So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.

But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.

Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?

Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.

Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.

Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.

So then what?

Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.

We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.

So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.

Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.

So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.

Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.

So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.

But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.

So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.

Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.

So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.

Alone and writing.

Love’s the only cure.

I don’t wish to have the answers

for any questions of concern

just know that I am working

my hardest in reverse

to tame the wild memories

once thought of as a curse

those now that are a blessing

from the backseat of a hearse,

cause friendship it has shown me

like the calm hand of a nurse

the answers to the questions

where love’s the only cure.

footnotes in nursery rhyme

Got up this morning ahead of my time

shook fear from my hair and tears from my eyes

took to the mirror and spoke to this guy

who said he knew me from before —

it’s there that he unlocked the door.

He gave me a sunrise he gave me his hand

he told me a secret I could understand

life isn’t a journey or destination

it’s your choice to choose to buy in —

for me it’s better not to win.

So I sharpened my memory and tore out his tongue

recycled the organ from which I’d dislodged

filled it with the secret and sealed it shut

if X marks the spot then I’m fine —

love’s just footnotes in nursery rhyme.

Connecting the dots which soon filled my head

aligned with ideas I spoke with each step

life ain’t no cake walk or deal with respect

it’s your throat or mine well of course —

I’d take mine to spare you the course.

It’s kill or be killed so I’m on my knees

no fear any longer just tranquility

it’s obvious ain’t it half hearted pity

runs deep like the roots of despair —

no one’s got the cure or should dare.

So with that in mind one swift hit should do

a hole in the head hell it ain’t nothing new

I was head over heals now I’m sinking through

the clouds which look soft from afar —

at the end of this there’s only dark.

With all things considered it’s lovely I guess

like spilled paint confetti this hole in my chest

I’ve dug it before since third grade I guess

my actions speak louder than words —

it’s all been a blessing and curse.

lucky 13

lucky 13

31 but I see

the perfect representation

of what it means to free

that little boy caged

like a curse

relieved

in the back of a hearse

lucky 13, reversed

over time, it’s easy to see

at 31 years old

that boy was me

Drunk in Cyberspace.

Everything, I wanted to do,
slowly drifts away.

Clicking here, now clicking there,
it all just looks the same.

An endless maze, of travesty,
piles on each page.

But I don’t have, the guts or tact
or sincerity to look away.

And each time that, I tell myself
tomorrow’s another day.

The calendar, it flips and turns,
yet I just stay the same.

Consciously, predicting that
in sunlight I will change.

Then by the moon, retracting that
I’m drunk in cyberspace.

If nothing really mattered
then I guess
nothing really matters
and so if nothing really matters…
Then why the hell do I keep on trying to explain?
Why the hell do I keep on
this way?

They tell me thanks, rinse and repeat
all I can do is laugh.

There was a time, when I was sure
there seemed, some way back.

A charlatan, a debutante,
perfection on a screen.

Deeper in, still deeper now
a web of misery.

And by the time, I’ve had my fill
and walking on a cloud.

The city lights, extinguished by
eyelids that do bow.

It’s not a curse or act of God,
that craves some kind of change.

But the terror dreams of darkness,
while drunk in cyberspace.

The cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple…

But.