mountainside

Walked out of the mountain,
Screamed center of crumbling granite,
being cisterns,
veins of glass,
scattered throughout,
So full it walks about by itself,
What few oak scrubbed the floor,
Of the world worked through sound,
Did I hear it?
Say, dare asked questions,
from the small hematite in my left shoe,
I knew already,
There I had been,
In the shadow of a mountain,
A greedy mountain of granite,
quartz,
Catching the sun like glass,
reflection,
of what would have been a soul,
before it is buried,
in a dark wet cave,
that very hard to find,
on the mountainside,
slide,
slid.

Grow

A little bit of wreck,
into some semblance of focus,
mixes for a second,
with raw,
portable,
inflections.
like,
instance inhibited,
held,
a beautiful,
flop damned,
only a moment,
of what was life.
But for a moment,
Only a moment,
It was still,
Before that solid wail.
of screeching metal,
gliding with bone and blood.
Ousted onto a table,
To be slapped in the ass,
by a team of lone rangers.
Scream.
Grab that breath
With gusto,
Smell that first shit.
Shit is life,
Makes us grow.

The sick

Life is excruciating,
watching sickness,
pile upon sickness,
bags of spoons and needles,
glass pipes broken in the dirt,
glass bottles with legal death,
starving crack children,
our children,
running through us like diarrhea,
falling through the cracks,
like the mentally ill fall through the system,
and walk around the streets,
to be personified,
on national television,
as the living dead,
to be avoided at all costs,
this sickness called America.
Land of the depraved,
Land of selfish,
Land of the Angels,
Who fight a losing battle,
against fear,
hate,
and all the other four letter words,
Like mother,
family,
father,
hopelessness,
In a bag.
These are the sick,
and soon,
There will be only them.

Addixion

What is addiction?
Addiction is a deep
Vital grasping,
To understand,
When we are in the midst,
Of a deep darkness,
Addiction is wanting,
To feel Atman,
When we cannot,
Addiction,
Is that smell,
You can never quite put that nose on,
It is in the benches of your churches,
In the alleys and dark corners,
In the offices,
And libraries,
In the congressional behavior therapy rooms,
In the cages of the monkeys,
In Albert Schwartzer’s underwear,
Addiction,
Melts love into fear,
Hides pain into obliviousness,
Addiction
A calm misunderstanding,
A violent greed,
A placent homeless,
A special liking,
A different time,
But we all suffer from addiction,

Addiction to this world.

Vibrations

All I have to work with,
Is this wreck,
But it is my wreck,
And though sometimes,
overwhelmed in self-pity,
the darkness,
Becomes too dark,
the vibrations become fierce,
get up.
lived without hope before,
won’t do it again.