Dated 14-June-2008
=====================

Does the dream set the mood,
Or does the mood set the dream
Do we have mood while we sleep,
Are they as linked as they seem?

Dated 1-May-2008

Spring fever is leaving me achy
My soul is weak and shaky
My brain is tired and flaky

Alone is nor a good feeling
It often leaves me reeling
I’m in need of profound healing

Am I destined to be alone?
Is there a way I can atone?
Can you please throw me a bone?

This poem’s pretty bad
Its says how I am sad
I’ve nothing more to add.

Dated 14-March-2008

its 3:30 AM,
I’ve been up for an hour
I have no idea why
stupid brain.
Was it the nap I took at 4pm yesterday?
Was it the 24 ounces of coffee I had before going to bed?
I dunno,
yawn

stupid brain
but I am on 2 hours sleep.
I tried to go back to sleep
after drinking a glass of iced tea
but I couldn’t.
stupid brain
Pause for editing
yawn

stupid brain
so I am on here now
unable to sleep
writing perhaps the worst poem
Of my entire life
It didn’t start as a poem
just a tired man
sleep deprived
from excessive napping
or excessive coffee
I dunno
speaking in phrases
now its a poem
and I am inflicting it on you
muahahahahahaaaaaaa
yawn stupid brain

Dated 7-March-2008
======================

Your ass is lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have sores that ooze and seep,

And antibiotics in which to steep,

And antibiotics in which to steep.

Dated 15-July-2007
===================

Drunk
Yay
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Had a good time tonight:
2 kamikazes,
3 shots of José Cuervo
I have no idea how much beer.
No one yelled at me,
no fights,
just fun.
YAY!!!!!!!!
I will look at this again
in the morning
and say
“what?!?!?!”

Dated 30-May-2007
=====================

I’m pretty much in a mood to give up.
All I want to do is lie in bed,
Covers over my head
Pretending the world doesn’t exist.

I’m just tired of dealing with anything
EVERYTHING.
It’s all too much for me right now;
I have left my self with no mental reserves
to fall back on. It’s all out there
and its spread so thin
I can feel the wind through it.

The stress of the move,
the stress of the foreclosure,
the stress of being alone,
the stress of not wanting to be alone,
the stress of not wanting to be with someone.

It’s all too much.
I want it over.
Where is my rock?

Dated 23-May-2007
=====================

I’m not enjoying packing up my house.
Picking up each item
Things acquired over the years
And assigning it worth:
Keep, trash or sell?

Each bit rehashing memories.
Where did I get this?
Why?
From whom?

Memories of the ex coming flooding back.
Things bought in moments of happiness
Before the fall
And descent into hell.
Gifts given out of love
Before the anger
And insanity.

These items have their own treatment.
They get a box and are thrown
Sold
Or given away
NEVER to be kept
No matter how much I may wish
To hold on

Dated 4-May-2007
====================

There are no horsemen of the apocalypse,
No entities of destruction galloping in to destroy the world,
No mad rush to oblivion with the human race as blind scared crying victims
beyond their fate and ability to control.

There are no horsemen of the apocalypse,
Only us, we humans,
With our frailties and fear and ignorance,
Slowly turning things to shit in a world of gold,
Steadily pacing backwards towards ignorance
And n conceit
And self-absorbed self interest.

We are the horsemen, but we don’t rush in,
We slowly chip away at the statues of giants
Upon whose shoulders we stand
And can’t live up to the heights.
Bit by bit we erode the stone of our foundation
And leave ourselves on rocky ground heading toward and unsteady future.

Human rights, human dignity human joy and respect
Sold and stolen for the buck it can generate,
The minds and bodies of the young raped
For the pleasure and gratification of the older generation,
Regardless of the quivering masses of crying crippled damaged children
Who we bring into this world.

There are no horsemen of the apocalypse,
Not sudden riots of war, famine, pestilence and death.

We create our own wars for oil, and gold and false ideals
That we wish to impose on the world around us we don’t understand.

We create out own famine by feeding out children food full of flavor
But empty of nutrition.

We create our own pestilence by polluting our rivers and soil
With chemicals and poisons in order to live a better life
And get a better yield in the name of gluttony.

We create out own death,
Yet fear this natural extension of life
As if it was the opposite of life and not life’s destination.
Keeping people alive beyond their years in misery and pain and brainless
Machine supported living deaths worthy of the worst horror films.

There are the horsemen of the apocalypse,
Staring back at you from the mirror,
Smiling back at you as you do your hair
And brush your teeth
Daily ablutions preparing to face
The Armageddon of our own creation.

Dated 10-May-2008
====================

fuck all you assholes
fuck you right in the ear
I don’t want to know it
I don’t want to hear
your sniveling protests
your whiny complaints
your shoulds and you shouldn’ts
your ares and your ain’ts