An Angry Letter to the Man in the back of the Theater

patience dear friends
the journey home that never ends,
or seems to not,
will be over soon
tomorrow or not,

and a tidal wave of curious bewilderment

will fill my mind of coffee and junior mints

pressing everything forward in joint aches and pains

that the birds will never appreciate your name

or the so call things that you plan to say,

faster than a speeding bullet the migraine sets in

desperate to jolt you into aches and strains,

and you'll stretch out your arms to heaven,

and your joints will snap back in,

as the hell of your body swarms you in killer bee stings,

but don't you see the truth on the other side

the simplicity of the escape plan

good exercise and good food,

breaded cabbages that just won't do,

tomato  paste and gumbo stew,

breathed on by rotting dragons breath,

as the grand wizard utter incantations,

so astounding that they'll capture the imaginations,

of the entire world,

and so again they steal the words,

of those that said them before them.

as the shuck and devour the shark and the coward,

they will see no hope for the "nopes" that they've heard,

and in the end the men who tell the tallest tales are birds,

crows and finchs,

and bottled neck dolphins that splash in the air,

and eat the tuna.

believe me if it makes no sense, its because you are not searching hard enough,

though that too may be a bit of nonsense,

granted if the truth were easy most of us would live easier,

than the twelve angry men who slammed the doubt into everything other man who just wouldn't pout,

in desperate times the cock crows twice,

but Jesus walked on water, while you can't walk to forgive,

and you are no savior, so no don't get up,

lay in your head and feel bad for the dead,

leave it alone, after all like you said,

there's nothing you can do,

the pain is too real, you can't follow through,

after all you are you.

and the fable goes on, 

it never really ends,

to tomorrow and beyond,

as the sharks circle you,

you'll find no friends,

in the void of your mind,

as you struggle to keep time,

while never taking a step,

never snapping a finger, 

never blinking an eye.

be patient,

this only lasts a moment,

but it'll hurt like hell

till the doves pull you out.

and amen said the preacher man,

with his big book in hand,

as he slammed his head down on his pulpit,

and the sound that set forth,

cracked on the masses,

of frenzied little termites,

who built with their shit,

and even though it smelled,

they stayed all cozy,

all safe,

and all sound.

One More Before the Night Ends

Did you see that squirrel scamper up the tree?
He hides where none of his kin will be seen
Sleeping so soundly in the dead of winter,
Where death claims all the trees around him.
Did you see him?
Nor did I, I knew the answer when I asked the question
For the squirrels are quiet this time of night,
Taking care not to be sighted by the eyes of the predators,
By those that seek to devour them
Did you know the truth to?
Sure you did, go and believe what you will,
The rodent doesn't need you to live through his plight,
He'll be snug, and he'll be cozy,
Faithfully cuddled around his babes,
With his little squirrely wife at his side.
And as those little ones suckle for milk,
He'll go out again, and shamelessly be involved,
In a tragic hit and run,
Oh no one will investigate as he drags himself to the edge of the road,
But his family will ponder in fearful curiousity,
The fate that befell the head of their clan,
And as the speeding contraptions fly by him,
And he sees in the snowy skies God's plan for his existence,
He'll sigh a deep sigh,
For none of this was worth it,
For even though he knows it, he never understood it,
The fact that he is what he is,
A squirrel in heart and soul,
Road kill on the side of the road.

For Every Excuse.

Go ahead chase the sun
But don't hit your head on the clouds on your way up
If you start to run a fever
Don't come screaming back to me
Be forewarned the sun is scorching
Pack lotion accordingly
Be patient,
For its a long way there,
Though you may find it faster to book a flight
If your willing to wait a few million in dollars,
Just take your time
There is no rush
The world didn't end,
Its still spinning,
Be careful,
They say you'll never make it,
And no to disappoint you,
But you won't.

Let's face facts
You failed again,
You aimed to high,
And you fell on your face,
Again.

It's a long way back to the earth,
And with eighty percent of your body burned,
You won't sit comfortably till your sitting in heaven,
And if your heaven is kind itll have a new skin
Just for you.

Let's just come to terms with the simple truths,
They tried to bleed you out,
They tried to save your life,
They tried to shoot you down,
And to pick you up and push you out to try,
Let's just come to grips with the reality of your impossible journey,
You never made it,
Because there was no way to get there,
You attempted the impossible,
Without considering a plausible alternative.

Let's just dream,
Why not dream,
I can dream,
Dream a dream.

Bask in the sun though,
Let the light shine through
Just don't forget the lotion for the skin,
Or it'll get the hose again.

I Think They Protest Too Much

They sing songs to all the children

Of birds and bees

And cigarette trees,

they give them the keys to the safest of places,

But changed the locks when trouble drew near,

And they didn't even leave the porch light on.

For a thousand years the people protested,

But the children didn't know,

That one day they'd grow up to care about,

The things they now, knew not of.

They sing songs to all the children,

About everything under the sun,

And when they cancer was done they told them to get by,

To lift their eyes to the sun, and fly,

With waxed wings, into their own oblivion,

But heed not they counseled,

For beneath them a trampoline with no springs awaited to break them in fall.

For a thousand years the people protested,

In languages were not their own,

They had come accustomed to the ways of their neighbors,

And after spying in so long in bathroom windows,

Were too embarassed to be foun out.

They sing songs to all the children,

Those that they have not shaken into nothing,

And those that survive are forced to contrive a way of breathing that they,

That they are not accusomed too.

For a thousand years the people protested,

And god knows they'll protest everything else for a thousand more.

Despite Alarming Applications I'd Say We're Set.

Despite the abnormality that you seemed accustomed to seeing protruding from the left most digit of my single right foot,
Do not be alarmed to learn what you may have already knew, that the infestation warrants no further distress from the housewives association of your neighborhood charter.
Dawn may come forth at any time, because the sun keeps no record of tracking the time, and will shine on the moons face, as a big brother overshadowing his simpleton siblings,
Dragging them forth through the muck and mire, and only just only giving them a chance to speak their minds, before stripping their tongues and demanding milk money.
Do you not see what I mean by this undergrowth from my right most digit of both my left hands, and the overhang of my under bite,
Decimal points may replace the percentage but that don't change BINGO to YAHTZEE and while you teeter with you tattered trinkets, I won't be caught in mangled blankets.
Destiny betrothed you to try and understand what woes you, but you can't, because fantasy breaks down the phantasms of your false orgasms, as chocolate permeates your taste buds,
Delight in this because tomorrow cocoa will be erased from the books, and flags will be hanged at half mass due to the delight of this tragic occupational hazard.
Doomsday serenades will trumpet out from troubled minds, and troubled breaths will flow out hardest, because trouble brings misery its own fancy company when the company men have nothing else to sack.
Drink some more wine, please it'll only do you good, and when you've had your fill could please check it, you know what I mean the disgusting growth that abnormally caters my whole soul.

Absolution and Pleas

Help me i'm a murderer of mercy
I am caught in my own contraptions
Send any survivors back to me and hope they can release me
Let them skewer me with their hates
And crowd me with their blame,
But make it quick, because this pain now is of my own devising
I am breaking apart, and they are twisting my arms
Breaking my legs and ripping out my innards
And bringing them to lay outwards,
Where is the help that they called forth to heaven,
Only a demons eye gleams towards my own,
I am twisting under his gaze, as he extends claws heavenward from hellish prisons,
And I can't tell which way is diagonally oblique.
My victims are merciless, and cruel,
Becoming vultures of my misdeeds,
And erasing my good ones like dry erase boards upon their common contraptions,
My blood spills upon this mortal coil,
And it is twinging, on a nothingness that carves the very soul of me
That they want to fill with their versions of my event,
I assure them, I knew not what I did, and only  hurt them for their sakes,
But this oxymoron makes no sense, it is repugnant,
And foul to the senses,
Tasting of rotten lies, and treachery,
And whatever good words  they spoke of me in childhood,
The teachers and mothers would never recognize,
I am a monster, a killer, and I know what i've done,
Don't forgive me, let me kill it in myself,
Because I die a little each time,
Regardless of how many times the infantry spears me.
And sometimes,
in a momentary misstep, I speak good forebearance upon their heels,
and they wander for a while under mine watchful eye,
Happy and gleeful,
Which they will always, but while they fall down the pit that i suddenly placed before them,
They only recall survival instincts, as harsh cutting roots break away into their faces,
It wasn't easy for me to dispose of this,
But I dispose of myself with ease so freely,
And when i'm out of here, i'll walk amongst the people,
Again.