It used to be fun

all of it

before technology made it easy

Now, the stakes are arbitrarily too high

as integrity and passion are no longer at risk;

money has got to be made

perfection is necessary

or else the investors will not be happy.

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I was inspired

on a roll

and now

my experiment is a miscarriage

there must be truth to this lack of logic

something I need to know, need to learn

it all is quicksand

it is a sinkhole

demagnetizing

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My life is a ride now

a skipping stone along the ocean

fucked up, confused, and aching

for love, for pain, for strength

fighting hard to get back to neutral

then running

kick start the shot into the air

and run my motherfucking ass off

until my thighs take over

and fly fly beating wings with angels

smiling and laughing like the madman

i truly am

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Everything is her

Tonight

I find the courage to speak my mind

and as I sit and attempt to write

it is all her

I try to get drunk

to free my mind

numb it

forget and move on

but I with every sip

I want to write poem after poem

about her

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I look for her

keeping my eyes to the street…

maybe she will pass, at random

so

I sit near the window at every restaurant

scanning the lines, searching the tables

maybe this will be the moment we choose alike

all I want

is just one more look into those eyes

one more chance

to hug her smell her touch her hear her giggle see her smile

to feel her heart

I have re-walked every street

we passed through

following the crumbs of our hearts left

in case we became too lost along the way

all I find now is her ghost

a mirage

appearing, everywhere,

just clear enough

then

as I get closer

dissolves into yet another memory

af

(written with pen on paper)

this city is a memory for me

the concrete jungle is as well…

all the cities of america are;

block after block of an old life

I tried so hard to be proud of

the love songs

the failures

are all a reminder

heavy irons dragging my –

dragging me and all of my –

they are all an exhausting reminder of unattainable dreams;

a belief in a success

only possible through

manipulation and amorous isolation;

a promise never meant to be kept

it is not healthy

this city living

it is not supposed to be…

everyone knows this…

it is why we all work so hard to forget

af

(written with pen on paper)

The suit

pillar of American exceptionalism

gentleman of gentlemen

understanding the true value of the human experience;

up before the sun, working long after she’s gone to sleep

dedicated to the father-knows-best desires of this nanny-state

forced to be angry, shrewd, flattering

saying being doing all that is expected

mask carved from the finest ivory

necessarily sacrificed because sacrifice is necessary

The suit spends his life fighting the good fight

so as to live his final years in prosperity and relaxation

content that the puzzle is completed, game won

and he is the winner of all destiny

So

if you see one at the bar

staring into the bottom of his empty glass

say a silent prayer for him

and please judge him not

He is the soldier of conformity for the safe society

the people desirably deserve

and he is a protector from the anarchy of us poets

af

(written with pen on paper)