BITTER MEMORIES: AN ILLUSION - A POEM

She stood in a doorway,
Lost in a memory,
Falling to pieces,
Trying to remember,
The time she had,
The moment she wandered,
Far from home,
To see the world,
A beautiful dream,
A peaceful moment,
Lost to a memory,
Drifting from pieces,
Realize,
The memory is dimming,
He's losing his mind,
She dances in the mourning,
The light grows dim,
Feeling the emotion,
She stands in the door way,
The tears washed away,
By the rain,
It falling down,
To the ground,
We see the illusion,
We feel the pain,
She grows apart,
The years roll by,
A distant memory,
Falling to pieces,
All a lie,
A mask is worn,
To feel no pain,
The distance an illusion,
She stands in the door way,
Lost in a memory,
Falling apart,
No grand illusion,
Just life itself,
In the world,
Spinning through,
A distant second,
In life itself,
A minute of peace,
Then a delusion,
A shattering dream,
Stark madness,
Cruising into the setting sun.

MISERY IN A DREAM - POEM

Like a dream,
Falling apart,
Seeing you there,
In that photograph,
And the memories,
Slipping away,
Into a place,
To find myself,
Dreaming of a better place,
And I see,
That memory,
Dancing free,
Into the setting sun,
Like a memory in color,
Falling apart,
Falling to pieces,
Seeing the dream breaking up,
Drifting apart,
Wondering where,
Why,
Tomorrow never comes again,
Today is today,
Yesterday is just,
A long ago dream,
Seeing a prayer,
Dancing in the rain,
All night,
To fear the time,
To live in misery,
Falling apart,
Dreaming of why,
Nothing matters.

Life is a dream,
Caught in a loop,
Wandering towards,
The edge,
Misery
In technicolor,
Forever in lies,
Painting black and white,
Living a dream,
Falling apart,
Into misery,
I sigh,
To the night high,
Life is like that,
Dancing in star light...

WHATEVER DOESN'T KILL YOU - A look into a demented writer's head

Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you wish you were dead. 

Anyone else having issues with their life?

Yeah, me neither.

So here I am, sitting, wondering, looking, early morning, I'm usually not up at this hour writing, but it seems like a good thing to do, to push the poison from the system and release into the world.

Angry pelicans on the streets of LA, looking for a fix, or tuna, or maybe a halibut,

Maybe in another life, I could be someone awesome, instead of this, whatever I am.

Planets align, then drift back away, trying to find center of nowhere, which, if you think about it, is near impossible.

It's 6:53 in the morning, few people wander about, looking for egg and sausage biscuit sandwiches and a large orange juice, somewhere, someplace, people laugh, drinking strong coffee, waiting for the sun to rise.

Misery loves company.

So they say.

I reach up, stretch, trying to grab space, to pull myself up, emotionally, Heaven seems so far away.

I fail.

I might go for a walk; to watch, to see, to hear, to feel the ground beneath my feet...

DEPRESSION IN A LITTLE BOTTLE - BROKEN LITTLE DOLL UP ON THE SHELF

DEPRESSION IN A LITTLE BOTTLE - A BROKEN LITTLE DOLL UP ON SHELF

Have you ever felt worthless, a loser, a broken toy just tossed up on the shelf, to sit and rot away into dust?

Have you ever felt the pain of loss, to never see that shining face again, never to hear that voice, telling you it will be okay, even when thousands tell you the same thing?

Every song you hear makes you want to cry, to crawl into a hole and pull that hole inside with you, to want to wander off this mortal plane, the only thing keeping you here is those who would be hurt by that action, a simple but complicated thing, to toss aside your life, to not hear those beloved cries.

To give up, that most precious gift, to lose that grip on what makes you see the light, to feel that darkness seeping up from the pit of your soul, to hear the anger building in your mind, to feel nothing but that pain.

I keep trying to live for the day but my mind decides to wander off into the dark corners, to shiver there, to feel like the broken toy that I am, I try to live happily and get kicked in the teeth by the world.

I feel like that broken little doll up on the shelf, the one that nobody wants.

Good night world, maybe I will dream about better times and will wake up happy.

To feel that wind beneath my wings, to see the horizon, the dawn breaking, the glorious colors of the dawn breaking, to hear that sweet song from the birds of paradise, to believe again, that life will be better, for the truth, for the reality, not just some dream.

I grab my pillow, pull the blanket close to me, feeling sleep coming over me, that darkness, to comfort me, hopefully I will sleep sweetly, to again, dream of better things, to taste the sweet wines of Heaven, to hear the choir sing beautifully, in harmony, to embrace me in their wings, though, I would not want to wake, to this reality, who others say is not that bad, to smile, but what if I don't want to smile, to not laugh, that fake laugh that others seem to believe is that reality?

I still sit here, writing this letter, not knowing if I want to share it to the world, it seems a depressing folly, almost a suicide letter to that world which isn't that bad, I have seen worse.

I still sit here, wondering, listening to the quiet of the darkened room, to hear the nothingness which is peaceful, contrary to those who say, you should surround yourself with everyone.

Everyone is madness, just ask the masses, to hear the many voices screaming inside your head, to rip out your eyes so you can truly see everything as it was meant to be seen.

Dear depression, you gnarly beast, you dearly fuck, go away, bother someone else this night.

So here I sit, writing, listening to my mind, it wanting to scream, but it sulks in silence, good night my dear world.

Dear Depression, go fuck yourself!

Whispers in the wind: A POEM

WHISPERS IN THE WIND - A POEM

The way we were,
Like tattered pictures,
Thrown on the floor,
Memories,
It was, so apparently, so easy, according to.....
Memories,
Beautiful, some,
Others,
Too painful to remember,
We chose to forget,
Laughter,
We remember,
Those shining moments,
Drifting across the wall,
Projected,
Simple things,
Here,
Timeless memories,
Others easily forgotten,
Brought back by dreams,
Distant,
Only shadows,
Of fragments,
Tossed into the seas,
It would seem,
The misery,
Forgotten,
Brought back by passion lost,
Yesterday brought to tomorrow,
Whispers in the wind,
Memories,
How they change us,
Smiles on the photograph,
Tomorrow,
Is a better day,
To see the sun,
Blazing,
In a memory...

A TRIBUTE TO MY COUNTRY: A road trip through a life

A TRIBUTE TO MY COUNTRY: A road trip through a life

CHAPTER ONE: A return to my home town

Eyeless wonders in spanish towns, looking up at the stars while $85 hookers suck on pencil tops, scarred with aged knives, soulless wanderers in arid lands, finding nothing but truck stop coffee and pickled eggs.

Beer by the galons.

Gasoline cocktails, sitting by a pool, neon sign blinking, half off, EAT AT JOE'S.

We were driving down that highway, mile 185, when the bombs began to fall, only in our heads,Jackson was driving, 95.

"Shit!!" He cried slamming on the brakes, "we lost....that word....."

"Our minds?" I replied.

He nodded.

We had lost our mind, 1993, just out of college, one last trip to see ourselves drown, in toxins, 1953, a good year for such a disease.

Las Vegas was a sell out, Corporations trying to gain a buck ninety five for a spin around a tree.

Traps, roadside signs, SEE THE TWO HEADED SNAKE!!

BEARDED LADY, FIFTY CENTS!!

Two drinks out of a clown's skull, a miracle of science, fiction, realization you're dying one minute at a time, living a few seconds as the miles tick away.

The road kept going, cities, towns, little villages in desert suns, rage, lust, a cigarette in some cheap motel.

Use the swimming pool at your own risk, we don't have a life guard on duty.

Ain't that life?

Drown or swim.

Fail or suceed, still treading, the waves crashing in on us, not waving but drowning.

I have tried to drown my demons but they have learned to swim, maybe in college?

There, in the light of the silver moon, she sat, that vision of painted fece filled tub of garbage known as my hometown.

Saints died trying to bring civility here, this godless whore, as my mother called it, it wasn't her town but some shit town she drove into back in 1969.

She never left.

She said it was hers, a shitty drunk lover, but hers.

And hers alone.

I adopted it when she passed away.

She was buried in St. Ives Garden under a weeping tree, right next to father who died before I was three.

We stayed at the Fleabag Hotel, up the hill, crack head behind the counter gave us the key.

$69 a night, all the meth you could dream of, just two blocks down the street.

Nuns were handing out flyers, JESUS SAVES, in big bold letters.

"Do you need him?" They said, handing us one.

We shook our heads no and entered our room, decorated tastefully in 1973.

Dirty tub, smelling of bleach, as if in attempt to clean, the toilet black, moldy smell coming from the ceiling tiles, dried cum on the sheets from multiple drunken, stoned fucks.

Paintings of palm trees to brighten the smoke stained walls.

Walls thin, hearing the next room's activities.

RCA COLOR TV IN EVERY ROOM! FREE! reads the sign outside.

Three channels, all broken snow filled scenes, in color.

Black and white are colors, the lady at the desk says.

I laugh.

She's right.

We fall asleep, like babies, in a crack house on Arizona Street.

ARE YOU OKAY? A random poem in memory.

ARE YOU OKAY? A random poem in memory

Mister, are you okay?
Little kid,
Standing on the street,
Silent night,
Oh what a night,
1978,
Bombs bursting in air.

She, that horror love story breakup tease, nightmares in clever monotone speech,
Candles burning in solemn refuge,
Seamless, scenes, cut out of Time magazine,
She lies in pale moonlight,
Pale skin,
Star brushed blue eyes,
Sacrifice,
Eight rows high,
First kiss at a ball game,
First blowjob at a swap meet.

Mind fuck,
A disease,
To find,
A bitter end,
Quickly released
Into the wild.

A warped sense of destiny on your knees,
Laughing at distorted images,
Projected on the screen.
Just finding myself,
On that road,
To misery,
To light,
To happiness,
To sorrow,
In memories.

Oh how I wish it was me,
Who made her smile,
That special day,
2003,
Vacations on the moon,
Love beyond that midnight sky,
Looking into heaven,
Plans of future,
Shattered.
Broken like glass,
Ripped apart,
Thrown to the winds,
Like seeds,
Dead upon arrival,
Dawn to days,
Back to evenings,
Squares trying to be hip,
Standing in the square,
Snorting coke off mirrors,
Dollar bills,
All alone in a flat,
You okay?

6 am,
Saturday mourn,
Licking old wounds,
With Jim Boom,
That cheap shit,
City dead,
Sleeping in a cardboard box,
Rejection letter,
Five minute read,
Too long.
So long.
Final notice,
Overdue,
Lettuce wilted,
Got it from a garbage can
From behind the Safeway store,
Same with the meat,
The world too.

So long,
Live well,
I shall see you,
There,
On the hallow streets,
Free,
Wind beneath your wings,
Making it, smiling,
Wave,
Then run away,
Fly away,
See the sea,
Dear John,
Goodbye....

Everything has worth - even a turd!

I walk the streets of a rich, artsy neighborhood.

Trust kids writing and painting, Ive moved up from my living under a tree days.

There's still homeless people, even though our President and his supporters say the job market is doing great.

I was homeless.

I had a job.

I was making 800 bucks.

Rent was 900.

So there I was, homeless.

I was still writing, drinking beer, as a way for sleep.

Everyone wonders why the homeless drink.

How else do you fall asleep when you're too scared to fall asleep?

I have a house now, a condo, but not because of anything our government has done or hasn't done.

I remember, everyone is 1 misstep from becoming a homeless reject.

People see you as trash when you are homeless.

No one is trash.

Everyone has worth.

Even a turd.

Everyone, even the rich, are one step away from being in that place, homeless.

To be screamed at, GET A JOB, even though you have one.

I wish people would remember, everyone has a worth.

Sweet dreams - a sleepless nighr poem

Into the dark night we go,
Soulless wonders wandering,
Aimlessly through fogs,
Of memories,
Dreams,
Lost passions,
Sleepless tossings,
Faces brought from past lusts,
Fucks,
Driven mad from bargain basement,
Trivets tossed aside,
As useless trash,
Battles of wit,
Without a wit to spare,
Spar nightmares,
Rusted armor knights,
Fleeing angel haired youths,
Into the sleepless night,
Pain,
Seeps into dust
Dreams, where are thou?

Maniac depressive thrusts,
Angels without wings,
Halos busted,
Random poets, 4am,
Cannot find the bed,
Cannot find the sleep,
Wind chimes chime,
Pleasantly,
With whispers from the night,
A howl to Mother Moon,
Police siren down the street.

Lovers quarrel,
Hush,
They'll hear us on the moon,
Faked love,
Simple warm kisses,
Lies in lust,
A quick fuck,
Before that good night,
Jumping on a train,
Good luck?

Jimmy, where are you now?
Dead,
Twenty Five years,
Ten months,
And 7 days.
Killed by
A bullet to the brain,
College freshman,
What did they say?
Depression?
What could they say?
No more,
No less,
What's a pill to do but repress?

Here I am,
You,
My golden boy,
The best,
Of the best,
Never age,
As I grow older,
Looking in the mirror,
Who is that old man?
I hear myself say,
Sleepless night,
Thoughts,
Memories,
Future things,
To hear those chimes,
To hear my own brain,
To wish for that sweet sleep,
To dream,
To dream,
To wish for that sweet embrace.

INFORMED INSANITY - A POEM TO READ IN A CLOSET WHILE THE DEVIL STEALS YOUR BUILDING BLOCKS

INFORMED INSANITY - A POEM TO READ IN A CLOSET WHILE THE DEVIL STEALS YOUR BUILDING BLOCKS

Worm wood,
 Drifting distant minds,
Left to the corner, sleeping in a pile of leaves,
Whispering loves across the lines,
In rapture,
In sleaze,
Ease?
O to see,
That sea,
Across the line,
In a time,
Ripples in the cosmic lake.

Tome,
A word involved in a battle,
Witless mimes?
We could not see without our eyes,
To not hear the boisterous voices,
In a shaded room,
A nurse comes in,
Can she take my pulse?
Can she?
She can!

Oh madness,
That sadness in my mind,
To dream of insane,
To day, to week, to whatever the hell it is.

I wish to scream,
But no mouth do I have,
I wish to see,
But no eyes do I have

In time,
The distance decreases,
To a better,
More horrid place,
Random drawings,
On the desk,
Drawn in red,
Blood,
Shit,
Drool,
Whatever it is.

I was cursed,
Before I was birth,

Followers inside my brain,
Digging out the memories,
Too horrible to remember,
To know what is not known,
To see what should not be seen,
To say goodnight one last time,
In Heaven's name,
Cursing the stars,
The darkness,
To sleep,
To not wake,
Trying to wake up from this nightmare,
Is this a dream?
Or is this reality?

Never sure,
Where am I,
In reference to time and space.

Lights,
Darkness,
Break apart,
This is not living,
This is just existing,
Onward,
Downward,
Someone just threw me a shovel and said dig.

The voices in my head,
To scream,
To feel that pain,
To be released,
From this misery.

Darkness does cover my eyes,
To unsee,
To fall asleep,
Fresh misery,
A bullet,
Screaming through my brain,
To end this nightmare,
This life,
Not worth a nickel,
Not worth the price of a pin.

Broadway and Filth: A Poem

Broadway and Filth - A Poem in the middle of the night

Eyes wide shut,
Against the breaking haze
Of another brutal day.

We did not feel,
The pain,
Broken glass against our skin.

Broadway and Filth,
There was a time,
I could see the forest through the trees,
See the tears falling in the rain,
Today I feel,
Not a thing,
Not even from the slice,
From that blade,
Across my wrist,
Another day,
Wishful thinking of not waking up,
Again,
To arise to another day.
To live,
To breathe,
To see,
To feel,
Live,
Love,
Die,
The sighs,
In broken winds,
To see the breaking of the day,
Stuck here,
Inside my brain,
Thinking about this,
That,
When?
Where?
To see,
The end,
A beautiful thing,
In reality,
To kiss the burning flesh,
To preach that which you hate,
Feel,
Cut the skin,
To see if you still feel,
A midday nightmare,
Flashing on the TV screen,
That which is the mind.

The mind creeps away,
Wishing to see the world,
Insanity?
Bliss in the margins?
Do not open,
Do not shake,
Do not waste your breath on moralizing tales!

Reach out,
Scream into the night,
Rage,
Forget,
See not that which does not matter,
Live!

To return to the beginning of the end,
To sing in harmony,
To laugh,
To love,
To live,
To die,
To be that which gives all,
To be...

THE DEAD DO NOT DO - A POEM

An empty soul,
Standing on the corner,
Broadway and Fifth,
Somewhere,
Who cares where.

We are traveling down,
That thing called life,
Misery loves company,
Romance, love,
A mythical beast,
What and where it is,
No one knows.

Jim died last night,
Grasping at straws,
Holding on to shattered dreams,
Wondering where he went wrong.
Jesus laughed,
Fruit less in the trees,
Little past midnight,
A rainy eve indeed.

We all wept,
For it is the proper thing to do,
When hearing of a death,
But we weep for ourselves,
For they are without loss,
The living are with the pain,
To weep,
To cry,
For which the dead do not do.

A SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD - A poem

 A SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD - A POEM

Standing in the middle of a suicide, 

How do you feel when your heart is broken?
The world keeps spinning,
Imagery,
Against the wind,
Sorrow in the after thought,
Lies, all is love,
I feel the blade against my skin,
A bitter bite,
A slice,
Stitches through time, skin,
Another life,
Who knows where it goes,
This time,
A broken life,
Standing there,
Awake,
Asleep,
Dead,
Alive,
The words drift across the screen,
Hope?
Shit...

There in the darkness I can see the pain,
It would be easy,
To take my life,
But instead I close my eyes and lay there weeping,
Staring into the ceiling,
It is an illusion,
This thing called life,
Is there anyone else,
Out there,
Feeling the same thing,
Thinking the same thing?

The faces, there in the dim light,
Nightmares?
I am shaken awake,
By my own life.
Distant,
Ripped memories,
Coming through the haze.

Awake,

Awoke,
Fly on the wall,
Seventeen pills,
Bottle of Jack,
What a way to go,
No one seems to care,
Easily replaced,
No one will remember my name,
A silent grave.

No one gets out of here alive,
The long goodbye,
There seems to be a line,
Not to cross,
Not to flee,

To feel the last kiss,
Upon my wrists,
Another,
To make sure I still bleed,
The bottle is half way empty,
Half way full?
Who cares,
Who knows,
The darkness does not.

Where is my mind?
Somewhere out there,
On the street?
Drifting through to the atmosphere,
Into blitz?
Where is my life?
Why am I dying one second at a time?
Why was I born?
Just to be put into the ground?
Lies, life, genocide,
Who knows,
I don't,
Goodbye...

I am fine, thanks for asking - a Journal Entry!

01/29/2018 ----

Dear diary,

How are you?

I'm still the same.

I keep wondering why I keep going; it would be just easier to lie down in the tall grass and just not wake up; stay in dream land.

Some people, it seems, have a natural tendency to keep going, cheerfully whistling as they walk down this thing called life, not a care in the world.

Me; I'm an angry hissing cat with a baseball bat, swinging at those who come within striking distant.

Apparently this is against the law but damn it, you see me with baseball bat, hissing at the world and swinging said bat, you should see the warning signs and back the hell away.

Some days, I don't even get out of bed, I throw the blanket over my head and lay there; the TV blaring some informercial as I play "Fuck you world; come back another day!"

**INSERT RANDOM VIDEO HERE FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION**

I don't really want to fuck the world; not that way, I think that would be painful, awfully painful.

But who knows, tomorrow will probably change; moods seem to have that way of working out; going fast forward happily and then stopping hard; reversing course and well, hello sadness my ole friend, how are you today?

"sad!"

I'm sitting, trying to write out the negative; throw some positive to the wall to see if it sticks; it kinda does.

Hello, how are you?

I am fine, thanks for asking.

Good night my dear friend; we will speak again tomorrow!