the world has gone mad.
this I say in a state,
where I also may be mad.
we’re a free world,
for the most part,
and yet,
I wish nothing more than
for some of the people
spending their freedom on certain
things
to stop.
there are certain things that matter and certain
things that do not.
we are bulbous head flopping in the wind too scared to use courage, too literal to dream, too proud of imaginary idols to speak the truth.
we are far from something,
and that something isn’t free at all.
we leave no room for failure
when two people compete.
but too often
we lambaste the weaker with
shouts
and
negative press
and
we forget
that somebody always has to come
up
short.
wars aren’t won by both sides
but
after the barrage of infantry
tanks and other vehicles
two sides
can
lose
but,
not in this America.
coming up short is failure
even when
someone must despair.
why didn’t you win?
why didn’t you beat the bloody shit out of him?
the public demands answers.
nobody thinks of the losers.
we discard them and move along with the winner.
even if the winner is a convicted
baby killer
or eats meat.
the winner is strong
and the loser is weak
in this America.
but the loser fought.
and one day
the joy of sport and competition
will overshadow
the ego,
sadly,
not in this America.
A united states flag stretched
Across the field
Cut to be the shape
Of its boundaries
The faces
Red with patriotic fire
And drink
Cheer and wobble and cheer
Because WE own this land
WE are here now
And the red and the blue and the white
Shelter
Is OURS.
I watch a few men
Ramble around the flag, stumble,
Scream, chant
“God Bless America”
I want to open my mouth
And tell them
How wrong it all is,
That
Nobody should own
Any piece of land
Larger than their home,
that the borders here
and
around the world
keep us from truly understanding each other
that
we are
US
and they are
THEM
and we are all so very afraid of
THEM
That aren’t in this disgusting
Shape of a flag.
I want to yell and scream
But nobody would listen.
Nobody would
Care.
So I go home
And write this here
It’s all I can do
As I wait for things around the world
To catch up
With the ideas in the
World.
I find lately
I don’t have to go too far
to get pissed off.
then I get pissed off
and people say “why aren’t you ever happy?”
but I am happy
just not around things
that piss me off.
maybe it fuels part of me
and
maybe it has made me into
a little piece of what I am
but here’s a secret someone
once told me
who was waiting for the apocalypse on
a hill
with a trashbag over his head
“We’re not really that important as individuals
you know”
“Oh yeah” I said.
“Oh yeah. I don’t think I’d be here in a trashbag
if we were.”
it’s good advice.
hell,
it’s gold.
I suppose the people that should read this,
those incessant bloggers
paring off their thoughts like they’re
giving away nuggets of ancient wisdom,
those toddlers real and grown
who argue in anonymous comment boxes
with all the oddity of a masculine infant,
those movie quoters
who know no lines actually written
by their own selves,
and
those people who use
other people as commodities
to fire their own misguided
nights,
wont.
As our best waste away,
as I fail to bring unity to something,
as everybody fails to bring unity
to everything else,
as we separate ourselves further and further
looking to prove our uniqueness
instead of just having the courage to be it,
maybe I too should wait with
my friend on the hill.
please strangers
fall to your knees and pray
to deep darkness
for the world to get better.
pray to a stranger
that other strangers
recover from their strange tragedies.
just pray.
just fall to your knees and speak
to the earless air
what needs to happen.
don’t fix it.
don’t change.
just pray.
pray that one day
someone steps in and saves them,
pray that one day someone
carries love in on a plate,
pray that one day
the burning fear is gone,
pray that one day
the child grows up,
pray that the wicked are punished.
pray that the wise teach.
pray that the lullaby always puts us to sleep.
pray to a stranger because
it’s easy.
pray to a stranger because
then
you wouldn’t have to do anything.
pray to a stranger
so nothing
really
ever
changes.
pray to a stranger so that
you can feel like you did something.
no really,
pray to a stranger
he would want you to wouldn’t he?
if you did something
then he wouldn’t be so needed
would
he?
It’s not as dark as
The absence of light might
Make you think.
You can’t see your feet
And
Jesus doesn’t love you but
As long as you love something
Else
It’s good enough.
And
Sometimes we’re lost
Down bulleted alleys
With reports piercing
Nothing but our
Ears
And even that’s not so bad
If you’re looking through
The light spilling
Out of the aftermath.
It’s not a race to make sense.
It’s change into what you want
Or
Be changed into what you don’t.
Can you take it from here?
The rain punches towards me
From above,
Hurtling out of the darkness
Like where it’s coming from
Is worse than where it’s going.
It slaps me on the forehead,
Drips down my nose,
And falls off my chin towards my shirt.
The neon lights from the nearby hotel
Reflect in every drop.
They’re like red bullets
Streaking across
A black canvas.
I don’t even need to close my eyes
To imagine a better image
Than this,
Now.
I cup my hand
To soak up pieces of this scene.
Drop by drop screams out of the darkness
And into my palm
Splashing into a forming ocean.
Soon,
The crimson puddle I’m holding
Overflows in a steady wave-like rhythm.
Dripping off my fingers
It looks more like blood.
If it is,
I don’t fight much to
Keep it.
Things are perfect right
Here
And
Now.
In a bit of a mystery I bit the apple core
And a clique
Kick
To the througt of Holmes
Brings the burning pages
To a one page story
Not too filled with counter moves
And substitute croons
But all too familiar to the
Limping mistakes we’ve all made.
Feeling isn’t so much a mystery
Anymore.
This will cause that
And like a throw of a stone
Into the lake
The ripples move out
And subside.
The lake remains the same
And the involved move on.
The mystery is we keep getting up
At all.
As the kick projects itself
To more kicks,
It’s bruised dog meets the hand no one
Sees.
And if every dog has his day,
I suppose,
Those of us who care to wonder
Why
Are winning and we
Will never know
why.
Any Sherlock can figure
That out.
We walk on the street connected to
Each other
Closely.
We stand shoulder to shoulder
And technology has
Made us even closer than that.
We are available to whoever
Needs us
Whenever they need us.
At least seven gadgets on us
Can connect to
The internet.
When we’re needed
We’re found.
We’re compelled to answer everything
Thrown at us.
So many things pile on top of
Us
That finally
We’re drowning in digital.
New things pop up so fast
We can’t digest what went in
A few moments ago.
I’m throwing up information
Anonymous thoughts,
Unbalanced news,
Undeveloped ideas,
And the offspring nightmares
Of other peoples broken hearts.
I need it out of me.
We need it out of us.
We’re drowning in digital.
As our hands type faster than
Our brains can think we direct ourselves
Into territory that has no
Emotion
Because it has no face.
When our faces finally
Are
Insulted,
We run for cover in
Spaces of bytes
And spill our problems into
Other peoples cups.
We’re drowning in digital and
It’s not going to change
Anytime
Soon.
As the neon lights of
The cities work to glare out
The dark night
And disorient us
I hope that someone remembers
Where they really are.
I lost myself this weekend.
Saturday night,
Over a mind flaming with the
Thoughts
Of all the things I couldn’t have.
I wanted to reach out into
A mythical store
And buy
Security for the future,
Contentment with what I am,
Solid happiness.
I laid in front of myself
And
Tried to buy these things,
Cheap
And
Instantly
But my credit was denied.
I’m glad they tore me up.
Everybody,
Scours the earth looking
To feel these things.
Everybody,
Breaks down to nothing.
Everybody,
Prematurely gives up hope
On their real wants
For cheap pink happiness.
I think my whole struggle
Was
Keeping the faith enough
To still believe
I
Am
Not
Everybody.
And neither are you.
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The Hopes for Us are Blown in the Night 