Short Case of Amnesia

Through the grains of sand that slipped through my fingers
I could see into my future,
In it was the best and worst case scenarios of a sheltered life.
A place that existed somewhere between the ocean and the streets,
An avenue that ran parallel to my route,
This open line of sight that allowed me to be privy to new events,
Events yet to begin.
Through an unfathomable space in-between these specks I have come to realize,
That nothing of note is accomplished by playing in the earth,
Though the tunnels can be dug,
And the the undertaking can be gargantuan,
It is not enough to forward the progression to a neutrality,
To allow an upend into the face of new essences.
Caustic and careening toward slumber,
We bite our pillows and cry into our sheets,
Being comforted by our sorrows,
Which cause us to retire with world weary bones,
It is not what we should be acting toward.
The road traveled frequently may just be the road to take,
Though temper your speeds, be they faster or slower,
Choose the equipment in which you get there,
Change the tone,
The music and the story, but stay on the road,
Detours will occur, and rests are required,
But do not fret that you see the traffic jammed,
Ahead is the end of the line,
Ahead is the joint entry into realization,
We will get there when we can,
And believe it that we will be there shortly,
Despite being disenheartened that you are going to the same destination,
Always know, that you choose how and when you arrive.

Highway Cruise

I am hopeful but not overly,
For in the very real face of adversity,
I am overtly seen in the light of a fading moon,
When dawn blinks too soon,
In a very real episodic journey to entitlement,
Where chimney sweeping,
And funeral weeping,
Are not separated by the standards and practices,
Our contracts may be binding,
Our decidely mortal existences may fall in the blurred places,
We are not overly sure of our position,
I am hopeful, but not completely,
For next could been seen through the eyes of the world weary,
Men and women sick to death of double dealing,
Of single and triple switching of double standards,
Concocting the time warp,
But never stepping through,
Just to say it is so.
But where do the birds and the dinosaurs go,
Having fossilized winged migration,
Faulting the slump in behavior into a slump in digestion,
Our food is tastier,
Our appetite is sustained,
Given our hoping for more hoping in the face of adversity,
Not being able to attend the same university,
As our beloved beloveds, or friend so dear,
Careening toward a backdrop of very real wood,
Splinters in fingers,
Blinded by two by fours in the back of an old ford,
Pausing only to remind yourself that you are,
Very much alive, but still bleeding,
Blinded,
Bruised,
Bewildered,
And ultimately belittled,
By your superiors.
Cry havoc,
All ye angels on high,
For the humans have exceeded you,
Through perversions, and taxes,
Through eye sores and boils,
Passed the obligatory moments of bubonic,
The black death on the tongue,
Seeping out through sewer rats,
Falling,
Failing,
Flinging oneself,
Into Fractures,
Fibulas,
Forgotten,
Forsaken,
Forgone.

Slurred Speech

Bewildered I walked across a frosted prairie,
Despite my reliance at the auto-device which was my mode for arriving,
Despite the liters of alcohol consumed in the twilight,
That bewildered the facets of my existence,
Their faces smudged with smidgens of hording the chocolates,
Leering forward at me while I stumbled to and fro
Across a frosted prairie.

Caustic and gleeful I crawled across the frosty earth,
Sinking one singular fingernail down into the earth at any given moment,
Till I was latched enough to pull myself forth into the wooded glen before my eyes,
To find some shade among the bitter cold of winters bane,
Limited in its execution my odyssey was only in its infancy,
My programmable mind brainwashed with iphones and touch pads,
Gliding over it while crawling forth on the frosty earth.

Toe nails dug in with sand beneath the shield,
Cold sand that existed just behind me on the frozen plains,
Where once I was but no longer am for now I am here,
Among the dew dropping trees of early morning,
Where a hint of a sun looms on the horizon,
But where the hinting sun seems to sit and wait,
Till one blinks where once again it'll rise into the heavens,
As though it were always there.

Little by little I see it all here,
Among the wooded glen,
The lovers and the friends so dear at one point in time,
Now another point points to their demise,
Dismissive solutions arose when they did,
And quietly I closed the curtains,
While the leaves are falling all around me,
I think on the pains of the yesterday fiends,
The enemies who ate me, and spit me back out,
And molded me from pre-digested food like clay,
Shaping me into the person they wanted me to be,
While keeping my very real soul in tact in very unrealistic fashions.

Rubber banded around me are the branches of dewy trees.
They hug me as though they were the hugs of a barbed wire fence,
I'm bleeding slightly but not enough not enough to fatigue me
And my singular mind pressed forward to the lake just beyond the wooded glen,
Where I know fish swim, and men do fornicate with one another,
There are women there too, who sit and wait for their turn,
As the males seek out and have all the fun,
Putting down the wives and the lovers one two and three,
The seconds count down, as the marriages end,
Divorcing the life they once had for something tha looks through beer goggles like greener pastures.

So here I arrive at the lake just in time,
Sipping simply from the waters where bacterial growth surely are,
Though, I no longer truly care, not a lot, or a little, it never crosses my mind,
To quench my parched thirst, to soothe my aching bones,
To calm my muscles I'll receive sickness for the sake of life.

The men stare at me, wondering if I'll join in their circular masturbation,
and then women stadn against pick-up trucks staring non-chalantly to the sky,
Dismissing the sordid behavior of the men,
As though it were the tree that no one heard fall in the woods except God,
If he's even listening at all.
The sexes divided slowly uniting,
Submissive, dismissive, and guised as an illusion,
I'm only eating the frosted prairie,
There are no waters, there are no people,
There are no trees, or hugging branches,
I'm out of my auto-vehicle,
Just outside the door,
Emptying my bowels of my poisons,
Just at the start,
And falling dreary.

Writing to Exist

You're going to make something of yourself they said,
You are going to go places.
Tomorrow is the blank slate of the rest of your existence,
A toy box to sculpt, and engrave.
Your name, and your face will be known by all about you,
The old will be humbled,
The young will be astonished.
Those within your peer group will sit starry eyed and astonished.
Till they read between the lines,
Till they see that you didn't move at all.
Through the imagination of your life you will have accomplished wonders,
Without ever witnessing them,
And they will grow angry and bitter for being fooled of your genius,
For they once had the same ambition,
But worked with their arms to accomplish what they could.
Some made it to the place at the top of the class,
Other's were nearly there,
But cutbacks made them falter and topple down on their ass.
In the tomorrowland carousel of discontent,
We barrel at the gun shot with unparalleled velocity,
Angry that things couldn't work out the way we planned.
The intensifying struggles from those who did it "right"
Who followed the status quo's properly,
And didn't stick it out.
So what you still made it where you did,
The pressures in your head,
Were the pressures on their stress.
Someone has to be the dreamer,
And someone has to follow through,
What they didn't tell you when you were younger,
Was that it shouldn't be you.