Tarry 'til I Come

This is a rough draft
of my lonely life.
All make believe
no pressure or strife.

I think clear I think
in my head of speaking thoughts
and weirdness leaking.

And even from the heart, revealing its scent

not fluent, plagued with self reference,
the love has an accent
I recompense.

Listen to you speak; unattached to your eyes
unabashed, we leave our exchange,
feeling empty and harried.

All what's left is a zero sum
all is lost, time wasted
opportunity cost
and I tarry 'til you come.

God almighty

Don't take the God from me
Corrupt my I-am-ness
Distorting my inner glee

Uptight denials
Paint your face
Your lost footing

Your owned disgrace
Free me to our father
Running in place

We'll meet
After your acted-out foder
Inner wounds laugh and weep

For release
My soul's oneness
An airtight keep

New Age Fanatic

What's the guilt I feel
Falling to sleep
When you have lept in
With another creep?

The quality of release
Has taken on new surrender
While you drift off weeping
A great pretender

I'm a new age fanatic
Talking to your dead
Clearing your aura
With star-dust static

Sticky Fingers

What does it take
To leave a tree alone?
Abolish money
And raze your home

Developers play
At helping humanity
Clear cutting woods
Destroying harmony

Realtors wet dreams
Representing the foly
Midwife to horror
Faking what it seems

The Little Artist

The blocked artist
Sad uptight creature
Cowering in filth
Measly mind's picture

Jolts of jealousy
Words drip from a catheter
Living in a cardboard box
No clue what's out there

Beyond the beyond
The universe expanding
As a last resort
You tap the unending

Walk the Talk

Fakers and phonies
Plowing through the rye
For a strip mall
Built on a lie

Pack of smokes - forty ouncer
Distended you
Shell of thoughts
Of nothing new

The talk queer
Your walk oscure
Corrupt front
Energy unsure

Laundered truth
Regenerated myths
Rigourous honesty
Spiritual arsenist

Half Measures

Half measures do not yield
Fifty percent peace
Jittery nerves, finger tips
Grasping at riches fleeced

Bankrupt spiritual life
When does it change?
Abundance of distractions
And the other - the same

A Portrait hangs
Society's great helm
Strange fruit
In a spiritual realm

And the consumed pilot
Steers off course
A ship doomed
Every moment - remorse