Nothing
then
Abundance

Pocket chiming away
another
then
another
then
the first
then
another

One I really want
then
another
almost as intriguing

I would like to try the options
for once

Need to know for sure
how
new additions
fit into this
new life
of mine

af

(written in little notebook, reminding myself to not lose sight of what I have been working towards)

The barker is on the street
Do you believe in Democracy?
Then vote for Humphries!

Year after year, same guy, new name
we pass him
“…all lies anyway…” we think
then walk past again, and again

This is how she’ll save the neighborhood!
as we, again, cynically blow him off
knowing things are not that bad
and what is
will not be fixed by
…this true American, good and honest.

After enough years
those men and women on the corner
become fewer and fewer
more and more of a nuissance, a bother
an annoyance that
slows our walk home to
our food, our couch, our television, our comforts
but we still complain
because we are entirely distrustful
angry with negligent passion
wondering
why the capitalism we revere
refuses to be
the democracy we wish it would be

af

(written in little notebook, getting the fire going again)

when a person
continually
is punished for doing what is
proper
numbness sets in
prevails
driving through that life
head on
never looking back
never regretting
dangerous
void of consequence

but full of a warmth
never thought possible

af

(written in a different little notebook)

It is all so easy
but I am not an excuse
not here to help you pine through your problems

If there is something you want
stop making excuses

If you would like to make a mistake
commit to it
let human nature
trump
human logic

The sorrowful sadness
is so depressing when
it is so easily fixed

Make excuses for your decisions
and I become just one in the bundle

af

(written in little notebook)

What the fuck is there to believe in anymore?

Sex sells

and I am not interested in being
a commodity traded on the walled street floor

who complains as long as they get off?
what happened to us?

a brave new world indeed

af

(written in little notebook)

dark clouds keep coming in
safe on the train
going underground, under river
then again underground;

these rides become monotonous,
the lines I write as well
a good reason to love the rain
washing away the garden snakes
slithering on my skin

let the wrath of God happen this evening
it won’t stop me now
a storm will never temper
the will I have
to keep going
repeated in
line poem sermon after line poem sermon over and over
keep going

af

(written in little notebook after another perfect night)

Don’t call me an artist
I won’t stoop to such pretentiousness

that statement echoing through my mind
all morning, no matter how loud the music;
so clear, remembering every strange look,
those scouls as I peddled poetry,
the true opinion art in america
a freeloading self-involved nuisance
among too many circles of society

spears and arrows, from all angles
attacking me
as they continue the monotony
looking down upon those of us
armed only with pens, paints and ideas
finally being forgotten among
the stone monoliths of want

to stand, open the piercings, climb the walls
and fight for our piece of ground
that is the nobility history books are filled with
but seems to me there is nothing of worth here
to risk my life for
in this home of who once were the brave,
no interest in charging into their silly game
of spy vs spy

there is always a conscience, though,
obligating my duty to
repay the land I
reaped lust from for too long
destroyed
then left in the name of righteousness;
doing otherwise
is no different than shooting holes in the boat
and jumping ship

I am almost halfway there
fully competent that my quickest years
are an inspiration, now, to draw from
knowing the world will so easily change
not through my words
but through everyone’s own words

I am an artist
proud to be humble
even under the weight of your boot

af

(written on computer)