The Boys Who Left Town

There was no hope for us then

We were already too far gone

Gone from where? Neither could tell

But going gone, regardless.

No reason, No pain

I don’t mean to sound defeated

It just always hurt to try

Knowing there’s no meaning

In waiting out the night,

So I take my lashes willing

Under this starry sky

Knowing there’s no reason

Or pain to justify

Your Cynical Smile

There’s something cynical in your smile

as if I rubbed off some and forgot to say,

that I’m not that kind of cynic.

And I feel no joy from any of this.

The World Without Us

For those of you

incapable of happiness,

hang in there.

As without us

the world would be

an even sadder place.

In Our Time.

Remember— oh brothers and sisters

that we are the philosophers of our time.

Us haggard poets of principle and measure,

no matter the plight must rise.

Through tears of understanding

with honest eyes do I

accept thy pleasure’s burden—

to see within our time.

His Revelation, Her Over-Time

With a white satin napkin

He wiped away his pride

That’s it my Lord, my Savior

What more have I to hide?

The pills induced his coma

His blood ran thin with wine

His revelation managed

By the nurse’s over-time

Flirting with Death

It’s much easier to lie

in the afternoon light,

steady’s the humming

bird that takes flight.

Oh whispering wind

forgive me tonight,

how flirting with death

has been a delight.

Our Current Social Dilemma

We went from public displays of affection

Straight to public displays of everything

Now leaving nothing to the imagination

Embracing it all, then apologizing for it after.

It’s like some convoluted social stream of consciousness

That forms a figure eight of disingenuous pandering

One which tastes to a choir of social unrest

Like change, its value null, when in reality it’s all just

As sad and dull as high school sex.

the Goodwill.

The allure of hanging

Like an old-timey suit

Is just that.

Poetry for the waste-bin,

Ready for the Goodwill.

Confirmation(in the form of being)

Tell me his name

And I’ll give him your word

Though to an illusion

I can not confirm—

Within him lies many,

Within you lies more—

His name’s but of flesh and bone.

So tell me your name

And I’ll give you his word

Be it not an illusion,

Something I can confirm.