the world has gone mad.

this I say in a state,

where I also may be mad.

we’re a free world,

for the most part,

and yet,

I wish nothing more than

for some of the people

spending their freedom on certain

things

to stop.

there are certain things that matter and certain

things that do not.

we are bulbous head flopping in the wind too scared to use courage, too literal to dream, too proud of imaginary idols to speak the truth.

we are far from something,

and that something isn’t free at all.

we leave no room for failure

when two people compete.

but too often

we lambaste the weaker with

shouts

and

negative press

and

we forget

that somebody always has to come

up

short.

wars aren’t won by both sides

but

after the barrage of infantry

tanks and other vehicles

two sides

can

lose

but,

not in this America.

coming up short is failure

even when

someone must despair.

why didn’t you win?

why didn’t you beat the bloody shit out of him?

the public demands answers.

nobody thinks of the losers.

we discard them and move along with the winner.

even if the winner is a convicted

baby killer

or eats meat.

the winner is strong

and the loser is weak

in this America.

but the loser fought.

and one day

the joy of sport and competition

will overshadow

the ego,

sadly,

not in this America.

A united states flag stretched

Across the field

Cut to be the shape

Of its boundaries

The faces

Red with patriotic fire

And drink

Cheer and wobble and cheer

Because WE own this land

WE are here now

And the red and the blue and the white

Shelter

Is OURS.

I watch a  few men

Ramble around the flag, stumble,

Scream, chant

“God Bless America”

I want to open my mouth

And tell them

How wrong  it all is,

That

Nobody should own

Any piece of land

Larger than their home,

that the borders here

and

around the world

keep us from truly understanding each other

that

we are

US

and they are

THEM

and we are all so very afraid of

THEM

That aren’t in this disgusting

Shape of a flag.

I want to yell and scream

But nobody would listen.

Nobody would

Care.

So I go home

And write this here

It’s all I can do

As I wait for things around the world

To catch up

With the ideas in the

World.

I find lately

I don’t have to go too far

to get pissed off.

then I get pissed off

and people say “why aren’t you ever happy?”

but I am happy

just not around things

that piss me off.

maybe it fuels part of me

and

maybe it has made me into

a little piece of what I am

but here’s a secret someone

once told me

who was waiting for the apocalypse on

a hill

with a trashbag over his head

“We’re not really that important as individuals

you know”

“Oh yeah” I said.

“Oh yeah. I don’t think I’d be here in a trashbag

if we were.”

it’s good advice.

hell,

it’s gold.

I suppose the people that should read this,

those incessant bloggers

paring off their thoughts like they’re

giving away nuggets of ancient wisdom,

those toddlers real and grown

who argue in anonymous comment boxes

with all the oddity of a masculine infant,

those movie quoters

who know no lines actually written

by their own selves,

and

those people who use

other people as commodities

to fire their own misguided

nights,

wont.

As our best waste away,

as I fail to bring unity to something,

as everybody fails to bring unity

to everything else,

as we separate ourselves further and further

looking to prove our uniqueness

instead of just having the courage to be it,

maybe I too should wait with

my friend on the hill.

please strangers
fall to your knees and pray
to deep darkness
for the world to get better.
pray to a stranger
that other strangers
recover from their strange tragedies.

just pray.
just fall to your knees and speak
to the earless air
what needs to happen.

don’t fix it.
don’t change.
just pray.

pray that one day
someone steps in and saves them,
pray that one day someone
carries love in on a plate,
pray that one day
the burning fear is gone,
pray that one day
the child grows up,
pray that the wicked are punished.
pray that the wise teach.
pray that the lullaby always puts us to sleep.

pray to a stranger because
it’s easy.
pray to a stranger because
then
you wouldn’t have to do anything.
pray to a stranger
so nothing
really
ever
changes.
pray to a stranger so that
you can feel like you did something.

no really,
pray to a stranger
he would want you to wouldn’t he?

if you did something
then he wouldn’t be so needed
would
he?

It’s not as dark as

The absence of light might

Make you think.

You can’t see your feet

And

Jesus doesn’t love you but

As long as you love something

Else

It’s good enough.

And

Sometimes we’re lost

Down bulleted alleys

With reports piercing

Nothing but our

Ears

And even that’s not so bad

If you’re looking through

The light spilling

Out of the aftermath.

It’s not a race to make sense.

It’s change into what you want

Or

Be changed into what you don’t.

Can you take it from here?

The rain punches towards me

From above,

Hurtling out of the darkness

Like where it’s coming from

Is worse than where it’s going.

It slaps me on the forehead,

Drips down my nose,

And falls off my chin towards my shirt.

The neon lights from the nearby hotel

Reflect in every drop.

They’re like red bullets

Streaking across

A black canvas.

I don’t even need to close my eyes

To imagine a better image

Than this,

Now.

I cup my hand

To soak up pieces of this scene.

Drop by drop screams out of the darkness

And into my palm

Splashing into a forming ocean.

Soon,

The crimson puddle I’m holding

Overflows in a steady wave-like rhythm.

Dripping off my fingers

It looks more like blood.

If it is,

I don’t fight much to

Keep it.

Things are perfect right

Here

And

Now.

In a bit of a mystery I bit the apple core

And a clique

Kick

To the througt of Holmes

Brings the burning pages

To a one page story

Not too filled with counter moves

And substitute croons

But all too familiar to the

Limping mistakes we’ve all made.

Feeling isn’t so much a mystery

Anymore.

This will cause that

And like a throw of a stone

Into the lake

The ripples move out

And subside.

The lake remains the same

And the involved move on.

The mystery is we keep getting up

At all.

As the kick projects itself

To more kicks,

It’s bruised dog meets the hand no one

Sees.

And if every dog has his day,

I suppose,

Those of us who care to wonder

Why

Are winning and we

Will never know

 why.

Any Sherlock can figure

That out.

We walk on the street connected to

Each other

Closely.

We stand shoulder to shoulder

And technology has

Made us even closer than that.

We are available to whoever

Needs us

Whenever they need us.

At least seven gadgets on us

Can connect to

The internet.

When we’re needed

We’re found.

We’re compelled to answer everything

Thrown at us.

So many things pile on top of

Us

That finally

We’re drowning in digital.

New things pop up so fast

We can’t digest what went in

A few moments ago.

I’m throwing up information

Anonymous thoughts,

Unbalanced news,

Undeveloped ideas,

And the offspring nightmares

Of other peoples broken hearts.

I need it out of me.

We need it out of us.

We’re drowning in digital.

As our hands type faster than

Our brains can think we direct ourselves

Into territory that has no

Emotion

Because it has no face.

When our faces finally

Are

Insulted,

We run for cover in

Spaces of bytes

And spill our problems into

Other peoples cups.

We’re drowning in digital and

It’s not going to change

Anytime

Soon.

As the neon lights of

The cities work to glare out

The dark night

And disorient us

I hope that someone remembers

Where they really are.

I lost myself this weekend. 

Saturday night,

Over a mind flaming with the

Thoughts

Of all the things I couldn’t have.

 I wanted to reach out into

A mythical store

And buy

Security for the future,

Contentment with what I am,

Solid happiness.

I laid in front of myself

And

Tried to buy these things,

Cheap

And

Instantly

But my credit was denied.

I’m glad they tore me up.

Everybody,

Scours the earth looking

To feel these things.

Everybody,

Breaks down to nothing.

Everybody,

Prematurely gives up hope

On their real wants

For cheap pink happiness.

I think my whole struggle

Was

Keeping the faith enough

To still believe

I

Am

Not

Everybody.

And neither are you.