Credit Card

everything living

came in the beginning

everything worth

believing is infinite

she was all of this trust

all my lust

sunny-side preferred

rolled into one spot

decorating my entire Life

everything living came

how can it not be lost

bit by bit we thrust our trust

to those that least deserve

everything We believe

I am sorry for US

The world will once again revolve

And erase everything we ever thought

Or did or might have DID

We will be the DUD we always DID

Sorry KIDS (Losers)

We are the DUDs

Or did you think I meant ‘Dude’

C’mon

You Idiot

Liberty Bell

i was reading something

someone said,

no

someone wrote

a story of what someone

meant

sometime ago

something someone thought

but forgot

thinking something

they called government

was history

which worked,

and theirs -

the others

did not work

and try as they might

it did not think

sinking

as it was searching

grappling

finding nothing

especially them

the ones that hide

the accurate,

i was reading something

someone said

on a website that does not work

searching for truth

it warned me of everything

happening to me and my life

when i signed-up

i chose not.

i sat at the Bell

and Hell

it does not ring

Make-Believe Media

 

i’ve known poets

who did not know

they were poets

but all of them

they would know

you are no poet

one who microscopes

worlds

and telescopes Universes

this is clearly not you

learn to explore

discover these places

and you will be a poet

otherwise

you remain another bigot

a failure

in modern society

dancing around crazies

believing in them

believing in you

i can’t keep from laughing

at the fraud

society allows you

why care when control collapses

wheels fall off

wagons drop

progress stops

what then?

environmental concerns

change

Changes

changed

i have high confidence

make-believe

will never achieve your desired

400 Miles

i drove record

thoughts across

I-20 for hours

and hours

devouring sandwiches

such moments

Doctor Who (mine too)

were getaways from life

all driving towards

Anne

kept this caravan

going forever,

and ever

an age it was,

gone again from all now

meeting again and again

Anne

hours there

hours here

missing

Anne

Complex

She is fire in my darkened swamp

warmth on a cold star

mist in morning

naked taste on Sunday

something unforgettable

on Monday

She is fire in my darkened swamp

a soup is but souls of a part

mixed together and blended

much as two as them not of another

can become as part of one

She is fire in my darkened swamp

dancing about sand crabs

all waiting

waiting and waiting for theirs

We are all waiting

but I am waiting

waiting for her

She is fire in my darkened swamp

but now I am waiting

waiting for her

dancing

She is somewhere turning near

i am here

waiting waiting for her

Fifth Bottle

am I not the same as I was yesterday?
or have I changed from good to evil?
why does the world see so differently
than it did when 'everything' changed
so radically that nothing else ever
mattered, and produces question after
question of secrecy - the power
to question un-mercifully

this is no way to be free