Animal Channel.

Instead of watching actors
I watch chimps & birds.
Instead of arousing some
humanity that I don't have,
I take notes
on animal channel.

"It's not a natural life."
someone says &
they are lying.
At least the animals
don't sell fashion lines
on the animal channel.

Oops, someone got eaten.
Lordie, some babies died.
No matter how you gasp,
you're laughing inside.
It's the circle of life.
("That is so.")
On the animal channel.

Delimitation.

I look for delimitation
to freeze the moment
for close examination
of the quantum fluctuations.
It gives me weird vibrations,
as if it'd known me before,
so I ask it for more,
and it gives me the finger.
Patience is not something
I can afford.
Pushed along these narrow streets,
in & out of consciousness
as the moon sways,
and the sun bakes,
and the dance keeps go
round & round.
I've been silly before,
I will strive even more.
There's no reason, only time.
There's no rhyme, save mine.

Half & half.

I keep tripping myself.
There's a chasm
that's my wound.
How it got there,
I forgot.
Hitting that record button
to find some clues,
to remind myself.
It cuts me in the middle.
Livers, lungs, brains, hearts
all fell out.
Then there are two people
instead of one.
They're somewhere else.
I try & try to beckon them:
incentives, illusions.
Impossible task.
What if I'm more scared than
they are?
How can they come home
when I'm not strong enough?

Wouldn’t it be nice.

Not having to decide
or hear any noise.
Wouldn't it be nice
to lose weight just like that,
don't have to sit back
or look at another face.
Wouldn't it be nice.
Don't have to write another word,
or think of another excuse.
Wouldn't it be nice
to have no one to worry about
or any one to worry of.
Wouldn't it be nice.
Not having to drain another life,
or drink another Kool-Aid.
Wouldn't it be nice
to just sleep & see no stars,
don't have to endure the glares
of another desert or the injuries
of another just dessert.
Wouldn't it be nice
to just say nothing at all,
don't have to deal at all.
Wouldn't it be nice.

So what.

The brain of a melon, ass of a truck,
so what so what there's no magic carpet ride.
So what so what so what.
I forgot the words while brushing my teeth
so what so what so what.
It's all a dream, no fairness, just sirens,
so what so what so what.
When the light is dimming, the beer is spilling,
mama's crying, baby's begging,
so what so what so what.
Scan the room for things to take
throw away in the next garbage bin.
So what so what so what.
Can't get outta bed till coffee's in mind
so what so what so what.
The words & rhythms all in my head
they rebel cause I lazy get them wrong
so what so what so what.
There's a virgin land with virgin lads
to fuck & to have, God must've said:
so what so what so what. 

Keeping up.

All I ever wanted to do
is to keep up with this thing.
I never know where it will turn.
One moment, it's despair,
the next, sunbeams.
Never satisfied with good living.
So, we are stuck together.
When it's happy, I feel bad.
When it's sad, I gain insight.

All I ever wanted to do
is to keep up with this you.
So arrogant & full of pride,
yet manage to keep the light.
When they say "bow", you say "fight".
Swimming in the moment,
except when you cry.
Maybe none of it's good,
nor any of this bad.

All I ever can do is keeping up
with this life.

In-accessible.

There was a land made out of rivers & streams,
faires & star dust, sunshine through the leaves.
They froze in place as beautiful as can be,
an oasis that has become inaccessible.
The horrors of cliffs & deserts,
time stretches the distant, distorts the road.
Can't let go of finding things more beautiful,
maybe the next bleak dawn,
maybe the next broken soul.
Will it still be accessible?
Muster the strength as I grow old.
What I had was complete, long time ago.
Maybe the next wreck holds the map
and the strength to stay.
It's been inaccessible.
Not something that can be brought & sold.
Mountains of debts to cover up the guilt.
It's really inaccessible.
No-man's land in the dark, no one knows how far.
Scared of returning, paradise then death.
So inaccessible, pride & dust.

One of us.

I see a squirrel digging into an artificial lawn,
across the road a man thinks I owe him some love.
I'm still looking for a reason to be here,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

I stop my sport watch & its strap breaks.
It gives me high-five cause my heart's working great,
but I know this morning I had too much cake,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

I think on how to get noticed on clubhouse,
it gets harder to hide the resentment of the turnouts.
Layers & layers I open up, still not enough,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

Feeling tired but the videos recorded my smiles,
leaves it to others to decide my worth.
It lets up the pressure of this beautiful dark cloud,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

Road so far.

Mother taught me life's a tight rope,
so I walked it like a pro
to be a slave & keep the dough,
had some laughs, all for show.

Never really learned what love is,
read the books & saw the movies too,
alas it's not a muscle I ever use,
if I did, it must've snapped in two.

Born & raised by fear & resentment,
now it's time to bake the pie.
Told myself to stand down & pull back,
no wonder there's no such person as I.

It's different what's outside & inside,
maybe some day it will be aligned.
Life is not something to keep in hand,
spend it wisely & open it wide.