Lauren Bacall

When I was 12 years old
I fell in love with Lauren Bacall
I dreamed at night
I was black and white
and over 6 feet tall

I would touch the silver gown
she wore with elegance in "The Big Sleep"
I'd fantasize
those beautiful eyes
would get misty just for me

I loved Lauren Bacall
despite the bad reception
I pined for her voice
And I'd forgive her
even if she used deception

Because when you're 12 years old
and in love with Lauren Bacall
You don't know what love is
You have no idea at all.

Complaining and Asking For More

“Scientists talk about dark matter, the invisible, mysterious substance that occupies the space between stars. Dark matter makes up 99.99 percent of the universe, and they don't know what it is. Well I do. It's apathy. That's the truth of it; pile together everything we know and care about in the universe and it will still be nothing more than a tiny speck in the middle of a vast black ocean of Who Gives a Fuck.”
― David Wong, John Dies at the End 

“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”

― Elie Wiesel

  






times come and go
where the wind around me smells wrong
trying to figure out what I know
forgetting lyrics to my favorite songs

raised in the church
rulebooks laid out open wide
but that stuff is for kids
adulthood teaches the other side

takers get things handed continually
violators get off scot-free
criminals have 60 inch televisions
while war vets struggle to even see

halfway through this life
I look back at a lifetime of trying for others
told what I did is now stupidity
while laziness and victimization still hovers

complaining and asking for more

Nice guys don't get paid
of wisdom, that's indeed a pearl
the way I see things may be naive
but I've never hurt a person in this world

I could take pride in that
if I didn't have hands in my pockets
I feel as if I don't fit here sometimes
maybe should be seated on a rocket

because I can't identify at times
don't know why things are okay
I don't see reason in others' rhymes
too many games I do not play

so I guess I have a lot of growing up to do
hardening and changing as I see things unfold
because I don't want to be seeking truths
while I'm trying to achieve honor as I grow old

complaining and asking for more.

Cries and whispers

I swear I heard thunder
I know I felt rain
It seems every blunder
Comes just before the pain

It's all like a storm

I feel guilty
Asking god for things
When I normally don't believe he's there

And I feel stupid
That I'm so desperate
I've somehow resorted to prayer

It's all like a storm with lightning


That started a flame
People hold me up to
To try and figure me out

I'm looking at people
I don't get you all either
Please don't have any doubt


It's a lonely world folks
Being like a grown up version
Of that lost wandering kid in the parking lot

Waiting for momma
Hoping that poppa
Will come and wipe away the snot

Well I'm past 40 now
There's no mom and dad anymore
I've left them all behind

I've got to figure out myself somehow
And start the game over again
As someone else this time....

Guess I didn't know

Didn't know where I stood
When things are okay thanks to standing
I guess I know now

Can't let go
Of things glossed over
By society or a shrug
Maybe it's just me

I now understand
Worley's haunting
Someone's ok with something
Or worse its forgotten with a smile

Am I the only one here
With a flushed face
And tears in my eyes
Loading my fists?

I now understand
The McManus' plotting
I'm not gonna forget
What others rather would

Even the victims can't see
They haven't hurt just them
They've also hurt me

So I boil like a kettle
Because I've been good
I've tested my own mettle
Just to have backs turned on me

Only to be pushed again....
Being right, doing right
Pays less than being a fucking bastard
And people make up the truth anyway

Maybe it's just me

Because I understand
Bullock's fists
I can stand over blood and bones
And feel justified
And smile.

Feeling alone in these moments
I don't understand anyone
And no one understands me

Am I afraid of my own rage?
Yes, indeed I am
But I respect it
And I know it's right

Because its borne
Of righteousness
And love.

Not self gratification
And satisfaction

But I'll never be right in any occasion
They only got Capone for tax evasion

Now I understand
Billy Jack's feet today
But even that one ton soldier
Got hauled away

Second Choice

To be a replacement
To be that Second choice
Just fitting the the bill
Just Good enough for now

Lifting it up
trying to convince it
as it looks the other way
as it finds more
in what is less

in what is repulsive

throwing my head down
hair in my eyes
on my knees

retching with that knowledge
helpless in the sickness





Tired of exhausting myself
Giving all to getting back half
Disregarded by the child

Daddy, take a bow




It kills and burns to have the weighted wisdom
You're only there because another wouldn't break free
It dries out the tears and fogs up the vision
You're second in line, quite possibly number three



I wish I had enough strength
Overstocked on pride
To face the world alone
I wish I could go forward
No one at the side

to be 
Happy enough on my own

Given An Inch

There’s a smile that makes me sick
a knowing grin worn on many faces I see

When does having money
make everything one does okay?

The filth, the acts, the things they do
I guess make them better than me

because there’s a bank account
that is bigger than mine today?

The Patience allotted
the sins forgotten
the gestures and looks left lying about

The acts forgiven
the lack of inhibition
is given inches of shadow of doubt

That’s taken for miles

and my head’s down
so far down my hair hangs at my side
and I don’t want to be along for this ride

Where entitlement and abuse is rewarded
and nightmares grown in the dark
Where gratification and intemperance
take priority over the just and the heart

because someone has a leg up
one way or another
I can’t look anymore, can’t breathe
I’m beginning to smother.
 





You can turn a key
pull an umbrella on the rain
touch glass with a hammer
it all turns out the same

dirty games with pain in mind
second guessing at the stains
don't have to look hard to find
nothing has capacity to change

you might lift some sunshine out
long enough to dull the pain
but please, withdraw all doubt
it will always come back to rain

it's that skip in the record
the fly in the vaseline
filthy anomaly in something beautiful
you always wake up from a dream

it will bend to remain
a system with a drain
same game, different name
not a fucking thing's changed

beautiful things turned into weapons without pity
by drooling, leering machines with one-track thinking
they are handed boarding passes and keys to the city
by wealth-impressed drones even as their ship is sinking

It's the same as it's ever been
advantage taken with entitlement's grin
smiling that filthy cheshire twisted beam
but death comes to every one

even slowly rusting machines

don't be surprise when violence comes
or retribution taps at your window and door
the price you pay when you walk without wisdom
making doormats of friends and acquaintances whores

even the slimiest practitioners
are given cart blanche
and I don't find anything funny
when a sentence is finished

with "Yeah, but they've got money" 

Tummy ache

Tides shift
sands twirl

feel the grit in the air

opinions grind
and machine parts whirr

feel the grit in my hair

from my hands twisting it
from my lack of not getting it

not understanding why I'm the way I am

there's question marks after lessons
there's no answers after sessions
of why do you think the way you do

and I'm the one being asked

Why does it bother me?

Well.....
Why doesn't it bother you?

Maybe I'm not angry
Maybe I'm not depressed

Maybe I'm just thinking today

Pardon me for being unsure
Sorry for not having the cure

for what's causing me to shake my head
as I'm walking away


I'm just who I am
my face holds answers, look and see
why does it bother you?

and why doesn't it bother me?