Fear and Assholery

Fear can keep us safe

But mixed with assholery

It leads to hatred

Concubine

 I wish I was A concubine in A harem Pampered all the time Fed delicacies Occasionally fucked Perfect life for The mentally ill who Struggle to survive life

Old mower

 Funny how our perceptions change. I saw a mower and thought, "that's a nice old mower." Then I thought, and realized I remember when that lawnmower was the new model. It wasn't so long ago. It was fresh and clean and new and exciting. It didn't look a bit old. I admired old mowers then too. Can't quite find words to say why. They give me a bit of a contented feel -- some joy. Makes me poetic. Here's two haikus. You can read them as one poem or two, I don't mind. The poet Paul Celan said that a poem is like a message in a bottle thrown out into a sea. Once you throw a message in a bottle into the sea it's not yours anymore. It belongs to the finder. They'll read it, (or not), how and as they please and it then has the meaning it has to them.

A nice old mower

Sharpened blade clean plug fresh gas

Working still just fine

A nice old mower

With its bends and curves just right

It gets the job done

I love new mowers too, don't get me wrong. It's a completely different feeling though. More excited.

Community

He sat beside me

Counting haiku syllables

My soul expanded

Taste of Alone

I want to be alone
No complicating ties
Finding peace as I can
Cradling my distraught heart

Across a room someone looks,
Voicelessly speaking of
Burning incomprehensive connection
Of slanting glancing desire

All is all – to much – not enough
Racing heart elates
I dance my love until I'm
Scheherazade no time and

I want to be alone
No complicating ties
Finding peace as I can
Cradling my tormented heart

Leave me alone in darkness

Some of us

Some of us are broken
Some of us suffer
Some of us, while we
Do not identify with you,
See each other clearly

Do you want to hurt yourself?
Do you want to see blood get outside?
Do you want to feel the cut cut cut of expression
Do you want to find yourself, to be expressed with self harm?

Well, you should know
Some of us do. It is better.
It is better if we self harm.
It is b3tter to feel the knife, the cut,
The self pain that makes us better.

Do you want to judges us?
Do you want to be a dick?
Do you want to steal our survival
Do you value ideas over life?

Fuck you. We try to live
If we can

Revolving Door

The dance
Enter just so
Cooperating
In the pushing
Taking care
Of each other

Titrating the level of danger

The One Who Knows

Inside
A being
Don't look!
Don't look!
Don't think about it!
They are not them
You don't find them by looking
Instead balance
On the moment
Like a wild unicyclist
Then will you see
Then you will be

A small filtered soul

Sifted
Refined
Made just so
Gentle into the world

Where?

I must look for you
To make myself totes fulfilled
Where's my other self?

You don't get to know if I'm crying.

The Stench of Life

The depth - the dark
You think it something - Nothing
An end -- it's not
You think the stench repels

I celebrate
Life, truth, the arousing
Stench of beautifully sordid things
The life water for everything

I camp on the banks
Joy the life, the wild sort
Dips into it for
Life and who does not reject

Then I follow it down
Water to brindled estuary
And see a goddess swimming
In clear seas, naked and fearless.

I will love
I will love
I will love
The taste on my lips

I love — You knew, didn't you?

Life Splash

Daily desperation
Covetousness
Despair - need
Wear away at the
Network of life

Here a greying
There a dessication
Weakness
Ghosting
Hope fades away

Then comes a laugh
So filled with joy
That in a moment
The world is healed
Made new — alive

What about Women

It is such a conundrum
Many women preen when given
Attention but is that a betrayal
Of a recognition of women
Of — Women's rights
Of — Women's values?

I do not know, they
Preen for me they are worth it I
Hope that they see
That it
I am so confused how
To reconcile my desire

I care
I care for the half that is woman
Because I swear to
Have compassion for all beings
This I swear
I swear compassion for all beings
We are all worth it
We are all humans

We are all worth it
Some of us need the others
We are consumed by our
Need for the gender others
By our lack of
By our need for other

Our genes drive our need
And
Their desire for me
Our
Genes drive our need for
Their desire for me

Some Times A Neck

Sometimes a neck is
Not just a neck
It is poetry and joy
And grace and desire
It is need and perfection

Some times
A neck is everything
Everything
More than the universe
More than perfection

Can't Tell

I can't tell
Touch of life
Touch of death
It's all the same

Days of the Suffering Heart

Everything is fine so
Why so much pain?
What brings the anguish
That lives in my heart?

How I wish for just a few
Days of peace and joy
A few
    Days of love
    A few
        Days of passion
        A few
            Days of a sheltering heart

But those days, if ever they come,
Are not these days
These are the days
Of the suffering heart

You Look

You look so much like
Someone I truly love.
What is it that brings
Such confusion —
What – brings – such confusion?

My heart wants to love you
Like I love my friend, my heart
My truth, but you
Are not she. So clearly, look — our hearts are
Not reliable, You only look — like

Still, my heart moves
My heart wants
My heart loves
So, unwisely,
Yet still, my heart loves.

Philtered Soul

It's a coffee at
The neighborhood shop —
Philtered Soul

I've never had it.
What would it do to me?
Bad or good I

Think I want to keep it
It is a part of me

I Kind of Like

I kind of like the drifting
Dreaming sort of drunk
I don't know what I think
Free to stumble into some
Sort of truth.

Don't judge me
I know that drunk isn't de rigueur
I know that I should think amazed confused
But still. Still
Somehow I think myself as mused

Time

I pass time
Practicing my piano or
Working on a necklace or
Reading about singing or/and
Drinking beer and
I wonder why and
I wonder if and how and
What is meant and about
Loneliness and love and
Self harm and whether I'm
Winding things up or
Off on an adventure and
I curl up in loneliness
And unshed tears
Ache hard hard hard
And despair lives in my pocket
I pass time

Need

I need? Want? You are what
I need? Want? You just what
I need? And. Here. Now. Need
Give yourself.
Give yourself.
Need.
I.
Need.
Just Now.
Need.
I need.
Give yourself to me.

Holy Enlightenment

As I see the holiness in things
It occurs to me; what sees?
What perceives?
Not who, not my me,
But the what sunk below
The what that watches
As thoughts drift by (not thoughts)
The one that can see (not sight)
What I feel and touch (not sensation)
And smell (not smell) -- what perceives?

Then I realize that the question
When I see the holiness in things
Is not who or what perceives these
But how? How is the knowing of
The sacred? How do I (what is I?)
Recognize -- wait -- not perceive but
Recognize -- wait -- all is holy and
I, my what, my being then is holy
And now it feels closer
I'm catching the smell

I perceive through my holiness?
No.
My holiness merges with its holiness?
No.
We merge? Holiness to Holiness?
No.
Realize we are not separate.
No.
Not realize -- are, just are.

Slime

Cross-link borates and
Polyvinyl alcohol
ZaZoom! There's some slime!

Some Times

Poetry gets lost
Between the madness and
The boringness
My life struggling to do
Itself.

Vicious fear clawing into
My gut squeezes it out
Of me, the impulse to poet
there, out of reach to
My need

I'm lost to myself no
Expression, no feel, no
Way to find my self, no
Way to heal or be
Okay

Help me I am lost.
Finding my languaging
Is the only way that
I can be safely alive
Lost it

Somebody To Love

Can somebody find me somebody to love
I loved a girl and she loved a girl and she broke up all of my heart
And I've got to say can't somebody, can't somebody, can't somebody
Find me someone to love?

Anyway -- As you wish, I love you still

I still love my baby mama, she threw me over forty years ago
She wanted a party life and fast women and I was slow
And she had to find what could make a life so fine
And I was just an obstacle on her way to climb to a
Better life without me and still after all of these years
I want to know,
Can't somebody, can't somebody, can't somebody
Find me someone to love?

Ode to Oatmeal in a Haiku

Oatmeal makes my poop
Clean and smooth -- easy wiping
Flushes right away

In Dream

It all came together in the
Beginning Videography
Course this Summer

Supposed to do a character short
And I made up a sort of me
A truthful me
A me who wanted to skateboard
From age thirteen to sixty-two

A me who wants to do YouTube
Videos for the love and adoration
Of ALL -- Skateboarding videos

A fictional me that thought he could
Get wealthy and famous and buy
Lamborghinis
But he couldn't skate

It was my excuse -- finally to
Buy a skateboard and under the
Gaze of the lens unbox and start
To learn.

The class is weeks gone and still
Timidly
Determindly
I skateboard
I fall
I skate
I get X-Rays
I skate:)

In This Room

In this room
I do tiny scared freaked out and do anyway
I do Buddhism and other delights
I do creativity with
        Music
        Drawing
        Color
        Layout
        Design
        Font choice
        Software
        Fabric
        Metal
        Food
        Words -- so many words
        Words of poetry
        Words of story
        Words of explain
In this room I do yoga
In this room I read
        Stories and
        Stuff about
I do juggling
I do integrity so I must say
I do self harm but
I do a lot of self love
I do medication for mental illness
I do tears
I do rioteous laughter (yes alone)
I do alone

Scars are Beautiful

Your scars are beautiful
They're part of who you are
Your scars are beautiful
They go with you so far

They keep you centered and
They keep you in the now
They chill the pain and they
Make you see just how

You are here right now you
Suffer but you know
That you still've got a chance
To make it even though

Your heart is full of pain and
You don't know if you'll make it through the day
You suffer every day
But every day there's a ray

Of hope and beauty shining
Through your life and
I support you when the best you can
Do is cut to live to make your stand

I support you.

(This poem, while heartfelt, is pretty horrible. Don't judge. I know.)

Kindle

Set me on fire, oh
How I want to feel love, my
Quotidian life is
Bringing me down

Make it a blaze, I'll
Come for you, strong,
Passionate,
Desirous
Needing

Maybe we'll burn in the flame.

I See You

I'm sorry, nine-thirty at night you're
Walking on a semi-dark street and
Out I come fresh from my sangha
Happy that everything is put away and
I'm free to go and I see you flinch

Young. Woman. Alone. And. Here
Pops out a big man (sounds nicer than fat)
And I see you flinch and hesitate and my
Heart breaks for you. I wish you could feel safe.
I know you are right. That's survival instinct.

The neighborhood is not that nice even
Though I just came out of a First Unitarian
Universalist Church building. Nineteenth
Century Historic Landmark but
You don't know that. Go with love.

Namaste

A Bullet To The Heart

She takes care of everyone
She holds and cherishes
And buys the shot and
Just wants
She just wants
She hurts
She can't take care of everyone and
That is a bullet through her heart
A compass rose leading to redemption
She redeems our souls.
She redeems our souls.
She is a goddess
A goddess on
A goddess on Earth
We all worship her.

Have to Find It

There's such a balance here --

Some, to me, make words
Insipid -- Uninteresting --
Amateurist??? (My word)

That sounds bold and
Mean. Doesn't it? But wait!
I don't mean it. I know
That when I judge a poem the
Harshest -- the universe will
Always flock and shower praise
On it -- soaking it's roots, helping me
To see that it is only me. I do not have
Clear vision. If you can love a poem, I
Need to learn, (I NEED IT)
How to stand where
You stand and learn to look at it again and
Find a love of more words
More words
More words
It's humbling
I want to be humble







Love you

Funambulist

Oh! Fun --
ambulatory --
funambulist
What a crazy great name for a
Tightrope walker. When I sit and
I don't think and
I aware at my -- I don't know
My being?
My -- could it be my aware?
Can I aware at my aware?
That's exactly when I
Feel like I'm walking on
A tightrope
Full of awareness
Only a misstep from
Avoiding waking up.
Such a marvel
Finding the way
Step by step
To freedom

Multitudes

I hate to assert copyright on my poetry
It is yours and mine and
The worlds. I
Didn't write it I
Found it
There it was
Waiting, poor baby
I pick it up and cuddle and
Stroke and love it and
I never want it to be alone
Oh -- it's purring!
Will you care for it?
You can take it, even
Say it is yours
I can find a multitude more

Karen Slays Me

I see that Karen posts a poem - sonnet
And Oh, my heart leaps, it's so exciting
She used enjambment and slant rhyme to get
A perfect poem, a passionate poem, a read

Of spell and stillness and ravished spirit
A conceit, spellbound as sudden passion
Images of scent and sight and sound get
Almost too powerful - such sensation stuns

Me, agonizing alliteration
Like all device brings me to sudden tears
Such joy fills my heart I barely think when
I read, reread, ponder, and drink my beer

And sigh, undone, I'm slain by her power
I sip the poem and then my beer and purr

Too Much Support? So hard

There were all these people who
Wanted to support me with backpacks
That represented folks like me who died
Because I don't know. Who knows?

They killed themselves exactly as
I sometimes want to and that was HARD
but there were also people who much
To my amazement did not want to guilt me

Because I am who I am. Maybe you should
Know that guilting someone who is at risk for
Suicide is not helping at all -- it is hurting and
Risking and -- killing and

If someone is suicidal, how could you think that
Telling them about how they would hurt those that
Are left behind would -- what make things better?
You judge and hurt and make things worse. Are you

Trying to help? That is the opposite of skillful. You
Are judging and harming and shaming someone who
Is already suffering and is thinking that, it would be
Compassionate to lay the burden down and to pass away.

But these people really help. They
See me. They accept me. They know that I might die
But it is not because I am in some way wanting to
Harm others -- It is because am mentally ill. I suffer.

They see me. They see me.
Thank you.
Thank you.
If I die still -- thank you.

Why would you make it about you -- about
How my suicide would affect you -- how
My sifting down to death would somehow be
Something about you. -- Something about you.

Let it go. It doesn't concern you. If you
Can't help then, PLEASE don't make things so much worse
Please don't hurt me -- it doesn't have anything to do with you
At all. I am mentally ill. I am mentally ill.

Let it go.
Don't bully.

Where Am I?

Walking down the street
I smile at all I meet
Saying Hi! How you Doin'?
Like them shoes!

People's faces light up
Happy to be seen. To be
Recognized. To be
Admired. Oh how happy.

Inside I nearly die. I'm
Struggling on. And I'm
Hoping to get home before I
Start to cry, and I

See their faces, their
Happy faces and I
Wonder how many want to
Cry like me

drunk jeans

You know when you're drunk
And you are trying to smoothly
Remove your jeans
Quickly sliding off one leg
And then another
And sometimes you have
To quickly put one or the other
Or both legs quickly down?
(Don't fall!)
And you are trying to make a
Good impression even if you
Are the only person in the room?

Yeah
Me too

I'm Late!

NaPoWriMo starts
I'm still fiddling around
Maybe a haiku!

Bodhisattava

 #PHOTOPROMPT44MLKJr.
Martin Luthor King was killed on April 4, 1968. Now 49 years later I think of him and how he changed and how he didn't change things.





Martin decided to be the change that he wanted to see in the world, like Ghandi. He believed that hatred does not defeat hatred, that violence does not bring peace. Along the way he met the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hahn, just two times, but between them they shared a sense of each other's holiness and a shared vision. The year after Martin received the Nobel Peace prize, he nominated Thich Nhat Hanh for the prize. In Vietnam, Martin is considered a bodhisattva, a Buddhist term for someone who has woken up, who has achieved enlightenment, and chooses to devote their life to helping all other beings awaken.

Martin Luther King and Thich Nhat Hanh

Bodhisattva 

Martin worked to end

The bonds of racism

The scourge of hatred

And bring

Us closer

To a world

Where all men

Could be free. 

The work isn't done. There is still hatred and division and judgment, but there are also people inspired by MLK to continue to work for peace.

Isn't It Odd?

Isn't it odd how
You can see a stranger
Across a room
And feel such tenderness
Feel such love
Feel such compassion
As if they are yours?

MMA Buddhism vs Magical Truth

Sometimes it seems that the touch of maze
Gloss, freedom, marriage, daemonhood is
More than the touch of today -- now -- is.

I am torn between delight in the power of myth
Of love, of heritage, of the power of mage
Mythology, irish, scottish, welsh, truth at large

And is, now, no story, being without delusion
Without story, true to now, without extra
Descriptions of something that doesn't exist

Do I reject the loss of mystery and mythos
Or reject the delusion of nothingness and story
Or can I join them into love and magic and truth

I don't know
I can't choose
Love and myth and delusion

Flying

People flying
Out they go
Flying out
Flying out they go

Out they go
We see their
Encountering

Out they go
Out they go
Love. Out they go
Out they go.

So Sorry

I see that you like him
But for him it is more.

You want to be what he
Needs or wants or –
I don't know ...

I really don't know, but he
Isn't the thing that you need
And you like him and
You wish that you
Were everything he thinks he sees but
No!

Even if you
Want to be what he wants
You aren't.
Sorry. So sorry.
So sorry.

Wish you could
Feel
What he wants.
But that wouldn't be you.
Would it?

Heart

So many folk in a bar
All with their particular motive
But all the same.

See me. Know me. Love me.

I am the same.

I want to be seen.
I want to be admired.
I want to love, to be loved.

Beautiful lesbians –
Love me.
Artists –
Love me.
Sports fanatics –
Love me.

We are all the same.
Lost on our own,
Needing reflection.

See me
Admire me
Love me

Now!

Please.

Oh, What a Lucky Man

He had white horses and ladies by the score
All dressed in satin and waiting by the door

Ooh, what a lucky man he was
Ooh, what a lucky man he was

He said money and success weren't
The measure of a life but that if he touched
One person's heart he was satisfied

So Emerson he went and cancer gripped Lake
He struggled for nine months and birthed death

So here we are
Lost in fear life death life death
A sick perverse man for president

Despair so easy, oh, so easy but
The truth is that we have now, today
Have I touched someone now in any way

I don't want to get to my end, or
The end of the Trump's term and
Realize I didn't live, I waited, I dreamed

Lost in the past and the future and
The only place I could live could act --
The now, was abandoned by me.

You see Greg Lake acted, and created
And cared and worked for others and
Oh, what a lucky man he was

Oh what a lucky man you are
Oh what lucky men we are
Ooh, what a lucky man he was

#therevolutioncontinues

Woke up yesterday and for realz
Mentally ill here
I thought to kill myself

But sometimes so much despair out there
Means we've got to pull it together in here
So I started to rally. Fuck that shit.
They're not worth my down.

Then today high school kids cut school
No KKK No Hate In The USA No Trump
No KKK No Hate In The USA No Trump

They made me so happy I cried
I mean gasping couldn't catch my breath
Turned red and sobbed on the street cried

It's going to be alright, y'all
We've got this.
I've got you.
You've got me.
We've got them.

The revolution continues.
¡Viva la revolucion!
¡Viva la revolucion!
¡Viva la revolucion!

Some of us -- Invisible

Some of us were always invisible
Some of us made no impression
Teachers just ignored us
We were doing pretty well and

If something seemed a bit off --
Well it was easier to just ignore it
Wasn't it
No problem there.

Not one teacher ever reached out to me
Not one teacher ever tried to solve me
Not one teacher ever saw my pain
Or if they did it was just easier to
Turn just part away.

I suffered. Abused. Horrific. Marks.
No one asked. No one talked to me.
If they had I would have burst in tears
If they had I might have started redemption
If they had I might not be suicidal at sixty one

Some of us were always invisible
Some of us made no impression
Some of us were just ignored
We seemed to be doing pretty well

Some of us weren't

Angels on the Sidewalks

Blessed are the poor — the angels among us.
Blessed they sleep on  cardboard
Blessed is the smell of their urine
They have no place to go

Blessed are the children

Raised among poverty
Homelessness
Drug addiction
Alcoholism.

Blessed are the passed out
With syringe in arm or fallen bottle beside
They flee the pain for all of us
Soaking up our pain
And numbing it

Blessed are my sisters
Blessed are my brothers
Blessed are they when the cops roust them
Moving them along so the better off don't see.
Blest are they.

Blessed is the community
The watching out for one another
Blessed is the shamed theft of another
Victim's scanty wealth
Blessed are they both

You are walking by them
You are walking by them

You are walking by them

And they are angels on the sidewalk

Sacrifices to the rush to wealth.

They are your brothers

They are your sisters

They are your cousins and aunts and uncles

They are your family

They are angels among us

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Mindful

Angry
You
Ahhhhh
I
Breathe

Prince

A musician God
Supported always women
A hole in our lives.

Walk Right By

You always see them –
Walk right by the line
Startled by
The locked door
Thought only they
Were waiting for
The bathroom.

Baby in Stroller

Kicking legs awave
A baby is filled with glee
The world going by

Undercover

Two undercover cops
Handcuff two guys
Across from Philz

Oh such excitement
The coffee shop buzzes
People peer through the glass

Exotic aquarium

Gold iPhone

She sits
Drinking coffee
Like everyone else
Touching her phone
But she has the
Gold iPhone case.
Miss fabulous.

Karen

She writes to the pulse
To the beat with the
Words coming naturally.
Muse speaking freely
In beautiful verse.

I love
To think
About the
Lengths of
The lines and
The shapes
That they
Make -- Poetry

NaPoWriMo

Today's the day
Not April Fools
A different day --
Of Fools
Driven mad by the goddess
And striving just to get the
Poetry spewed -- enscribed
Before it slipperies back into the
Stream
And a different fool
Gets to
Dive for it.

Too Afraid

I saw a young girl, seventeen or eighteen
So so high, stumbling, with a guy that
She orbited about, older, not wasted
In a horrible part of town.

He had taken over her life.
I imagined prostitution and
Heroin and OH SUCH TRAGEDY
But I made a terrible mistake

I didn't intervene
I did not intervene.
I was too afraid.

Someone Tonight

Someone tonight told me
That they would drop by and
Spend some time with me.
They seemed to be saying

That they thought I was interesting.
But that wasn't true. They
Didn't show up they
Left me high and dry.

I don't quite get it. I'm
Pretty straightforward, I
Tell people what I mean and
Am lost when they deceive.

Why would they say that they
Want to be with me when,
It turns out that they choose to
Drop me to the side.

A Strange Change Day

I told my therapist that
I cut last night and
Then I cut again and
I didn't know why.

All the last month things were bad.
I hurt. I triggered. I depressed darkly,
And all that time I wondered
Why I didn't cut.

That's what I do when things are hard.
I cut cut cut and it helps me.
But when it was bad all last month, no.
And now things are better and cut cut cut.

So. Walking home from the therapist
I eat and get a beer or two and
Walking home I keep seeing great
Attractive women and thinking

I should get a girlfriend.
I should get a girlfriend.
This is such a shift. I never believe
In the possibility of that.

I think that they won't want me
If they knew who I was they would
Be horrified. That they couldn't
Ever ever ever want me.

Now all of a sudden I think that
I should get a girlfriend?
Just like that?
That is so confusing.

Who am I?
Es tan extraño.
No puedo comprender.
Claro, que barbaro.

The last three lines in Spanish mean that It is so strange -- I can't understand -- Clearly, how barbaric, with the last having the sense that it is outside the normal realm of understanding.

She Loves She

 

Now sad the other way
She, enamoured,
Stars in her eyes.

The other unaware
Shares pics of cute guys
Never seeing the pain.

The Victim

So sure you're the victim
You push and push
Obnoxious
Cruel
Telling everyone that
They are victimizing you.

They leave angered
They leave in disdain

You are sure that proves -- something

The FBI comes and you defend yourself.

Now you are dead.

Buddha Wants Us

The Buddha wants us to
The Buddha wants us to
See the people
See them
In the tenderloin
And let go of our stories

Now.
See them.
Homeless or
Drug addicted or
Drunk drunk drunk and

They are our sisters
They are our brothers
They are in such pain how
Can we pass them and
Not see.
Not see.

The Buddha wants us to
Let go -------- of delusion
They are not different
They are like us
Can you hope looking at them?
Neither -- can they.

Find it.
Find it for them.
See them
Exactly as
They are
There is hope -- hope

Corn Dog Days

 

Back to my childlike
Simple days.
No worries just eat
Oh! Such a gift
A dog and
Corn! bread and
Stick-like love.
It's back to my childlike
Simple days
Simple love
Missing you
Corn dog
Missing you
And you

A Poem For Drinkers

Sometimes when drinking it goes awry
And you can just see that there is not a point,
That if you keep drinking it will acrid and
Weird sober and maybe hangoverish while still drinking.

Other times it is cool -- drink for drink
Take me to soft cushy happy drunk
And I like it, it is why I have been drinking
And I will have no complaint.

But -- nicely, and occasionally (but) rarely
There are times that start out to be the first
And quite to my (your) (our) surprise
Sneak over to it is ok after all.

I like that.
It is out of focus
The pain is muted
And I can not complain

¡Que barbaro!

After the open mike
Last month I saw a man,
Pienso que de Mexico,
Pero no se.
Pues claro que si,
El tiene hambre.
Diga a el que fue
Pan dulce en Alley Cat
Pero el hesitated.
Digo que lo fue
En la basura si
No lo come.
¡Que barbaro!
But he could not bring
Himself to enter into a bookstore.
My heart broke.

Oh it hurts so

When people I care for yo
Show up at my bar though
I do not expect them
And they tell me how much they love
Seeing myself though
And then when they go to
The next bar and
They do not ask me to go
And -- I feel like nothing yo.
I feel like nothing yo.
I am nothing.
I am exactly nothing
To them.
I do not matter.
At all.
Truth.
I die.

Crush the Smart Girl

Some times I crush.
Someone is smart
And creative and
Blond and
Nice and
Pretty and
I crush on all of that, but --
I don't expect that --
They will also find that --
I am attractive in
The least.
Lonely is.

Lonely Self

Here's the thing.
When I/you admire someone
It seems like a connection,
But it is not.
It is not.
Liking them is not them liking me
(Or you) and thinking it is
Is what leads us to creepy stalking.
So.
I like her. (Won't name her.)
But. I will not think, (pretty sure not),
That she likes me.
One does not imply the other.
That is sad.
I really like her.
I will just
Lonely be.I will just
Lonely be.

Oh. Such fear

I see that she wants to
Risk and talk to.
I want to too.
But if she doesn't dare
I can not give to her
Her boldness
Her balls
I want to, but
My heart
Is not her heart.
She has to stand up.
If she doesn't will,
Then I will not will
Sorry. She lacks.

Your Annoying Self

Someone told her that
That poem was about her
And push and pull
She sends someone
She wants to see
The poem about her.
No. Ask for yourself
Don't send emissaries.
I don't care enough about
Your annoying self
To gift you poem.

Chinese Girl

Walks with grandpa
He is to her
As she is to him
Family.
And I yearn.

Loud

Loud loud woman in the bar
Woooooohhhttttttt!
Fuckin everything is exciting
Made a shuffle board play.
Saw a scene on TV
Someone walks in the door.
Just
Shut
The
Fuck
Up.
But.
Something in me
Wants
To take her.

Drunk Time

There is a thing, a drinking thing
Where -- as you drink more and feel --
The bliss that grows, it is pretty nice.

I don't mean the other thing where
The more drinking makes more feeling
Sober (though drunk test would bely).

I mean the happy thing. The thing that
Happens sometimes. The thing that makes
Us at such risk for alcoholism, (at such risk).

I guess all of this is to say that I
Like this thing and wish that it were the
Thing that always showed up when I drank.

Out of Place

Much homesickness
Suddenly and unexpectedly
Guts me
Guts me
Missing what?
Scrub?
Brush?
Mexican food?
People who
Share my experience?

That's it.
I think I miss my life
Even though I
Do not want
To leave here.
I want and
Do not want
All now.