The electric heart

 I looked up the street
A line had fallen
Fire rocked and rolled serpentine
The pylon exploded with action and noise

The road was all damp from the storm just twenty minutes passed
Water and chaos married on the boulevard
Someone's missing
The streets are always full with seekers

Oh have I become a seeker
Wandering around under where the street light used to shine
Now only lit up by my own neon neediness
With the power out maybe hearts might bleed in peace

dreams can be drowned in what remains of the deluge
These sad eyes keep seeing the world for what it is
I who worship storms can care not if cables snap
Feed unashamedly off a different energy

Cast away again.

 He got left there again like an abandoned child.
His woman told him to get out.
He found space there in the local flat.
All alone feeling his own confusion.

Inside and out that smooth lonliness.
The kind a man binds himself to.
The kind he feels openly and drinks coffee to.
Watching the big and small hand change position.

He hears some clumsy banging below.
He puts his alarm on and drops his head onto the pillow.
Slowly slipping off to sleep but then waking again.
Eyes won't shut and a single tear drop forms.

He forces his body out of bed and shuts the window.
Wincing at the heat that will now accumulate.
He swings the curtain to draw it across the window.
closing himself then climbing back into bed.

Throwing the sheet over himself and giving up on the world.
A simple bed to fall into slumber, to pretend all is well.

The morning pressure

 i get up before the sun everyday.
It feels like pressure.
I never did get used to it.
Its not something I always did.

I struggle with the alarm.
often waking up before it.
wallowing in the unconmfortable silence.
The only noise my stomach growling.

Then the inevitable ringtone comes blaring.
I turn and flick it off.
use all of my strength to lift myself out of bed.
Throw some underwear on and walk downstairs.

I make my breakfast reluctantly.
Eggs frying,coffee brewing, a shake blending.
It hushes the stomach.
It prepares me but the morning is always too pressing.

Anton Lost Jessica

 Jessica why did you leave me for Rusty?
You left in the heat of an argument during a strange night.
You went seeking Rusty in his orange caravan.
Now the house is lonely and the cats are restless.

I take my milk coffee and the steam hits the window. 
Fogging it up so I can finger a love heart onto the glass.
I see the carlights on the highway at the end of the drive.
One passes every five minutes.

Each one I pretend is you coming back to our empty house here.
Jessica how could you do it, you were the most sophisticated than any other.
Now you are kicking around with some local drug dealer Rusty Mcmillan.
The outrage is really just crushing me inside.

Last night there was a hurricane off the florida coast.
It's front came through here and caved the roof in entirely
I found Lisa the cat, but the black runt is nowhere to be seen.
Like you, Jessica it disappeared into danger.

What can i teach you

 I have the white board behind me and I'm writing up on there.
I have listed so many things to guide these students.
The bald old one spoke out and said- What value is there in these words?
I looked at him and said- There is no value here on the board, you give meaning.

I took them out to the field and tried to teach them about what they need.
They put their hands throught he grass and we randomly walked through uneven land.
They wanted to know what we were supposed to achieve.
They looked at me and said that I had it all already.

How am I supposed to get mine each asked.
I pointed to the sun and said, when you need the sunshine, you need to seek it.
When you stay in it too long, you burn. 
If you leave early you don't get the vitamin D.

Position yourself, put in the time and leave before things change for the worst.
The bald one went back to my classroom and in a rage he rubbed out the words on the board.
He articulated his sense of outrage and frustration, he screamed that my anecdotes were meaningless.
He accused me of simplifying the complex by using basic parables.

What can you teach me? -He screamed.
Without faith I can teach you nothing.

Empty Katherine

She has no more expression on her face.
Can she be kind? Can she be smart of course.
We cannot see any evidence of her evolution.
She has lost her man many years ago.

She has a kid who is slowly making it through brat-hood.
Her expressionless face doesn't give anything away.
She is filled with a different kind of yearning.
One unmeasurable in a man's mind.

A silent rage still clings somewhere inside her.
I would say probably inside her spine.
Tolerate my speculation.
She hides her secrets somewhere.

Do they wear away the bone?
Probably not.
But they eat or live on emotional content.
They are anorexic worms.

So inside her there are spaces.
Spaces that will never be filled.
Not physically or spiritually.
But ghosts do hide there among those worms.

Highway of emotional expectation

Notes to self when crossing the city.
getting through to myself.
Seeking connection through the walls of myself.
Each step is a word and the journey is a book.

Inner conflict and frozen dread one clings to their homes.
When a path must be made forward.
Inside our human nature is the capacity to manipulate.
we want to fool and be fooled in certain ways.

Our blood runs hot and then runs cold.
Spoiled by fulfilling all emotional needs.
Religious adherence to routine and performance.
Our convictions often based on empty platitudes.

Enjoyment coming eighty percent from anticipation.
The other twenty percent pretending the outcome matched the prediction.
By the end memories of fine foods, jewelry and sensual confessions.
Dry up on a sunny highway replete with roadkill.