on a drive she took
late in the eve

to look out over where the dam
holds the water back
the cool calming black
of the night
reflected off the stale water
that now sat still

His eyes, tightly shut
To stymie the tears building
The fighting, intense and abrupt
Like the feeling to give up
An ocean of emotion
Waves washing over
Lying still, still in motion,
I know but don't mention.
Still alive though
Inside, I feel I'm dying;
Drowning

hope your free drinks at the ray charles concert
go down like sulfur
be safe walking home
cause i still worry
even though mostly
i feel empty
it's just the bad ****
you make me wanna blow my ******* brains out
thought about only after
you message

i don't want to live
though i don't have the courage to **** myself
you gave a glimpse
of what it is
when things die

Spitting up blood;
Living, dying,
What's its worth?
I feel as the Emerald Ash Borer,
Hated by those around me
And stamped upon
Until I am eradicated
Whilst those same people
Attempt to find some use from me
Before I am killed.
These are not loving societies,
Reflected in our treatment of others;
It was very nice to have known all of you.

you can make
morning midnight
but you brighten dark days too
and, on the whole,
I'm happy to say
I have you

We're mammals;
Walking, talking, thinking.
We're animals.
Upright, articulable, sophisticated.

Yet, we pay little respect,
Fret more then reflect;
For an ancestor we all share
And yet share more in neglect!

What long ways to have come
To have gone so little distance;
To be ever farther than before,
But to have done really so very little!

I talk about our planet!
I talk about all those who inhabit!
It's a rotten mess that's been made.
Each blemish, every scar, all the stains
Marked & soaked into each & every page!

Many great recessions & regressions,
Degradations & destructions-
That's what we offer everything.
But I digress from the apathy,
For it is better thought to think of change.

What beauty nature must have been,
Even understanding the difficulty
Of life prior to our modernity.
Years & years ago, hundreds & thousands,
When natural life was more abundant.

"When we were slaves to nature!"
"When all was bountiful & liberated!"
"When we were aching & starving!"
"When all was free & meritable!"

It's all perspective,
But are they all really mutually exclusive?
Like the popular philosophies of a moment
Fluctuating with the pass of time.

From good to bad,
Like stored food going spoiled.
From growth to decay,
Like rust on metal forming.

Yet, it's just change.
Yet, those are just oddities.
Everyday examples
Because of our lifestyles.

Those things exhibited being indicative
Of perspective on the nature of "change."
Good, bad.
It's by an individual basis.

Balance between any individual & its environment
Is essential for that individual to maintain.
At the same time, being a product of its environment,
To what magnitude, if any, does any individual actually have a responsibility to?

It's by an individual basis?
But every species is a part of,
In one way or another,
A collective of that species.
Their effects, how they affect,
Can be counted cumulative.

But it all sure is beautiful.

Going off the handle?
Better to say, gone?
Broke the neck off the bottle,
When you were just trying to
Get the cork off?
Perhaps you twisted too hard,
Slow down & be gentle.
Love isn't a race,
It's a marathon.

A rhyme heard from when he was younger,
For there was a love perverted for the Greeks & Romans.
There was more, but I won't go on.

You can describe
The awe inducing beauty
Of a sun kissed morn
Or of the towering, starry night sky
And never realize it's value

Our chariot soared through the tunnel
And from out of the dark, light.
The sight of the city erupting
With fires' glare burning bright,
Venom like a snake's bite.
Vast buildings careening down,
As we maneuvered around them
The air was thick with smoke
And the smell of lead & sulfur,
The ground shook in violence.
We landed in a clearing,
The end was close at hand
The limits to see it, subjective;
For many laid dead in our stead,
Many enemies & siblings come to head,
And long did we have to tread before rest.
I unfurled the flag
And hoisted it up overhead,
Flying high on the mast.
I said my prayers
And made my peace,
Before the rain began.
All around me was storming,
Shutters battered marble
Amid crys for no quarter-
Blood was to be our recompense

"Great!" They said.

"So I'll be you, and you be me?"

"Correct!"

"And you'll be them, and they'll be you?"

"Accurate!"

And so they all swapped their devices,
All took each other's names/profiles,
Saying nothing of what they were actually doing!

"So who will I even be talking to?"

"Don't worry, you'll know it!"

"But how will I understand it as them?"

"Wouldn't you know if you didn't?"

I cut the wheel out in gravel,
I shaped a navel for the tadpoles.
Firmly, but gentle;
I dug out the furrows,
I made lush the fields,
I caused the showers.
And in that safe place, I deposited them.
So that they might grow.
But now they're adults!

Will they burn out all life
In their self-contained terrarium?
That is of their own making,
Their own doing.

For how high they have climbed up
Yet, how little they have grown!
Like Babel, like beanstalk,
Like Galileo's experiment at Pisa!

All things that go up must come down,
Right?

When one self-medicates,
Sometimes they grab the nostrum
Rather than the cataplasm.
Trying to clean the well, they mistake belladonna for myristica.
Perhaps it was the region or the season,
Maybe the water table atop which they were building.
Were it a town,
Perhaps its citizen lacked hygiene
Or had no care to maintain things.
Maybe they sparsely talked things over
And thought little of one another.
Of the many circumstances,
It could've been the building materials
Or the architects.
The dictates we lay out
For ourselves and those around us
Rarely are truly followed
In the case of relations between each other,
And typically less so
In the case of the larger world.

the big easy
is hard lives,
what gives

this rainy city
so sublime,
it's almost a pity

that streets are lined with ****
pests and rats in the alleyways
how did things get so ******

or have they always been?

overpasses with people
lying underneath

so many homeless
it staggers the mind to think

bread bags and coffees
floating in the wake of the ferries

outnumbering 10 to 1
the loads that they carry

all the old growth
coming down

all the gold of their headpieces
tinfoil hats fashioned from crowns

no jazz or blues can save them
from the fate that waits

an engraving reading,
here lies what once was a haven

Render me living,
I have walked too long
With lurid eyes of sunken white.
My hollow heart, empty veins,
A shade of black, within me:
Colors dark as night.
And the flame I have been kindling,
It too, appears
To want to die

we must seize the momentum
that youth propels us with
because the ride slows
and we grow old
wrinkling, withering, weary
did i lead a good life?

Like bouquets of flowers
Which are all but homogenous
And withering from neglect.

Like a classic & well known speech;
But someone altered it greatly
From structure, wording, & hermeneutics.

Like beaches of glass,
Where time & wave deny
Any smoothing of edges.

Poetry is long-winded,
The stanzas bore
Through ups & downs.

Well, I guess we need
To send out the hounds.
For the crafty sheepdogs
To go pick out the bad actors
Hiding among the crowds.
Look over your shoulder,
There's that chill again,
The heat is rising
And you can feel something creeping.
Let it take you on,
Lest it take you over.
We've been
Building momentum,
Silently growing
Like a beautiful lotus
Or festering fungus.
It's just a matter of perspective,
It's only a matter of time.
Give in, or give up.
Fly if you will,
Fight if you think you must,
But listen to your neighbors.
Are you honest?
Are you trusting?
Are you nurturing?
Don't worry, don't stress out;
We're gonna figure each angle,
Lay out all the motives.
It's all there
On the internet,
And freely given!
You had a choice, you made a choice-
You dressed up the bed, now rest in it.

coming inches from fighting
every nerve
fires like lightning
who do they serve
when it's conflict
they're igniting

You wear the chain around your neck,
And it reminds me much of Cain-
Cursed to wander the Earth.
That mark of the beast
Which celebrates human sacrifice,
Still better than the star.

None of you made us.
None of these brands or industries
Who do not pay their fair share
And move the country in negative directions, have
Bearing on who you are.
Who you say you are,
What you want to be or do.
None of these businesses
That keep you down on the totem pole
And do not hire their own
For higher up positions.
Who do not increase salary to match
Our cost of living.
Those that don't pay a fair share to you,
Because they in turn
Are robbed at the grocery store.
They are influencing you.
But you made you, influence
What you will try to.
Destiny is mine to write,
And I intend to

word vomits
deluges of dialogue
the contents, like diarrhea
verbal pacing
filling the air
full of nonsense
far from
turiya

Once cannot teach
Because One is still a student,
This is because we are always learning.

One cannot study
Because One is still a teacher,
This is because we are always guiding.

Developing,
Like three rivers which join & fork -
Only to re-join in course.

We are always trying & changing,
Doing & reaching.

In the pursuit of understanding,
Truth is achieving
And knowledge is victory.

Compassion & patience -
The keys to all things.

what is it to be 40
twice the man, you were at twenty?
four times the man, you were at ten?
is it being wiser
and having your means meet the end?
finances sured up?
with no need, for to be the miser
a divorce or some
perhaps a strong marriage
polyamorous loves
to your heart's desire
addictions? vices? troubles stifling?
death breathing down your neck
to the thumping of your heartbeat
beads of sweat, gather
and run off your chest
like your shoes on the concrete
you are dying
even while you're living
and you know one day
it'll be your last
cause we only get so long
and time goes fast
a baby is born
the next afternoon
an old man is buried
tomorrow could never come
would you ever know it?

it's definitely my fault
the doubt of that is none

next time, i'll obviously act on them differently
next time though, i'll feel different

you have layers unending
so for you to not feel this as i do
is understandable
but for you to not try and understand
is regrettable
because i'm trying
admittedly, harder than anything else
guess that's why i'm struggling

I thought afar, yet never wandered.
Always saw that what I never watched.

For the distant blaze, I brought forth the horizon.
But, the landscapes turned to patchwork swatches all at once.

By Speare you drove your votives,
That which was a work of prose.
By reality, it was as an artist's pose
On a good kind of love.

For a lover is a writer,
Whether with ink & quill
Or lead & wood cylindrical.
For a lover is a writer,
Whether with chisel & stone
Or dynamite & the mountains.

Whether they write in constellations
Or draw in the sand on the beach,
Time it will take us.

For time, it shall take us.

But, in time,
Will there be that which is loving?

What say the scars unseen?

The deep peaks & valleys cut?
That which you etch
Without ever touching it?

when i had no age
when i was a light ray through the window
i was born
pulled from a prismatic prison
all thanks to a vision
they had
of a son

now, i am here
and what is here?
save for abject misery

is it right to subject nothing to something
to pluck out stars, from the sky?
more of us are birthed everyday
and more of us see themselves buried
and the world keeps spinning
and it would if we decide to all die
or if we decide to live
the former and latter have no affect

so why are we here?
***
and what comes after,
death
black

remember our youth
because i will
how i would have killed
for moments with you
given nail, tongue, and tooth
would've done things uncouth
been ruthless
for just a kiss
now that i can
it's out of my hands
but there are things i still control
and a number of things
i now better understand

contemplating suicide
because what is life worth
to be a beggar, without so much as a bowl
drinking down muddied waters
consuming tasteless mush,
which will make you sick,
being thin, and lanky
with hair overgrown
and nails *****
contemplating suicide
because life is worth it
if you've worth

i think my hippocampus
must be juicy
cause i can live through these memories
and, **** me, they're so dreadful
but i'm completely broken
so i just laugh
and laugh
and laugh

Do bullys ever tire?
How is it
Some are men, but still just boys?
Truly, their fathers failed them
And mothers weened each too long.
Vice versa?
In the motive of their choices
It oftentimes reflects the outcome;
Failure they do not understand,
Sometimes mistaken for a resolution
And not just the consequences of their actions.