In the soft and vague light

In the soft and vague light of another impending day,

I can sense life's sharp edges coming back my way.

 

With too much hi-definition and a million worthless things to see,

I'd rather focus in on the simple and pure things that would inspire me.

 

A smile dancing in dark brilliant eyes, just like yours perhaps,

An aura shining from a soul that would make all my defenses collapse.

 

With sappy gestures and silly impulses, I'd love to inspire that kind of smile,

So over and over again I could get lost in those eyes even if just for a little while.

Dreaming of a dream trying to escape the cage that holds my own lonely heart,

Moving past "any" whatever's and "just maybe's that could ever keep us apart.

Now I have to admit that what I do have is not worth much,

What I need is so simple because it would start with a touch.

If that touch could possibly be yours, I'd touch back with everything I could.

All my life I have been waiting for a chance to make "YOU" feel good.

 

I know how good it would feel in every imaginable kind of way,

If I could feel you beside me in the soft & vague light of another impending day.

Looking for myself

I found another me when I said hello to myself the other day,

I was lost again in the split second eternity that lies between comprehension and reaction,

As the multiplicity of who I could be,

Looms in front of someone I just was.

There in a void of common sense, a vacuum where time stops,

Where adrenaline waits simmering for a decision to flow into an

"It's O.K." exhale

Or to mutate into an irrational reactions fuel for idiocy.

I was all lined up from meek to madman,

From sinner to sage

And so many others I could not even recognize.

 

Lost again and close to losing it all

I realized I needed to live to fight past that standard line up of

"Fuck you man, whom else did you expect?"

Personas with their clichéd repertoires of expression and behavior all comfortably rutted by repetition, awaiting my regular choices of habit needlessly studying already well known lines structured for outward cynicism and self-directed sarcasm.

All of a sudden I wasn't quite willing to embrace a same old me,

A me that was always not quite good enough,

Where everywhere I stood would end up being the last place in line.

Lost again and tired of losing I looked again and in the mirror I saw that the who I was had had somehow just changed.

The callous and scars had blended back into the surface of my soul and the bad memories were now starting to fade into an inner box that could be closed and put away to be forgotten.

Looking through the mist that had "somehow" soaked my eyes I saw someone who had always looked at me seeing the me that I now was,

Then I saw another and another.

I had almost lost my way as I overcomplicated myself with doubts and fears,

With questions I was too proud and scared to ask.

 

Yeah, I got real lost the other day and in that eternity in between discovered,

That I like the me that you,

Think I should be more of.

Everything I have ever done…,

Everything I have ever done has been exposed,

Hollow and empty underneath the pretty word painted pictures of my calcified history.

I walk down those streets again on heels worn down by my once never ending stalks for the ultimate nothing I hunted.

Silent, empty and mocking,

Cold winds once more laugh gently in my ears as I remember the shadows that slapped my mind with delusions of desires waiting to be pandered to by faces I thought destined mine to conquer.

I stood so tall then, yet I was without rational, waxing philosophical to no real avail,

A king without a crown or a kingdom, a madman without the comfort of true insanity, a clown without makeup or a costume, a sad song without a haunting minor key melody.

Like a tiny whirlwind of dust swirling in purposeless ineffectual chaos down an alley full of stale stink and petrified broken dreams, my yesterdays wandered clichéd and aimless through a maze of what if's and why not's that masked the pitfalls and booby traps that left me with the inevitable what now's.

 

I can walk those streets again and again.it just isn't the same though, the faces are etched with the acid of time and constant sorrow, suitable wrappers empty of conscience and conscious awareness, totally devoid of any self- determination I once might have optimistically accorded them with.

In my alienation from that alien nation I battled monsters of illogical reasoning like a Don Quixote on a chemically created steed sired by form dictated rage and foaled by my misplaced passion while always dragging those worn heels.

 

Yeah! Everything I ever did has been exposed.,

So, what now?

 

 

freedom

In the rebellion of my self-expression I am content,

The deterioration of my sanity, that expression serves to prevent.

At on with myself isolated from societies constricting feel,

I often wonder at times if freedom is truly real.

The touch of freedom so elusive that I seek to find,

Often brings to mind a notion that it is an illusion created by mind.

 

I could conclude that it is at best a simple word,

And to believe in it could be a notion simply absurd,

I seek so little of it and getting that is tough,

What I do get, well that never seems to be enough.

 

So who am I? That's irrelevant because I cannot be defined,

Society's structures of behavior do not have me confined.

With honesty can I say of society that sometimes I do not care?

Yes because the same concepts of freedom and expression we do not share.

Our whole evolution as a species, the great human race,

Has progressed only because the individual lights of freedom we strived to trace.

That is all I want, yes so very, very much,

To pursue my freedom with my own individual touch.

And if that freedom touches me with a few sorrows and pains,

Well as someone said freedom is all about the ability and right to choose our own chains.

 

Absolutely entranced, by deception advanced

Absolutely entranced, by deception advanced

I lived to hear and see,

Your conflicting words, in scenarios absurd

As you played your games with me.

 

Kiss and caress, oh baby yes, yes, yes

Both barrels if you please.

Nothing you'd do was honest or true

Under the influence of your disease.

 

Yeah but I must admit, you were not it

No way, no form, no shape.

Still yet I can never forget

Nor will you let me escape.

 

Your pretty face, a chemical embrace

I couldn't believe my eyes,

Reality faded, imagination got jaded

As I welcomed your precious disguise.

 

My love was blind, my lust blinded mind

With emotion being the losing player.

My outlaw mentality, was almost a fatality

As you stripped of layer after layer.

 

Perfect? Not I, but at least I tried

To find something to ease life's extremes.

Perhaps a shot, maybe, maybe not

Or just the chance to fuck you, the slut of my dreams.

 

As a bitch you were fuckin cool, spun I was a fuckin fool

As you casually tried to tear me apart.

It could have still been beating, you would have already been eating

The pieces of my broken heart.

 

The truth is so clear, you had no fear

Just a thirst to get higher and higher.

Now I can tell, your personality was spawned in someone's hell

Tempered by an ice cold fire.

 

I know now that life was a bitch, I can understand why you always tried to be so slick

I feel pity, not rage, as I turn the page

But hey baby, think of me will you? When you turn your next trick.

All alone by myself. (sitting in the park 8/12/12)

All alone by myself in a clean and clear state of mind, I'm trying to live this life I now see,

In spite of wanting to find something profound to say, even though there's no-one here but me.

It's a long way from where I once was and I am still trying to assimilate all these things I am starting to feel,

It's a far cry from the nothing much I barely felt then, and the little I did I had to beg, borrow and steal.

I was full of rage then with no place to scream, so I was resigned to mumbling and muttering to myself out loud,

Using incoherent coded pig-Latin to keep my secrets because in my addicted mind, there was always a crowd.

Not one of that crowd was there to help me, as it was they just barely chemically existed, were

My pain and suffering was a matter of fact in those days and yet facts were always easy to be twisted.

It wasn't a friendly bunch in my head because they were born in the womb of a disease,

Clarity contradicted confusion and honestly with confusion they were much easier to please.

Alone with myself in this clean and clear state of mind, I am slowly starting to gain back some measure of control,

Of the mess they made while their screams in my mind drowned out the tears and whispers in my soul.

So I guess there is only so much I "can" say, yet what really matters is what I do,

I will have to remember that one can still get bad advice even if the voices belong to you.

Step by step I'll just walk the walk in silence and take it one day at a time,

Avoiding the pitfalls of too much internal reflecting and just enjoying this clean and clear state of mind.

Anybody you know?

Hey Girl,

Well baby I've been wondering how you are doing these days because I figure it must suck sometimes to be a bitch like you,

Just existing, pretentious and vague, going thru a motion or two,

Not really living for anything in particular except a tick of time here or over there somewhere.

You know, one with that perfect mixture of chemical toxicity, moral indifference and

Comatose conscience that lets you stumble head first into one of the brutal and sad, sad scenarios that so fascinate your kind.

Situations that simply hypnotize you,

Little just maybes that offer a hook-up with guiltless oblivion, conscious unawareness and semi safe cover girl camouflaged trauma,

A chance to dope dance some soul blight away and to pay twisted homage to the countless unforgivable and unforgettable

"On poor little you!"

Inflicted sins of selfish others and to forfeit any claim to tearfully sworn debts to be payed back bitch-like someday by abusing yourself even worse in the black eyes blood shot red shadows of hard core little girl long lost Hollywood gutter moments,

Moments fueled by clichéd and slightly violent lust,

Malignant degenerating endorphin desires and of course one of those foul, foul unscratchable methamphetamine itches,

The kind of itches that infect rush heat warped bi-polar curse-onalities like yours

With a promise coated lie of satisfaction,

A satisfaction that can only just maybe live in the suicidal death of a little piece of who you then never again get to be.

It's an insignificant semi-regular occurrence of course,

Well lost in the white noise hiss and moan of one of your fractured minds between the scenes character shift,

A piece of you destined from the first big hit rushes birth of your new manifestation to be left chalk line outlined behind in one of your standard spinning out of control

Over the shoulder cotton mouth croaked "so what!' exits

And eulogized on a nostril steamed compact line snort mirror with the cracked finger-tip smeared caption,

"OH WELL"!

What kind of person would I be?

What kind of person would I be, if I wasn't so fucking addicted,

Would I still have a malignant tendency to roost among those similarly afflicted?

Would I still be trying to live on a pocket full of lies in a pathetic state of denial?

Would I still be chained by bad karmas bondage as my soul gets lashed and defiled?

Would I still be ducking in and out of life's shadows, avoiding every possible kind of responsibility in sight?

Would I still be falling and lost in a downward spiral to dazed and dizzy to even try and fight?

 

What kind of person would I be if I had been born even a second sooner or later?

Would the current balance of my penance be lesser or even somehow greater?

Would I still be able to look at myself in a mirror, with any kind of self-esteem, dignity or pride?

Would I still tend to avoid in depth self- reflection to better my flaws half- heartedly hide?

Would I be able to comfort myself in the deep still kill of the night by saying to myself life was somehow still good?

Would I still always awaken with my low budget habit of faking it whenever I could?

 

What kind of person would I be, if I was more like those the game has beaten perhaps?

Would I be able to find any life at all worth living, or would the life in me also collapse?

Would I be shifty eyed and kinda twitchy, plotting to take over the world with a Pinky and the Brain futility?

Or would I be vacant eyed and kinda "duh" living in a permanent state of humility?

Would I be able to dream of life beyond the gutter walls that keep our kind confined?

Would I stop trippin on it like so many have, and just go on one again and again until I lose my mind?

 

 

 

What kind of person would I be, if I wasn't such a skeptical spiritual coward?

Would I be able to turn a cheek, bend a knee and acknowledge a higher power?

Would I be able to rebuild any burnt bridges and return to any of the many coops I've flown?

Would I find anyone waiting in the wreckage if I ever did find my way back to a home?

Would I be able to face my yesterday's sins without a duck and run sense of fear?

Would I still stand up in hopes of being counted saying "I'm sorry" even if I know there was no one left to hear?

 

What kind of person will I be when I close my eyes to try and sleep tonight?

Will I be willing to confront any inner demons and be ready to man up and fight?

Will I offer up my heart and soul to that higher power and confess my desire to live sober and clean?

Will I subsequently be content with each new tomorrow's reality, even if I know it won't look like the dream?

Will I be able to acknowledge myself and work with the version of me I happen to wake up and see?

I really hope so because If I ever find myself unable to recognize and accept myself, well that would be the kind of person I couldn't stand to be!

 

One last dance with the devil(those first days as the fog was lifting and reality returned, L.A County Jail 02/2008)

One last dance with the devil again for old time's sake I said,

A dance that led me into a nightmare and a trip back to hell instead.

So here I sit in a state of shock with a burning tear stuck in my eye,

The devil moved on long ago of course, always new fish to fry.

I gave away all I was looking for, you know that other me I was never going to find,

Losing my right to be in the light one hit after hit after hit at a time.

 

My world has shrunken considerably, to this cave of concrete and steel,

I wonder if it's even possible to describe how bad I feel.

I am always cold and hungry, I'm dirty, I'm pathetic and I got a hunch I stink,

It's noisy, it's insane, it's a wasteland full of animals and I cannot think.

Its rock bottom in a cold hard place, up and out will be such a difficult climb,

As the clock ticks away in my soul one agonizing second at a time.

 

Pain is throbbing in my mouth; I'm going to lose my last molar,

I can get some pills to knock me out if I claim to be bi-polar.

Then I could try to imagine I was free, it wouldn't work out I know,

Still deep into my mind is the only place right now I could possibly hope to go.

If I could talk to you in person, what a story I would surely tell,

You probably wouldn't believe me of course, so maybe it's just as well.

I would promise to show you with well-designed bull shit I was changing you might look if you were so inclined,

So all I can do is follow my own hearts direction one loud beat at a time.

 

What I did to myself was just plain selfish, it was stupid and most certainly absurd,

I really want to say I am sorry, but who will ever take me at my word.

I thought I could dance and rush forever, in this cage again I now realize in my mind

That the only realistic way out of this hell will be to fight one day at a time.

Interrupting ambivelalence-

Interrupting ambivalence

Because you needed us to be codified

I realized that our once intransigent symbiosis was fading into the dusk of our yesterday's egoism.

Contradicting image had become an instinctually projected reflex

As our emotionality emphasized mortality and perhaps at times

The uncertainty of our loves true (if actual) manifestation.

It's evident now that our issues were at best forced and repetitious

And

At worst the residual stain of self-inflicted frustrations.

So critical we tended to be of each other's everything that "anything " expressed out of character was always viewed through the transparent barrier of our skepticism.

Now a little more cognizant and

Co-dependent on intellect, adversity and individualism we are evolving into the guts of what once was our perpetual state of

Hypothetico-deductive experimentation and starting to feel the tangible possibilities of emotion.

I could always see myself embracing the you I sensed existing in the patched together heart of your well used soul

Yet, I will not let myself be delegated to the viewing platform where all the sins of those before me are held up in comparison

As you expectantly await my following suit.

In a time of emotional solitude and unavoidable reflections of the way we were not.

It is not possible for me to fall into the pattern of saying the right things in order to create a clichéd relationship.

I know that we can if we choose to, find a level of emotion suited just for us,

Uncharted and ready to be defined.

Vacillation breeds frustration as trepidation clothes itself in foreboding,

An empty can rattling in moonless midnight delusions.

 

Complicated and primally arrogant I can only face you with the who that I am

"Look at me" and not those who never were.

Me? I know no one else like you,

That is why I still hang on to all the scattered threads you left and leave

In your indignant shoulder spins and hasty exits as life once and forever it seems plays its games with us.

 

Me and the monster in the mirror

Hey you! Its me and we need to talk before you duck and run away as usual, cause we are both starting to look real beat down,

You see I am really worried about our soul dude, cause it seems to disappear when I get weak and let you come around.

You always promise me a good time and in every sweet beginning we laugh as you swear to always be my best friend,

After the inevitable crash and burn though you say "man up!" and "don't cry" as you leave me to face the music alone in every bitter end.

Now it's mainly the disappearing soul thing that is bothering me though because I have always been told,

That in spite of life's standard troubles and your wicked ways it should be impossible to lose touch of the piece of God we call our soul.

Now I can't and wont claim to be the perfect side of us and I can't claim to know it all about our creation or design,

But it seems totally out of whack that "you!" could make "us" lose touch with our soul without also losing touch with our mind.

So, I have to ask, did it get so disgusted with your version of our reality that it just up and ran away?,

Or did you pawn it while twacked to a devil for a little more time to rush and play?

Did it overdose as you got higher and higher to silence its voice of conscience, did you leave it to die on some cold dirty floor?,

Or did you cut its throat to shut its mouth for always telling you to sober up and be a man once more.

Did it find and fall into a hole somewhere deep and dark enough to hide in and wait for your rotten ½ to die,

On life support with coma self- induced by your indulgence so I couldn't possibly ever hear it cry?

 

Unfortunately we are fated to co-existence in this time and place that because of your addiction has become a very stressful reality,

One so cancerous and malignant that if I leave you in charge we will both become a statistical fatality.

Still though no matter how hard you tried the demon in you could not kill the spirit in me,

No matter how hard you rushed and looked in this mirror, you couldn't change the reflection you had to see.

I am and will always be the last man standing and one day once again I might even stand tall,

You battered and bent me over trying to break me with your lies, but you couldn't make me fall.

With your schitzophrenic character kleptomaniac best you took shot after shot trying to steal and kill my will to live and send us both to hell,

I promise you though right now once again dude that you will be the one flat on your back at the final bell.

I am trying to ascend to the next level of my life and leave you and your so coveted mantle of an urban legend far behind,

Your only legacy will be a sad footnote in the index of the never ending story of mine.

 

You did your best to do me your worst and I was an accomplice to the crimes against us only you plotted and committed,

I'll finish serving this sentence for the both of us and say goodbye to you, just remember to man up yourself and fight the urge to cry dude, after all it was you that said ,"no tears are permitted"!