dawn breaks, baby, for no reason

depression is a right big drag
but almost worse
than all the slag
of molten iron
rage emotion
and all the wild eyed
crazy motions
ranting like a lunatic
and having thoughts that make you sick
and feeling all this gross despair
is when
you start to actually feel better
and the demons in your mind expel
and earth seems once again like paradise
and everyone is so damn nice
and you look back on the way you felt
and feel a damn, damn fool.

depression is invisible - flames of purgatory
that purify the soul.

the inner self
under construction
workmen with ass cracks and all.
its never pretty, till its done.

Compliment Beauty

I do like to
and it seems really right
to express out loud
in terms sincere

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,

and everywhere around I see
such beauty beaming back at me

people seem to find it strange
to say these things to everyone
so i hold it in most times
and write it in these
banal rhymes

but you
your face, your eyes your style
are beautiful as all that's wild
you fill me with a sense of awe
the way that nature has you drawn
the vibrations which you emanate
of such subtle, kind and delicate
goddess like effeminate.

i do not wish to win your love
for love is hard i know
but only that you hear the truth
in case some doubt has entered you
that beauty is truth and beauty is you
and you are most very beautiful.

Cycle

nature knows no sin,
nature knows no blame,

that which comes from infinite forever
returns there.

the bird (and all of us) never asked to die,
neither did it ask to be born.

to die seems hard for us,
but what of the infinite time we did not exist before our birth?
was that bad?

in the setting face to face we can choose to merge with the infinite and leave the cycle of birth.
trapped to the world of experience.
but the world of existence is why.
we are here for experience.
this is where there is pain and loss and fear and death.
but
this is where there is birth and babies and life and love and accomplishment and music and art and dance
the stars at night
the breeze
an infinite space
where we are on a tiny ball
all for us
nature is what it is
because we understand compassion and love
it seems cruel
but except for us
nature does not know this
the deer doesn't blame the wolf
no one blames the worm
round and round it goes

we do not interfere, we are nature too
the baby drinks milk
it is god pouring into god.

there is no difference between perfection and nothing
let there be something

Is there?

Is there another beautiful woman
who will go
Dumpster diving with me
to find the exquisite bits?

searching on the ground
for what can be found
and opening each lid to see
what rotting treasures await for me
all on a beautiful summer day
and each dumpster really smells
and one smell made me vomit.
yet she loved me
and later that day
we kissed most tenderly.
(oh those strange artists)

Is there another beautiful woman,
with a sexy sense of fashion
who will except me as the t-shirted and blue-jeaned thing that I am,
who will have sex in the bushes of a rest stop
and keep going even after the cop drives by
on the road we didn't know was there?

Is there another beautiful woman
who will jolly joke with me
and be surreal in wit and mind
and know that jokes are harmless things
and find it just a funny thing
to furl our open-minded flag
and say
I eat babies?

40 is the new 18.

40 is the new 18.
I feel just like blowing my brains out again.

Work, Home, Sleep.

Work.
The day is long,
and longer still with joyless hours left to fill.
Home.
empty house of other chores,
further toiling lonely hours.
Sleep.
filled with dreaming restless dreams,
breathing body feels the dark,
acridly succumbing to losing of the self
and slipping away into the temporary grave of slumber.

Not Trying

Somewhere out there
is a really wonderful lady.
The kind of gal I could really dig.
The kind of woman I can talk to.
The kind of woman who enjoys the things I do.
The kind of woman who can thrill me head to toe
if I put my arms around her and kiss her mouth,
the sort of girl who wont bring me down by being
all into something i don't like,
the kind of person whose personality is like music
to my inner ear,
someone beautiful.

She is probably married.
She is dating someone cool.
She would have liked me better when I had long hair
and wont recognize me in this suit.
She lives out of state.
She saw me somewhere, but when faced with crowds
I get nervous and shy and just walked on by.

how do i fool myself, this time, into being
and not trying.

Lonely and Horny and Shy.

"water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink"

Perhaps something good will happen.

Venturing, as I rarely do, out and about
and on the town, I am stunned
with the vision
everywhere
of Beautiful, Beautiful women.

Art shows and restaurants
and just walking down the street,
Beautiful, beautiful women.

A path that stretches in all directions
away and out of site.

Sitting at home on a Saturday night,
as is more frequently the case,
chores need doing,
trying to cook for one,
the darkness of the night
closes in around me,
restlessly wondering,
where, out there, in this town of mine,
can a person go?

Every friend I have
is in some ways already occupied.
They are married. They are moving. They are doing something constructive.
Perhaps I should paint;
Isolated, lonely communion with color.

I am lonely and horny and shy.

brotherly love

The love of fellows;
friends and family
and colleagues too,

one would be lost with out all of you.

but even when such love abounds:

if tender lips can not be found,
a face as lovely as all that's fair,
accents lovely to the ear,
flesh which tastes most pleasing and sweet,
passion that responds like a well practiced dance,
skin and hair so soft to touch,
an appetite for loving much,
a tender chiding of concern,
a heart that innocent does love
without some ghosts to weigh it down,
tender lips which fit with mine,
and humor that can know my mind,

without this sort of physical love
and all the pleasures it can prove
all seems quaint and slightly numb
and leaves me raging and restless and dumb.

Good friends I love you one and all.
but who can answer such a call?

and even on my own home grounds
i feel lost without this love around.

Tempting Fate.

O' time and fortune and hope sublime

please hear my words and answer kindly.

I beseech your favor a second time,

or more perhaps, for it could be

that often you have smiled on me

and I have never felt this grace,

though were these favors never shown

I would have known the sting

of grave calamities and maybe even death.


So once already did Love's sweet face

shine its sun lit lovely grace

into my life with sweetest charm,

only to have my devotion stray

and lose it then forever.


So double now is what i ask,

and I fear that nature,

with all its might,

is not equal to this task.


Before time's tireless, reckless, hands

Reek their arts of aging man,

unto its utmost final craft.

Before the canvas, Time, is filled,

Its final strokes, to make us dust,

and blacken every love and lust,

yes, even before the day begins

in which age can see its coming end

and must concede its time is near

and memories only of all that's dear.

yes while there is still life to live

to me, another angel, give.

Someone who, by natures gifts,

suits me well and makes me feel

that love is good and love is real.

O' universe, you know my heart,

and know what every detail is

of what i need to happy live.

Please help me then, to find her soon,

for time is swiftly using up.

er' else what gifts i have to use

your reputation i will abuse

and spell in poem, art and song

how all the universe is wrong

and ever artful the truth to tell

that all is all and all is hell.