Monday, July 14, 2014

Monday, July 7, 2014

Earplugs

See the zombified walk of kids casting downcast eyes to tempting gadgets,
out on the sidewalk avoiding talk of heat-seeking missiles,
whose parents struggle to find money for crucial combustion,
whose teachers are sued for evil or tempting eyes,
a generation that is an infirm and soothing promise to the generation before,
who cannot do anything without computers,
who sees benefits from grass picked and fostered
by hippie mystics frequently accused of wiTcHCraft,
whose main gimmick consists of here and now
but remains distracted by menacing debt,
who shuns ideas with blind eyes and
use tips of fingers as earplugs
against words waving through air,
whose nation is built on airborne steel balls
and diplomatic dick measuring,
who munch on pills for every perceived ailment,
who go through discomfort for the greater good.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Summer

Summer is here

I can tell from mom's
olive-skinned arms as
she reaches for life
in the backyard garden.

Her sun hat droops
as she bends and 
her gloves are black
from dirt.

Summer is here

I can tell from
shiny classic cars
driving down the highway -
breathing again.

Everything seems to breathe

Summer is here

I can tell from the
drunken shouting of
the couple next door
late at night.

They yell and yell,
and within an hour
it gets quiet except for
dreamy sighs of slumber.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Looking

Concrete grains indent my skin with
constellations as I sit
on the dock overlooking the lake

The westward sky is a glowing peach

Waves crack against cinder blocks,
shooting mist into the wind

I can see the flapping sails of
boats as the wind takes them

To the east, clouds form
in the darkening sky

I close my eyes and smell the sea;
I cannot smell the rain



Saturday, May 24, 2014

Tripping

I don’t know why my emotions waver like waves tumbling, tripping over themselves. How come the things that bring us suffering are often things that bring the most happiness? Through gods birthed in heads and naked people in gardens we see human existence as a turning point in the history of the universe. The urge arose that forced us think of stories more intangible than our naturalistic theories so we could have a plausible genesis for our existential confusion. We are so astounded by ourselves but we don’t always choose to believe; it’s an unspoken thing sometimes. Have you forgotten what you are?

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Memories that Remain

Imprints of hands
around my neck like
an elaborate rash of anger
and misunderstanding, drawn
to a close by an interrogation
led by people I didn't know

Women with letters after their
names, wide and bulging
eyes searching deep within me,
geographers of rivers
looking for the source of tears

Then, a long drive out, out
beyond parental responsibility,
out to a place where my father
washed his hands of me in the
white porcelain sink that was
faded with agonies

In a few hours, I met more people
qualified to prescribe MeDications,
who told me I would be there a while

There, madness was as normal as
a cherry on a sundae
It comes in different
degrees, becoming
more prominent as you walk
through the circles

Hey, whats your name?
I'm Marshall
Why are you here?
I took a knife to a kitten You?
I was too afraid to go to school
That's messed up






Thursday, May 8, 2014

Sadness

When the abyss stares back at you -
you Kurt Cobain, you David Foster Wallace -
and you feel that black hole suck your life and thoughts,
and others could never understand,
but they might

That shotgun and rope starts to
tempt and neither God nor Boddah
could save you from the void

You'd rather throw your works of art
out the window with your soul, replete
with ignored or forgotten success

Nothing - not even success,
not even thoughts of
lovers present or past
can withstand the sucking gravity

Thoughts become a burden,
emotions run in crazed frenzies,
and it doesn't matter if they are
good or bad

Thinking is a sign of life
and life can be so unfortunate