There Is No Step Ahead

Unwashed white lace,
a place I disconnect
at the altar of
"I told you so."

Oh, black lace,
where I belong,

playing games with
your toy trains of thought.

You can not distinguish a single stain,
a fabric of white lace would show.

Could control be advantageous,
I'd use it to build your backbone.

Then watch your spine stand strong
through each train wreck.

I'd tone your character
with the quality of endurance.

Denial has the strength to create
the world's largest monstrosity.

Don't Be the Meat

Staring into oblivion at your own expense.
Carrying on, in combat with yourself.

Control, the stiff, jagged elephant on stilts.
Become the raggedy chest of drawers.
Or the woman with the meat, propped up on her crutches.
Dangle your offering before the world.

You aspire to run out of view, then hide for none to seek.
Glued within your migrant way, and the subtlety of sitting tight.

No one speaks of admiration:

Honest hands of youth.
Abundance, a home in your heart, has to offer.
Open up, tilt her over, let those drawers spill out onto the floor.
Combust, Giraffe, so everyone can see!

Rather, they'd watch clocks melt on the walls until daylight has run out.
Then find a candle flicker in the blackness of the ticking.
See its light glitter for a moment, dull out, then extinguish.

Blinded, awaiting the anxiety, of another's exclusion.

Flip the Damn Coin

Puppeteers, and puppets. 

Could you be the controller?

Or the vessel spewing the echoes of another beneath your puppet strings?

Crazy conspiracy theorists...

Doomsday preppers, bouncing off the walls of their bunkers.

I've heard each of them. . .

The “men on the high horse.” 

And the guys who knock them off like little Humpty Dumpty. 

Where could the king's horses and men be?

Out to lunch I see.

Fear mongers, fearful abiding citizens.

Those stepping outside their trying ego to say no to fear.

Bravery.

Those serving justice, get shot down daily. 

Leaving behind fat shoes to fill...

And who can fill them better than the last?

Oh, how sparse, I see the people who try to discern others. 

The people of “acceptance.” 

True “two-sides of a coin” types. 

And they’re tossing it to see more.

Reflect on this when you make what you see as a static statement.

A message for the messengers:

Be flexible, try bending to fit for once.

The Celestial Face

Sunrise is the success
of the enlightened eye,
unaware of undeadliness
to motivate the mind.

Tell Me What You Want to Hear

Stand outside yourself.
Watch each self-sabotaging idea you've had in life circle the drain.

Say goodbye to each idea of not being enough:
To the mentality which brought you here to begin with.
To a blackened backbone, charred and weak.
It's not you...

Trust me.

You aren't what you imagine yourself to be.
You're born with the ability:
To overcome the ashes you've set yourself on fire to be.

You can stand outside the drain.
Say goodbye without letting yourself go down.

I Wrote This at 3 AM

Insomniacs;
being over medicated,
abilities underrated.

They're everywhere!

Each hour they lie awake;
a rattle, thoughts of what to do in head.
"I could be more productive at night,
but wide-eyed, I lie awake in bed."

You imagine the banters had today,
how you plan to discuss them tomorrow.
Chatting yourself into the thoughts of disarray.

See them tumble around the brain like laundry.
But one overload and suds spill to the floor.
You wonder how clean, clean can be...

Or when does clean become dirty?
Will your house fill with suds to mop?

Sounds like a fun endeavor, no doubt,
to the most chaotic living creature.
And a word to the wisest souls,
we live to be the creature chaos makes.

There's one detail you should know...

Co-operation acts as the burly key
to tame insomnia's scattered blow.

But hey, what do I know?

Who Cares?

Get the feeling you’re on the wrong planet?
Feel like a perpetual lost puppy?

I’ve been told I took the look a time or two. 
As someone who’s realized
I’ve been lost my entire life.

I know exactly where I’m at.

Somewhere drifting between
this question I ask myself, "Why am I here?"
And this other question
loves to riddle me,"How did I get here?"

As if it wasn't hard enough to exist
without needing a reason!

My mind seems to love giving me a hard time.
Perplexed by an odd anxiety
of feeling like I don't even exist.
I'm some strange vessel of a mind
asking itself useless questions.

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.
Am I even thinking at all?

Oh boy!
Here comes another brick wall
of impossible answers.
And sometimes you have to say
something to yourself.

Well, I say several things.

No One Here to Help You

My heart needs to catch up with my body.

A slow beat,

a sudden arrhythmia.

I find myself blind and deaf for a moment.

A beautiful idea I had in my head.

This gift of foresight,

clouded by ringing in my ears.

A tone I'm too familiar with

eating at what used to be.

Ambition is what's left of me.

Wishes of what could be.

My head pounding heavy,

my breath shallow.

A feverish breeze of fatigue blows me over.

I,

overcome by an early sense of self.

I once thought I could achieve anything.

As truth has it,

my body won't allow me to achieve what I once could.

What does truth truly know,

when your health forces you to listen to your ego?

It starts with,

I can’t do it all.

And ends with

nothing I can do.

I'm Better For It

The rain chooses my path today.
Whether I stay or leave in its midst.

And this somber feeling,
I overheard,
was a lack of shining sun.

So I give into the weathers' grief
and sob a little story of my own.

Shining sun why have you left me?

I can’t help but ask in such a daunting time.

With puddles to wade,
why would you allow me to drown
in the power of my own thought?

I have no hypothesis,
no account, no answer
for being born so desolate
on such a strange earth.

I apart from pretty near everyone,
draw a blank and accept what is.

This is my fate.

Uncomplicated

Modern life-
born of flesh,
the bodily fluid in our lineage.

Intelligent design
isn't about a higher power.

Our creators-
we know them as;
Mother, Father.

Simple, imperfect as us.
Created in their likeness.
We rise up to,
and exceed their greatness.

Misuse of a phrase can cause much confusion,
making commonplace difficult to catch.

Simplicity could be our Savior,
if we could simply be.