There’s no need to be afraid, feel stupid
less or nothing in the shadows…there’s
nobody taller faster smarter when you
dismiss judgment from the table the room
from the palette of available colors

There is you

There’s no one on the other side of the
equation, nobody watching waiting for you
to fail fall die…it’s a mirror a reflection
selection made by trial and error (by the
way) you realize you’re not wrong

There is you

There’s not an end not a beginning…not
a middle that exists other than what is believed
seen felt inside regardless the TV the papers
the nightly news telling stories of sadness of
madness of everything that is outside

There is you

There’s not a sound that can hurt that can
mark the spot where what you want is
separate from what you need from who you
are…from all the things that terrify that scare
that are created completely within

There is you

There’s nothing stronger longer faster
fuller than an idea set standard…installed
and running…moving you toward the push
forward believing toward achieving toward
forgetting you can’t you won’t or wouldn’t

There is you

There are so many lost, so many
broken a little, wanting what they see
but can’t reach, they can’t understand
their own limitations…they wonder
and wander across ideas across their
own stark landscapes created out of
need unfulfilled, dreams left unattended
they cry in the darkness of their lives
waiting for something to happen, but

It never does
by itself

There are so many feeling empty feeling
an iron to magnet attraction…a drive to
feel loved be loved give love have love
as a characteristic of who they are when
who they are has never seen felt had
love had the idea that they are able are
deserving for what they want so badly so
intrinsically feel should be a part of
something in them spontaneously, and

It never does
by itself

There are so many thinking that what
they know is enough/is all/is what they are
allowed when what they allowed is nothing
less than what we all have…dreams feeling
heart soul…the ever present knowledge
knowing believing that learning never stops
never pauses never relieves us of the
responsibility to own our own lives, to
decide direction…because

It never does
by itself

In the time since they knew, since they
arrived at said conclusion and announced
their intention, the notice given loudly was
nothing if not notorious…so they thought

They stood apart from us, they watched and
followed, they regained the knowledge thought
lost all the while the colors became little
else but shadows spoiling the sight line

It was Johnny this and Johnny that, all names
before the band, before the assault as we
wondered when the Calvary, when the
established and noble would rise and respond

Emotion became legend became meaning
became reason…a headlong run toward the
slice me sized edge of the stage, toward the
mention as a side note on the radio

Speaking of speaking; video did kill but it was
common sense, commonality that rose when
the weight of popular music made itself fall, when
balls-out thrashing was the latest love song

All of the beautiful colors are very meaningful
now that is, not back when black and white were
the new rainbow, the new mostly used chromed
spiked black leather fuck you rainbow

We thank the ones who broke the doors who
smashed the mirrors who rammed chaos down
our throats; today cannot exist without yesterday
like an echo cannot exist without first speaking

Hello punk goodbye

There comes a moment, a second of hesitation, no
not hesitation…thinking…a moment when that
thought she had, the one buried deep the one put
away almost forgotten rises bubbles in her cold
champagne in her dreams she see what she sees
when…she wants to really see

   This side of happiness is always the sun side the big ride
   the sensory tide of knowing living being and seeing the
   fact that she will be…who she will be

The moment floats to a surface, an idea, the soft
shimmering skin of an emotion laying helpless in
her thoughts…driven by tears by mention of hard
pain and missed expectation, she embraces the idea
with warm hands warmer heart she waits for the
inevitable to arrive

   This side of happiness is always the sun side the big ride
   the sensory tide of knowing living being and seeing the
   fact that she will be…who she will be

The arrival of awareness of sensory motivation
comes this side of happiness…it is where the idea lands
when it lands, when it becomes apparent, her dreams
deciding and designing the ultimate place the perfect
place the right just right spot for the feeling to
evolve to grow and become her

   This side of happiness is always the sun side the big ride
   the sensory tide of knowing living being and seeing the
   fact that she will be…who she will be

She feels the motion of deciding of designing of
placing the idea of becoming who she is when she is
only ever ever who she is while the world goes rolling
goes on and on…she creates the space within without
and always with the notion motion movement and
methods to be herself

   This side of happiness is always the sun side the big ride
   the sensory tide of knowing living being and seeing the
   fact that she will be…who she will be

Always who she will be…

There are horrible awful things that happen, that
destroy our trust our lives our ideas that we are
human loving able to unite become a force a motion
forward a positive progression step step stepping
into a bright and clear future

There are horrible awful things

There are magnificent things that happen, that
build up our confidence our trust our understanding
that we aren’t destined for horror for destruction hate
violence of flesh and idea run run running toward
the edge of the abyss

There are magnificent fantastic things

As humans we are both; magnificent and horrible living
two worlds simultaneous when we have learned to
believe we are single amongst the billions apart and
alone our minds unattached and dislocated we can’t
don’t think about connection

But it is connection; that extension that deep and
unapparent strand of understanding stretching
across ourselves amongst ourselves between what
we think and what we do…as we live…the meaning of
tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow

It is connection…human to human, direct me to you, them 
to us connection that allows magnificence that disavows
horror that paves the road to tomorrow that lightens the
dark corners of ourselves so we can see the two halves;
see what we need to see

Seeing builds perspective view vision of duality of knowing
both sides; who we are while connecting while being us
leads to being human to being magnificent in the glory
of our insignificance…we are nothing everything and
always always always connected.

I’ve met you before or someone
who looks like you, maybe
talks like you…wears similar
clothes.

I can’t help myself but
I’ve just judged you, made a
decision about who you are
to me.

I have a feeling I might not like
you, something about the
person I’m reminded of
by you.

Someone you don’t know but
who has control over how I feel
about you…it is unbidden
inside

I feel bad around my edges, I
don’t want to feel this, feel this
judgment, this internal kind
of sick.

Walking uphill I try to understand
you, the real you, not the idea
lodged inside, the “not me”
you.

This happens to me frequently
I don’t know why…does it occur
inside you, does it make
you sad?

When I meet you I must un-meet
you in my head, I have to
consciously divorce the two
images

Hi, how are you? (again) It is very
nice to (re)meet you…I hope we
can be friends, unlike that someone
else.

Today; life is not magazines, not soap operas, not
a story told at bedtime with charging hero’s, with
ever-after’s, with the intrinsic promise of a life always
filled without request, without notice and always
just where they said it would be

Sometimes she can’t bear to breathe, when she
can’t adjust her thinking toward a future she
doesn’t believe in, doesn’t feel in her soul, her
eyes can’t see past the edge of where she stops
and the sharp outline of reality begins

She was an unasked-for princess, always a glow on
someone’s horizon she went though life un-bandaged,
unbroken, untouched and ejected in to a world she
can’t now see but for self-created desolation and an
utter lack of feeling about who she is

More in-tune to personal woe to limited capacity; her
unequipped parents went finding the lost among the
found, they created her in a bubble of steel; all happiness
and soft landings…with no recourse but to learn all
of nothing about the world

She could blame herself for not knowing learning being
alive when she had the chance…there are glimmers
of this, small shafts of light falling on slightly distant ideas
all rolled in a dream of falling and failure she knows but
can never know that she knows

She floats; here to there from bed to bed from her soul
she weeps when she weeps at all…a cry found with dry
eyes and a staggeringly serious belief about the utter
encapsulation of love into a very small, hidden and
never-opened box

Today; she finds nothing of what she looks for…she
looks for nothing…never finding is a burden she
shares with no one thinking she is happy only because she
has never known a difference, a contrast of black and white
and grey

I listen without listening; the
subway/buses/the street and they
are cold lonely words of separation|
of disconnection…of thinking…a razor
blade chill; a deep and vicious knife
cut through the fog of feeling & not
feeling through the day as it glows
less, slowly evolves…devolves into |
a cracked version of an intellectual
night an icy vibration sitting on the
cusp on the verge of the idea that
what I feel is real is apparent—and
here—when I don’t know when I
don’t know what is the real, the not
here…the somewhere else that climbs
through a window crawls down a fire
escape and brings me to this frigid
awareness, this cold vision of being;
bereft of warmth of feeling of knowing
I see but cannot see cannot think it that
way—a freezing emotion—while a
world runs headlong toward a frozen
end seen felt heard in time in heart in
mind and they think with words trying
to describe the un-describable, trying to
defend the indefensible; and it is always
always a cold & lonely conversation.

It’s cold today, wet slushy
street walking me to coffee
to see a face a smile welcome
how’s your day…ha
ha…just started thanks and
cold again walking me back
to previous thoughts dreams
thinking about where I was a
year a day a minute before now
thinking how change creates
waves creates motions beneath
the surface; a shark silent
swimming
searching
for weakness for lack of
awareness the thrashing of
an idea drowning in doubt while
life falls in waves around
though us toward a beach we
can’t see can’t know is there
but swim is what we do…what
we know feel—are—and the
cold wet street reminds that
change that sharks and
swimming
searching
are there always there

Perfect isn’t, couldn’t ever be
if it wanted, couldn’t imagine
itself close near kinda sorta
almost halfway there…it just
isn’t

Perfect lies down on minds and
ideas and lets itself live without
shame without doubt without
the thing it can’t and will never
ever be

Perfect destroys those it touches
infects with dreams, taints and
distorts the already small lens we
look at reality…that we try to
see though

Perfect; created by man in order
to allow us to dream to have a
direction forward…an illusion, a
delusion, a stake through
our hearts

Perfect dreams of something
better something correct and
all the things it should be, that
when time passes completely;
it is

Perfect isn’t