for you and me
but right now
a kid like you and me (once were)
cries out for parent’s whom’ll
never hold him again

and fathers dig through
piles of dirt
till fingernails fail
and more
because children aren’t
something you give
up on.
no matter
how many bodies
are dumped via bulldozer
into trucks to be removed
after the already departed
souls.

so many lives will go on
so many done and gone.

It was the arthritis,
he said,
as he handed me his
envelope.

But he used to have
a name for himself.
A hundred dollar ad
in a local paper.

Must have sold him
about sixteen of ’em
just from that one ad,
he said as he pulled out
his pictures.

That was the biggest,
but I only did that one
once. Hard working in
a shop with no heat,
arthritis and all.

But he used to have
a name for himself.

Doghouse Jim.

A hundred dollar ad
in a local paper.

e n t r o p y
fear
HATRED
[ERROR]
$money$
$money$
$money$
$money$
pots
mearcs
there’s a video camera every where to be seen
why NOT
PUT ON
a happy
face? 🙂
put yourself at the center of your map
program your gps to tell you where your at
g
ive
yourself away for cash
or a laz-e-boy
e n t r o p y
write your book
change your name
never resolve
never end
eyes closed
mouth open.

Pretty soon
Something is going to happen
(It may have already)
And when it does
The damage will be irreparable.
A call not for the dim of mind or faint of heart.
Yes, this is how the cookie crumbles,
And for unknown reasons
The perception has existed
That when it finally does happen
There will be a way (some way)
To place all the pieces back together,
Returning to the way it has always been.
But that theory has never been more wrong
And in realizing this, I’ll stake my life to say
It will be the greatest thing you ever do.

the long day deserves
nay
demands
the levels of sugar you’re about
to pour through these veins
chased by butter and popcorn-topped
piles of salt
i’d stop you
but my lifeless limbs
no longer work
(save the channel changing
finger pointer of course)

an IV may be nil by mouth
but these years
where movies were my livelihood
made the entitlement
so much more
alcoholic

I forgot my belt today.
Reflected in the glass
I see a little boy,
can’t be more than 2,
in khakis and a tucked
blue checked shirt –
a beard, broad shoulders,
and no belt.

if i close my door
will i disappear,
carrying on just the same
inside of here,
with nothing to say
and nothing to do,
starring at the screen
only thinking of you.

i can’t watch this
suffering
let it scream into my consciousness
burning reality searing sorrow
i can’t read this

i can’t do a goddamn fucking thing

my life choices dictated
by a dedication to help others
render me helpless

i can’t fly there
i can’t donate
i can’t do anything

for anyone

the hopes of mine
waned
they say paint on modern cars will never
fade
the engine block may
rust
your feelings for me (like your ring) slowly
tarnish
and i’m left here
dying
knowing you were worth the
pain
but feeling for now perhaps this is
spring

I watch you shadow-boxing
and I wonder why you even
bothered
calling me up to spar with you.

I see you fighting yourself,
beating yourself,
overcoming every obstacle
except for the ones that
would really weigh you out

But that’s comfort, and them’s
the breaks for the rest of us,
waiting
hopefully
quietly
for someone that’s not afraid
to throw a punch and
maybe get his ass kicked.
Maybe.

i want to hide,
crouched behind doors,
cars, walls, trees,
waiting for the perfect chance
to jump up and shout,
scaring out the bejesus,
from deep inside you,
doing whatever it takes
to move things along.

rubbing my nose in
photos of endless mountains,
greenest pine trees, purple lakes,
cloudless blue skies, and old friends
reminding me

i’m living my life for the next
mine may now satisfy
but it’s ugly as hell

The measure of a man is immeasurable,
as it is the measure of his measure of
when to say ‘I ought to put some away’
and when to say ‘It’s only money.’

these cobble stones
underneath all their glory
began as mere bricks
flat and unloved
by tires and horseshoes

slowly over time
they were worn down
into something beautiful
despite gaps and bumps
weeds throughout

they began as mere bricks
flat and unloved

I wish there were a breathless maw
that I could clamor in to.
And with closed eyes and
thoughtful resignation I
could lay within the
belly of that beast.

I would liquefy and
digest, ending floating,
just the way I started
all those long years ago.
The aftermath would yield
my undoing as my self
was fully absorbed in to
my new something else.

This is for the rest of you.
For without that maw
to completely devour me,
I will have no way to change.
I have not found the beast.
Nor have I found a reason.