have faith in me

Pedestal >>> Crumble
Optimism, romanticism, fatalism 
All with the smallest dash of realism mixed in.
I believe in kismet.
I believe in fate.
I believe in Destiny,
and all her wicked ways.

I believe in you.
And you.
And you.
And you. 
I'm doing my best to believe in me, too. 

I take rides and I take flights to get me out of my mind.
I have highs and I have lows and I move on to the next show.
Where's the time go? I'm moving too fast, and yet I'm always too slow
and I can't think and I can't eat and all my past goals become dead dreams
So I just toke, blow, drive, scream, give up on this scene
Find the inseam on my heart, see? Of course it's been broke. You see the stitching?
I'm not bitching,  I'm not hoping or wishing for anything other than what this life is giving
me.

Life doesn't wait on anyone.
We've got to move to
the rhythm it wants.
Life doesn't play favorites.
It's luck of the draw
for life in the gutter or the ritz. 

I keep on moving
and I keep my head held high
I figure why not?
We're all gonna die, some day.
So my advice to you is
do what you can while you can,
So at the end you can say
God damn,
I lived a hell of a life.
I certainly lived one hell of a life.

So live a hell of a life,
Or live a life in hell.
The choice is yours,
I wish you well.

Proclamation

Proclamation

I'm going to take a shower and then, this day is mine. 

It may be 2 pm and yes, maybe I only woke up and hour ago, but that's fine. 

Time is of no essence, holding no power over me and my kind. 

See,  we hold the power to counter act fascist politics 

While the media scours to keep one step ahead of the times

But keeps slipping further and further behind.

I may not know everything there is to know about the GOP nominees but

Believe you me, I'm doing better than 90% of the pop culture fiends 

Who know everything there is to know about every song Lady Gaga sings. 

That's not to bash all the little monsters, see I know a bit myself 

As I like to stay abreast on all kinds of music, television,

Internet memes, university official hooker stings,

And a plethora topics categorized under the moniker "various other things".

Between you and me, I'm not sure there is a Heaven

And if there is a Hell we make it daily ourselves.

But that doesn't have to be the case.

We can rise up and grab onto the clouds, pull down the sky 

And bring the idea of Heaven a little closer than simply reading a book 

Found in the drawer at damn near every hotel ever could.

Now, that’s not to say I don’t believe in the Word

and that the word isn’t Good.

I’m only making a case for a proactive age and for doing and living the way that we should. 

We were never called to preach to the sinners that they‘re going to hell in the first place. 

I’m only stating that there is a mass information bank 

Being lawlessly and shamelessly misinterpreted and misunderstood.  

What I am saying is we need to put a stop to injustice parading itself as truth—

In our schools, in the church, and in the hearts of our youth.  

Read with fervor and a bit of passion any book can hold the keys to a life worth living. 

The Good Book is a good book, but… 

God the father and his son Jesus would have got on well 

With Bilbo Baggins and his nephew Frodo, 

Who both understood that the war they fought was so much bigger than a silly ring. '

They would have seen the passion and pain behind the eyes of Wilber Larch and is protégé Homer Wells, Who only wanted to help and had to make some tough decisions in order to do so.

And they would have been able to appreciate the selfless devotion of Severus Snape 

And commend Harry Potter on his willingness to die for those he loved. 

Because...

In the end—what’s the difference? 

It’s the same story over and over 

From the cradle to the grave, 

From Genesis to Revelation

To my walls lined with posters—

They all contribute to the loops and the corkscrews

On the same roller coaster. 

This whole charade called existence resting on the shoulders of nothingness is everything that we have,

So the quicker we learn to take the good with the bad the quicker we’ll realize that the things that we want Are exactly the same as the things that we had and the things that we have. 

Maybe all the moms and the dads of today are displeased with the direction we’re heading because

(though they’d never admit it) 

It’s no different than where they were going and for some reason they thought it would be.
Open your eyes. 

All I’m asking is for a little time. 

A minute or so more, tops.   

I’m pulling out all the stops 

And I’m laying my heart on the line in hopes that one day you will return the favor in kind. 

Not to me. Maybe not even to anyone other than yourself, but that is enough.

I've seen some things I wish I hadn't. 

I've been drunk and I’ve done drugs but I’ve never voted in a political election.  

I’m 20 years old without a clue of what it means to be a good person 

But I refuse to let that stop me from being one.  

So I’m not going to get high tonight and I’m not going to sit around by myself in my room watching porn, Which I’ll admit without shame I do sometimes when I’m bored. 

Tonight I’m breaking the illusion and crossing the line 

That separates me from who I want to be and who I was at one time.

I’m inviting you along, so come on, put away words like “was” and  “will be” 

And replace them with “the present”, “living”, and “free”.  

Because that is all there ever was or will be— 

We've been given the present for living and in that we’re free.

with little to offer and even less to give

Unidentifiable
Sitting down with a pencil and a notebook
And I feel like a spent crook.
I feel like a closed book
Nobody wants to read.
With little to offer and even less to give,
All I've got is whatever this is.
These words on this page, and that's about it.
Three cigarettes and Jimi Hendrix are fueling me--
Killing me and encouraging me as all my thoughts
Are turning green.
Searching for the difference
But only finding the mean,
And all the time spent looks so obscene
In the absence of meaning, the absence of me.

A Historical Poem

The Rest
The disillusion is ever growing,
A three act play, poorly timed showing.
Our American Cousin with a surprise ending,
An artist with a penchant for message sending.
An actor with three names and a gun had come to change the world.


And He'll say forgive him Father, for he knows not what he did.
And you'll say treason is something we can't forgive.
And they'll say it's all just such a mess.
And he'll say--nothing because he's dead. 

A few years out and our history books are filled
With bits and pieces of lies and truth, and skilled
Knowledge seekers and history buffs have found
Nothing at all of consequence or bread crumbs on the ground.
Perhaps there was nothing too it after all
A man with a dream silenced by a man with a dream of his own.

And who's to say it wasn't for the best?
And who's to claim tragedy?
And who's to claim success?
Some shed tears and others toasted victory,
And then there is the rest.

The rest all whispered and the rest all sighed,
The rest all spoke about how a man had died.
They say he was a father, he was a friend,
Shot down in a theater, what a message that will send.

It was as if the message was meant for them.
And they received it.
And they mulled it over.
And they had no words.

a darkly pleasant piece

A distant echo absorbs all beauty of present happenstance. 
This is fleeting--truth, purity, light, darkness, corruption, deceit-- all is fleeting.
New strings are plucked and the plea is made 
as the fade begins and a more prominent line starts to play 
near where it becomes hard to differentiate spirit and true reality.
The physical and spiritual worlds blur in and out of focus and existence.
Always and never you will understand the truth within this statement, life, and existence.
In the singular state of always and never one does not disprove the other; they are one and the same.
Upon ye be disproved then, old bard, and proven all at once.
For love is not love that which is love is love, savvy?
All that is, is not, nor ever was, and shall forever be. 
Aha, Avon’s most prized play write turned most happily on his head.
Make merry of all and none in tragic comedy.
This--a never ending joke without a punch line,
with all patrons both audience and comedian. 

a short, recent poem

Mechanics and Metaphors
Put out all the fires.
Rub raw the flesh imbued with smoke.
Drown now faulty wires--
Concepts of man and machine now broke.

Reprogramming the hard drive
That is the human heart;
A race that continues to strive
Even as things fall apart.

Reason leaves us tired.
Love is more exhausting still.
In the middle we are mired
Torn between resignation and strong will.

another

Stronger than a fairy tale
Slow down boy; don't move too fast. 
Don't let your head  get ahead of your heart. 
You're in love, you're in love, you're in love.
Prove it. 
Prove it every single minute 
Of every single hour 
Of every single, ever-loving day. 
(Happily ever after will envy us)
It's not easy being 18. 
It's not easy being male. 
It's not easy being human. 
But nothing is impossible
When you refuse to believe in the infinitive "to fail".