the irony. the disappointment.

it has been my experience that those who claim to be peacemakers, are generally guilty of starting a war.

you tell me my beliefs are silly
and old-fashioned.
you curse me
and the standards i have tried to uphold.
yet you advocate peace and tolerance.
you are angered by the world's unacceptance.
yet you cannot bring yourself to accept me.
I have done nothing to offend you
save hold fast to my convictions.
I have threatened you in no way,
save my silent opposition of your twisted world.
Why am I the only exception to your rule of tolerance?
I have not made you an exception to my rule of unconditional love,
despite your habits of persecution.

apples and oranges?
nay, the same fruit they remain.

just a little thought. no thing special.

i won't tell you.
no, i'd rather be cryptic
and hope you dont understand.
and hide
in front of your face
and inside your brain
like a parasite that you didnt know was there.
look at the yellow wallpaper
it was not what you thought it was
and it drove your wife completely
crazy.
that is it; i want to be hidden
inside something obvious.
the easy simple road is less of a challenge
than sprinting through the woods
in the middle of a moonless night
darting past trees
throw furtive looks behind your shoulder
to be sure that you are not being
hunted.
that cartoon you hold
you thought it was an old woman with a big nose.
look closer dear, and you will see
the young the beautiful
the profile of a g i r l.
i hope i can hide myself so adequately.
yet.. i feel this explanation is
a tad silly
and i shall stop.

blank and empty mind (mumbo jumbo)

no words. no movement.
vegetable they call him.
because he cannot breathe, eat, excrete on his own.
he is totally and completely unable to do anything on his own.
and here he sits, year after year in his hospital chair.
propped up by numerous fluffy pillows.

peel away the useless body, the layers of flesh that have long been disconnected from the brain.
peel them all away,
and i wonder what you would find?
is it really possible to have an empty mind?

where is his soul?

is he angry at being so helpless.. unable to even relieve himself of the misery, not even given the opportunity to end his own miserable life?

should he be angry at all?
is his body a prison, or a dependable fortress? or both?
he is trapped, yet safe, floating in the sea.. encompassed by the walls his brain has built.
he is incarcerated.. yet.. hides from the wild behind the bars at the zoo.

i cannot speak for you or him
and what i thought you meant
really was something i made up
but
you are really me and i am actually him
we are two sides of a coin
all floating in the same imprisoning sea
all battling the fiercest gales
all crying and floundering and gasping precious air
we are all in the same boat.. nay
we are all not in the same boat
my soaked clothes and hair reveal
that i fell out of that sea worthy craft long ago
and i think you will find similar circumstances
concerning yourself.
let us say, rather;
we are all in the same treacherous waters
for the safety of a boat, i have never known.

donde esta the culprit? may (s)he step forward!!

I'm just putting my thoughts together
I'm just trying to sift through tugging currents
of what i may or may not believe
what ive heard and what ive seen
they float in and out of my head
and they keep swirling around til theyre d e s t r o y e d
and disproven or perhaps disputed
or worse, forgotten.. allowed to sink away
into oblivion.
is this right or is this wrong, im not sure i can say
i cant quite judge
nay, i cannot judge this or that
for ive been influenced far too strongly
ive been taught for far too long
that each and every speck of conflict
has double the trouble and twice the story
you bargained for
there is not black and white
and who, praytell, took that idyllic world
and mussed it up? who grayed everything
from the sun and snow to the word and tear?
why did they do it? why
would i prefer a simple meaningless life of motion
to the colorful meaningless life of crime conflict and comedy?
because the latter
that is where we live
and i question what i would settle for, given the choice.

lies. again.

white or black
whatever color they be
they will always be lies to me
ive spun them, ive crafted
them inside my head
and ive created a vortex
a most d e a d ly web.

"yes that is correct,
ladies and gentlemen.
this little lady right here told a lie.
to be able to hang out with people she barely new.
she's a bad, bad g i r l
and should immediately die."

perhaps if you only understood the reasons
you could excuse my childish ways..

belligerency

i did not move
as i drove the car through the dry air of texas
the spider used my arm to build his home
and the music seeped into my brittle bones
as i wondered how i had come so far
and how i had tread water
yet fallen back. into the lake
of my mistakes.

you see,
i heard a little piece of news
that made me shiver in the heat of june
i thought you noble, kind, genteel
yet somehow i hear you're not quite real
my heart grows heavy
weighted down
by this snippet of accusatory sound.
i ask myself why you could not have grown
used all your mistakes to make yourself learn
that people deserve more from you
than a wave and a smile, an empty "how dya do"
you dissappointed me, that is the gist
and i falter in continuing with what was planned..

so they locked me into the prison
that i built with my own two hands
crafted and schemed through my very own plans
with every glance and shifty remark
i drove the nails and lighted the sparks
that pulled together those bars of iron and steel
and my shrine, my tomb was finally sealed.
goodbye dear world, you've been so kind
i only wish i had a little more time
to appreciate what is here and what is gone
to remember the brightness of easter's dawn.

you see, (again)
i was ever so careful to curb my tongue
to appear less overbearing than some
and to show the interest i felt was due
without letting on that i really liked you.
no i won't explain to you just how i feel
but i will still do my best to at least attempt to be real
thats right, real. somehow.
the only reason she thought i was fake
was because i was pretending that day i was nice to her.
she actually grates against my tolerant nerves
pushes me over the edge with her self-important facade.
but a closer look and and what might we disclose?
an insecurity deep as the roots of the tree in my backyard.
she feels the need to assert her worth,
and for that i pity her. i really do.



my dear children!!
pay her no heed
she pays only for her deed
of sin and strife
she tried to ruin her life
and she deserves every stripe
she tried to pick the fruit before it was ripe.
i deserve every stripe.

wrong to h a t e. or so they told us.

i always thought it was wrong to h a t e someone.
but now i'm not quite sure.
is respect inherently given? or should it be earned?

I've never liked you
and i think you're dumb
if you were a beetle
i'd crush you with my thumb
you lost the respect
that i thought was due
and now i think you're gross
and wait for someone new
why do you complain
about what you made
and why do you laze around
and allow the demons to raid
the cells and particles of your mind
really, it's what was;
the music of your soul
is now an incoherent buzz
you might have been worth
something of minor value
but now we see the puddle
of things you've begun to accrue.
like timidity and a skittish head
and the way that you used force
to bully your way
to push us through your course.
you're just ridiculous
that is exactly what you are
i'm glad i'll never see you again
from you i will run very far.