Strength of the current

The river almost took you away from me
I searched for you in Toledo
The washroom had a dead body on the floor
Jesus swore it wasn't you

For we swam idyllically the day was warm
and the water a friendly dragon
Abundant with fish and life clear inside
Like life we dove in to be taken for a ride

You were washed so far down
while I was busy looking at the fish
And like the season ends you were gone
Vanished

Then the dwarf took my hand as we searched for you
The girl I'd spent the last two years trying to sweep out of her shoes
But the dwarf smiled he knew the whole world was a farce
he led me there to the washroom

To where a body lay
wrapped in a blanked on a bed of hay
Panic hit my throat like an outside force
But death hadn't touched my girl

And the dwarf beamed
Slow illusions and slow emotions
warm my heart
warm the water of this dark river that I adore

Slow running eternal
miracle cord
I'll hold my tears
for she swims in the same river as I do

Neither of us will drown
No matter the strength of the current

The muddy jungle

Home is in the hills
They make us feel alive
Until the helicopter touches down
and leaves us with enough supplies

The jungle is a short distance from here
I'm in the long grass like it was hair
Into the lonely shade
but I'm not alone

everything is moving
living and dying all at the same time
The line back to civilization
is half a cup of Pfizer

Yes the truth is easy for those
who never had to learn the lie by heart
learn it's horrid serrated shape
learn of it's revulsion to nature

The lie of the cities
appeal built like a monumental perfidious statue
Like a heroes profile adulterated
Just manufactured surfaces

The muddy jungle
Is the only feast
the only way to find a release
Those rains and those valleys

Let me breathe truth there

Skaters leave puberty

Skaters came in and to drop off their fathers
Old timers who´d come to be a part of the chaos
Dropping off their fathers like they were baggage before a flight
Still trendy and provocative, clothes city screens, hair of sunlight

Skaters coming in to add to the weight but I won´t sink
We can´t be blasé like them
Forbidden drinks only they can drink
They lost youth, but still pretend

bringing in their old timers
like missiles
The only caution they wear
in the absense of their smiles

And each trick
is a vanity
Is a wrinkle on their father´s cheeks

Every brick of slang they sling
is a colorless wall
where my graffiti sings

And as each of their old books
take up space on the shelves
My heavenly spray paint goes to hell

They are never truly free
No amount of nonconformity
or new expression vanity
could ever really liberate from their need
for exhibiting

Not a random poet

It´s not a random poet that can impress you
One that recites lines he wrote that seem to see through
As if he caught a piece of you literarily on the spiritual lamina
As if his pen was an abstruse camera

Whom would that be?
a person capable of such a way to see
To turn his words into the way
your thoughts form feeling

Not a random poet, not an easy quack or a common oink
But one that was chosen by the phrases he coined
No not by fingers pointing
Or radio announcements ads for ointment

Not on t.v or in the paper either
or by some secret society chamber lever
No I was chosen by none of that
No "life isn´t fair" republican
nor "everyone should care" democrat

You´d send a wave of labels that´d wash over me
a Thousand you could stick to my words
but not one that holds truthfully

Not a random poet you can
sum up in a stanza

Loving words
 invert the adverse,
 success is my fan
For I cook delicious verse on the page
 like it was a pan

No evil machines

Deep beneath, where metal is manipulated
where tentacles push buttons
and evil is given vitality
The fiends of the universe attempt to kidnap the virtuous
In their industrial factories that cover whole planets

They attempt to corrupt the souls of leaders
who created generations of utopia

Through hellish laboratories
where the fiends engineered lava to replace blood

Filling the body and connecting the head
Yet goodness wasn't vanquished
Minds of the good reproduced their true hearts
and wreaked havoc in the damned subterranean corridors
of the fiend´s dystopian realms

Breaking their machines and resetting their engines
freeing allies and sabotaging every diabolical device

In the bus as Harry Potter

The world is made up of buses
Busy children imitating harry potter
buses give them a sense of belonging
they roll between buildings collecting the children and the money

Giant elevators lift the buses into the skyscraping platforms
The children go up and people from past lives come down
peering out of the windows wondering what could have been
All this movement guarantees a new Harry potter saga

All these children dedicate their money like a tithing
so that they may sit with the faint marker line of a scar
across their foreheads
Counting their coin as if they hadn't been given enough
As if they were reciting a spell

Fighting for sport

They long to fight
In their lost afternoon
they choose weapons like unnecessary wounds
In the bar beside the abandoned buildings
the ones that were bombed last week

Drinks and bragging eat Sunday
jokes and jeers about the losses
Those ready for the ring fighting their fear
then losing their blood take injuries
and strange knowledge home

choosing their weapons excitedly
losing their flesh and blood as if a ritual

Up at this house

Here up at this house
This choice, this day, this sky, this life
I swear I can almost remember standing on the edge
when there was no such thing as time

They must have warned me back then
but also reminded me of all the wonderful things that would happen
Under the awning with the aroma of a feast
still a humid bright day

if only everlasting life could be like this said my friend
my ally, my own spirit
My parent´s colors changed as did the day
their desires became different shapes

On this house on the hill
Symbolic for something
with feasts and luxuries I didn´t ask for
and gratitude owns me but I don´t know it´s intentions

I look up at my mother talking to me with her face
My father gesticulating
They were children yesterday
same eyes and in this weather, none the duller

My spirit pulls me toward the limelight
clocks and fine clothes, it passes so quickly
I´d just like to stay under the awning
enjoying life that such an eager source furnished for me

The chinese aunt(restroom seeker)

Oh our Chinese aunt ate until regret
Full from yesterday and today she's over fed
waiting for the toilet, though she has come too late
Because there's a dirty queue, where a thousand people wait

Oh no, clogged now, where did she go wrong?
Impatiently pushing her squeaky trolley along
The begger jeers at her as if reciting a song
food falling from his mouth, drunk all week long

The queue looms, the begger' s words empty and bland
Maybe the same mercy that put a sandwich in the beggers hand
could relieve our Chinese aunt of her stomachs great demands

Tolkien spoke to me

Tolkien Spoke to me in a dream
Of the worlds unseen
Of the love that exists in mystery
and Tolkien said to me

Had it not been for fantasy
We would take every tale legend and scripture literally
Had we not the disposition for imaginings
What boring animals we would be


Not all those who wander are lost
JRR Tolkien

Washed in education

In the caravan that lay intact despite the flood
A student wrestled to overcome his impulses
The rain started once more and it was time to dress
Torrents of water ran along the road

He tried to extract his life meaning
from the songs he liked and wanted to hear more
he strived  to be more trustworthy
but urges and whims played an internal war

Teachers dressed up to be
their careers
exceptions were random
class silence rare

Students tried on every gown in the caravan
and slowly formed a mirror

The Caprocian

Some eastern land he swore, as the family waited for food
Some foreign language he swore, but it was one I could speak
And the cook had promised flavorsome dishes
Yet hours later the awkward conversation was the only thing touching the mouth

And they waited, the miracle of food hadn't appeared
And the origin of our friend was unknown
In a city district where all there was were restaurants and people selling food
not a bite

Some confusing half babble and positive nods
We were going hungry while our patience was getting overfed.

Your house

In your house there's a hug waiting
There's a warm family
People step toward your gate
The sharp steel ends above show us there's a limit

In your house there s enough love
Such a communal one
such a real one
and laughter is your creed

Our uncombed future in the muddy water

Spend the day at the lake
What have you won
boys out there careless hair
looking out over the muddy water

The grass and trees hug the cabin
The grain in last years log of firewood
spells summer
and we are supposed to swim, to swim out in that muddy water

We raise hands together thoughtless
witnessing the sky
it now owns our minds
water up to our knees

We are supposed to swim
spend the day at the lake
win summer as it rapidly slides past
grain in the wood disappearing into the flame

Suns reflection robbing us of our focus always trying to fix the horizon
And as we held hands and felt the water reach our neck
we could tell there was no way back
The cabin was so far back there on the shore

There would be no return whispered the small waves
and smiles appeared on or unsuspecting faces
arms turned in and moved us into the depths
We would make it to the other side before sundown
or die trying

Something I can create

Something that humms and brings me up to speed
Breathes life back into me
A bottle of mineral water safe blessing
To refresh as most of us continue wrestling

This great ladder they decided to let me climb
And with each rung they can have a rhyme
For I've only craved one thing over the years saints
And that's a few more shards of real light not just bright paint

Something I can taste quasi-sublime
sustain me for a lifetime and warm my mind
heat my heart
Blow the whistle to start

The step up to greater visions
so that my hands and mind can play like they're living
That I can now know the moment before the world tricked me with their games
Bring into being a wonderful idea and push into reality like a train

Something I can create and polish
Something I can give away and still cherish

Wilson's pride

Wilson will you die today
Will the streets take a bite out of you
That heavy shield wounds you every time son
Child in the sun some don't even see the human in you

And each street seems to have teeth
Your guts crave the hard stuff
Your beneath and it's all rough
concrete and merciless days I see you try to hide your eyes when I pass
hide the part of you that is still to die

Ok Wilson let go of your pride
As the night sharpens it's knives
You were just a little kid when you were betrayed on all sides
Aggression swept over your body and soul like the ocean of hell

Blood sweat and intoxication
Each infection you live through
Each terrible disease you have accumulated
your body shakes like a dog in death throes insane
Not a tear from your eye as you feel the withdrawls
again and again

Expressionless as if they can't own you
The concrete owns us all street by street
tooth in the rows of teeth bloodthirsty
A constant grin for your addictions and afflictions son

For the world of pain you've seen
each drop of pride has justified it
The stench of your dying organs
don't raise fear as you wobble outside the bar
Not a tear in your eye

I see you as a child sitting there again old man
those days of rain and poison
The extended hand you shun as the city has it's way with you
The garden contrasts with the dead look across your face

Predestinarian(calamity pride)

They had dreams to achieve
but lifting a finger was almost painful
Ideas want to arrive but motivation leaves
facial expressions strive to convey hopeful

Forming a plan sounds like new clothes
but those folks don´t wear them
Most live day to day like common hobos
Deep down they don´t care, but it´s nice to pretend
Always going for the job when the office is closed

Feeling sorry for yourself is not a good anchor
Lack of inspiration opens no doors
You call ambition the devil´s dice roll
That without it you´ll have humility or a better soul
Pretending righteously one has no life desires, no goals

How this quaint little world encourages complacency
for people disguise themselves as winners waiting patiently
As time ticks by and a piece of heaven in the sky is described
by the pastor who preaches pre-determined anti-strive
Anti-abortion calamity pride

Yes great Mayors, preists and public lords of the flies
Blame it on the devil and the sinners and their lies
That you can´t plan, execute, create and provide
Blame it on the heathens or the devout in the wrong Faith
That the streets should be littered with filth and disgrace

But deep down my friend noone else is to blame
not the government, or Portugal, Italy or Spain
It is you who won´t move, except for a bribe
Football fanatic,
predestinarian pride

Joyful flood

Good floods have come
The ones that fill empty lakes
The joyful feeling that runs in us all
has touched the sky and let the rain come

Get into a dream the way you do a vehicle
Wake into the world wary and cheerful
Try to take and the world will tax us
Give and the bounty dances, as if she were yours

The mind that forces it

Where arrogance hides
and denial abides

It´s a thing that slides with the hand across the side of the head
pushing the hair back into place before the mind speaks over the heart
And the heart gets forgotten for a time as the ego starts
The braggart tone is in the voice and it rings out as that person tries with force
and all the children who are adults that didn´t have
 the benefit of a mentor
can´t learn from those of us who worship the mind grab
 while the heart is ignored

Greatness is eons passed these lands of self deserving
Comparison can embedd itself into our perception
Arrogance is the knife that severs all connections
It hides somewhere people don´t want to look
When words are like mirrors they turn into claws
people who force themselves to be, run for the door

That braggart tone is a voice that rings
The only thing you hear is thoughts as they forever sing