Disillusioned

So much to do, I forgot where to start,
foul clothes need cleaning soon,
holes need mending in my heart.

Pick a plan, a string of circumstance,
figure it all out before you’re done.
I just wish I could’ve had the chance
to consult before I’d begun.

Sit down with the unmoved mover
and ask why we must maintain,
a state of perfection for him to maneuver
in the realm of our senses again.

Just a word, a glimpse, a sign
would be more than enough,
but when the only voice is mine
it makes it rather tough,

For me to get an accurate view
of what life should be,
of what’s really true.

They say he lived among us
for thirty three some odd years,
and they’re awfully zealous
concerning the resurrection that relieves all their fears.

I’ve examined what they call evidence
and there’s some compelling reasoning,
but it’s tough to tell the difference
between inherent logic, and wishful thinking.

The latter clouded my judgment
so it seemed to all make sense,
I wanted to find contentment
so I put up a weak defense.

For now I’m content not knowing
the underlying nature of reality,
where we came from, where we’re going,
and what the sense of it all might be.

Be True to You

so tough to be original
to have a unique thought
unless you abandon the traditional
modes of thinking, do not
be afraid of your intelligence
seek a new path, get lost
ponder the purpose of your existence
find the lines yet to be crossed
the old ways are stagnant
there’s traffic on that road
so be yourself for a moment
let insecurity implode
you’ll be wise to drop its weight
or end up paralyzed by fears
that whatever you say or create
will stumble awkwardly past deaf ears
don’t create to get noticed
that’s a perk, not the goal
learn always to be modest
spark the fire in your soul
get worked up about what you feel
stop languidly passing through
don’t hesitate to share your zeal
in hopes that it might outlast you

Search for Freedom

Don’t waste time in fits of frantic worry
adjust your mood, you better hurry
or else you’ll be alone within, alone without
you can’t even listen to what he’s talking about
you’re too concerned, irrationally so
with the book you can’t find, where did it go?
my mind is a TV without the remote
a tune that slips back to the same worn out note
the more I try, the less it does
an exercise in futility, because
it simply must pass in its own time
write a poem, listen to Sublime
occupy your mind, think of something to create
take the time to perfect it and make it great
you’ll soon forget what not to recall
and stumble upon one of the greatest truths of all
a worried mind stifles an artist’s imagination
and the way to find freedom is through creation

Change of Heart

a man alone adrift at sea
nothing but his boat and he
no crew, no kids, no friends or wife
this used to be my ideal life

but now I’ve learned the value of
someone nearby to show my love
it takes the focus off of me
and evokes the change i wish to see

the world’s lack of love sucks
and most care more about bucks
than taking any interest in
what those close to them do and when

I now want a wife, but it must be just right
the kind I can’t stop thinking of in the middle of the night
who’s funny, spontaneous, but mature
who has no idea what life’s all about, or at least isn’t sure
who wants to learn with me, maybe show me some things
and who won’t run away despite what tomorrow brings

call me old fashioned, or a romantic idealist
but in my humble opinion, i’m simply a realist

American Nightmare

I woke today and stumbled out of bed,
And there beside me was, to my surprise,
Two bulbous eyes atop a lumpy head.
He spoke, at last, about the way our skies
Are filled with smoke; the scar of our neglect
and disregard; those things not quite pristine
Are junked for lack of novelty, reflect
on all the pain you’ve felt, the hurt you’ve seen.
A hobo sobs alone amid the crowd,
the hunger lingers on, the streets his bed,
To him the simple things are not allowed,
He often wants to sleep and wake up dead.
The creature’s rant revealed the truth to me,
On earth, we are our own archenemy.

Outta Bed

Outta bed
sleepy head
time’s a wastin’
Today’s never been
And it’ll never be again
so much creatin’
Left to do
so you
should

Rise and shine
another day on planet earth
where the sky’s blue
the grass is green
and so’s everything
in between
A sunbeam lands
across my face
as i decide
that as it stands
this particular place
just might be
the space
for me

Wrong Winds

What is love?
is it big
is it small
does it float
does it fall?

Will it cause lonely
hearts to meet
in line for smokes
or in the street

Do you really know
or is it just
that as always
you’ve gotta trust

the winds of fate
But I hate
those winds
they don’t blow right

My destiny’s
not for me
can love be wrong?