when the drugs hit

further and further
i guess
it is like
starting over
again.
you can't tell
where
it is going
or how
it is going
to end.
all you know
is that you
must keep going
down
farther and
farther
to find
the reason
to keep
moving on.


i am a stranger
in my own bed
when you are not there.


is it wrong
that i have
had thoughts
of you
out of the
usual ones
that i have of you?



surfer
i stopped pinning
hope on people
and now
merely ride
the motion
of the moment.
it is much
more
bearable.

son vrai qu'ils disent du coeur / fait voler un désir

un juego
i wouldn't
call it disappointment
because this is
exactly what
i expected from you.
i would rather call it
a nuisance.
it is funny
how predictable
people can be.
we are creatures of habit
if anything.
we'll make plans again
some other time
i am sure
and this time
i'll be the one
to not keep them.


a french pseudonym
there is a name
i chose not to say
not because
i have any ill will
but rather because
i want to be careful
that i dont break
any eggshells as i walk
across them.
don't want to jinx
events
that have yet to pass.
so this
is as far as
i'll go with this.
and if there is
a future
i'll save the rest
for then.


To Here Knows When
this sound
makes my heart leap
and want to go out
into the light of the day
and run as far
into the distance
as i can.
this could be the soundtrack
to life
and all the joys it brings.
your words don't need to mean
anything because
your voices
sound so beautiful
already.



when it is ready
it will happen.
when it is ready
will be when
it is needed most.


one is alone
as much as i desire
to be out and among
the night and its denizens
i have grown to enjoy
the simple pleasures of
being at home
and at peace with oneself
at night.
both are wonderful
and equally as needed.
i need to be
in the middle of happenings
as much as i need
time to be utterly alone.
both feed equal
parts of me
in different ways.
heres to the one
that enjoys a night
of quiet solitude.

me and you as a bankrupt proposition

loop
everything
seems to come back
around and repeat
itself in some sort
of way that implies
much of life
is a bigger joke
than we might realize.
so it should come
as no surprise
when the
expected
happens again.

repeater
we go over
the same old words
time after time
when we speak,
when we write
to each other.
is it that hard to expect
something different?
or do we really
play this game
as disconcertingly
well as it seems?



dead space
this is the truth.
this is a lie.
this is an absolute.
this is a random variable.
this is how.
this is why.
this is how is isn't.
this is just.
this is injustice.
this is you without a face.
this is where this piece ends.

embrace of the abyss

do you want it or need it?
this game
that we have been playing
has been going on
for quite some time.
it always goes
back and forth
in a teasing manner
that seems to
get us both
going somewhere
but then nowhere.
perhaps in another
night or so
things might change
for the better.
or so i hope.


real history is not in the text books
history
writes itself
every day whether
or not we
are paying attention
to the world around us.
we are mostly
unaware
of the events in our
world of
true importance.
the details
and significance
of these is not
always apparent
at the moment.
only with an impartial
eye looking backwards
can we grasp
history.

between santa barbara and the south bay
we have gotten older my friend
and each of us
occupies a space
that perhaps
could have been reversed
in the past.
now we fill
opposite
parts of ourselves
and meet up
to talk these things over.
over dinner
and some tea
we grow deeper
in our understanding
of each other
and where we
are going no
matter
how different
our similar minds
make themselves
out to be.

sacrosanct

how quickly these days
pass as we wait
on other things
to come true.


when you wake
from that sleep
you have been living in
will the name you think of
be mine?


it gets easy to think
that life is slipping by
as we sit here
waiting for some kind of word
from the outside world.
too often waiting
is just a part of life
we must live with
but not be beholden to.


i feel much better
and alive when
i am living at night.


were you secretly
hoping that i had my
heart caught up on you
waiting for you to come
to me?


fragments of truth
are much better
than no truth
at all.


orwell
you might have been right
when saying that
the future
could best be described
as a human face
being stomped on
by a boot
forever.

Ou et Quand?

amelie poulain
as if you were
some kind of angel
looking over my shoulder
you remind me
of what it was like
to be a child
once more
by showing me
the forgotten remains
of my childhood.
all of it could fit
inside of one small tin.
a reminder that
perhaps
there is still time
to make something
out of the time
i have left.


lesson learned
awake tonight
i can finally say
i have learned
how to love
and appreciate
some of the things
i have taken for granted
in the past.
sitting here now
i know
that none of this
will last
and to learn to
love this while
i can.


a quel'heur?
the cold
winter wind
is blowing by
outside
as the midnight
hour ticks by
ever closer.
moment by moment
it edges us
to morning.

donde vamos no hay nadien

a haunting of sorts
we continue to
surprise each
other
it seems.
the things
i've seen in you
feel dead
in me.
only a shell
remains
of memory.
perhaps
it might be
better
if i just
let you be
in that past
we both shared.
but the
present persists
despite
everything.


practicando
i don't mind
spending
hours and hours
locked away
in some space
crafting and
creating
something
from nothing.
i would rather
do that than
anything else.
to bring life
to that which
previously
had no presence
in our world.
all this sound
all this fury
being forced
into one
razor sharp point.


let me sleep
these troubles away.

naissance et fin

Nosotros y Dali
this day
with you
is one of the better
ones that
i have had
a chance
to have.
we are
apart
most of the time
but
every time
we spend together
makes me feel
that much more
closer
to being
whole.

fairy tale man
oh,
Edward.
you were
always an outsider
weren't you?
your
innocence
remained
as pure
as your intentions
even when
you became
part of the
world below.
your imagination
knew no bounds
even when
you were
most alone
at home
above everyone
else.
you were too pure
to remain.
driven back up
to your home
where
your father
never awoke.
so you
remain alone
again
but with
those memories
from the
world below
to keep you
dreaming.

let the rain fall where it may

not so bad
today has been
the type of day
i like to have
but don't
always get.
waking up
not too late
but
not too early
in the morning.
then
being engaged
in the creative
act known
as making music.
soon after
doing the work
which earns my living
followed by
a nice short time
enjoying some tea.
then catching up
with friends
and their newborn
at their place.
then to close it all up
some time at home
with a movie.
i guess i am
getting old.
so what,
this is actually
not so bad.

organizing disorder

cardboard boxes
going through boxes
of old things
has filled me with
the sense that
the past
is not yet done
and that if anything
it is only
beginning to be
understood
by me.
it fills me with
the hope
that i do have
the power in me
to change
myself
and make sacrifices
when i need to.


productivity
i have spent this night
like i have a few others,
alone.
in my solitude
this night
i have found it
most beneficial
because i have found
the time
i don't always have
and long for.
the time
to do the little things
that life demands
and to have those moments
to see the remains
of past lives
laid bare
in objects,
photographs
and other detritus.
the music plays on
in the background
as it always does.
a gentle reminder
of the world
and moments
gone.

page break?
i am making order
of all the things
i had let fall
into unorganization
by way of neglect.
perhaps this is
the start of
a new chapter.
or
at the very least
the start of a new
paragraph.

motherhood
my friend
your life has changed
so much within the last
few weeks.
where as i am little removed
from my current post in life
you have taken on a new one
entirely
by fulfilling
a role
that many are called to
but which
i think you
will excel in
by the kindness and warmth
of your nature.
you will be
the best mother
a child could have.

cup of tea?
i am learning
a new type of
patience
and
restraint
whenever
i sit down
with my
cup of tea.
it is not a
pleasure
to be rushed.
it is one
to be enjoyed
thoroughly
with as much
time as possible
being made
available to it.
the cup is
empty now
and the teabags
sit
drained of their
essence
and into me.


like tonight
some nights are
more productive
than others for writing.
some nights
i have to wring out
every word
from my mind into
my hands.
other nights
i am much more
fortunate
and the words
come out
like paint
spilling onto
a canvas.

nature reveals everything hidden.

no shadow, only light
obscure the truth
in words
that shadow
meaning from view.
we have bound ourselves
together
as much as we may
rip ourselves apart.
its a complicated
reality
but one
i am willing to live
in order
to strive
for the things
i believe.
nothing will
hold me back
as long as
i give
everything to this.


mother rain
how sweet
it is to hear your
voice
coming down
from above
once again
this night.
hearing you
from inside
makes me
wonder how
i can live
without that
sound
for so long.


I shot myself down before you had a chance to.

if you keep shooting bullets at your feet eventually you'll blow them off.
stop being so dramatic.
you are much stronger
than you give yourself
credit for.
you can only keep
saying those
things for so long
before you make me
believe them.
you will not die
from not having money,
no one likes not having money
but its not the end of the fucking world.
you are stronger than this.
if you need help
all you need to do is ask.
we understand
even though you never think
we do.
you are stronger than this.
so
stop trying to make me think
otherwise.

we must learn to lose before we can win

fence sitting on the wall
we sit
on the wall
between extremes
waiting
to jump down
on one side
or another.
coming down
from such
a great height
is sure
to break some bones
and leave
some scars.
climbing down
is not an option.
jumping is
the only way
out of this one.
will it hurt?
will the pain of the body
mending itself be great?
most certainly,
though it is much better
to suffer it
than die
sitting,
waiting
for salvation.

"i am iris in the lens"
it's been so long
so why not just
a little longer?
this anxiety
is killing me.
distant arms
waiting to embrace me
might as well
be miles
beneath the sea.
there is a figure
in the distance
whose face
is hidden
but voice
keeps calling,
calling me.

the perversion of our time
what sort of perversion
of living
has our age become?
living so safe
and comfortable
in our homes
looking at the world
through
the myriad of screens
we own.
we connect
to others
in ways not conceivable once
but remain so much more alone.
our technology
has not made us any wiser.
it has only made us lonelier
and more desperate to connect
to a world
we are losing touch with
one screen at a time.


surrender.
have i am always been a sleepless dreamer?


hindsight renders random into order.
random occurrences
are what seem to make
most of my life.
though i suppose
that is not entirely true.
things always seems so random
at the moment they occur.
often times
it takes weeks,
months
or years
for the randomness
to disappear
and reveal itself
as a beautiful
example
of order or
cause and consequence.
living so near
these moments
causes me to wonder
how time will
reveal its order
and reason
for these events.


nothing to do
but this.
knowing no truth
but this.


self-centered bastards
at heart
most art
in all the arts
comes down
to some sort
of ego boosting
self aggrandizement.
this doesn't have to seen
as a bad thing.
but art is a beautiful by product
of such action.
great artists should not care
what the public perceives
of their work.
art should only exist
as the result
of the purest form
of expression
and honesty
possibly from that person
at that moment.


there is no humor in tumor
but there is an i
in sight.

homebody
it is too easy
to just sit here
and muse all night
while
life and living
take place
in the dark places
outside
at night.

body
some one
any one
to take
this
and make it
some thing
good
once again.

steps
better honest here
than living
a lie in my mind.
better
a truth teller
than a fortune seller.
this is the attempt,
the process
by which thought
will become
action.

oh honey, how sweet it is.

LK
making chit chat
is what we were doing last night.
in between the sounds of revelry
we stood there speaking
of our lives,
of our selves.
you put me at ease quickly
and i enjoyed those moments.
looking at your beautiful eyes
melted my heart.
you could have asked me for anything
and it would have been yours
with your words and that gaze.
perhaps some other night
i can look into those eyes once more.


chet
for all your troubles
and there were
many,
many
of them,
you had a sound
as pure
as angels singing.
though perhaps
the devil lived
in your heart.
your struggle
and pain
destroyed your beauty
but that sound remained.
you were a man
who made all too many mistakes
but would always have
that beautiful,
beautiful sound.

this
this has become
more than just a need.
this has gone on to the realm
of a daily function.
no matter
how dull
the day may seem,
there is more to it
than that
just below the surface
into the heart of the matter.
so for that
and many other reasons
i do this now
as often as i do
and would not have it
any other way.

bills evans love theme from spartacus
more impressionistic
than any painting,
more sublime than any joy,
this music
occupies a space
known to but a select few.
to the place where
beauty and truth
remain.

If You Don't Jump Over The Edge...

If You Don't Jump Over The Edge You Will Never Know What Is At The Bottom.
in recent nights
i have enjoyed the role
of being a spectator
far more than
the good time drunk
that i would some times be.
to be the man of clear mind
amidst those whose minds
have taken a brief sabbatical
has been enlightening.
where once i would have been
in the middle of such madness
now i can look on and be in it
but not of it.
seeing young women
in states of extreme inebriation,
seeing young men yelling to each other
or making advances on
those same young women
takes on an air of
a comedic drama.
drinks are poured and imbibed,
stories are relayed,
music is played,
feet stumble in the dark,
smoke emanates from mouths
and friendships are made
for one time uses.
it could all be preparation
for the time
when such gatherings
will have to end
by sheer necessity
to the lives that will
soon be led.
mistakes are made by the gross,
lessons learned by the handful
and innocence lost by the bushel.
my time to join in will come again
but not without the lessons i am learning
from my experience and observation.
the morning after
is always the cruelest of teachers.


the soul disease
bring silence
and learn to live
with the sound of nothing.
that is the greatest fear
of the modern mind...
to live in absolute
silence.
to do such
would drive
most men
of our time
to madness.

a pass in time
your reflection
is passing in the mirror
and as soon as you have gone
it too will have
left.
i see you in my mind
for those brief moments
that our two paths
crossed.
perhaps we will meet again
some other night.
perhaps we will never meet again.


the artist as sculptor
and creator of worlds.


gente
flowers blooming
in the summer sun
will never again
look so beautiful.
wither and die
or plucked out
and left to wait
in a watery
coffin.

the more you know the less you live.

nothing to it
there is no heaven.
there is no hell.
there is nothing
but
this world we have made.
there is no black
there is no white
there is nothing but gray.
there are things that matter.
there are things that don't.
there is no past.
there is no future.
there is only this moment which we are living.
there is no such thing as objectivity.
there is only subjective.
there is no truth i am offering.
only you can know that for yourself.

make the mark then move

25
i don't feel my age
as advanced
or young
as it may be.
i am still sorting
through life
and all its
offerings.
i hope to do so
for much
much longer.
the desire
to learn
to absorb has always been there,
will always be there.
i can only hope
for more years
to take
more and more
in.


start
we may be
relative strangers
but that is not
to say
that we will not
grow close
as time
and experiences
are shared
between us.

la gata y el oso
thank you cat.
we are opposite sides
of the same mind.
that
is why we work
so well.
you are madness and exhilaration
and
i am steadfast and hopeful.
let us continue on
in this way
as long as life permits

shards of glass in front of the frame.

we walk on the edge
all the time
without even knowing it.


we must show no fear
to our
insecurities.


compromise?
all the time.


creativity
must never be stifled.
it must be embraced
and allowed to
run wild
across the fields.


self limiting prophecy.


don't tell me no,
don't tell me you don't know.


like sand on a beach,
thoughts scattered
in all directions.



marking the passage of time
into the forward march.

We Were Strangers When We Met

magic trick
time
is not something
i like to keep track of.
i would much rather
live from
moment to
moment and
day to
day
than keep track of it all.
at some point though
it does become
a thing
i reluctantly do.
so many of life's
worthwhile pursuits
are best done
and enjoyed
without
regard to time
and consequence.
time
is the greatest
illusion that
we all
believe.


the noise in corners
we were strangers
when we met
and we are
strangers still.
it is only
in our modern age
that such things
are possible.
to be friends
across distance
and still be strangers.
perhaps this is not
entirely true
but it does seem like it
from time to time.
our technology
is closing the distance
between continents
and widening
the chasm
among people.

kind of like right now,almost
the most irritating
thing about getting
sick is when
you know
your body is fighting it off
and the
miserable state
you must endure
when you are
on the mend.


you beautiful stranger.

grant great gears gas grenades

seeing the end
of things
is usually
a unique moment
in time
as the old ways
are put away
to make room
for the new.

catalyst
our shared past
seems like a burden sometimes
when i think about
the things that i have wanted
from you.
perhaps this whole time
i have been looking at things
the wrong way.
we seem tied together,
for better or worse
to each other now.
maybe i have been selfish
in wanting you for myself.
maybe i have been delusional
all this time,
though we have both said
we are matching halves.
i remember your words from last night
about how
whenever you are with me
you feel more at ease.
perhaps something
to do with
my aura
you said.
you do the same to me
my dear heart.
heres to our complicated
history.


irrelevant title
even the most mundane
things would be
the most entertaining
with you around me.
and they usually are.
i could spend all day with you
and never be bored.
we are becoming
the people we need to be
together
though our lives
might be becoming
divergent paths.

may the day greet you as kin and treat you well

may the day greet you as kin and treat you well
sometimes the most
comforting thing
can be
a reconnection
after a period
of absence.
like two lines
intersecting
on a plane
headed in
two different directions.
words exchanged
can be the difference
that show
we are of like minds
in this vast world.
so thank you
for that.
people like you
make me believe
this is
the right path.


went to a party on a friday night
the difference between
that night
and any other night like it
from my recent past
is that
in the midst of the crowd
of bodies
moving amongst
each other
is that
my mind retained
the clarity
i used to drown
with the typical
thing.
being able to be
cognizant
of all which
surrounded me
is not as bad
as i used to think.
perhaps i am getting old
or perhaps
this is the clarity
i have been looking for
at the bottom
of all
those bottles.


for all the right reasons
do it for love.
do it for the joy.
do it for yourself.
do it because only you

can

do it in such a way.


there is my mind
i remember the first time
i heard those beautiful
vocals
coming through
the speakers
like an aural apparition
singing to me
from the great beyond.
hearing it now
as then
is still beautiful.
thank you for those
beautiful sounds
touching me
in such a way.


the days last longer than they should
and the nights never long enough.

being a narcoleptic bear isn't everything it's cracked up to be

a note of concern
are you
too young
and beautiful
for your own
good?
at the rate
which you are
giving yourself
away
i worry
that when
it all goes away
and you are alone
you might
realize
you have
emptied yourself
to men
who saw
nothing more
than an easy
opportunity.


take a guess
how many more mornings
will you get to live?
don't think about it
too much.
it's better to just
take each one
as it dawns.
the morning light
can be so beautiful
and so punishing.


no importa quien
i want to hold you
but i say nothing.
i want to kiss you
but i say nothing
i want to love you
but i say nothing.
i am too content
to watch you
from this distance,
craving your touch
as i do nothing.


we die every night.
we are reborn every morning.
we are the phoenix which
mythology spoke of.

the moonlight is brighter than any midday sun

if this night doesn't get us first
then the inevitable
march of the hours
will.
if this night doesn't get us first
then perhaps
dawns approach will.


it is better to
run
with the hunted
than to die
in peaceful
surrender.

some do it for money, some do it for attention, some do it to fill the emptiness.
how many
of them watching you
know you?
you have become
entertainment
for them.
i do not
posit to know you
as well as
you think i know you.
i merely care
enough
to wonder
about their intentions.
but it is not
my business
to tell you
how to live
your life.
look into the camera
and into their
empty eyes.


i feel ill
at ease
when i talk to you now.
knowing we are not
alone.
so its better then
that i only see you
on the infrequent basis
that we do.

between me and the glass.
it is funny
how recently
i was still ready
to succumb
to that darkness
that has been around me.
how easily
i gave in to it
night after night.
the darkness
still remains
but now i know
that it cannot harm me.
i've been the only one
all along
that can.

no happy ending
i regret nothing
except
that one afternoon
with you
when you gave me
a chance
and i left it on
your cheek
and not
on your lips.


tu sabes quien eres.
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
always
going
nowhere.
back and forth
back and forth
until i
got bored with it.
there is no
back and forth
now.
just me
and my thoughts
about
how much time was
ill spent
on an empty
pointless
pursuit.


don't get the wrong idea.
it is not all darkness.
it is not all loneliness.
there is a light
shining
as dim as it may be
far ahead,
almost imperceptible
beckoning
me.

employees must wash hands before returning to work

patterns
settling into routine
can be the most
mind numbing
and soul crushing
of things.
in other instances
it can actually be
something
good and comforting.
sometimes one
can become
the other.
actually,
a lot of times
one does become
the other.

the distance of memory
if i still missed you
i suppose we would
still talk
on a regular basis.
how did we let our selves
get this way?
it was too easy
and too gradual
and now
we are
poles
apart.

temporal beings in a temporal world in an endless cycle

this space, this time
we all belong
to a very specific
time and place
in history
as well as
within
each others
lives.
we occupy
that space
in the only way
we know how:
by living in it.
but in time
all this
shall pass.

french woman at an italian deli
you were
an older
french woman
whom i met
in an italian
delicatessen.
you had a teenage
son in high school
at my alma mater.
all i could think of
the time we spoke
was how gorgeous
you were and what
i wouldn't have done
to posses you then.


perhaps i am finally running out of space
after all this time
of having too much.

one thing that i have noticed as i have gotten older is how certain behaviors in people
never change. the more they should change the more they stay the same.

who am i to judge your happiness?
who are you to judge mine?

there is no such thing as a right path.
each one taken is a needed one
in order to get
to the next unknown space
in this life.

more and more
this is becoming a workshop
for my mind
my hands
my heart
to let the things out
that have no voice
in any other capacity
in my life.

the difference between the madmen who lead
and the madmen we jail
is that one leads public opinion
while the other
is incarcerated by it.

beauty can illustrate
the hope of the divine
while ugliness
can be
its very honest
retort.

late nights become early mornings all too easily.

all my mistakes and yours

i blame a few women, the rest is on me.
my tired heart
is taking
a well deserved
break
from the
trials
and false hopes
i have put it
through.
even with that
in mind
all it wishes
to do
is to give
itself
to someone
that can
understand
and love it
the way
it has always
hoped for.


so i hear
so i hear
through the grapevine
that you are engaged
and to be
married soon.
you,
much like
others from
that time
have drifted apart
as we each
have pursued
our loves in life.
perhaps our friendship
is best confined
to those places
and times
where we were
young.
if you even invited me,
i wonder...
would i go?



distance and proximity.

will we grow
into our dreams
or outgrow
and shed them?
it could
be either.
so it'll
be a surprise
when the moment
finally comes.


we should never be afraid to make mistakes
as long as we are ready to learn from them.
not being able to learn from our mistakes
is perhaps the worst and most unforgivable
thing one can do.


we try each and every day.
if we didn't
what would be the point?

the heart treads where the mind fears to go.

sometimes
life corrects itself
after a period
of instability.


have we grown so far apart
that we could pass each other
in the street
as strangers once more?


a telling thing
this is my real voice
not the voice you hear
when i speak in person
but the voice
that is always
within my mind.
it is free.
it is unencumbered
by any sort of filter
to the thoughts
that spring forth
from this font.


lejos
maybe this is
the distance
the two of us
have always needed.
especially for me
to get over
you.


sober
i am conducting
an experiment
in will power and
sobriety
just because i can.
that and
to give myself
a break
after all this time
of imbibing.

truthteller
it is always
much easier
to tell the truth
with no one around
than with you
looking me
in the eyes.



it is commonly said and believed that people write about what they know.
isn't that ever the truth.

as high as an aeroplane flies

just a cliche start
every journey may begin with
a cliche
small step
but
that small step will invariably turn
into a walk
or into a sprint
or perhaps
into a full on run
into a distance
that has no way to be
measured.
we go on
in spite
or to spite
any pain
we may feel.
it is beautiful
to go through life
with the wind at our backs
and the sun on our hair
and the world all around us
beckoning us
to move
to act
to give no quarter
and never stop
until
life is wrested from us
by the inevitable end.

"black bird singing in the dead of night"

Time, tIme, tiMe, timE, TIME.
how can we mark time?
will we mark time
by the conventional methods
that our age proclaims?
the time on our
watches,
clocks
and cell phones?
or should we measure time
by moments defined
in our lives
that brought a divide?
perhaps we should measure time
by the amount of songs
that have moved our hearts
or the beautiful sunsets
we have seen.
perhaps we are wrong about the thing.
maybe time is
the greatest illusion
we have ever believed.
in which case,
everything could be happening
all at once
right now.

Being There

being there
sometimes
being there
is enough.
the rest
of the time,
it is only the beginning.


fight for every breath
then live
the freedom
you have earned.

the world within.


being here
will you read my words
and take a meaning
that isn't there
from them?
will you hear my voice
and take offense
at one not
made?
will you make me
to be a saint?
will you cast
me out?
perhaps,
you won't
really understand
me
at all.


simple words for complicated times.
complicated times for simple people.
a difficult time for everyone else
all the time.


oh muse of the spirits,
we'll meet again
some other day
some other night.
until then
do not worry.
we'll keep each other
company
soon enough
some other time.


"Life Is A State Of Mind."

whatever makes you feel alive

whatever makes you feel alive
whatever makes you feel alive
or makes you believe
in those empty
needful things
is ok with me.
whatever gets you through the day
whatever calms your nerves
whatever eases the shakes
whatever dulls the pain
whatever fills the void
whatever helps you breathe
is ok by me
as long as it gets you through the day.


the right time
sometimes
i make a lot more sense
when i write.
other times
i make a lot less sense.
but
it is always
what i need
when i need it.



Don't stop the rain.
Let it all fall
to begin again.


on the path
follow the dream
or let it
pass you by.
there is no
other way.
5/6/7


the dead flowers of winter.

Did you do what you were suppose to
or did you do what you wanted to?
Or did you do what was right?


Self expression should be made without particular regard to current standards. Oftentimes the two are wholly unsuitable for each other.

we were mortal once and then learned the secret to the eternal

gold and iron
the past isn't always
as golden
as we like
to remember.
sometimes its
not so much
golden
as much as
like
a rusted over
piece of iron.


remember?
what were
we like
about ten
years ago?
the people
we used to be
then
might
barely recognize
themselves
now.

dead young men
there have been
far more of them
than need be
the last few years.
fighting for personal reasons,
fighting because of
patriotism and obligation
fighting for the chance
to come back home alive.
fighting for a time
when they won't have to fight.



we ran into each other but were strangers once again.

learning to become strangers from friends.

divide the night into unknown and madness.

just like its always been before, it will always be later.

how much blood can you squeeze out of a dead body?

how much blood can you squeeze out of a dead body?
all my flaws and imperfections
are killing me.
if its not one thing
its most certainly another.
speeding ticket,
hospital bill,
car repair,
gas,
cell phone,
all these things are money
that i don't have.
life is getting ready to crush me
and i'm trying to not let it
get me.
but its hard.
and its getting harder still.
i still have unpleasant things i need to do.
and i can't avoid them for too much longer.
this is killing me
and i don't think it's going to stop
until it gets me.



more
get another fucking job
is what my head keeps telling me.
don't be a fool
but i might already be without a degree.
you think you have it so hard?
you think you have it so fucking hard?
well you have no fucking clue
what hard is yet.
give it some time
and i'm sure you will.
get ready to suffer for you art
get ready to suffer for your convictions
if you have the guts
to stand up for them.
these years might kill you
but if they don't
death will tremble to take you
when the day has come.

the bankrupt business of love

if you choose to play
perhaps it could be easier
to play
in the games
of life
if i were more interested
in its rules
and order.
as it turns out
i'm not very interested.
so we remain
at an icy
impasse.


self voyeur
watching videos of recent memories
makes me think that perhaps
life is bound to keep getting more interesting
unless it has already peaked
that is.

professor
you learn some things in the only way
that can be learned,
through sheer stupidity.
after the first lesson
it gets much harder
if you didn't pay attention
this first time through.

don't do it
i wonder what dignity there is
in the way i am living my life
versus
everyone else i've known
who has settled in
and now
merely wait for death.

that's always the case
sometimes all anyone could want
is the quiet respite
of home and the familiar.
but as i've come to see,
sometimes that's
the very last thing
you need.

a pause in recent routine
i am giving my demon
a run for his money
these days
before we meet up again
at the end of the week
for our regularly scheduled
descent
into spirits.

stop
i could keep
going on and on
but then
that would be
just
wasted words
on
space that isn't
really there.
so,
this is where
tonight
ends.

beauty doesn't lie but the eyes sure do.

gold
did you sell your soul
for a little gold
to keep in your jewel box?
hidden away
in your secret place
gathering dust
away from the sun.
your beauty withers
and fades
as only gold remains
from those bygone years.
your life could be
so much more
if you'd given
your love away
to someone
golden
instead of
gold.



we could do this all night if either of us could just stop laughing.


I thought i saw you
out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look
but you weren't there.

moments
the big moments
in life
are the easy ones.
it's the day to day
normal,
mundane
ones
that are the
hardest to
get through.
4/15/07


everyday
I can't help but
dream
when I'm
awake.
4/15/07

final words?
Goodbye
is something
we wish we could say
but too often
we don't have the
chance
because life
doesn't believe
in cut and dry
endings.
4/22/07


snapshot
if you look
at the 405 freeway
at 5 in the afternoon
on a friday before
a long weekend,
that says
just about everything
you need to know
about our world
today.
4/22/07

Au Hasard Balthazar

thoughts that came to mind watching this beautiful film(au hasard balthazar):


the beast remembers.

You beautiful beast of burden.

Oh Marie, I promise to love only you.

You make us look antiquated.

Have you no compassion for this beast?

Marie, are you the only one who loves me?

Ou va tu?

You were the only love of mine and now you are gone to the earth.

Can I stand back and watch you suffer?

How much longer will I have to suffer?

Conscious confessions of subconscious sins.

A beautiful world wearied innocence.

I will carry you to the end.

So beautiful here, dying with you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


soundtrack
if this is not
the sound of life
at its most peaceful
and serene
then
i am not sure
what it could possibly be
11/19/07


sleep
come easily to me tonight.
a clear mind
is here writing,
whiling away this
fair night
11/19/07

Forgive and Forget to Forgive

A Choice
will you suffer like jesus?
will you suffer like jesus?
you can do it
but Do you really believe?
Do you really believe?
Are you
Man or Martyr?
Do you fear your doubt?
Embrace this pain
and be prepared
to live again.




Awash in this beautiful sound.


Forgive and Forget to Forgive.

If my dreams aren't worth pursuing, then what is?

essence above existence.
existence of essence.

living a solitary existence
rather than one choked with complication.

time to cut the cord that binds us.

i will pour my tears into the glass
then drown your memory with them.


this night is bringing itself around
very slowly
into something more than the other recent nights have been.
this is a calm in the midst of madness.
this is where the mind recovers and the heart takes refuge
from the ill effects of this troubled mind.


if everything were always great and good
life would quickly become a boring chore.
with struggle and work
we find what we are capable of.
sometimes though
we have no choice
but to adapt to a moments change
or to be left forever behind.


maybe life is always beautiful and its only our perception and actions that are ugly.


i am waiting for you.
but i don't know who you are.
maybe you should make yourself known to me.
maybe i'm wrong,
perhaps you are the one waiting for me.


might as well
might as well
or
might not.
but
might as well.

sometimes the madness comes looking for you

Dear Heart
the night grew long
after we parted
as i longed to see
your form again.
our divergent lives
still meet up
here and again.
how i wish
things could be
different
between us.
give me your heart,
give me your kiss,
give me your embrace
and let us start
again together.
Love,
(as you once called me)
Your Young Poet




there are no such things as real writers.


youth slips away
day by night by day.
it happens
all too fast
as we are
consumed
by our day to day
lives.
it happens all
too easily.
the familiar
becomes frozen
as new things
are foreign
and unfamiliar


The Girl Who Never Sees The Sun
by moonlight
i rise
to live the life
the sun denies.
this is the life
i've always known,
covered,
hidden
from the
day lit world.
inside
not outside
of the
life
so long,
long
denied.
11/12/07

whores can't give you love

random bits random bits


Execution
i will
watch you hang
by the very
rope
you once put around my neck.



As this love unfolds into black lace.

We have long since outlived our usefulness for each other.


fairly likely
life is not easy
to figure out.
many try
but only
wind up
going into
circles
and
dead ends.
perhaps the answer
is so obvious
that
we will never
know.
4/16/07

JCS
i don't know
what things are like
for you right now
but i can imagine.
be careful
and don't
let yourself
get
the better of
you.
So i'll write
you
and hope
you
can keep on
going
through the
days
and the
nights
4/16/07



edge
sometimes
i wonder
how close i
am
to the
edge,
then i wonder
if there
is an edge
at all.
4/16/07



sailing on the rivers of ether.


Empirical answers to unquantifiable Questions.




mother night
do you miss me when the day comes?
mother night
i only come out for you
mother night
you shelter us from the day
mother night
the sky so much more beautiful with you
mother night
never leave us.

as both prisoner and cage

been working on booking some shows for my band and it looks like it might start bearing some fruit which as we all know, fruit is a good thing. we're playing this saturday and i have a couple of dates for us in december as well as possibly something already lined up for next year. so yay. spent last night hanging out with vaudeville in long beach along with bill.

heres some old stuff

HELL?
Los Angeles has been burning for days
The smoke and ash have choked our lungs
And covered our sky.
You can smell the ruin of lives wafting over head
Spread by the winds.
The city continues on in its fashion.
The freeways remain clogged
The madness mingles with the mundane ness of it all.
Perhaps after all this time
Los Angeles is finally becoming the hell
That everyone else always thinks its been.
10/27/07



Phone calls from nowhere
Dark night or bright and sunny day
It doesn’t matter what or when
But you will hear my voice again
When im trying to piece
My past and present to make sense
Of all the things that don’t
And the people who have come and gone from it.
Time is the distance between us
And its growing wider and wider.
Pretty soon even this voice might disappear
10/6/07


Becoming the
There has never been such a thing as
The good old days.
It is just wistful thinking by those who cannot remember.
The present always longs for the past.
For a supposed youth and innocence that has always been lost.
But you cannot lose what was never there.
So we live on in the present in moments that others
Will look back and say
Remember the Good Old Days?
Then being a senile old man I will happily respond
Of course I do.
Of course I do.
10/6/07



being the prisoner and the cage


R

might as well use this

i signed up for this account and haven't done anything with it but perhaps now i will. seeing as i feel too prolific with some of the shit i put up on myspace i might use this space for all the writing that i won't put up there. this could include anything. poems, random thoughts, essays on music or any other random thing coursing through my mind.

so......



a path divided

turn away
(don't)
turn away
from me

turn away
(don't)
turn away
from me

my dear heart
is this where
we end or
begin again?

i can't bear to see,
this unknown
is killing
me

turn away
(don't)
turn away
from me

my dear
there are
only two ways
for this to be.

Number 1

Well let us see where this might go.

R