The Subtle Beauty of the Horizon Lies in the Mystery of Beginnings and Ends

If all the secrets of time now gone 

and every shock to come

were scorched across the landscape

laying bare what we have done

with our intentions stretching long 

it doesn’t really matter because 

eventually spacetime curves

obscuring all from what has been

to what destiny prepares to serve 

on memories we can’t rely

and predictions don’t come free

so I don’t care about the past

and the future means nothing to me.

A Pale and Unrefined New Blight

Not really the type to shed light
staying mostly in the dark
I understand certain events
really leave their mark
I know when I am wrong
I know what I do
I know I've caused heartache
and pain
I thought with time
memories fade
and maybe love remains but
there is no should be
there's only what is and
secrets and lies
both sting my eyes
about the same.

Poetry is Dumb

Of the things we learned when we were young

some retained and some long gone

some things useful and some things dumb

some were everything

former hippies tried to teach us love

self-esteem, say no to drugs 

art and music to make us whole

poetry for our latch-key souls

I learned to write the way I shout

words will come when I let them out

simple phrases with razor edges 

big ideas on tiny pages

drenched in assonance 

and rhyme now

coalescing all my ages.

Enormous Understatement

Sometimes things go well

sometimes shit gets hairy

what’s new becomes old 

what’s unknown seems scary

so tell me please because I need to know 

if your heart feels any warmer 

when I say with enormous understatement

that I like you in my corner.

The Things That Fall From Ledges Tall

And those that hit us from nearer 

nonetheless produce effects 

which strike particularly similar. 

The Dangling Hearts are Easily Plucked

A man like me will wear you out 

I'll be inside your head 

or worse your heart

and play those strings

don't let me in your bed

to feel the things I like to feel

hear the things I like to say

mine’s soft too and just as red

if you feel it beating

run away. 

Eyes Like Christmas

All these musings pass behind

windows mostly shaded 

concealing walls mostly faded 

trying to be stoned before

the patterns fall in line

because these eyes like christmas 

let that shit out

knock it about

and somehow

make it all seem fine.

When It’s Time To Be Sad and Lonely I Suppose That’s What I’ll Be

I just remembered that once I learned 

there are no guarantees 

problems are a matter of perspective 

and only ever will be.

Firebomb

There's cleaner ways 

to get shit done 

nicer ones too 

but none that

really satisfies 

quite the way 

we want it to.

All These Words in Shakespeare Terms

Each essay is a pound of flesh 

hastily scooped with little precision 

tissue abused and torn 

no regard for the subtleties 

of the contracts they satisfy

but no worry because 

it doesn't hurt that much

there's plenty to go around

and I can always make more

every poem is scrawled 

from the blood which seeps 

and pools low in those ragged wounds.