The bully's cage

 How do you approach a bully?
Get under their skin.
Make them feel the discomfort.
They try to distribute on others.

They have fought to possess what they have.
They don't trust themselves to wander far from their own cage.
The bars bent into place through their own rage.
The space barely big enough to hold themselves in.

How do you teach a bully to rethink it all.
To pull them back out of their will toward abuse.
And how much of the abuse is for the other?
And how much are they retaining for themselves?

Remember the contorted face of your bully.
Such a tough front for the world.
How do we ourselves conciliate?
When we find them crying alone in the school bathroom.

Their shame compounding and reviving their sense of deep rage.
They wipe the tears that I witness, stand and push me away.
I offer the hug once more but the bully has made too much space for pain.
Love is a tyrant.

Trakl Salzburg to Grodek

 You dropped out
Became an addict
You would wander
Words your only relief

And your muse Grete
How might have she danced
As the rest of the family stood like statues
How might have she expressed herself

When expression was weakness
Chasing pharmaceuticals and the ultimate set of ideas
That arousing cocaine of a poem that flows
Endorsed by the Ludwigs

Some offer more love from outside
Than we can ever offer ourselves
The you attempted to fix the broken
The century pushes for expansion of immaculate violence

So deep in the blood bodies
anguish pain and despair
Unable to save the soldiers
memorizing their faces as they perish

You endure the long screams and the silent trembling bodies
You tread blood drenched floor where hopelessness abounds
Reach for the jar of cocaine and relieve this excrutiating reality
Narrate not the still pond, but the destruction of man with your words

Georg Trakl's ghost tracked me down

 Why have you come here to visit me?
I am not your equal you are a distance ahead
I am the ongoing amateur, as worthy of laughter and derision
As you are of applause and devotion

There are few little veins of gold within the darkness of my verse
Yet your work lifts my mind and my senses
And sends me forth picking up the littered words I thought worthy
Yet not a pest nor scavenger would dare turn or peck

Why do you stand before me now and look into my eyes the way i do the world
I am not worthy my attempt to transmit meaning is a farce
Is a whimsical joke a man with just an inkling of wit played on himself
Atleast before there were witnesses to laugh and taunt my efforts

Now there is just silence and the sharpening of ideas to penetrate writer's block
Georg why must you now haunt this unstable paradise of a mind
With your clean and delicate ideas
That paint death with so many colors you would think it a hoax

Until the hidden scythe appears through some haunting metaphor
Will you tell me I have your disease
Or the inferior version of such
You should hitch youself up to the ceiling and mock me as my peers once did

For I transform nothing and count myself a poet
I skip punctuation and plot to kill perfectionists
I might aswell give up, so our ghosts can speak freely

I think I'll stay a while

 What if I was to stay for a while?
Care parallel.
The patchy forest isn´t the only place-
to hide the affection we keep.

Although come winter they'll burn the grass.
And some of it will be exposed.
It won't burn my feeling off.
Nor my desire to stay for a while.

I think I'll just enjoy myself.
In the oncoming smoke.
Care parallel to neglect.
Such patchy moments.

The deep hidden affection.
I drink from. When I have giant's thirst.
What if I was to break boundaries?
Instead of burn off the feelings?

I may just cultivate them instead.
Bringing them to life like the shadows that have huddled too long.
Waiting their turn to play inside the obscurity of my fate.
But I give them neither light nor obstacle!

I'll stick around and watch my endless desire devour them.
To my deep relief and unfathomed joy.
I'd burn those horrid shadows, until their blackness transformed.
And grow those rampant feelings like forbidden offspring.

The thicker forests no longer patchy.
Giving runour of strange entities.
That would rule over the valley,
With righteous claim.

Yes I'll be here long enough to enjoy those days.
Endless sun for my affections exposed.

Arriving and leaving

 Because sometimes I saw you, and a simple innocent grace leapt into me,

Tearing my heart apart when all I wanted was connection.

The invisible wall between us was built from shame and expectation.
I pretended I knew how you tasted on my tongue, how you felt beneath me,
But it was all something I had brewed for months inside my head.
Too much sugar, not enough yeast.

I wish my eyes were better at hiding what flowed through them unhindered.
I checked the iron that surrounded us.
Just to see if it had cooled,
But it was still red hot.

There was nowhere to hide as you arrived and as I left.
You read my face, my feelings disclosed.

I pretended to walk away confidently, head high,
But I was still unsteady,
Because even an ounce of your grace weighed on me,
Affecting my ability to leave cleanly.

Just cause at the factory

 Yesterday I got laid off, I walked out of the burning building.
It was cartwheels in the parking lot.
It was splintrering wood.
It was broken bridges and sheer force of shamelessness.
I told the boss he'd know where to stick it.
I had to recruit all of my arm strength.
To smash him throught the window.

You KPIs, bonuses and standards.
I am here in the middle of your assembly.
Factory line grunts, burp, fart and spit.
Walking in and out.
Robots will replace them soon.
So I stole the gasoline from the depot.
Covered the factory floor.

I'm working up to that blaze.
Blame it on one of the disgruntled.
But you caught me with the lighter in my hand.
So I passionately kiss the human resources pretender
So she might save my job, anti safety high heels deny.
She knows how to sing my praises.
Now shes processing my dismissal.

A proud poodle

 We are the good guys:
How could there be bad guys?
Authority arrived chains and sandpaper.

so here's your time it's slow.
To reach that new low.
To roost do that do that!
Luck and get yourself a proud poodle.

Now walk that mut down easy street.
Thirst drew up the plans for dirty facades.
So unsuitable human moos, like pasture cows do.

So heat your town out of love.
Crush the creature, new low.
Go video and it sure is...
The roof top genius.