The prophet Jeremiah and Ridley Scott

I'm hurting
wounded confused
 you're the bush in the wilderness
 aimless and thirsting
but I still feel lost

 The heart is above all things deceitful
words I did not write
 but my own heart feels deceived

 And drained of whatever strength
I never realized it drew from you

 Every thought is tainted
 is brushed aside
like the life I thought i lived
was made up

 Like i'm a replicant from blade runner
and i can't accept
 the science fiction
that i mistook for happiness

 If you decide to leave
i can not follow
If you leave
you'll be taking
part of me with you

 Do you realize this?
 or have you stopped thinking at all

Separation

I want to wake up
to begin anew
in a day
that hasn't been
for years

To remember you chasing me
through the house
smiling
young
confident
happy
and remember how that ended
I got stitches in my head
but for me
that is still a good memory

But memories are long since passed
like the light from stars
in the blackest nights
stars which are dead

And we marvel
and wonder
at the good times
floating above our heads
every single night
The constellations
comforting us
like the feeling of having
my parents together sleeping
20 feet away

But light has no substance
and the stars which supernova'd
before time began
though they may comfort us today
are only hollow reminders of better times

And at some point
we must move on

But i'm afraid
that if I lost the comfort my dreams might also fade
into the vastness of space
upon which
they were first created

And now
so few things feel safe
because 20 feet away
nobody was happy
but they kept right on shining

Not yet gone
and I feel like i'm sitting on the doctors table
when I was three years old
screaming and crying
while the doctor sewed my forehead

I never wanted to hate you
not even when you chased me and I hurt myself
because I loved you
and you loved me
but now
it seems like
you're forcing me to

And I wish I could wake up
and be three
just to get
it back

An icon of the heart

Your daughter
is much more intelligent than you think
she has made her own decisions
for a long while now
she is responsible
and hard working
and loving
She has beautiful skin
She has bold eyes
Your daughter is the daughter I'd some day love to have
myself.

The daughter you pretend she is
is compulsive
emotional
immature
lazy
inexperienced
and a blight on your reputation
as a respectable member of society
and most importantly
confirmed devotee
of the Catholic faith
but

to be embarassed of your daughter
is to be embarassed of Christ himself
for she has the heart of God
and you
you can't seem to see it.

You do not have the daughter
you think you have
and I only hope
your shortsightedness

Does not push away
the best thing
you ever made

Much more beautiful
than all the 2 dimensional icons
or plastic and wooden crosses
or gold rings
or photographs
or stained glass
or incantations
and many other Holy things
which are
only objects
as Holy as the unseen heart
of their beholder

But your daughter
is better still
than all of these

Blood brick brooding

A brick wall
is a nearly perfect barrier
a red aggregate of solid
cold masonry held together with
an incredibly rough
mortar

Have you ever scraped your arm on the hardened
surface of a brick wall?
it slices right through
our delicate human exterior
and exposes the
red innards
the pink
the gash

We are weak compared to brick walls
humans
So easily tossed aside
so easily broken

There are some brick walls which have stood for hundreds of years
thousands even
but no person has ever lasted more than one century

The red in brick is
maddening
so dark
like blood
so frustrating in it's absolute boldness
and saturation

How something which started out as a viscous
mud
could be so hardened
is an affront to myself

stuck in the mud stage of life
unable to find
the warmth of sunlight

Unable to pass a seemingly ever rising
ever expanding
ever hardening
brick wall

in my life

The ups and downs of a perfect day

What is wrong with letting a whole day pass
my birthday
blue and clear
from the apex of the 2 freeway
i could see the ocean
and i said
"today is perfect"
with a slight headache
and unstable feeling
that only a hangover can give you
but with the window down i felt cured
we both did
a little bit
we walked across a bridge with painted ivy
to cover up the tags
of feral humans
the solution
of society
to cover up
what we prefer not to think of
a rusty salon chair was on the porch
of a tiny wooden house
with a weeded dried out lawn
paint chipping
glass yellowing along the frames
and not a soul in sight
and later by the reservoir
looking down at the green grass
too green
while young families tossed all manner of sports
around
and you hunched over
cause we thought of that day when you lost it
because you lost your grandpa
and I really should have let it go
but couldn't because
that was the closest we ever came
to letting each other go
but eventually you perked up
like you always do
and we threw away
our plastic cups and walked back to the car
while a woman with gardening gloves drove a wooden stake into the ground
and my mind felt aerated
just letting everything I heard and saw and smelled
into my being
and it stayed with me while we slept for hours and hours
so that when we woke up
I finally felt older
than the rainy day
before

The wisdom of age while eating breadsticks at Olive Garden

An open letter to ambition:

don't believe me
because I don't know
what it is I want
and who does?

What I want
is the aftertaste of a grapefruit
bitter, fleeting
inexplicable

You pick at me
for a laugh
and embarrassingly
I just have to take it
while you enjoy your meal

Poke at me all you want
she's going to be mine
no matter what you think
or say
or what "wisdom" is contained in your
peach fuzzed head

You two laugh
and privately complain
I laugh and privately
silently
hope

I move up
you plateau or diminish

At some point
I will have the high ground
what then,
will you say to me
red faced and aging
what then?

Acts 5

There is something wrong
when something personal
becomes a personal parade
using a stage
using emotion
to vindicate ourselves

I never seek vindication
nor have i ever thought
it was necessary
to feel the therapy of
written word

Just being honest
is worth it

Honesty that night
was a joke
sure
there were truthful things
spoken
written
whatever
but the motives were less than pure

Beware the ones who claim to be artists
beware the ones who smile when they read
beware the ones who fall in love with themeselves

Avoid them
to keep yourself pure
They risk nothing
pretending to risk everything
like the Biblical
Ananias and Sapphira
if they sought to gain anything more
substantial than
status
they would be struck dead
where they stood

I saw a group of college students
trying to have a good time
but they just looked like
nervous
actors
Dancing and smiling
using
and ultimately
losing themselves
in the pursuit of self

I allowed myself a bitter moment
these people would not have given me
a second thought
when I was their age
I know it

The popular kids don't play sports
or cheerlead anymore
they wear tights
they wear plastic glasses
they smoke

But I say look closer
because their teeth are too white

The string theory in central park

I think you and I
were part of a dimensional shift
i'm almost certain of it

remember when Marty Mcfly looked at the picture
and it disappeared
and that's how he knew

Well that day
we walked over to the park beneath
the Queensborough Bridge
our feet were
bruised
and tired because of all the miles
we had traversed that week
and a police officer was starting his shift
directing traffic
he looked at me and you
and said that he loved the weather
when it was like this
we agreed
even though our faces were frozen
and crossed the street
and sat on the bench
while a father and his son tossed a football near some townhouses
that were millions of dollars
beyond us
I bet
they cost more to buy than the Bridge did to make
but it didn't matter because we had such a short time
in this beautiful city
and it moved with the current of the water
passing beneath us
so that before we knew it the sun was setting
and we were walking through central park
passing beneath a bridge through the zoo
and by the carriages
and the lights were coming on around us
surrounded by giant buildings
and the glow of the sun on the horizon
so that it looked like we were surrounded
by a crown of golden light
and it was perfect
so perfect that I almost thought
to search for a ring
one that should have been in my pocket
one that should have been handed to you
but it wasnt there
the moment came and went
and I knew
that in some other dimension
that ring was there
but I checked my pocket time and again
and nothing ever materialized
And I was sad
not because we would never have another opportunity
but I don't know
that i'd ever see one
that good again

Too late: too soon

What good is a large orange
with thick skin
a deceptive
fruit
with suspect innards

And some days
I am an orange
already off the tree
and supposedly ripe

Filled with all the nutrients
I was given
given every opportunity
to be the best orange
so when I am seen
I will be picked
and sold

But i know
that my color and size
are just a thick peel

And now
cut off from the branch
from the vine
I grew up on

It seems too late
and I only just
ripened
too soon

Facebook events

The trouble with agreeing to be there
is the a crisis of availability.
Because I can go
will I go
The answer should be yes
but I want to say no.

The trouble with inviting people through facebook
is a loss of effort.
There was a time when going somewhere
mattered.
It mattered enough to have to call or mail invites
to the people you wanted to be there,
You had to acknowledge them
so they could acknowledge you

So today, at any given time
I am invited to 5 things
from 5 people
who only want to know
yes
no
maybe

Do you like me?
yes
no
maybe

And it's like being in school again
not important
not elegant.

Not everything will change your life
not every night was the best night
not every part was the best party
its just another one

They're called events
but they are
a grind.

Concrete support structures

"I feel like i have to like LA because if I don't, nobody will"
he said
with anger
with compassion
and it's true
nobody loves you
LA

New York is fantastic
and full of life
and flavor

San Francisco is
beautiful
and clean
and classic

Chicago
is the crown
of the midwest

But LA
is just LA
and it isn't
any of those things
But maybe
that's ok
maybe

LA is the flawed
family member
the down on it's luck friend
the oft forgotten
awkward
step child
of world cities

But it is real
it breathes
not with the sigh of mixed cultures
or passion of political past
but it burns
with its wide reaching
sprawl
it takes on the weight of more people
than of which live in it's borders
LA is not LA
but all of Southern California

It is all encompassing
rich and poor
glitz and murmur
legal and illegal
fake smiles
and dirty faces
LA is everything that it is
and it bears it for anyone to see

For all the talk of its surface
the heart of LA is where the beauty is
to watch the city at rush hour
arteries clogged
with the life blood of a region
everyone looking at the towers
the graffiti
the smog
the signs
and the abandoned factories.

LA is the past
and the present
without preservation
or kid gloves
it exists in all times

It holds much
and strains from the weight

That is why he loved LA
because LA is burdened
and alone;

Like so many of those under
it's care.

The girls who are artists

The girls who are artists
are the girls who are the most lost
and all the things they ever wanted
are in the chalk dusted pad

The boys with the journals
are the boys who never were included
in those girls dreams
and all the longing for them
was in cramp inducing poetry

These girls
these boys
they never meet
they just stare at each other as they pass

Red lights
felt canvas oil paintings
warm spirits
cold cigarettes

too much time alone

Too much time missing out
too little time moving on

the boys and the girls
they never succeed
when all they do is want success

I saw a car drive off the road
this morning
and a large man with a beard ran to help
two other cars stopped
and i wondered how my life would have changed
if i'd just pulled over

Squeezing water out of rocks

I stopped writing
for over a year
and some months
and a few days

I started writing
when I was 18
and some months
and a few days

It poured out of me then
just gushed out
of holes
like
my head had been a very old mountain
with a glacier
and it was the warmest summer
in 10,000 years

And the words continued to flow
for years
for 6 years
and some months
and a few days

And it was as if
last year
the very old mountain
was now barren
of glacial ice
and what was left behind
was dull grey conglomerate
rock

And no words came
for a year and some months and a few days
nothing came




But today

it felt like something might be left
like i still had a purpose
like i still had something to say

As if despite the dry weather
my will to pour out
will draw water
from dry rocks

Until there is just sand

The last great night that LA ever had

The city at night
the last great night
of a great era

The lights
the chill of fresh rain
of winter
of Los Angeles in
Mid December

Oh those beautiful lights
I fell in love
with you
years ago
They always fill my heart with love

When will we know?
tommorrow
next week
I have no control
I feel more wild than
the unstable air

Feral
wolflike
alone
brooding
but still
just barking at the moon.

How senseless
an act
because it will never cease
to rise
nor will
my will influence
Yours.

For wanting. For fear of expulsion.

Dont change my life
not yet
not this way

Don't let us
disgrace us
with
natural facts of life

This could be
one of the last days
of this life
After that
who knows

We'll live through it
but if this cup
could pass
I'd cry
for joy

The cradle as a cage
for you
and me
Find a way out
i'm desperately
crying out
in the darkness
for
a way out

A way to not pay for our sins
A way to defer them
I'd pray for forgiveness
but I know
that we are

But that doesn't save us
in this life

Save us
in this life
I fall asleep wanting

I fall asleep soundly
one more night in the garden
shameless
and free
I pray for many more nights
but I feel
it might be one of the last.

The wind came and swept my anger away

The winds came
and swept my anger away
the tree's cheered
and howled
and hooted
like our audience
and you cried
to see me
and I
knew
Things were gonna be ok
not yet
but soon
The next morning
trees were all over the roads
power lines were splintered
but what we have
is
only a little stronger.

The wind came
and swept my anger away
and somehow
kept us close
together.

The undeath of old things

So many people
treated you
like dirt
and for a week
they treated you like a person

They don't deserve you

They pretend to be real men
and laugh
at me
because i'm not like them

What arrogance
what hypocrisy

I'm glad you finally stood up to someone
too bad it was to the one person
who consistently stood up
for you

Hold on to the things they gave you
temporarily relieve the pain

clutch the needles
let the anchors
weigh you down
say the words
drink
the wine

And spit on me

The most selfish one

I held you all night long
and it meant nothing to you

How despicable
and embarrassing
I'd just as soon
not have arms

than have them so ignored

I watched you smile
in your sleep
I thought it was cause I was there

The smile was gone in the morning

You told me i'm selfish
it's true
I can be
the most selfish person
on the planet earth

But not when i'm with you
I'm as giving as I can be
despite
what everyone else
whispers in your ear
I am always on your side
and I have been there
for you
not just on the Holiday's
or in the midst of tragedy

No

I Love you so much
I am there for you
when there is the serenity
of ripples
on a pond.

The new word

Why have you decided to leave me now
we were walking side by side
but the two paths we traverse
were so slowly
bending away from each other
i never recognized
it
until now i have to shout
for you to hear me

I could have done things better
I could have come
closer to you
I should have
but it seemed like you were
repulsed
with every step I eventually made

Now you yell to me
"I love you!
but,"
but never used to be apart of it
now its all I hear

BUT
you need to work on some things
BUT
you need to think about me
BUT
you shouldn't have been like that

I'm sorry for those things
but
mostly im sorry
that now that you see me
the way i really am
for the first time
it's not what
you thought you wanted

Now, i'm the toy that's the wrong color
you could still play with me
but I still see
the disappointment
written all over your face

I'm not ready to give up
on us
BUT
if I'm not what you thought you had
could I ever really be?

Collectors item

Chaos is beautiful
shattering glass
cracked ceramics
random flashes
flickering fluorescent lights
all these things happen
for a reason
but they are not part of a plan

Everyone understands a crime of passion
justified or not
but premeditated
is evil
because too much control
stifles
true beauty

Boxes are wrong
everything that is in a box
belongs somewhere else
deserves freedom
and if they don't deserve it
then they deserve
to not exist

Nobody wants to be
the treasured figurine
in a
glass case

We should all strive to be
the action figure on the ground
the well worn coat with frayed
strands
the dirty cup in a sink
the yellowing white t-shirt

We love many things
and we want to protect them
but I only want you to love me
if you're willing to smudge me
scratch me
drop me
get use out of me.

But leave me out of plastic covers
boxes
cases
displays

No greater a fate
than to be a cherished item
on a high shelf.