I’m at a loss for words
But all I have are words
I can’t describe in words
The words to make you understand
Would you know what I mean
If I were to SHOUT!
Or would you only see
Capital letters and a word?
Would you know that I’m screaming?

at the robot bop we dance
with concepts and ideals
and have luminescent skin
why,
at the robot bop you’ve
got wings of telephone
wires and valium
(lots of valium)
you see,
before the robot bop begins
we must tie off all our ends
we must certainly sleep-in
and make all our ammends
cuz the robot bop don’t stop
for nobody.
why,
the robot bop lives in the fourth
dimension
where they do the bop all day
smiles around the lot
hands all up in the sky saying
“we love life so we don’t try!”
ah,
the robot bop dance is fun
for all the robots.

my condition shows itself not
lest the axis of the earth should be
slightly altered to the left

for then the

moon might shine through these
trees at night and illuminate
my once pale thoughts

The morning’s come so early
and I just don’t want to talk to you
but there’s this feeling in my chest
I feel you ought to know

But the music on the stereo
it soothes the heart and calms the soul
And I don’t want to talk to you
but Baby, please don’t go

Nothing ventured
nothing gained
but the old truck’s
oil’s changed

though it’s been non-
stop for a month
near, straight,
so I must submit the
following observation:

Banality
is beauty
sometimes

the unbelievable happened,
surprising all who heard,
leaving only questioning thoughts
of the “what the fuck?” type,
along with tears,sighs,moans,groans…

two weeks ago minus a day,

enlightenment happened,
burying all who loved her
in a grave of information,
learning her history,
that most had never known,
bringing more tears,sighs,moans,groans…

two weeks ago today,

the inevitable happened
and she went away
for (her?) good,
leaving everything and everyone
behind and alone with tears,sighs,moans,groans…

Even the most docile six-string
can learn how to scream

Or a chipped set of keys
to sing (or sing
again)

I’m having trouble
Com-pre-hen-ding
What it is you’re saying
Speak up!
You’re whispering.
Shut up!
You’re shouting.
No, I don’t
Need to explain myself
To you
Can’t I just go to bed already?

The difference between
Extracting and
Extrapolating:

The one bears the
end result,
the other counts the
potential
for the one

Do we extract our
poetry, or
extrapolate?

Are these words worth
the thoughts they’re
meant to convey?

Or are we simply counting
our (un?)limited
potential?

you said “stay stay
if only for a day”
but you closed the
door may i ask what
for?

your twisted dream was
so serene you’d not wake
up for even a scream
when i poked the glass
and it shattered and
crashed oh what an
awful scene

but

nonetheless

i comprehend the frightening
trend of living without a means
to an end
you took my love put it in
a glove and grabbed at
things that i thought were dumb
so here’s to all the time i spend
in my mind,
end over end
delving into the folly of men,
the purpose of skin,
the condition we’re in,
how you’ve fallen victim to this
awful pose,
and in the end, i suppose
i broke my teeth on
your
pretty
bones.

squeezing behind a wheel for the first
time in about a year
i held the grip and shifted gears
awkward with the ease of an automatic

backing out more quickly than i anticipated
and looking to my right (not the left)
i ran plastic into plastic
(cars dont use metal so much anymore)
and paint into paint
a two second
minor scratch

worth 1300 beans to some crapface at a dealership

Coughing up the sick
coughing up the sick and
sleeping back the tired
sleeping back the tired and
fighting
fighting
fighting
fighting for whatever works

just enough scratch to get by,
just enough scratch to pay the
bills and
tickets and
buy enough food to not die,
with just enough scratch to get by

I thought I’d had a thought
at least I think that’s what I
did last night
though there’s no good record
of what I really figured
and in spite
of all of the minutiae
of modern living
and it’s thrills
I’ve come to realize
that the size of a matter
doesn’t kill
the need for introspection
or the need of some dissection
So I hope I did my part
and I hope my thought was right:
I sincerely hope I
had a thought last night

I wish I could convey on paper
Thoughts the way the appear
So beautifully in my head
I want to paint a picture
With every word I say
To the amber colored street lights
Down to the gravel laden roads
To the never ending sunrise
To the waning twilight glow
Then my words grow parched
I have nothing left to say
The beautiful moments escape
And without argument
I watch them disappear

take that dusty
beater
on down to the
Sparkle Buggy

it’s about time for
a change of scenery.

But if the scenery isn’t
ready to be changed
we can always

Buff it
to a mirror shine,

and it won’t be a
change of scenery,
but at least we’ll have to
face ourselves.