Me, The Rock

in my own way I feel,

like a stone atop the chest cavity

of a dying man

weighing him down

and crushing his chest

but as a stone I am not accountable

someone had to have dropped me

and left me there to cause pain and misery

I feel cold and I am immobile

unfeeling stone

as that is what i am

and what else could I be

for days on end the man would holler

till he could no longer

and all the while I was nothing

but a rock

placed there against my will

because I have no will

despite myself

i am nothing but myself

and myself is myself

a solid mass of rock

unable to be unique

unable to individual

corroded off of some cliff

cracking the chest

pushing out the last labored breaths



Hopeful Jibber Jabber

A child like wonder will compel me forward,
Not knowing what each new step will bring,
Unaware of the joys or horrors around any given corner,
Despite myself I will lose myself in fictions,
Created by others or in my own mind,
Seeking solace in friends,
And chasing liberties in my creative spaces,
A decline may occur
But it will not end in any dastardly fashion.

People will holler and dispute the abuses of power,

But I will not let my mind wander much further,

I'm colliding with walls and slicking down my hair,

The gelatin substance that greases down my looks,

Let's my filter the violence through a media machine,

So I can look on without ever participating in said schemes.

Lost in charismatic speeches I will worship the saints,

Then disown the belief in believing the truths of the lie,

And Commit to memory all the tools of the trade,

But no matter the course I will always be child like and in awe,

Uabashed in my serendipitous tones,

Landing my feet squarely against the jaw,

Then, as the teeth fly out, I will smile.

I love the smell of the smells of the smelling organism,

The one that can alter your face and give you smiles when you'd rather have frowns,

That can decipher your falsehoods and bring out simple truths,

That you thought no one cared to see.

Oh, the fairer sex can demonstrate the abundance of beauty,

But cannot destroy me this way,

But I only wish that they could.

So go on and accept calamities.

And dissect your three wishes.

So go on and admit one,

And tear up the second.

No amount of crying will empty all the tears,

The fountain of youth doth burst from sadness,

But what forward momentum can one obtain,

From drowning in their own tears,

For the shore is not far,

It is just over yonder,

under the same yellow sun,

And upon the same green earth.

So step back and breathe it in,

The lilac plants and silly games,

Take the time to listen,

And bless that time,

For it is rare and far between,

To have open ears,

On either side of a head.

Lament of a Lily Field

A gravely injured butterfly
Flaps its wings over lily fields
Trying in a vain attempt
To salvage itself
With the dust lifted from its wings,
Picked up by infant children,
It is frantic in its final actions,
Waging a war with the air,
A battle that it cannot hope to win,
But still it persists,
Evading all the pitfalls of a lily field.
Somewhere it searches despite itself,
Somewhere to die in peace,
Hoping to evade the scathing pains,
That would leave it in discernible pieces,
Its antennae search the winds above the flowers
But the winds are lying all of the day,
Proving their falsehoods which bash the bug away,
Its too bad for the distance it took to do it,
As the lily's bend and break in distress,
Reaching up in attempt to save it,
The butterfly flaps its wings frantically,
Faintly falling feverishly just beyond its landing
On the other side of a lily field.

A Denouncment of a Discernable Deficit in Denials.

With restless feet I'm shuffling myself to the brink of denial
Testing it out but not partaking of a whole slice
And as the corners crumble into crumbs at my table
I will slide them off with the palm of my hand in to the garbage.
In effect I will destroy my fascinations because I am fit to do so,
Because it was written in my biography that I would
And who am I to deny the truth of the pages.
My denial is the pinnacle of my aptitude,
For I can also do flips for you through flaming hula hoops,
So put away your whips and chains and take a time to think,
What gains will I receive if I burn all my dollars before I can deposit them.
Broke, and crippled between the sofa cushions,
As I scratch for a quarter of a dollar in the last sanctuary I'm aware of.
Tomorrow my denial will be a thousand times the force it is now,
And I will not be able to reckon with the wrecking crew
Who have come to slander my walls and call me out with needles.
In this denial I will drown but for the spacious amount of time it took to see,
I am saved by my own cowardice for I lack certain attributes to make it real.
Now, before the reality sets in I will shuffle away back the way I came,
And I will surmise what can be figured only to have it dropped to the floor,
Where it shatters like already fractured glass,
Gracious children will try to help me put it back together,
But how can I be bothered with the pieces when I hated my antiques so.