The Ground That Holds A Million Tears

Pieces of a memory

way down here

on the ground below

that holds a million tears

Shattered heart and soul

mended together still

but it takes a toll

holding together

with a pill

Managing to scrape

at the bottom of the barrel

even better standards still

cherry picking, like a hunt

Even though there are the runts

being pushed around

or, being pushed down

I don't know anymore

It's a game; to keep score

surviving with the petals

when problems are ignored

and pacified to settle

Boiling like a kettle

of secrets underneath

though hidden in a sheath

so hidden in a sheath..

April 23rd, 2013

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I Must Pace

Try… you do try

to grip my soul

and with a pole

hooking; on my shirt

I'm covered in dirt

and I am bewildered

like Virginia Woolf

walking into a lake

But I stop

and have a shake...

for my hypoglycemic metabolism

does cause me to bake

In shattered agony

because I am not free

and I am so belittled

and my head’s full of riddles

in which I try to solve

in which I must evolve

because I am evolved

but born prematurely

into this place

it’s not ready for me...

treating me like a disgrace

In time, it is paced

but, I am impatient

and I can't be a patient

of drugs, that’s right, Rx

though I may drink Vex

not sensible

but sadly pensive

and I am

blind

in the rain

And yes, I do blame

an overactive brain

so I’ll shut out everything

or ramble in a train of things

or think of all the names of things …

Blah blah blah blah blah

in space

this is not a race

I must pace.

April 18th, 2013

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Fight for Bliss

Money, money, money

makes the world go 'round

funny, funny, funny,

how it keeps us bound

Trapped at the bottom

screaming to get up

there is no hand reaching out

without an invoice; tough

Tough, they say, if there aint' nothing

in your pocket

keep on trucking

or does one even have a truck?

or is one twisted and stuck; in the muck

The muddy pool of dirt and grime

due to the slime-bags

of the time

they feel nothing

they feel nil

they don't care

if you have a chill

People walking barefoot

chattering teeth

underneath

in the underworld so deep

Can't get out

not without a dime

must figure out a rhyme

to build the dimes

Allocate, maybe

like a rubix cube

to get out of the hole somehow

to crawl out through the tube

Narrow and icky

like a sewer hole

it does take a toll

crawling through, weak and injured

Like a soldier in the trenches...

and there ain’t no benches

so why not ask the "vermin"?

they might tell you clever tricks

For it’s how they dodge their foes

and scavengers don't buy their mix

however, they don't steal it either

they're programmed to survive

to hold on; climbing higher and higher

They grab scraps

save dimes in a hard drive

Plan it out like a map

pack your backpack

for the ride

Like reverse entrapment

like solving a riddle

of the rigged, oppressive pyramid

for in which many are little

So pay with the dimes

collected with mass effort

and make it so rhyme

with things one can do for free

Somehow, amongst the abyss

and one day in time

we will no longer miss

out on a chance at bliss

April 18th, 2013

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The Fire Gleams On

The sun shines upon

the fire gleams on

far away in space

like spades and one ace

Tis not the human race

responsible for the light

through the dull

there is bright

Somewhere in the hole

there must be a soul

waiting by the day

to show it the way

I say it...and not we

loving, and needing free

we have to break the chains

albeit the deranged

We have to rearrange

from atop each rolling hill

it's not a fire drill

it's not a movie thrill

It's the real imposed threat

amongst the dark grey jets

spraying chemicals afar

killing oxygen, making tar

While we look up, to the stars

oh help them see the patterns

as we sing, from our caverns

Great minds hidden and shunned

or made to run and run

away to an abyss

those in the dark have missed

The love that shows the way

and so they must pay

and they don't even know it

pocket-picked, and unheroic

in the sweltering of a stoic

and magma; heatwave

Til a few who are brave

will stand as we crave

indomitable "I must"

amongst the wind gusts

So hard they blow us over

but faith, we must hang on

continuing the song

of justice, all the way

To the end of the storm

though blankets, soft and warm

can cover the heads

of the spiritually dead

Whom are blinded from the truth

while pretending to be couth

we see through it, like x-rays

and we will always

It cannot go away

as the fire that gleams on

through the dark, through the wrong

the truth is still unfolding

the truth is still foreboding

better, better days...

April 16th, 2013

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But It Lasts

Washing away, the broken glass

but it lasts

humming to a rhythm, going unseen

from the past..

The mistreatment goes on, and on

they'd be aghast

if they could see it

if they could feel it

But they don't

really believe it

and they'll be last

to see it …

April 7th, 2013

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