If I write a poem
with the beat out of time
will you tell me
or decline

then what will I learn
don't save me the pain
please
give it to me
straight and plain

when my ego is bruised
should I just give up
if so,
I sure as hell have
loose screws

Is poetry,
imagination, metaphors,
and cliches
that say one thing
and mean something else

is it in my brain
or in the strain
of your brain
to understand or refrain
from what you've read

Making a stand for individuality.
Two fingers formed into the international sign
for up yours and ‘V’ for victory.

A war against the ignoble scum suckers
of this universe. Undeviating,
in the search for originality.

Fighting for the right to be what or who you are,
In the face of a disapproving world,
outside their concept of reality.

In the final analyses, the conclusion must be,
Acceptance is all most seek.
But hold your ground, let go of ambiguity.

The Wave

The ripple on the horizon,
the imperceptible start.

The wave comes closer,
the wave reaches higher.
Now it’s upon him,
upon the tiny surfer.

High the wave reaches,
it towers over,
it gains a crown,
a boiling white crown,
and this great monster,
cold, cruel, curving,
picks up the surfer
and is smitten a blow,
a great white gash across its chest.

In attack the wave rears higher, higher,
higher still.
The surfer rides destruction safe to shoulder.

stars cut like a fire torch
windswept they dance
the darkness fanning
like a mystery curtian
throwing the calm
about their exotic charms

there are leaves of pages
growing on the trees of hope
loping like the flank of wolves
their thirsty ache

all loops and whorls
on acid proof billow
stretching in the wind
as scenery dark and hidden
speeds

you ask me questions
for all the unknowns
and the hollow emptiness
the game has shown