To lay one’s dreams
At the feet of the status quo
Despite clairvoyance
Of the impending stampede…
Therein lies true courage of self

The worst consequence of our ending
is that my life became a chore
and the lack off effect
me leaving had on yours
you left my candle burning
blistering and screaming for more
while I was fading to ash
you were off
declaring a war

The way i see it
There is more than one type of sadness
The type that follows the death of someone
The type that is portrayed in movies
And is normalized
It is the type that comes with full force
And demands to be felt to its entirety
Washing over you and taking hold of all your emotions
Leaving you gasping for air
It is the type that people expect from you
The type that people talk about
Without shame
The type people find beauty in
The type that reminds you you’re still alive

Spread out the clean, white paper
brush away the specks of dust
fiddle with the latches to my head
maybe I'll get it right this time

So much crap in here...
The echo bounces from the bottom
Don't know if I'll recognize it
What the hell are you looking for?

I don't know, you started this hunt
Look outside and wonder
feeling like it's anywhere
maybe in the sky

I glanced at the cracked mirror,
My sorry face was dead pale.
I rubbed hard my tired eyes,
But to no visible avail.

No, it was no wonder at all
I felt like bombarded by hail.
Last night I got pissed as a skunk
With the help of some no-ginger ale.

I looked through the news
Like they were written in Braille.
What little I could see in there,
Alas, was less fresh than stale.

I got up from the chair,
walked as fast as a snail,
all the way to the front door,
just to see there’s no mail.

The eerie sounds of swamp-life
muted animal calls
take possession of my senses
from beyond the foggy wall

The sound of dripping water
from gently rowing oars
The gentle shuss of the boat
helps my heart to soar

Gators gliding, spiders weaving
webs to be caught in
The air is pregnant with the smell
the frogs make such a din

Eyes that shine in the darkness
coons up in the trees
Light up the bugs and attract them
mud up to your knees

People said she held a gift
Of something soft and gentle
Of natural nurturing

Her life was the rough
She lived in the dust
Until one day someone said to her
She has a gift

Atlas the gift was discovered and onward the gift pursued.
As it grew, lucky children would get a sprinkle of her gift. Although for some, only a particle. She was unsure of how to pursue this gift.

On the morning after election
I turned on my T.V.
Imagine my dejection
The headlines said to me

Now that our party's won
We shall waste no time
So, listen up everyone
You will follow party-lines

You will pray before each meal
No more cars, you'll take the bus
The rich will get tax deals
Moral rules are made by us

Same sex-marriage is a no-no
Everyone gets a gun
Dirty tricks and low blows
Are for politician's fun

One day I woke up and I’d just had enough
Is this my life? What do I want from it?
Sometimes the answers were coarse and rough
Synonymous with what I’d always run from

I wrote quite awhile, and cried so much more
Searched for myself upon page after page
What is my story and what is the score
Why all the sadness and anger and rage

I’m finding some answers but mostly I’ll get
Questions that dive a bit deeper inside
Floodgates now open, my cheeks often wet
Openly offer what once I would hide

the ocean goes all the way back
to the beginning of everything
when in some dark indeterminate time
old gods cast whips of lightning
and rained molten glass

fragments of my old self floated adrift
in lonely still water silence,
among deformed creatures,
hideous face of primeval life yet to
take a familiar shape and learn to speak

now my body and being have merged
into wholeness, into a singular life
the sky flows inverted to the end of time
opposite the cobalt sea