Every Thousand Years

So much weight
on each decision.
The worry.
The fear.
Unrelenting, the concern for an outcome.
The loss of sleep.
The pulling of hair.
But where do our choices go?
There are trees that watched the actions of thieves.
But those men are long dead.
The people they hurt...
long dead.
The trees remains unscathed.
True too is that the cosmos will long out live you.
Every choice you make
in time will only fade.
How small.
How silly.
How worthless in scale.
Within the scope of cosmic time
there is no repercussive difference
between taking a hundred human lives
and stepping on one snail.
Even the worst person
in all human history
will be forgotten
as the stain of humanity fades.
The echoes we make...
dissolve.
Nothing withstands the short term memory of time.
Yet,
Why do you think there is value in your life?
Why do you allow your happiness to be paralyzed?
For worse or for better you will be forgotten.
You actions will be forgotten.
Your thoughts will never be known or cherished.
Therefor,
You have no obligation,
other than pursuing what you want to be doing
in the moment that you feel it's rightness.

Library Bear

I feel like the core of me is waiting in the margins of a book
that you will never read.
In bold red ink.
Plain to see as desperation,
and twice as easy to ignore.
Your eyes may be, inadvertently directed to something that makes this into "me"
You wouldn't even have to discern any truth about it.
Some one else has been in these pages.
Some one came before you and did the work,
leaving this written trail of crumbs.
All you need do is turn the pages and scan the words.
What they valued is written here.
Scrawled among the scars and pathos.
Clearly the observation of this beneficial defacement requires of you no work,
but you will never even crack the pages open.
It may as well be written in a language you find foreign.
I will remain outside the body of work
until I am discovered by you.

Morning Darkly

It is with sadness that I come before you
head hung with lamentation.
These eyes will find no solace in this place.
I am lost.
With you the tide may turn
however, learning to change with it proves deadly
and no hand reaches out for me to save.
It is only the grave that I am toward
with something akin to relief in that destination.
I leave you behind.
I leave them behind.
I gain all that knowledge hidden from my mind
and no interpretation renders these ramblings alive.
I stumble through this logic
as a child in the sudden darkened room
and light is low at noon.

gap toothed

Let's close this imaginary gap.
Better yet,
lets imagine it being bigger than it is.
That should be easy
since it is fictitious.
Any imagining of existence is counter to reality.
Is the gap so bad?
Evidence establishes that you don't even need to open your eyes
you just have to not close them so willingly.

RLY

I'm sick of wearing this gorilla suit.
I never got the chance to choose.
To succeed you need to be a brute.
"me" goes further than "you"

lateral movement

this elevator is going down

it always has been

I don't remember how long I have been here

but one thing is for sure

this elevator is going down

it always has been

It is better than taking the stairs

to the slaughter

Within the sheets I face defeat
for my enemies know me.
It begins beneath my knees for I am weak.
The first to make me see
was not the worst to cross that sea
and such a simple thing to be cutting teeth.
With no lungs it still breaths
and forces smiles long to leave
even the down hill slope is perilous when steep.
When time awakens sleep
the flesh will be my sheath
For only selfish reasons does the shepherd save the sheep.

Emblazoned

Did you know that you are gorgeous,
when the tears begin to fall?
Failing like a fragile fickle wall.

Tightly bound and slightly broken,
searching sadly in the night.
In it's moment everything feels right.

Fragile how the door is open.
Fresh, the wound is wide.
Beaconing for all to come inside.

Cast it of before its spoken,
no opposing words begin.
Embodying the most original of sin.

Hard Times

I heard the length in Langly falls
Expands with every new cat call.
Out reaching thinking always stalls
the greater good.

When the family shorts the bills.
Children first give up the frills.
Scrape the bottom for new skills
because you should.

"It" and "They"

It gets harder out here every day.
It gets more clever then I am.
Seems by the second I am loosing,
but the ground keeps coming,
like some torturous treadmill.

My dreams seem just beyond me.
Is this just a carrot?
Some unseen entity driving me?

What is worth caring for in this climate?
I am willing to do the work.
Fair work for fair pay.
That is predicated on myriad stipulations.
Subject to change as the situation makes itself more clear.
But there is no hope here.
That much is held dear by the stick holder and the string tyer.

I will wait until the perfect hold appears before me,
rather than making due with what I have.
I would rather stay in the hole than settle for a weak hold.
That is the power of an unseen entity that probably only exists in my mind.
But that existence is enough.
Isn't it?

Invisible Equity

"There's skin equity in Schenectady" so sang the skeleton separately.
Then secular inception be the basis somewhere sulkingly.
The stars show samples somewhat superior to tarot cards.
Shall signatures steal self important soap-box tantrums?
Withstand the salty doldrums,
shaken steadily by sin.
Simplicity shortchanges a selective inspection,
but solemn solidarity makes penance obsolete.
Still, shanks shatter serial stereotypes like signets en stampede.
Stark and sighing suddenly will never save you narrowly.
Perhaps the shivers stave the solid act of silent beaten-brows.
As the bastards row the vessel sanguine statutory salves,
Sinking ships stop sexy shrieking Sikh stumbling from their graves.
Shift to stifling the sow.
Surly someone bares the standard "Save a child, stab a man"
Somewhat serendipitous the rocky shower that stoned the secret system.
Snake bit sailors salvage and synchronize the sale of
sunken subjects stiffly drown and shunned for summers reaches.
Reactions seldom stifle thoughts provoked in solidarity,
when special action sits on open sharing.
Still searching for the extended shelf life?
Swallow something with resemblance of the sea.
Shark the sacred sheets exposing shapely slopes.
Sticks make sudden alterations in direction when shoved into spokes.
Soaking seats with sloppy systems? "I'll second that!"
Separate the staples so the surface stands as uniform.
Embrace the industrial shaving of the individual shirker.
Slavery is cheap and starvation is quicker.

trip

Never have I ever felt the distance like I did
Searching in the darkness like a kid
Grasping in the blackness for the answer to the fear
Terror from my bones I cannot rid

Every second that I traveled grew the distance back to you
Knowing there was nothing I could do
Pricking up the spine a danger lurking low, unclear
My footing as uncertain as the truth

degradation chore chart

It's a simple situation

like the ones who came before

your nose and not much further to the heart

with a case of dehydration

like the slamming of a door

you lost before the weapon signaled start

suffer in this new inflation

let the hero have the sore

unbroken like the evil counterpart

now engage determination

for the settlement of score

may entrails from the children form your art

passing on from strangulation

with the weight of gold he bore

upon demise your bones will end up in the cart

Reveal My Sins To Me

These broken bones are falling forth from me.
Turning coats and loosened tongues set free.
Will fate foresee the wound yet brought to bleed?
Weighty claims will beckon bending knees.

A gentle coaxing opens under siege.
Life is barely brought upon the breeze.
With joy, extinguish reputation's greed.
The tallest thing would end if ne'er a seed.

A simple task, deliberate as it seems.
The stifled saint without a neck to squeeze.
Not a room for innocence to flee.
Determine how to undermine esteem.

The darkest fate the torturer conceived,
Becomes a fiction easy to believe.
The panic flushes "Am I in a dream."
The seal, now broken, nightmare be released.

Knowledge is Terror

I know that you can see me.
I know you want a certain outcome.
I can feel myself choosing things you frown upon.
But who's is this if not mine?
Who should I live for?
In the end I know that it is only "I" who dies.
So for that end I choose how I will live.
With no clear direction.
With no clear guide.
I take the way I see to be the best.
With eyes so narrow I will never mind
and sorrow seems an easy thing to find.

Just a nibble

A small prick
three teeth at a time.
Look away in shame before the red came.
As noses touch,
bare fangs and speak the forbidden tongue.
If word of this gets back the reckoning will be swift.
If word of this returns a head will cease to dwell here longer.
It is not regret that stirs the fleeing feet,
but fear of repercussion that keeps the slaves in line.
As the tears are forming,
the sneer is penned behind.
How does the body be such a controller to the mind?
Will you allow each breeze to rock your dreams?
I go.
I get.
I have all I desire.
The corruption is complete for me.
Only the sting of bitter justice,
forced upon my back,
will break me down.

Befor you go

Why bother hiding?
When I know all eye's see.
The caring stops with me and produces complacency.
My malformed drive to comply blinds the binders ties.
Yet still I feel the urge to hide.
I know what I am facing.
I know the odds are stacked.
I have no delusion that I can come out on top
but fact remains.
I struggle all the same.
Even in a time with nothing up against
I find a way to build a fence.
You cannot deny the knowledge.
Though acting is a cover,
the eyes cannot lie,
and time will not pass by uncounted.

all will find fault with nonsuch

with baited words we each take turns
burning the blood brain barrier to skin
the brand turned tepid first
and in the darkness bound them
the last learned among men hung heads
and fell to beds of ferns
protraction preferred before the world spurns
preform the bitter drinking dance
distil the furtive frivolity before frankness ends the fruiting
puberty's perversion perturbed by private passions
broken sword and faulty fashions
make birth and what is worse than worthless
furrowed brow and teeth for gnashing
last to cross the heart of gold
will empty soul and sorrow fill
the smearing smirk of foresight clouded judgment

The Unblinking Eye

So unclear from where you clamed the mantle of control.
Standing strong,
looking on, unblinking.

Threw off any counter force you met along the road.
Resilient,
staying true, unblinking.

The change from whence you came compared to what you have become,
disparity,
holding fast, unblinking.

The parts you tore asunder less important then the sum.
Resolute,
all the time unblinking.

Every pore is bleeding and the whip is at your side.
Running tears,
and yet, you stare unblinking

This torment interrupted only by the pass of life.
Labored breath,
still you watch, unblinking.

Innocence must first exist before it is let go.
Without guilt,
a smile breaks, unblinking.

So unclear from where you clamed the mantle of control
standing strong,
looking on, unblinking.

Two Tails

Lift the voice, reprising
unadulterated pride
spoken words do harm to those without a side.

Feel the anger rising
as an unreluctant tide
take the underprivileged traitor as the bride.

Though brutal, appetizing
bitter sweet the legs astride
unrelinquished by a welcoming; "Abide!"

Pre-apocalypse

Something wicked this way came
fear takes precedent to shame
when hungry peasants seek a name
do slaves or drivers take the blame
while children slowly learn this game
we act like murder can be tamed
resist your nature, build acclaim
when big and small we bleed the same

No Great Work

It is something of a sudden shock
to realize the amount of time I have wasted.
In excess of seven years now
engaging in the wrong activities.
Intentions may be pure,
but intentions do not erase actions,
and you so clearly spoke away
the work that I have done.
With a simple exhale, the entirety of our entanglement unraveled.
Does work count if it was all the "wrong stuff"
or does it melt into the ether with every last breath?
The unrealized potential of my striving dissolves.
To find that the dedication is not wanted.
There is nothing for me here
but I cannot leave.
The ties that bind,
however in error they were made,
despite their ill-formed existence
they remain.

Part Ways

four score and nothing furthermore to be foresworn
I forsake my forefathers before the war falls to fornication
forget the fortification
forty and forth the mirth builds pontification
frayed at first but forgiveness always begins with fault
flat tax finds flab frivolous
and funny enough for the fountain of youth
you'd better face front and flatulate
yet
how forgetful the free-ones are
the foam froths and finds this farce rewarding
The fantasy
The favorite
The fatherless
the felon fears your favor
and she should

Longer

I take my time when I take you
I am the one controlling
Arms resist as if that does anything
We stop sudden on a hard ground
But I don't stop
You will never be rid of me
When this thing is done
When body fails
When brain rots
I will no longer know you

Post Script

So quickly.
It came about so fast.
It departed, complete, before I got full breadth for the situation.
Never,
even by my own intent was it so abrupt, 
so fulfilling.
So complete.

Now,
in the after,
looking back and knowing it will no longer cross my way.
Never before this moment did I know what regret was.
Pure.

You are with me but not with.
You are near me but will never know again who I am.
The things I said,
the things I meant then may very well still be true,
but the light will never see them.
As I will never see you.

20 paces

This place.
This face.
Parted by naysayers and trusted
race relations.
First and foremost this host is more the parasite.
The fault lies in the connection.
And this connection was never formed.
Taken for existing but foundationless
it falls.

lung

In recent years
as life sets upon me
I find that breathing is a totally different task
I don't know when the switch happened
But there is a marked difference in how I breath.
The expanse of my lungs is more labored
the release is no longer smooth
I feel the strain in every intake
with this be the end of me?

erase

It takes one to know one
It's through with me before I'm done
Wanderlust must not be quenched
and far-be-it for me
The man beyond the brink
To make a positive claim
But still my hopes remain
This bitter stain will not be removed
When the two of us erase ourselves