Avidly

Advocating

Absinthe

After

All

Aspirations

Against

Allowing

Asterisk

Allocations

Around

Actions

Activively

Ailling

Abruptly

Aborted

Activities

Poor in spirit, strong in heart.

Poor Pockets, happy hearts.

Strip this map to one point,

strip this heart to your beat.

Holding hands on the street corner

under the gas lamps heat.

Holding hands to feel weak.

Feel this rythm with her, for her.

Feel this in a basement bar on a monday

with friends smoked to the filter.

In not so many words say what you mean

Cross your heart

and on these guitar strings, bleed.

Sax and bass devouring

Throbbing drumline acquiring

Your Soul

Pretend you weren't the victim

refined in your dreams

foolish to imagine

she didn't mean the deed

Your hands on my throat

Dig for the knife

in your black waistcoat

Find my liver if you can

for I will rush a million pilgrims

if through their blood

I can feel your hand.

Friday night's a frenzy.

A dance malady

Trampling the whole.

Broken melodies enveloping

all parts, invigorating

an already overly embellished scene

The Veneer

Here’s to new beginnings

To the friendships that will come

To those now left by the wayside

Necessarily disposed, there is no controlling

Destiny will have its way

Time will continue its unraveling

Precious life disintegrates

What time do I really spend with another

Five minutes before the movie

Five minutes after,

one moment of earnest interest

Once every month or so,

do I live or simply,

Peer into the veneer of this profundity

Which my brief existence can never touch

The clouds on dismal thrones are seated
holding the rain, and with a tremulous
gesture, dump it forth on caged men.

To what do I owe this pleasure
You are beautiful, tonight will be a treasure.

Some make love to beautify life
Others to prove their beauty
I am the former not the latter

I think on which I see abounding before
me against everything which I believe.

tragedy in a self pronounced failing
choices abounding afraid of finding stability
natural footing on the available ground
I have not sought and never will
which is easier by far but never will instill
a sense of passion for anything.

I am too far removed.

In me, In I, In roads that lead the blind

This life is my butterfly
It's fragile wings are my dreams

no poet lies here
in this grave unmarked
no wisdom abides
shining in this dark

symptoms abound
verdicts ring true
from lips unhinged
by the withering proof

alone, for I am not like you
dead, for I am rotted to the core
like the oak of a cenury or more
dying a lone sentinel at the door
goblin and ghost haunting the moor
till death takes me forevermore

If I could die just a little bit older
Live a little longer, before I grow colder
Light a fire and fan the flames
To change a world, remember this name

If I could die just a little bit older
In the end will it matter?
No, I’ll simply repeat my passing tomorrows
Just growing older with more sorrows
For if who I am has done nothing
Then who I will be, will do the same
And bring tomorrow, yesterday’s pain
Remember, tomorrow is not the day
Today is day, as if no tomorrow
live for this moment with purpose
and no disappointment will follow
to bite at the heels
nip at flesh till it rips, peels away
leaving a barren, bleached skeleton
to face this fading sunset of day

Life is such a wonder
A waste for some
As they aimlessly ponder
Am I such as those who daily think
And think, and think, staring at
the well of life, never bothering to drink
it seems so to me, for I daily sit and think
of missed opportunities of past dreams
that sat then on the edge, now on the brink
of the toilet bowl that I make of life

But time is if anything changing
Thus life which runs by time is changing
And so I change and shift
Slide from time to place to time again
Dream and die and dream again
Live to love and live to kill
All in the same nightmare
But there’s always a way out
For those who are motivated
But not always devout
There’s hope for me
If I but shake my doubt

There are no worlds,
That will not drive me crazy.
No thoughts, that fail to blow my mind;
For though conscious, I’m barely breathing.
Though living, I feel as if,
I’ve died.

Spin faster and pull me into reason.
Slow down so I can understand.
There are no answers to the questions.
There is no one to hold my hand.

What makes some go bolder outward,
And closes others deep inside.
What makes some explore their fantasies,
And drives others to Everest’s heights.

Hold on for I hold no answer
To why the world spins so slow
Sink down into your only disguises
Or learn to live within the show

Some find reasons to live
Others reasons to die
I found both in my short time
Choosing between the two
Is not a decision of mine
I’m in no hurry to get things done
World keeps rushing, rushing
Till everyone’s dead and no one’s won