waiting at the lost and found

words wander

the sender believed in direction

said them for my own protection

unable to fathom

how unaffected i was

 

there is no because

if it is one thing or if it is another

it just doesn’t matter

chatter, chatter, chatter

 

i need wilson and an island

i will never attempt to leave

 

arms encircle and my muscles tense

and i want to go lift more weights

so i can be strong enough to break your grip

 

i am ill equipped

for your ego trip

only the death of christ could tear the veil

that separated the common from the celestial  

 

and the things you tell me that are true

for which i must sign up and pay a due

i am not the actor who waits for his cue

 

i burn your script

to keep me warm

it’s cold here at the lost and found

my compass spins round and round

because no one is coming

to the island of lost toys

to finally give a defective creation a purpose

 

people draw lines

fight battles

make a stand

and are honored for their convictions

while i conjugate contradictions

 

the weight of the world is not on my shoulders

i am neither younger or older

your truth is not the thread

that stitches one proverb

for all that needs to be said

 

i am neither right or wrong

you are neither wrong or right

there just is and then there isn’t

 

wouldn’t it be easier to let me be

then earning eternal life by an

effort to set me free?

 

“make my reality more real believe what i believe

does my proselytizing reveal the doubts redoubt in me?”

 

the solution is simple,

“shut the fuck up!”

 

***

 

things were simpler on the dark streets of decay

i was asleep

the sparrow and the nightingale

woke me up

there are no accidents in a studio apartment

 

jenny was on the balcony

i splashed water on my face

blinked away last night’s self-destruction

went on the balcony

lit a smoke

 

“what’s up?”

i ventured

 

“what do you mean?”

jenny jousted

 

but i’ve been owned by

too many cats not to

know we all seek attention

in our own way

 

we are married

and living in the same room

and yes i’ve only known

her for five weeks

but she is blaring the song

from the first time we made love

and sometimes a man of words

knows when not to dance

the dance of words

 

i lay my cigarette in the ash tray

grab her hips and turn her around

 

“what are you doing?”

she demands

but she is not swinging her fists

or saying, “NO!”

 

so i pick her up and lay her over the banister

of the balcony

raise her skirt and rip off her panties

and enter

 

the record ends

and so do i

i pick her up again

place her feet on the floor

turn her

take her in my arms

 

i’m just holding her

she moves her lips to mine

then bites my lip so hard

i bleed

while her nails dig into my naked back

 

and all the physical manifestations

materialize

creating my mood

 

i pick her up again

take her inside

but there is nowhere to hide

 

i slam her to the floor

and the vibrations

cause the record player

to start again

the sparrow and the nightingale

unable to keep beat that is in time

with my movements

 

the record player is on replay

(that must have been some slam on the floor)

but we are on our backs

looking at the ceiling

 

“so is this when you lace up your shoes

and walk around all night?”

jenny jabs

 

i answer by making my way to the fridge

and rejoin her with two beers

kiss her cheek

“what is it that you seek?”

i offer

 

“i want you to talk to me”

 

(wait. what? i don’t know how to do that

can’t you just read my blog?)

 

“about what?”

i concede

 

“why don’t you believe in god?”

she drops

 

but to this i don’t hesitate

“i know that god is

but as with everyone else

i cannot be acceptable

unless i am as it is said i should be

all by my own strength

so at length

 

if i am unacceptable as i am

i cannot help you”

 

jenny stares

then blinks

then drains her beer

 

then the only sound our cat hears

is her lips on mine

her hand roughly groping my groin

till i cannot refute

the sought after salute

and this time she is on top

in control

 

and the point of all this

i cannot fathom

 

just let jenny be jenny

in a world where i stopped trying to be

 

***

 

 

are memories a measurement?

the mouse king nibbles at the moon

until satisfied then sleeps

his servants refill the pantry

and when the mouse king awakens

he begins to nibble again

and we mark the passing of time

 

but does anything really change

with this illusion we call time?

 

back in the days of my early rhymes

i worked in a factory

where i was always wasted while i worked

 

one day i was warned,

“work with wide eyed wonderment

or be fired”

the next morning without intoxication

my mind began its investigation,

“why am i here?”

 

i slipped off my work gloves

laid them on the assembly line

and started the twenty mile walk home

 

almost home

i stopped at the dealership

and bought a sheet of acid

 

i don’t remember the next few days

 

but all of this could have been yesterday

 

if they are called the changing tides

why does the name remain the same?

 

nothing changes

i am what i was

is time an illusion? a lie?

just the way we rationalize?

 

there is and then there isn’t

there is what we are taught

there is what we believe

there is what we deny

 

in short

we choose reality

by what we accept

to be true

from the things we perceive

 

people hope and then they try

and argue that we will learn

how to wrinkle time

before our sun goes supernova

 

instead of joining me and my question,

“why even bother?”

 

and just enjoying the moments

by which we measure

 

***

 

 

 

transient tick tocks of teleological time pieces

hurt my back lifting weights

can barely walk

drinking pirate rum mixed with soda pop

to numb the pain

though i don’t really need the rain

for a reason to drink

 

watching a series on netflix

on neurophysiology

science is the enemy of dreamers

 turning us into non-believers

who think  individual accounts

of ghost sightings

are just the inner workings of the mind

 

a belief system that doesn’t soothe

or improve or offer hope

my death will be just as mundane

out here on the fringes of obscurity

as those who aspire to ascend

 

jenny’s wearing that damn red top again

i keep glancing from the laptop to her form

while writhing in the damnation

that is tantamount to castration

as the throbbing nerve in my back

makes me incapable of any attack

 

and my damn glass is empty again

 

i am glad i didn’t become a nihilist

until later in life

once i wanted to live a life approved by god

write a screenplay where everyone would applaud

as i took the stage to accept my oscar

 

now all motion is meaningless

and the older i get the harder it is to move

and though i never shut up

i don’t believe a thing i write matters

not like two decades ago when i wrote,

 

“dollar dances don’t define diction

truth will be spoken in the fiction”

but then back then i thought

words were weighted with truth

now words are just an angry shaking fist

directed at everything on my list

of things i use to believe were true

 

a side effect that may occur

is nothing is any fun anymore

 

i take that back

i still love going places

walking around hollywood

or the coast line of summer

in the county of los angeles

 

that is if i could walk

 

though that’s not my point

i never write to make a point

and often tell pointless stories

we perceive conquest and glory

but it is only perceived

kings still die

and unfaithful queens lie

and nobody lives happily ever after

and there is no one

conducting the horn section or the strings

in the galactic philharmonic symphony orchestra

 

***

 

when others judge your cutting

i didn’t give tuesday permission to be

yet here we are

my hands sporting scars

of the cuts i induced with a  razor

just last night

hate to confess

but it made everything feel alright

 

now i listen to tomas dolby

europa and the pirate twins

 

drunk

though there is somewhere i’m suppose to be

hopefully i don’t make myself bleed

when i get there

and they tell me how i have failed them

again

scream,

“see?! none of you really care!

everybody’s obligation ends

by telling me what my

obligation to them is!”

 

melt down

loud sound

but no one is listening

sweat is glistening

as i dance to dolby’s song

and realize lost

is where i will be found

 

***

 

it always comes back to decay

i googled the word decay

went to the images page

one of the pictures was

of hashima japan

 

i googled this place

and saw the definition

of inevitable decay

 

i asked jenny if she had heard of it

 

“everyone born in japan

knows about hashima”

she instructed

 

i blushed

i didn’t know jenny was born in japan

 

“is that why you married me?

to become a u.s. citizen?

 

jenny slapped me so hard i saw stars

then she went into the bathroom

and slammed the door

 

needless to say it was a few hours more

of what one would call a major apology

 

jenny is my relevant drama

but abandonment and decay

holds sway in the courtroom of my mind

 

i’ve tried to leave these words behind

over 200 posts is the foundation of redundancy

which is tantamount to boredom

and in need of decay

 

but it just won’t go away

and like excited electrons in extreme temperatures

that then become neutrons

the next step is only one step closer to the end

so the step to me remains meaningless

 

but right now i am filling jenny’s glass

kissing some major ass

because the end of means

does not mean i want

a means to an end

 

so tonight i’m making amends

because the only philosophy that ascends

and leads to bliss

is the one that will stop jenny

from denying her kiss

 

***

for raven

tomorrow it will all be resolved

tomorrow you will answer the call

are you sure we have more than tonight?

are you sure we have more than just one life?

 

get out on the dance floor

make this night so much more

then waiting for what’s in store

live your dream

before the unraveling seam

reveals the ties that bind

what are you hoping to find

by playing it safe?!

 

delete does not mean erase

and the ones who failed

are the ones who never tried

tears may be cried

but that’s what tears are for

so get out on the dance floor

where dancing is a metaphor

 

and choreography done by a master of the dance

is not the same as self-expression

this isn’t a lesson

just a question

what does it mean when we say, “your life”

if you are not living how you want to live?

 

***

 

 

learn to dance on dreary days that drizzle down defeat

dancing on the dark streets of decay

looking back without looking away

muscles move to the song of night

i remember how i use to take flight

now i’m just dancing

 

there is no if there only is

time runs out like a slow gin fizz

i use to yawn after i slept

i use to care so much i wept

now i’m just dancing

 

i questioned meaning as i was taught

the purpose of what’s sold and bought

the weight of words are the pounds we add

what they offer i once had

now i’m just dancing

 

sometimes jenny holds my hand

but on two legs i still stand

nothing eternal is ever born

so on my sleeve my heart is worn

especially when i’m dancing

 

things do not happen for a reason

no one’s behind the change of seasons

a mishap isn’t really a sign

nothing happens by design

that’s why i’m just dancing

 

believe your words, be strong and true

come collect what's overdue

because you’re right you must defend

but i know what’s around the bend

so until then

i will keep on dancing

 

***