From the news the websites
a blackness shines and
it is death and decay, a movement toward
destruction but
a smile fell open on the street, a different
light where the shadows
are welcome, warm, inviting but
dead bodies lay on drifting drying beaches
on plains of sadness, on
the premise and promises of god
of the memory before science but
hands reach into boiling floods, into
lives of suppression and they’re
lifting and saving and making
lives better without
payment thanks request but
bullets and bombs ask zero questions
asks not what you want, what
your country does/doesn’t
what is or isn’t, they kill
they kill but
small children look with sparkling
inquisition into
an unreadable nature and
see answers, feel connection to life
to love, they rotate orbit
and with seamless efficiency
become adults who
get their news from websites

terrorists, refugees, US war vets, Syrians, the French

Sigh…terrorists, refugees, US war vets, Syrians, the French, and other assorted dumbasses and dumbfucks. First about the clueless misanthropes complaining that changing a profile picture on FB does nothing to help French people and that somehow doing this makes average folks hypocritical. Um…STFU! OF COURSE it does nothing, no one with a quarter of a brain said that it would. What it does do is that it shows an aggregate emotion, the miniscule additions of millions together that create a sense of global empathy. That empathy does have the power to affect change, over time of course, as long as it is repeated and is consistent. You telling people that they are wrong is like telling them that their favorite color is wrong.

But you’re an idiot so you probably don’t get how deranged that is.

Syrian refugees—many being known terrorists—are being paid for by congress itself (with money they are diverting from the VA) to come live in your town (with their AK-47’s and IED’s) to throw US war vets—many with amputated legs and arms—out on the streets and make them sleep in alleys on crap encrusted blankets with their German Shepard’s and dinged up combat helmets while they beg for scraps via poorly worded signs on pieces of dirty cardboard…
…yeah, true story. It has to be, I’ve seen all the posts about it.
And that’s just the beginning of the complete and utter bullshit that’s been raining down the last couple of weeks. I could go on and on (and would if I didn’t have a mani-pedi in 15 minutes) but my point is that people write and say this kind of shit (about other people) because they look inward and see hypocrisy and hate and anger and doubt and ugliness in themselves and no one is going to step and claim that prize so they turn it all outward and blame the world for their misery.

They hate themselves and thus find it exquisitely easy to hate you.

So when I read all of the negativity, the blaming, the lies and accusations…the sheer volume of acidic hatred (and that’s just the presidential candidates) I immediately think how sad it is that these people cannot find it in their own hearts to forgive and love themselves. That they live every day with such ugliness inside. That if they knew the feeling of freedom and the weight of anger and hatred lifted from their shoulders simply by honestly looking inward and forgiving and accepting themselves for who they are. Not who a silly book of superstitions says they should be or what a collection of dumbfucks with government titles say they should be.

Not perfect, not complete…just…human.

Believe. Go. Do.



The world said to me
come up for air
there are hearts and souls out here
people with love
and brightness
please don’t let go, slide back
there is no bottom, only
despair, darkness
dreams unlived
come up for air
breathe with solid comfort
with eyes open
the idea
of emptiness filled
of motions
movements attempted
come up for air
feel the expanse, the
vast, the
universe-sized expectation
that is only love
and possible through it
evil is an outlier
a heretic, an unbeliever
come up for air
and live…
we know that it is easy
automatic to be the dead
don’t be the dead, the alive
dead, the breathing
empty that
seems so comforting
come up for air


It’s a black sadness, a deep
well of sorrow…pain
for longing for reason
we watched as Paris
writhed in agony, as bullets
told stories
as someone’s god
thanked returning martyrs
as blood rain
in rivulets through
what was
yesterday’s meaning, while
the minds of man create
these endings
these sundry
horror shows, we can only watch
hoping without
our souls getting stained
because it is not
it is…
time looks down from
long places
and waits
until we are all dead
as we will be
thankful gods, without
but the sound of gunfire
of bombs
and the resolute insistence
of a species
…that good


I can’t
fix you, I simply
don’t have the tools, ability
…the right…but what
I can
is watch and cry as you break
into smaller and smaller
I want
to fix you
I want and want and want
but trying is screaming
into winds is lying
to myself is
falling for the
obvious and wrong
I can’t
fix you because
you can’t let me
can’t give
me permission
change reality…
because I know
that comes from me
any fix
I try create devise
any fix born
will never
won’t recognize you
but will try
try and
burn out
in flames of despair and useless
for us
…but I can hold you
love you
while you


Message received, an
entire relationship
encapsulated in just a few
words, your words
my words.

It’s a hard thing, a massive
impediment standing
between having and not
having…a striking

You feel and
it is true…an emotion
enveloping, covering
all consuming and
it can’t be wrong.

I see what
I can, watching from
open eyes, thinking what
I think…without benefit
of your sight.

We do not converge, we
cannot combine
a moment gone
while tears mark
the passing.

We did, we were…but
time opened perspectives
allowed alternate
endings, and we

Now years later, I
think about it, us
you, from your email
an echo, a shadow
you haven’t let go.

But the past is buried
deep, covered, under
the assumption, the idea
that it remains hidden
…leaves of sadness.

I wish, you want, the
sky stays blue and then black
into the night
we cannot be
each other again.

You Should

You should
know this, if
you know anything;
there is only one
you, don’t
imagine this,
it’s nothing if not
you’ve ever thought…
it is life it
is dreams
it is you
sizzling across
of blue blue
blue excitement
…of effortless
happiness and
bottomless joy, it is
you you
you—just you—being
entirely and
loving &
with the ideas,
wishes and…
(and the rest
of everything)
that only you