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$15,000 in debt
15,000 people
15,000 poems

wake up

May 18th, 2016 § Poem #462 § 0 comments § permalink


to wake up
you need to be asleep
to begin
there must first be an ending
needs difficulty

we are all victims of judgement
both as the judge and judged
it is the only reason for our fear
because there would be no worry
if it were not for the opinions

but what we also possess is humility
an inherent trait of all of the living world
and humility
allows us to focus on
the feeling of the endless moments
ultimately, inevitably
we will name, judge, as our life
but it is the feeling that matters

humility gives judgement no purpose
and therefore we are then able to act
from instinct
and be
the path
rather than negative
which will exist none-the-less


to exist means accepting that
none of this is real
to wake up
you need to be asleep
to begin
there must be an ending


learn languages

May 16th, 2016 § Poem #461 § 0 comments § permalink


it will
to listen
to others

it will
to pay
to what



i know love now

May 15th, 2016 § Poem #460 § 0 comments § permalink


I have often tried to write about love
with a blue or black pen
Today I try with a teal one
the color of the Caribbean sea
like the waters I have long wished to live in
she is crisp, perfectly clean, clear
paradise splashed with an abandoned spirit on
white water pages, salty scented » Read the rest of this entry «

haikus (8)

May 13th, 2016 § Poem #459 § 0 comments § permalink

here in the present
i am still always rushing
to satisfy you


question everything
believe nothing so as to
at last be set free


blame society
for creating the problems
of society


exhausted, he said,
“one cannot always be a
good samaritan.”


preach the real purpose
freedom beauty truth and love
consume life, nothing more



something i will never experience

May 11th, 2016 § Poem #458 § 0 comments § permalink


It is strange to think that I will never experience the birth of
Led Zeppelin and
The Beatles and
their likes
just as their birth into the world was experienced

When I grew up,
I was used to the electric guitar
their music was very often in the background
no reason for it to stand out when it was used as
white noise.

So, when I really sat down for the first time and
I listened with appreciation
but not surprise.

I grew up with them.
I never discovered them with the rest of my generation.
We never had them as a bond
as the generation did a just a few decades before us;
back then,
when it was bop
and Sinatra
and all the white-washed music that owned the people

I will never get to experience
what it was like
discovering the concept of this electrified guitar,
used with violence and melody,
weaving beautifully complex lines of music
twisting them together with the drums of africa, of the middle east
the voice of the wailing mourners of the desert
the trance of the east
the anarchy of the repressed west
the voice of a revolution

and the endless list…

that is something my imagination can go only so far in understanding;
the first time discovering this entirely new genre of music,
a moment I will never experience.



two women

April 10th, 2016 § Poem #457 § 0 comments § permalink


two women

the one far to my left
she tries to be strong
working hard for her confidence, her sex appeal
a player in the game
a product of her society.

the one in front of me
a minuscule icicle hanging from her nose
not trying to hide her sad hope
in this game by proxy
a product of her society

the one far to my left
inhaling fake cigarettes
smiling as a result of her xanax
a constant performance
alleviated if she would only breathe
understand that persistent happiness is unhealthy
a product of her society

the one in front of me
penetrating blue eyes set in experienced skin
curious of the five single-word questions
pure in effort which succumbs to the force
of community within make-believe within unnatural confusion
a product of her society



looking around the cafe

April 7th, 2016 § Poem #456 § 0 comments § permalink


the poor counter girl is getting in trouble at the moment
getting put on probation;
poor girl is so sad now,
so cowered in the open in front of us all
so weak because of money;
her skin, including her feet, are
blood-flushed red
so hurt;
she’ll go home and cry,
thinking herself less-than
for no reason;
all in the name of capitalism


the rebel sitting across from me,
if he was faced with himself
in nature
free from the need to be expressive in a conformed society,
would he still be wearing blue lipstick?

so many people sitting alone
eating pastries and thinking and staring into nothing;
what are the thoughts running on through their heads?

Dear William,
sucking on your gums,
did you really understand
why the people feel the need to create order
and why they are so proud of it?

no one can own anything in this world;
land is its own,
impossible to have an original human proprietor;
it is our obligation to understand that;
to recognize that we take society too seriously

poor counter girl
poor rebel
poor people
none of this matters

all we need to do is face ourselves



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