I keep forgetting

things aren’t the way they were

though you didn’t understand me back then

or for that matter,

did I even understand myself


I don’t even comprehend

the difference between now and then

other than you did everything to stop me

from a win

and demanded in private

that I defend to the end my pride

or as you claimed my arrogant stride


I don’t have the co-dependent illness

of a dictator; I’m a force of nature

I don’t rule over rubble

And human loyalty is as fickle as a bubble

So you don’t have to make me king

By the way, screw the crown;

I don’t need the bling


American Democracy is a mockery

We change leaders every few years

to keep the rioting at a minimum

but even with the backing of Christendom

this form of politics is like a cake mix

cause building from scratch

takes care and effort

humanity accomplishing that is like finding

manna in the desert

My legacy will die with me, and, frankly, I can’t see how that isn’t fitting. Obviously, I don’t like it here. No use in leaving anything behind after I depart.

You are the kindness that trumps forgiveness

The bread for the malnourished

Your beauty a panegyrist for the dearly departed

who was downhearted before bearing witness

Your touch brings merriment

and a feeling of profoundness

like the double-slit experiment glorifies unsoundness

it’s a particle; it’s a wave:

“It’s the outcome of a wishy-washy brainwave…”

With empathy, you can make the beast behave

and the unbreakable concave

who then have to gather in a conclave

to make sense of you

then their inner bitterness will ensue

but you’re sweeter than cough drops for the flu

and your charitable smile you strew

Gorgeous in the same way something is enormous

Like the universe is anything but terse

You can unite those that curse and disperse

And put a person’s self-hatred in a hearse

or like a wet-nurse bring peace to the forsaken and feeble

Like Jesus, they claimed you were sent by Beelzebul

But that is just bull

You are amenable and too gentle to do the reprehensible

tit for tat

Junkies half-ass doing everything

Hopeful flunkies

They flunked the school of life;

at their max effort, they managed to average Ds

always counting the blunders of others

pissy mood mixed with lighthearted uppityness

I sense their bitterness as though it was the funk of slovenliness

every deed against them cost fees

they are so special they need Karma on speed dial

until the bitch turns on them

soon after they will be just something else she slew

but that they already knew

that is why if their life was a profile

it would be on private

cause when Karma strikes them

they barely survive it

hard to turn life into a cute quote

under a picture of a fake smile on scene

when they are barely afloat


What are you trying to say?

You acting fussy;

Someone call your mother a hussy?

Your mind is so mussy

Know that love will conquer all

Your enemies shall fall

No need to stand atop insults to feel tall

Everyone’s time will come

But you can learn from your mistakes

while you weed out the fakes

from your inner circle

It is all so simple; why are you so angry?

Did your hussy of a mother practice polyandry?

I’m appalled at this two-faced hostility, frankly.

Sometimes your writing is almost godly

but then you turn oddly

and broadly speaking your arguments are self-seeking

stop declaring war on the world…

Psych Ward patient with too much patience

Nothing but psychopaths running the floors

Intelligence is a determent

when trying to discuss a mental impairment

“If you can talk about it, you can stop it”

If that was true every addict

After confession and kneeling to holy writ

Would be clean for good


Insanity suits me;

it’s roomy like a luxury suite

bigger than the box most

live and die in

but you can’t tell from an Instagram post

Big suites and party pools

boxed minds only understand a system of rules

so a pic and scripted behavior is all

they can manage in the most spacious places


They cover up the actual

and fabricate the truth

then broadcast that to the nation

the crazies know that

There is what happened

Then there is how everyone reacted

If history is written by the victor

It isn’t what was done

but what was done about it

That matters the most to the authors

Groundhog day?

But you knew that already

Everything is scheduled and every schedule

A figment of progression

in a world of repetitiveness


Screw how old you are

How many times have you felt that feeling just now

experience Monday morning jitters,

or maybe that chilly nip of a cold response


“You idiot. Why did you say that?”

But how many times have you said that

As though it was a fact you should

Know better

Then everything starts over

And you do ‘better’


The older you get the colder you are

Nah. More like the more immature you get

You devolve inside a world of passionless

Unimaginative drivel

—drowning in death’s womb

Cause you were told after a certain

age you are old

And dare I say was bold

enough to stupidly agree


Young adults drink until they are stupid

As though carrying

the survivor’s quilt of veterans

Then at 30, their back aching is a sign of decline

It’s not the body;

it’s the mind learning to recline

Taking it easy until only

the grave is desperate enough to flirt

Spirituality = religiosity³

Kinda disclaimer: not aiming to be too anti-religion or spirituality. I just had an odd encounter with a spiritual teacher today and these are some of my thoughts written out and adorned.

I wonder. Is it true:

“If you can preach it, then

You haven’t reached it.”


They are fussy over just a little bit

of their humanity being exposed

while they expose humanity

in all its naughty ways


Morality corrupted the savage

on average he just uses his own being

as a victim to devastate


“don’t speak out of turn

and when it is your go to burn

take accountability” which means

let them ravage without making a fuss

swallow your will to survive

let it sink slowly like hot coal down the throat


A ‘good’ cow walking to the slaughterhouse:

you hear the cries from the dying

maybe your ears are lying

 those aren’t your tears; you can’t be crying

you did everything right

heaven is a foot away; mind the slippery floor

Only the unworthy are slain, right?

you are up on deck, next to bat

the fat, cleaned bones, and gristle of the last reject

lie before you.

The stage is yours; the spotlight warm

“I would like to say—”


Every lamb thinks it’s a savior

Almost 8 billion like you, but only you

know what a select few (your friends)

are willing to accept?

“If you have ears to hear and eyes to see

…this particular hue of obscurity

then you are enlightened”

if you were honest

that is what you would promise


You would like to say—

but the mob is ready for a fray

so, no matter how inspired the word

the ax that comes down upon your neck

is the objective truth considered heaven sent


That is what you are preaching:

Contentment with being slaughtered

You speak of saints and saviors

cause dead men have the best behaviors

And can do no misdeed

Scribbles of a Mad Man pt 6

I am no exit.

Though I speak as though I found the way out.

Through me is a depth, an abyss

a continuation deeper into the mist

No, more accurately, I am no doorway

I am a peephole into the great unknown

I spoke to your futures and damned your idols

I am nothing but a turncoat like our founding fathers

New thought requires burning old bridges

I am what it is to forsake that which loves to isolate the forsaken


Legends never die

But history never knew them

Caricatures live on in the books

While the icons rot in coffins

They speak the language of maggots

and absolute patience

the legends are still with us, just irrelevant

in comparison to the idea of them

if bones could speak they would sing the blues

the same body we loved becomes disposable

when it no longer operates as desired


I don’t like apologies

Don’t beg me for forgiveness

There was blood in the water

You showed your true nature

Savage. A soul so ruthless

It’s not a judgment call to not want to be near ya

For I am human fueled by blood and water

My very essence tempts you


Human all too human is what I am

Naughty thing to admit to

It seems we all hate humanity

Who doesn’t want a better tomorrow

As though our gloomy days were just an error

We want to perfect something nonexistent

So humans feud and are fussy

With each other. Petty battles keep us calm

like the sound of a baby rattle to a newborn


When a sense of morality increases in a community

The death total skyrockets

Scapegoats are burnt more regularly

The devil is blamed for behavior

A day ago was praised as a sign of blessings

Now that is a demon in ya?

When before it was the bliss of Hennessy


A community is a plague on the environment

a cancerous tumor hell-bent on growing

praising the almighty as we act flighty

with our resources and elemental forces

daydreaming zombies on the hut for productivity

the act of doing just to do

add the toxicity of money for labor

now you are moving with purpose

but the money is fiat along with society

so you are just doing deeds just to do them promptly

to get nothing but paper in return to clear debts

that exist because you won’t stop moving

Walking through the depths of hell

They are the stale water with a bitter taste

in a small bottle

—the journey is an eternity

Drink too little and get a committal

to the grave

Drink too much and you will vomit

Sickness or death—is that a choice?

The term ‘social creature’ is a shibboleth

for those with the solitary might of baby’s breath

against a house of cards

It’s not like I completely despise socialization

but just like toying with evocation

talent and caution is needed

maybe even a mediator and translator

to make sense of the war after a well-intended

but poorly executed comment later


So you did everything to attempt to destroy me

You failed; though was hailed as the victor

Now that I am on the attack

You want mercy as though it is a common courtesy

You can curtsy but you have little worth to me

Can’t respect the honor of an opportunistic dive bomber

Rules of engagement are a figment of upper management

and tit for tat is for the riffraff

I have much worse in mind—no everything isn’t fine

Acting as if we are one as though equality is a commodity

sharable between us is a frivolity

Your sanity is better used as your pacesetter

Keep yourself first; only you need to be the electorate

Over your affairs;

shifting opinions are them playing musical chairs

follow the trends and soon make amends

if you have to indulge in the popular be sure to cleanse

Take what you want; take everything

All possessions real or sociological—

is cornmeal for the diabolical

it’s illogical to think even a single follicle of hair

isn’t worth losing to an enemy—even one who is a debauchee

let them have it; your abundance will have them thinking

they run this with little risk; keep them fat

off of your dividends or odds and ends

then strike as quick as chilled and brisk winds

Such absentee parenting

meriting national recognition

it’s discouraging to think nothing is embarrassing

or it’s comforting in a wild way to think we are on the brink

above self-destruction; self-destructive reductions

is our fix for consistently feeling we are malfunctioning

A need for perfection is a mindset dipped in abjection

what does all that mean?

go easy on yourself; no test to pass and the awards

are a house of cards; history will screw up your life

like music on scratched records


No matter how beautiful the web

The smart butterfly will despise the art

It’s akin to silky phlegm on display

A soft breeze in its direction and the insect is prey

Nature is frail and cray while bursting at the seams

An abundance of beauty and carnage; a self-consuming buffet


When you move differently they will stalk relentlessly

But is its scorn or an insidious attempt to adorn

to obsessively mimic is a human trait that is inborn

aggressively protesting is a gimmick for the cynic

to indulge in the sin of the sinner being burned

“he is bad for doing that…so let me do the same act

And react as though my hypocrisy isn’t a fact.”


I prayed for friends my whole life

until I learned to acquire them

But the extreme depths of socialization

gives me the bends

If not a form of decompression sickness

I suffered from the frostbite after simple mingling

Frigid waters don’t have to be deep to chill the soul