As water falls

Moments like these
teetering on the edge,
nearest to death
we feel most alive.
So easy to slip makes
our grip that much tighter
when hours ago, I could see
no point in carrying on
a powerful awakening
of all senses through
nature grounds me to
the here and now.
If I could live like this forever
I would not know sorrow,
only joy and nostalgia for
the sublime.
This feeling pressing upon my
chest, sending chills down
my sweaty spine
lends me a euphoria
no drug can mimic.
Let me lay my head near
the running river so I
may rest, alive, in peace.

absent humanity

We plunder for pockets of warmth
in a frigid winter
while ignoring the most
Who stamp their feet
not to feel warmth
but to be heard
And still they remain
to us who have shut our eyes
Because we get goosebumps
when walking from our cars
to the mall
No spare time to spare
for the world, create
for your neighbour.

To have Christian values
is enough
And to talk about the weather
is enough
And to rub our own hands
is enough
To create the warmth we need
Others may burn or freeze
But we are the good and
Like witches who smoldered at
the stake
If they are innocent they will
be rewarded
In the ether.

They have enough
Because we have enough
and because they are
invisible to us
especially in a frigid

The Path of Enlightenment

I never used to whisper.
My voice was loud, up to a raucous disturbance in need of a “Shush!”
I never used to be quiet

I never used to hesitate.
Words and ideas would spill, tumbling out of my mind.
I was eager to share. I was most often right. I provided solutions.
I never used to keep silent.

I never used to sit still.
Desk work was never an option, only an afterthought.
I would run, move, jiggle, and squirm, hum and tap my foot to music.
Or no music. There was always something, a magical force unseen that drove movement.
I never used to be lethargic.

I never used to feel hopeless.
I believed that change was possible, and that we were drivers of it.
I watched Trews, true news, news you can trust, Russell Brand.
I read Jezebel and pushed articles on radical ideas of changing poverty, improving feminism.
I watched shows that made me laugh and dreamed of writing them.
I never used to despair.

I never used to be sad.
Sure, occasionally I was down, and then up and then down and then up.
I was happy when I watched stand up. I was happy at work and then at home.
It was said I was an optimist once – that I cannot believe.
I would read in escapism, a happy tale with a happy ending.
I was confident and assured which led to fun and adventure, endless.
I never used to cry.

I never used to
I never used to
I never used to
I never used to
I never used to
I never used to
I never used to
I never used to

I never used to feel trapped in a system, an endemic cage of systematic oppression and perjury, purging the weak and disadvantaged.

While I could see the terror, I was never close enough to feel the heat of its breath
and the anguish of inevitably, inescapable.
Now I am one with the poor, the oppressed, share that mindset, that destitution of the lonely, the hungry.
The axiom of detriment being you are not that way because you are deprived, but you are deprived because you are that way, born that way. The deserving sentence of punishment for a pre-crime caught by the pre-cog submitted in report, with no minority.

Witness the utmost veracity in the irrefutable fact of violence committed against those unworthy of their abuse.

I never used to wreak havoc with the system.
I never used to be a thorn in the side.
I never used to hold a candle to the dark.

Perfection is tedium. Consistency is lifeless. The path we are on anticipates the death of many. Mental, Physical and Spiritual Deaths.

And we are all constructing the path together, knowing it leads to the abyss of anguish, agonizing over how we place each brick but rushing the job so we can make the most profit before we perish, buried with avarice, a shovel, and some dirt. Back from what we came. Making each of these trivial pursuits and malicious stipends, ripped from the mouths of babes, useless.

I never used to be useless.


Is it fair to give someone two deaths,
to kill them twice?
For that is what I have done,
multiple times over.
I don’t like some characters,
so I remove them from my plot.
I fear an eventual loss,
so I execute them to an early grave.

I have suffered their deaths so that when the obituaries come,

I will have no more tears to cry, no ounce of shock.

I have cut loose the rope that binds us,
so when they fall, I do not go with them.
From up here, the wind can dry my tears
and drown out the cries of my sorrow.
Down below, the earth is too barren
to provide me any refuge from the barrage of pain.

Is this crossbow a weapon of defense?
Or have I carefully sniped any suspects before they can become threats?

Is there a right way to take away a life?

But worse,

these zombies still exist, more than ghosts,
no more breathing air into my life,
yet up and walking in a shared world all the same.
I cannot cut them down more than I have.
they are the living dead, and they bring fresh nightmares.
My weapons are no good against them,
there is no mountain I can climb in escape,

and I have already attempted to bury them with silence.

How many more will fall due to my hand, and yet walk due to my inability to forget.

hearts don’t last

Heart race
tongue dry
hands sweat
hair fried

Quick step step
dodge to the side
run away fast
dance not to die

Push thoughts
far back
not nice
sad sack

A phantom ghost
that haunts the hall
its music loud
to mask the brawl

Clothes slide
off him
rinse mouth
lights dim

Animate the gods
cry out in vain
headboard broke
could not contain

One heart
beats fast
two hearts
can’t last