I suppose that I’m not crazy
But If I am I hope that you
will take time from your busy day
and try to help me make it through
to a point where I’ll recuperate
or at least one where I’ll understand
the truth of my malignant fate:
my life was written in the sand
My only hope, to wonder now
to cling to my failing cognizance
I’ll take the time to take a bow
and settle for indifference
But as your needle stabs me through
I wonder how this all makes sense
You walk past the solid lines, saying
‘Come what may.’
So, when the universe cuts us into puzzle pieces
Don’t go around asking for the bigger picture.
When darkness unfolds and tidies up the sky
only few dead stars will be left shining
So, don’t go around asking yourself,
’wasn’t I born exactly like the best of them ?’
There maybe something greater at work
Something bigger than our bond
Something loveless and eternal feeding on our
Disillusionment.
you make me shout
you make me scream
you make me want
to do horrible things
to shake you up
and make you see
how stupid and horrible
you are to me
and how you deserve
above all things
to be my first victim
of ripped out spleen
and next your heart
and then your brain
which i will leave lying
in the acid rain
as a way of improving
upon its current use.
Fight the power
fight them fight the
power and just maybe
you can win but first
you have to fight
the power or you
can choose not to
fight the power but
either way the
power will fight you.
shocked at how oft
i forget the feelings
you arouse not
so much for what you
bring as the way
you choose to bring
it to my ears
whispering poetry in stereo
through crescendo mastered
and captured here in pocket
to make the grey skies less so
Even the luckiest
Friday the Thirteenth
ends with a broken
Windshield.
multiply these cells
fire failing synapses
help me pump this blood
allow weak lungs to sing life
i need thee every hour.
strap yourself in
you are in this for the long haul
your eyes can only see
ahead of you and your
legs can only jump so high
so tighten those straps,
buddy
it’s gonna be a long haul.
everyone else will be asleep
we suggest you do the same
let the ends
justify the means
get on that pole
and dance
with your mouth shut.
Winding down with a
cold glass of milk and a
hand full of chips that have
fallen on the floor and a
cookie for desert
and the Tonight show on the
Television.
Shut The Fuck Up Leno.
*click*
(This marks the 1,000th post on The Sieve and The Sand.)
inborn function
provision unction
conjunction junction
its true what they say you know
you cant just go around
creating and recreating
and rerecreating new wordsies
people notice
fight back and
disappreciate your fine arts
music pulses and
people emerge from houses
when winter turns its back.
Don’t eat the peanuts
unless you’ve got an iron gullet
or don’t fear death
or at least Salmonella.
You know,
Turtles have Salmonella on their
shells,
but they do just fine as turtles.
And anyway, Salmonella is just a
Virus.
Do you know how small a
Virus is?
though short lived
thou wert nice
and a brief glimpse
of the freedom
that couldest be,
glimpsed from afar
from my pseudo-job
maybe i’m weird because
i don’t believe in stories
or i’m probably a complicated
asshole or something worse
and if i had all the money
you know good god i’d spend it
and ride some epic binges
all the way into a herse
i think you can point fingers
and throw mud on the canvas
keep sticking your ideas
in the sky made of brick
but i intend to be open
fields of green and digging
at the truth beneath all
of you institutionalists
my friend says he cannot stand next to ledges
for fear someday out of curiosity
he’ll simply leap without considering the
consequences
my fear lies more in the thought
that somewhere out there
people are standing next to ledges
and i’ll be curious if they’re ticklish
behind the knees
soon the end will come
and then where will we be
when all of the boasting
and all of the toasting
has reached the end
forevernevermore
and never comes again
forevernevermore
around me,
i watch everything happening
knowing that it affects others,
cerebrally but not experientially,
feeling secure within my monetary safe,
while the world around
begins to burn.
you are alive
and you are real
and you have feelings
because you’re real
and all these people
they are real
and they are breathing
because they’re real
you see buildings
they are real
they have windows,
which are real
you’re stealing words
which aren’t real
from real artists,
your ideal
the wind is blowing
it is real
on this planet
which is real
slowly spinning
like a wheel
through a void
a void is real
all these people
they are real
and they are walking
on a wheel.
my home of eternal night
lit not by moon or sun or stars
or anything at all of right
but this time there is hope
i can see it like light
glowing two years
maybe three
from now
The man with the trumpet
said it best:
“Welcome to Beale Street folks. If you
don’t get it here,
You’re better off
Without it”
the sieve and the sand 
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