Poems∙2014-2016

My fearless wolves pulled me on my sled, way past you and your weak horses, only dragging you in and out of circles. While I am way out west, wild and better than the best. Feel free to steal my sunshine, and warm your own. But, here comes the night, the night we pass like strangers, cold minding our own. Until I stop you in your tracks, and show you a smile, so that is how you can remember me, if you feel to, all the while. I’m happy my wolves pulled, not dragged me all this way, only to say, there’s more room on my sled. -Chris Fabbri 2012

The Awakened Two (2014-2016)
January 2014
meditation, creation, and anti-violence
Been a long time. Everything is in it’s right place.
these are my strengths, not my weakness
…put aside all differences, all fears,
all worries, and just go for it.
Make the most out of Life.

February 2014
Meditate with me with,
it takes only a moment to realize, it’s Our Earth. Home.
Swimming on pearly waves, walking in past the shore, it’s Earth. Our Home.
Now, Up to past our thighs and reaching for the sky, Mother Earth.
When we are living within a real artist here, we are not to put her down.

In the warm eyes of a San Francisco Winter bliss,
lives the strength of Spring, so sweet – to arise to our Summer eyes.

March 2014
The evening sky approaching, boys of the Summer
playing, washing memories in and out, sipping big cans of beer,
I remember them asking me to paint metallica in their underground tree house

what old friends meant, long ago I lament, above and beyond
flowers and candles, only old songs and new ones, and the fat Summer sun
over and over again, the sun falls and warmer days shine, undeniably
yours and mine

I woke up from a vivid dream, to singing birds outside my window,
I dreamt I was walking side by side, in the city, with my Father,
he was the same age as me, dressed in 1950s clothes.
I looked at him once in the dream, and he glanced at me and I woke up.
I remember the crush crunching sound of cement meeting our sneakers,
slushing on every step. We had no place to go and no worries.

You know you got soul, when the reason you came
was only to dance and meet interesting people
make requests like prayers, light and watch candles melt
with a loved one, you got it, walking like it’s the last night on Earth
it’s not where you’re from, it’s where you’re at

When the gardens are never looked at …
and the mountains of neglect are lived upon,
the bridges become hardly admired anymore,
and our only hope blooms with life in the early Spring,
with the notion of a settling memory to appear
on the face with a gentle smile, from a distant friend, all the while.

I paint, as if, I kindle a fire of hope and desire,
not a man can snuff out the serene light that my fire finds,
nor to tempt me to draw, any more or less,
then what my heart beats, to live on for tomorrow.

April 2014
Back to my roots, painting outside in my leather boots.
I’m three thousand miles away bro’, on top of Mount Diablo.
The kids they catch me and want to take a look, they see I’m painting
what will be in their art history books.
I take look into the sun and see my own skin,
tanned to the way, an elephant’s grin.

I shine like the sun, on the gleam of a cloud.
White as a dove, sitting in peace,
in a fearless flight, with only my love.
It isn’t like it used to be, on a one hit parade.
You got to fight for your rights and stand for what you believe in,
even if it rains.

There is a place, I like to go, and watch the lonely sun arise.
There’s a show I like to hang out at,
the one that make’s you pay, to get inside.
Booked through May and my white teeth could care less, bite me deep.
Disrespect me, hurt me, and leave me alone to burn
on the street, in the heat of the big fat California sun.
So, Leave a scar, so years later I can brag about it in your smoked out car.

Driving into the past, seeing the falling sun,
only to squint, to focus and see where it’s from,
Living in the Now, seeing us in a time, yet to come.

Laughing tears, with your daughter, on your knee,
music in your ears so gentle sweet,
and it make me wonder how, how could a God,
do this to you, all your life, and all of mine.

I see you got a woman, to call my mom,
you came from a poor part of town.
I never thought of you, as a fool.
You cried when you laughed, so hard.
Dad, the joke on you, must of been true.
No rumor could spread faster.
No rhyme or reason could rhyme as sad.
Sitting on your bed of truth. The weather was bad.
You cried so hard, when they laughed at you.
You cried out tears and smiled in laughter pools.
So, cry on me now, and show me some love,
after all this time now. You’re still not a fool.
I bet you are flying high, right now, and it makes me want to try.
We jumped on you, when you fell to the ground.
Wet soil, hard as gold, soft as clouds.

Silver lady got, sparkles of no hope, you cheapen my high.
And you don’t have the guts to mention my father,
in your gallery of desire
and in these trees of shade, faded flesh to grey.
Laughing tears out, happily disgraced.

Kindle ears with hope, non-violence and pure enlightenment,
watch your good self evolve, keep happiness in your holler above.
See your bad self clasp to cold mirror windows, only to see yourself,
become anew to another day, and simply feel blue form to black to grey.
Waves crash, heavily and end near my small toes, gently.
I stand up looking into the stream of an old light beam, it makes me sneeze.
You clinch up my chin and I see you raising your hands in Love, singing
let it be

Kim, Keith and Kevin
grew up in the coldness
jack frost nipping at their noses
they never felt the sun
touch their skin like gold

Jerry, Dan and Mike
went for a hay hay ride
they never had to worry
who will drive

Shawn, John and Bridgette
all did away by surprise
the moment I heard, I didn’t cry.
Only tears built up in my eyes

David and Dave, and some others
I do not know
took themselves out
in ways I wouldn’t know

Me, myself and I
got out of worlds
Where everything was struggling
even the rich Italian girls

You, you and you
remembering the snow
how we used to play
watching Rudolph’s nose glow

We know that if
you don’t hear the music
You’ll think the dancers mad
with every drum kick, stars look rad.

Some look upon the bottle
others look upon the sun
our days have just begun.
We only live once.

Negativity doesn’t exist
in a smile of the bliss
write a little novel
and don’t forget to mention this.

Another day for you and I, in paradise.
Let’s go sit out by the ocean,
let’s let the sun sink into our eyes.

There goes a wave,
crashing to the sand dollars, that we save.
No place to go besides heaven,
let’s look up and count the clouds, I see eleven.
Ships are sailing and surfers are surfing,
Cranes land and waddle in the ocean air, mist bursting.

Blue Suede Hair, Let it Be, Give People a chance
Instant coffee is gonna you, Imagine there’s no 9-11

May 2014
Fruity Pebbles in your hair
with two bananas like a halo
after a party, we walk in the air so clear,
old Spring new Summer, making the gardens grow
out of the hills we count crosses in the road,
into the smiles, beyond the past and distant miles,
waking up to a new day with you, us two,
warm in the breeze of blue, sunshine so soothes.

Wondering about the new days to come,
walking on new land and living in new places
built by new hands.
Simple plans and baby carriages
Proportions and graceful distortions
out of the old, and in with the new
framing old drawings, to be hung in June.
Measured in a spot that locks, visions and compositions.
Crying tears of laughter in a sunspot

June 2014
We ride through hills and watch the sun spill
heat to our skin and warmth to our new beginning,
years have passed and waves have crashed
fences built and boundaries are still
some things we can change, some things we can’t.
When the music changes to a new beat
and the electric waves hit our poor city.
We wake up and say good tidings, all over again.

I guess I’ll take a walk, as the sun goes down
and go for a shot up in the sky, on some higher ground
and watch the birds fly, all around.

July 2014
Life is a blessing.
I saw you, undecided, uninvited and in old photos, burnt on the edges.
Blown out, just in time, to save the expression you left behind, a gold mine.

August 2014
The rain will wash away our chalk drawn hearts.
Imagine that, kneading like a cat, biting like a dog.
Can’t buy me love, even on penny lane.
Giving peace a chance, oddly the same, pockets empty in heaven.
Giant clouds hover over and the day ends.
Moons shine and the night begins, calling out my name
on a new climb, crossing mountain ranges on paths divine.
Summer never ends on this side of the street.

Playing on a dead man’s guitar
trying to remember the words he sang
I’m sitting in a dead man’s car
trying to remember the songs he sang

I’m sitting in a dead man’s garage
all of the night I played his strings
all of the night I played his chords
but I couldn’t remember a word he sang

Now, I’m sitting at dead man’s funeral
all I remember are the words he sang
I’m sitting here remembering every word he sang
not one word was left unsung

Sitting on the lawn of a rich man
Living on with the memory I was given
Words to live by and songs to sing
I’ll never forget playing my friend’s guitar

I’ll never forget the words he sang
Making me feel good again
Sitting on the beach watching the waves
I’m sitting on the beach, remembering my friend

My love stays with me on a gloomy day
She sings me songs and makes the clouds go away
Beautiful sand castles surround us just the same
Each brick paved a way that carves our name

September 2014
Sitting in an old man’s garden
wondering what he planted
to make us feel nourished,
to make us alive and good inside.

Sitting on an old man’s rocking chair
looking at the view he grew
plants and flowers,
bird feeders and rose gardens.

Sleeping in an old man’s bed
dreaming of what once was
and what will never be again.
Sleeping through time, thinking from an old man’s mind.

Stepping into an old man’s boots
lacing up the warmth of his youth
feeling each step as I hunt
feeling the sun fall, cold like mud.

Stealing another day to live in survival
feeling the clouds move, in and out of style
pails of sand shape our home
only survival, all the while.

Standing up and crawling to the sea’s shore
Swimming with the sharks and opening the ocean’s door
drifting to the light, gleaming up above
drawing a ripple in the water, feeling in love.

October 2014
There’s a left hand, living
wanting to feed the outside, loosening the spout
Weak and wound up, every day
The weakness gives in, and strength is what I’m about

It’s a brand new hose for a Christmas gift, watering the garden
There’s your thanks in taking my weak hand for nothing,
For nothing comes from nothing, and in the blackened silence
lives the evenly distributed cream, blinking, everlasting, unseen

After the years of calculations, stoned in honor
Living as if the dead live within me, on my last shift, facing demons, yelling, ‘take my early pine’
Showcase my young heart and kindle a dear photo of mine for later,
when beers be well from cheers and when ponders proclaim
watching the puddle form, good luck sailor

Diamond in the rough
Something’s hidden, that shines alone
The final cut hasn’t been made, so
It just sits there outgrown

never seen
It has potential to change the situation, on the ground
It hovers by it’s self waiting to be found
There’s a finger ring for it to rest on or a dress to be pinned upon

I see you, there it is, like a dead body, a limbless touch
like a snake I sliver my arm out to attack, and snatch
the diamond in the rough

November 2014
The orange mug shot smashed onto the light blue city rain drops
like a pop-out of no-where, surprised in a rainbow, it just appeared
and the young lady was jumping from this taxi, to this limo and back again.
Only finding comforts of heaven tattooed on her fingers reading love and pain.
Gasping weak to the mist of clouds over hotel lights, like lousy sour cream
blinking names. In red white and blue cheers, so mello-bright. I,
fabulously brilliant, and Picasso engaged, in a place, like moss-filled fields.
Feeling jeweled in a cool breeze without a surprise. Love so-insides.

Life’s cares drift away on the peaceful waters
I’m a head in your crowd, dear artist
I’m ahead of you, I’ve been so, some time now
You construct a wall and block me away,
on the same day, a new friend, opens a garden’s gate
Blood leaves turn to yellow and brown from an Irish green
and sun soaked yellow. We are to laugh in good humor, fellow,
if you know not what I mean, or what is good, or in-between,
please travel more and learn about expression
and what is properly understood. Music in seasons,
like clean water, beautifully pleasing.

guilty of looking to the past
guilty of living in the present moment
guilty of looking to the future
innocent of living life
happiness is a step away

December 2014
So dark, so early. Blue lights flicker on the walls, like a white dove
calm so I come to, sitting in front of a new tune
she eases out the pain. So dark, so early.
Understanding me, driving, pouring out the last dime
it’s sleeping time, catching up, in smooth results
everything was, as it can be, a great seal, a modern treasure
smiling at the work you do, remembering that day through the Winter rain
hitting my brain, like the sun’s still glow on the old Spring rose.

The Awakened One (2015)
January 2015
The sun rises to a warm climb, past our eyes
Deep in my brain I swell, in Winter wonder
I stop awhile and enjoy how it owns the skyline
Dark in your cell, I dwell, in wondering what to tell
All the while, we’re watching the fire rays wrestle
Feeling each heat wave, rise up, as a snow cone like vessel
Dropping survival tactics on us, keeping us fed up
New days keep becoming and we gather around like nothing happened

sleeping in my cardboard box,
feel free kick me and wake me when Spring has sprung,
maybe then your energy will make me feel able
to get out of this cold funk that I’ve been in and get some sun,
until then, I’ll be passed out, into a beach-nut baby-land, curled up
dreaming of that unpaved road that brings me to laugh again in some familiar place.

February 2015
The mannequin’s of time never move,
only the breeze through the trees can soothe.
The calming before the storm takes a turn,
rain falls on the mountains that burn.
The battle ends, and peace begins.

March 2015
Couldn’t go astray on this day.
The painter the poet and the colorist gather.
One looks to the other with the mask on
laughing at what matters, definition and calming.
A wild scene with emulsion hanging
and astonishing gels to layer and lather.
The painter paints a picture
with a meaning and a new beginning.
The poet writes like …
Here comes the Spring again, walking in the open breeze,
we walk to a new land of hope and new emotions.
The colorist takes photos
and saves them to look at some another time.

April 2015
Dreaming of being lost in the city of peace
people are smiling, but not at me
I got to get out of here,
but no one will help me and my bag has gotten heavy
Elevators and escalators, streets and concrete
I know not where I am now, but I’m close to that art gallery
I’ll pawn all the gold I got and meditate on the beach,
the sand is soft, the waves are lost
No one is around and the end of the world has begun
My Dreams always ending with me in a lazy gate
with no fresh air in my lungs
Walking to no-where, homeless and hungry, I sit and wait
Warm breezes silk by me and I smell the restaurants left over food
I sit in some place, close to all the businesses
and I feel like a good dude
To be near people again, smiling back,
and children’s laughter seeps in
A guitarist, fat and dumb-tuned, waits with me for applause
but there’s nothing to learn but the musician is depressed
Lonely like the street signs and with swirly fire eyes he cries
I curl up inside and never come out of this un-Earthly smile

May 2015
And you are…? Some contract built dreamer you are.
You’re hell out of tune, not to mention style. Bad bar.
Yet, I breathe in that air and exhale care.
Never did see any other press about you,
only a depression,
a lost temptation.
Yet, I see the sun and feel it’s heat.
Everyone’s eating, and I can’t place my order,
because you’ve been yelling the last few hours,
and not stage diving.
Beautiful flowers drenched the air,
soft cells grow near and the lonely pages of books
burn
out
circles of hope.

bang bang gang gang
Good bye friends and hello family
Lots of rules in school
I’m no Liberace but I can sit on the keys of a piano
vanity betrays us I suppose says the ugly man to his children
Must of been a good time to have photoshop easels in France
You threw a paper tear into Monet’s pond trying to watercolor it
Bansky threw a shopping cart and a construction cone into it
I’ve thrown myself into it
No battles here, my dear
only beaches of love

June 2015
Silent journey breeze
You can clean away your wishful eyes
and rock away in a half made bed. Posters all a-slant.
You can walk anywhere you want to young man
just remember someday, just like this,
yes, the bright one you see right beside yourself
now outside your window, may never be lit the same.
You can all be huge and move, and make music too.
Easy like the giants living on the ocean floor, trading sounds for
millions of miles to get into the universe and come back out of it again.
Oh, just to get back to your very same place, to be called unique again,
altered into a new brain, pushing new blood out of your heart,
swimming out and into someone else’s body.
Mirrors see you smiling again and all glossed up,
looking young again. Jazzed in a sway, in the way you walk
while singing how the team lost, the game, that grey old day

Cold, like a bike ride over the Charles,
bragging about it in bios, just the same,
frost bit and not remembered, I’ve
forgotten feelings of walking in that cold old snow,
crunch crunch, mittens and art cases held, wobbling.
Black boots and red noses, only now, in sun tan lotion.
Miles of memories are gone, poems felt better
when I read them out loud –
Poor as I was, it was all I was just judged for.
Now, in calm breaths
the beauty I take care of, rests,
in the arms of a deadly charm,
laughing in our sun lit garden.
Your wall map, full of dirty dreams of pins and needles,
showing insignificant funds,
and my dirty hands, I rub.
Each day a butterfly flew through our garden,
on thoughts of peace and taking our next calm breath

July 2015
Unsung, you hearten me more each day
Living on, with a helmet on and leaving that dark dawn
Traveled West and took none of your gang with me
Only a memory of you happily walking before me
on swampy tracks of nonsense with your camera smashed like pumpkins
Seeds left useless, and the noise you made in your parent’s basement
goes unnoticed. I’d jump into my time machine zoom away
and never see you again.
I drove the high road and watched you down below unload your uploads to no-ones.
Don’t dare make a mockery of the educated, smiles blocked with holiday lights
My prayers are said and a pencil’s led can’t prove the poison you injected.
Driven mad, happily in my glowing sun, resting without the knowledge of your safety.
The streets were made for walking, the roads are private too,
better use the cross walk in the heart of a city, bruised

Working on my breathing, yoga and meditation
Enjoying each moment, living in the now
I stand up, plant a foot in the ground and watch the dirt and dust settle all around.
Looking around this town,
I see many of you enjoy looking at my frown,
apposed to my stylized smile.
If you’re in my path, or place (or something)
or in proximity to or juxtaposition with,
your blind eyes see through me and you enter nirvana,
I’m not following your bliss.
I see you are comment-less, I’ve made you speechless,
count your days, (grabbing the sun) stay tuned to this.

I see the people that try and keep things so neat and clean
tend to be the dirtiest people in history.
They don’t want to include anyone outside their own family.
They play games with cards, unknowingly playing without a full deck.
They ignore me, block me off, and they laugh I bet.
Then they weep alone in the glasses filled with the past

An Ocean of happiness roars to me
as I sink deeper into your weak castle made of sand
and now my friend, the road must come to an end.
Lament for my brains, so far fetched,
I’m up to my neck with cheap lives eating at my thighs
I puckered up my last breath and closed my eyes
One last roaring wave cuts through me and off goes my head
Back and forth, side to side, now floating about its’ current, still alive
My eyes still open and ears wiggling, sponge-like for instance
My mouth starts to pray, Our Father who art in heaven
Suddenly a rubber boot hits me in the jaw
Pollution I draw, sunken to the core, let me finish my prayer
… It means more.
My life left on an Ocean floor
Last I heard, were voices saying “Throw Him Away”
I gasp for air and blood rises to the surface, hooray,
like Cheerios in milky cereal. Sunk into an Ocean of fear
Murdered and still gasping for air.
My headless body sinks deeper and deeper into your rich sand castle,
Skin torn and bare

I’m shackled and chained, taking tiny steps to my grave –
I pray, what bad humanity had done once, may it never, again.
For the good of all creations, I walk in silence, link after clink –
To my death, I see on a large tree, with a rope waiting for me –
Never, again, to breathe. I step in dirt, spit and germs,
brave like a horse when it runs, I got no more time left on this Earth.
No love in my lungs to yell out my surrendering –
I’m being pulled, paused and told to wait my turn.
This infamous hill is too steep to climb,
but I must, to die and leave this time.
It is my time, these soldiers yell, something about a “belt” and “throat”
They leak on me and put me down, in past tense.
I look up and see no belt, only rope and an old oak tree, they got me.
Soon I’ll be history, I see I’m next, this climb to the dark ditch in the hill –
The tree leans on-ward to no-future and is used to shiver the giggles from
those evil men below, laughing as I fall, tug, clasp and gravity pulls me below.
Angels carry me away, pushing my chin –
away from looking back at that sin. I float to heaven and feel great
hearing good angels sing my name

I am a guitar,
Jimi Hendrix burned me alive –
Kurt Cobain smashed me to pieces –
What will you do? Keep me in tune?
Fiddle on me to form a little ditty?
No one really listens to you, while you’re trying to sing over me –
So, keep me in my case and wrap me up in lace.
Give me to a child and maybe I’ll work for them, in a little while,
in a new style.
I have no heart, only veins from neck to sorrow –
I have no spine, only wiggly wires and a warped in and out body –
Some use me to make their millions
but I’m greased, cleaned, rubbed and plugged into big speakers
I can only do so much, I can only play roughly 12 notes
Play it again Sam, You just snapped a string

I’m a castle made of sand
That you can’t ruin
The children that built me
Live inside me
I’m taller than the Empire State Building
and wider than the widest mountain
I’m here forever, so get familiar

I’m a drum set, that you’ve beaten silly
I hope I look good in your studio, shiny and silvery
Braces and brackets, staged and with a carpeted floor and all –
My snare skins are stretched, cymbals tightened,
tap my hi-hats, crash my cymbals, bass in your face
tune my snare, twiddle your sticks in the air, as you just sit there
Bang me, feel my drums, bare it all like at a parade
Keep the beat, to build me
It’ll take money, every tom tom,
Every beat you break, pots and pans
Sticks and stones, sample me and use what you want
I am a Drum machine now, no more little drummer boys are around
No more of that old song, just behind us, should be a gong.
Get it on

I’m a blanket, wrapped around you, keeping you warm.
I’m all around you, looking into your skin and counting your freckles.
You tuck me and tug me, pull me and rub me, I’m your blanket.
I’m what you dream in, I’m around you when you decide to sleep in.
Parts of me are made of cotton, clean and spotless, cozy for your baby.
I’m covering up, what you want hidden, I’m a blanket, built to hide,
and I stayed with you during the long tough ride. I’ll dry you off.
I’ll absorb what moisture you left behind. Wrapped around your mind,
quilts and towels are my cousins, quicker picker uppers, carpet lovers,
always there, like a cat likes to scratch, laying flat and folded sideways.
I’ll secure you, and I’ll do my best, to keep you warm,
but the wind makes me a kite out of me
and I could fly out of sight, from your hands, torn

I, Slept all day, so, I’m up all night
Oh, that makes me the awakened one
I’ll change everything over night in full flight
I’m your friend that can’t get any shut eye
I’m up for jogging at 3 in the morning, hot coffee brewing
I’m walking in meditation, while thinking my flying
Feeling my body soak up the energy with every breath, coasting
I am the awakened one, casting my fishing line before the sun rises
I’m singing skip to my lou my darling and zippity doo dah
here in the early morning, before the crows start squawking, boo yah!
I’m up while the owls are hooting, I’m break dancing on egg shells, grooving.
I got mountains of laughter and echoes of celebration
I’m up and awake, ready for this fine day
I’m ready to take on the walking dead
I’m awake and out of bed. I’m not dead
yet alive instead.
So come along jogging and join the parade
of hyper young lunatics dancing on waves
or get on the roof of the car and say
In your loudest voice, I’m awake! I’m awake!

I’ll be Mona Lisa pretending to be Davinci in drag
I’ll shave my eyebrows, put my back to the valley
and lift up my veil, I’ll steal millstones and grind my smile on flowers grown
I’ll smile with perfection, lift up your heart, bare your legs,
swim through the streams. I am a still-dream. Wet in-seems
You be the viewer, watching me fuss in the blackened mirror
ah, my wig isn’t straight, oh my chin is too chalked
Look what my money bought, my upper lip, bitten.
Steal me, to make me famous, frame me in history, hands of misery
…mock what hours it took to develop me
My other painting, is of me fishing.
I’d rather be wishing, a spray can or a Campbell’s soup can
Hold still, I can’t get your right cheek and your Davinci triangle
All the while, I’m a master in disguise
a genius that can hold his iPhone in one hand
and film the right hand painting, all the while, smiling.

I am the sun and you are the clouds
Diving down are my rays, shine on, flowered one, shine on
Yes, you are the clouds, jeweled in moisture blue and midnight tunes
You drift from la dee da land to beach nut baby land
and all the way back again. You shade and cool
But I am the sun, and I burn you, sky blue.
I tan you first and then fry you second
and third, I put in rainbows in you, and out of your mind.
Moving closer, and closer and closer – each and everyday
I sing the old song, Shine on you crazy diamond
as you hover in front of me, we’ve been doing this
for only God knows how long, I’m going away now.
Circling and so on, until life developed some how
rise and shine
I am here for you to bask in – anytime.
you bring that cool feeling like me sometimes

I am a fisherman
without any fish
the weather is bad
and the water, polluted …
But I have a memory
about when I was ten
the water was fresh,
I put the worm on the hook
but still, no fish.
I’d sit there all day
watching the waves, and I decided
I’ll
Roll in my cast, and to this I felt a tug
a sign of life, a hungry soul, skipping in whispers, saying
You got me.

I’m a fish, hanging on to your line, as you wish
So reel me in, into your life, gut me and fry me, and feed me
to the hungry. Don’t make a buck off me, don’t mean to hurt me,
just let me be, your last meal, happily, if that may be.
I’m still hanging on to your line, fighting to stay alive,
I’ve lost in this sport, here I am, with a hook through my gills
I’m flipping out, gasping for air, into your boat, I land,
I’m flapping for goodness sake, and you step on me,
and you twist and yank that hook from my smile
and you pick me up, and your friend takes a picture of you and I, kissing.
You flip me and I flounder, spotted and in stinging washes
You set me free, to live my life as I wish, simply as,
a fish.

I am now an ancient light house, at work –
still standing after all these years, still singing, shining.
I am a huge tower, built to emit light.
I am made of ocean-lamps and sea-lenses
I’m a navigational statue, pilots need me.
I’ve been here awhile, shining all the while.
Saving lives, like a fence for a butterfly
to find its own way, in flight to the new water-way
I’m to mark dangerous coastlines, reefs, and harbors –
My mind is like an orbit of modern electronic strobe lights, bubbling
Read Me, Read Me. this is the only signal I give. Read Me. read…
To this, humans comply, I salute, follow aside and re-path to know,
correct direction to glow

August 2015
Sometimes I look at the ceiling
And think, it could all come crashing down on me, any second
I’m a bored teenager, I’m an over paid business man
A baby being washed in a kitchen sink
Leaning way back in my leather chair
Thinking of the calm breeze in my suburban home
I’m the chef, cookin up a storm, yelling
If you can’t take the heat, get outta the kitchen
bitchin, spittin, slappin spatulas and pitch forks around
Like they’re goin’ outta style,
like famous fingers in paint at a painting party
or the infamous walk on the fire, scared of the wild side
it’s still the same energy, yet it costs money all the while
Thoughts before speaking, a rule between you and I
Come crashing to a facade, fruits of my labor
Eager and ready, standing next to a mountain, hearing it saying
I dare you to climb me.

Swimming in willy wonka’s chocolate river
chewing on swedish candy fish
I’m a cavity waiting to happen
A mini pool pissed in, a clean wall of a ghetto
I’m swimming in the mouth of candy store
Over priced cupcakes and teenagers not-even half baked
I’m a cavity turning to a God awful pain
In the center of things, I’m all about myself and must be destroyed
Drilled out of a young brain
Now! … or I won’t live until tomorrow
I’ll drink a bottle of poison
to avoid another day of that pain
You can punch me in the face, I won’t feel a thing
Feel you tomorrow, contemplation

When the world comes crashing down
you can’t move, the ceiling is on top of you
you wonder out loud, how am I ever going to get out of this alive?
Walls have crashed, and the art, didn’t survive
When the world comes crashing all around,
You’ve wasted all your time, taking pictures downtown.
Now you’re old, time has taken its’ sweet time, rich like gold
Second by second, and minute by minute
You’re covered in debris and can hardly breathe.
Wake me up, when they’ve made a clearing
Maybe I’ll still be alive, cheering

I am, the water you waste
I am the trash, you burn
I’m the ashes, you bury
I’m your last concern
I’m an un-paid art of some form
I’m your cheapest concern
I know who I am, I’m the trash you burn
I linger in a landfill and make you feel ill
I’m a sick intent and I’ll ruin your precious children
I’m the king of the sick, the queen of the ill
and my cousins don’t talk to me still
They only wiggle around like maggots
Laughing in weak sarcasm and jokes that have no meaning
My friends have unfriended me and made me their last enemy
I’m a waste paper basket waiting to be emptied
Put to rest, hefty hefty hefty wimpy wimpy wimpy
No father from happy days can treat me
No mother can feed me, no Fonzi to keep me cool
I’m a horror story waiting to end, a Richie Cunningham
A price shattered, a cost diminished
A song writer with too much pride
Who makes me pay to get inside, instead
Even if I painted the town red
Even if sugar doesn’t have anymore taste
I’m the water you waste
I’m gone, out of sight
Out of mind, Down the drain like some dirty skin
I’m called a racist again
Cast me out to the vast ocean, drown me in your sorrows
Put your odd name under every sign I scribble on
I don’t really believe in, what little you do, to the break of dawn
Just to try and save this Earth we are on, it won’t really do any good
Mother Nature can’t be babysat, you won’t get paid, but you’ll have to pay
Waves will build up and over you and crash down like rain, bullets from the sky
I’ll sit and watch you suffer and your smile will pucker
Sing us your song, momma nature
I’ve been listening to every word
Outside my window, tweets from a bird
Your information is absurd
It’s a lovely song you live by,
but right now, I can’t bare to sing your words
Good bye Mother Earth, you’re beautiful and all
but your humans are the worst
I’ll settle for an alien any day, an extra-terrestrial in a plaid skirt

I’m that pain that won’t go away, I come with battles and war
You can block me, hide me, not care about me
and take pills to cover me, but you’ll never get rid of me
I’m that pain you feel, daily, nightly, and into infinity
I’m the pain that’ll knock you to the ground and won’t help you back up
I linger in wounds and bruises, fractures and punches
I go away and come back, over and over again in the neck, in the jaw,
and I’m behind the batons of the unnecessary law,
Disfuntional love, up and down your spine, I’ll make you vomit up and out
I fall on my behind
all the passion you thought you had is gone, because of me
I’ll take your money, I’m inside and out, upside down and backwards
I’m a pain in the ass that only a donkey kong can take away
I’m your worse neighbor looking for attention
I’m a senseless sound, a voice in the voiceless
A struggle, a moment everyone on Earth feels
I’m in the suburbs, the city, I’m even in the money
I make comfort what it is, if it wasn’t for me,
you wouldn’t know what comfortability even was
I’ll go away now, but you know I’m out and about
haunting someone else.
My sister named Pleasure, she will be well to greet you soon.
I’m sorry I’ve been a pain, have a good afternoon

September 2015
I’m a machine. An incredible clean machine.
I’ll press you your license, just so you can stay far from me,
you can sit happy on a beach and ignore me, I’m your cold machine.
Dead tired and need greasing, I’m your weak machine still teething.
I’ve been programmed to start your heart, end your pain and complete my mission.
I’m cutting your meat right now and I’m the gas pedal beneath your feet, vapor pow!
I’m a mean green machine, and you don’t scare me…
I’m so mean, I’ll eat you and ask for seconds without saying please.
You need me, to make life easy. I cool your home as an AC,
I’m a dead washing machine, it’s enlightening to me, un-able to work
when you don’t pay the bills for me.
You’ll be simply darkened, without me,
White text of M&M’s printed by a machine,
much like me, dance music dork, it’s the truth, so twerk.
Four eyed suicide, every bottle needs a cork,
I’m a machine, I’ll do that dirty work.
I’m a cop with a remote control brain,
I print tickets with the emblem of fear
printed pretty clear, in bold letters,
Do as the illuminati posse shows of you,
or wear trendy shoes and show your sell out blues.
These celebrity stars are burning only to shine on you, like a tool,
greasy and gross with petifile stained hands in triangles
and chewy cheap plastic music boxes too.
What ever happened to you dude? After you grew like a machine fool.
Wear a tie and pray good god pray, as you tie it every morning, groomed.
Get up and get out today and learn to pronounce words that rhyme in grace,
cut, bruise and mend, heal and forget, spray on me some more orange mace.
Do as your told or you’ll find your self in a cage like an animal,
or dead, to be fed to a famous canibal

Holding on. Holding on to so much that is gone.
Letting go. Letting go, of all the old sorrows.
Remembering, getting hurt twice, remembering
just wondering, which hurt less, the first or the second, life.
Holding on, with someone, on the phone.
Asking for answers, begging for mercy, but just only voices saying, let it go.
Letting go, from holding on, to that lonely receiver.
Hopefully, now, pushing away, a new life will arrive,
after waiting for what seems so long.
This body is not mine, clenched to a life, over so much time.
Yet, this is my mind, my own, unleashed over an understood twilight zone.
Grown and out-grown, outstanding, ready to take on whatever you got to give.
I’ll take it all and let it go, after holding on to it for so long.
Watching it all, lay on the street, bent and complete.
Ready, for nothing but to give again, after sleeping,
unpeeling another layer of a living, dreaming

Cover my eyes, I’m just a child.
Just cover my eyes, with your soft warm hands.
Let me peek through the cracks in your fingers
Let me see, what I first thought, I shouldn’t.
Your fingers won’t loosen,
now there’s no sneaking through the cracks.
I’m left in the dark, uneducated and see nothing but black.
Your warm palm skin has grown cold, but your grasp won’t loosen.
I’m blind now alright and I remember asking you to cover my eyes.
Afraid of what may become, nightmares
seconds to minutes and hours awake seem like lifetimes sake.
Am I dreaming all this?
…all this that I imagine as I wake up to a sunlight shining.
Knowing there is …
Strength in timing, rebirth in relaxing and knowledge in seeing

I’m the man on the block, not money hungry at all,
I’m just looking for a way to figure it all out. I’ve got everything I need,
right here, with my energy. I really can do anything, it just takes bravery,
to hang all out, simply for the love of it all. Walking about, the sun is about to fall.
I’m the man sitting in old beer bottle caps, cigarette butts and garbage guts.
I’m surrounded by wads of multicolored gum spit out on the ground,
imagine stepped on straws with fast food wrappers and old dirty coupons
with dog paws printed on them.
It’s early in the morning and I learned quickly how no one yawns out loud in this town.
I’ve been walking four miles for smiles, like the humming birds around private lawns.
I’m the man in the crowd, I’m the one, that will help, the first person, to ask out loud.
I’m the rain built in the curled up clouds, now falling in countless drops, to the ground,
April showers bring May flowers, the fury in the wind through the trees,
the old Summer sun took a beating for the Fall.
Seasons change and there comes a time,
to think of what will be left over from this sweetest decline

October 2015
Don’t show up in my dreams no more – written on the front door.
Whatever you’re searching for, it just isn’t here anymore.
How does it feel to be put in someone’s past?
Today’s a test? I don’t care if I fail or pass, I haven’t any regrets,
I don’t care if I’m late or on time for your combat zone crony craft class
Put a stupid sticker in the middle of your old forehead.
I’ll wear my hair down and put on a baseball hat
all while unwrapping a piece of chewing gum, trading trading cards.
I didn’t read a word of the book we were told to read –
It’s snowing outside and there’s no place to park from here to the beach
This book bag is way too heavy, it’s really unfair
and you got us walking up three flights of stairs.
What day is it, Day1, 2 or 3? Oh word
I often can’t remember which way is up, get out of me-
it’s the last day of high school and I’ve got to leave – this institution of insanity.
Hell with it, tell me now, which way is down? which way was to the office?
I just want to find a place of peace, in a quiet library,
without seeing old Miss Make Up face
getting up off her ass, watch her run out of her office, only to yell at us.
How much did you pay her an hour for that?
Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone. Call me crazy,
but you’re doing it all wrong. They’re not learning a thing.
You have no power over me any longer, scholar.
I graduated, passed gas and left freely
Now you may leave me, get out of my dream, you weakling,
Let the kid down, and give him his freedom –
now there’s an early morning home-schooling

Driving through the yellow light at the intersection of art and technology,
never thought my own art teacher would be jealous of me, talking ’bout
throwing out the water with the baby, I bet she’s a secret part of the illuminati,
scheming ways to get people to pay to see art in cruddy art museums,
I’m your modern day Picasso baby, call me Pablo, I get dinero
flying from here to Spain, just to get my next commission –
You can keep your two cents old teach,
Should of never of shared such ignorance,
Expose this, I see your hair is still fake bleached.
So I mind my own, thinking I could of opened up and reached a soldier of my own
but you can never ever expect a dog to get thrown an old bone.
They see you through their fingers with one eye, celebrating life,
Night after night, day after day –
I couldn’t see a thing in my path anyway
It was all foggy and grey, I pulled the car over and put on the breaks

Athazagoraphobia voice exposed.
I can not be forgotten. I will not be ignored.
You must know, I’ve been abandoned one too many times.
You’re cruel to block me. You’re cruel to say you’re too busy, for me.
I must sign my name. I must leave marks everywhere and where ever I go.
I’ll make the history books, with a picture of me holding you all in my hands.
Like toys, cops and robbers, artists and all the people in the grand stands,
I’ll make myself known. You suffer from it too everyday, I know.
I see you and cameras do too, showing angst to prove your self existence.
Well I have to, also, in order to feel fine. You do it to smile and share your style.
I carve my name out on park benches, often I just write “I was here”.
When in reality I only wish to see you sitting there reading the words I left.
I jump in the middle of the street, waving my feet in the air.
Your lack of attention hurts me. I don’t ask for much, just a note
that you remember me, so. I painted on cave walls with my own blood

I stick my neck out for you again
I feel the breeze in the wind
I get to your mansion and let myself in
I play in your new house
I draw on its white walls
I stick my neck out again for you after all
I’m looking around the corner for you,
yet I don’t see you.
I hear the ocean’s waves crashing
a tick in my brain turns to lightning
Sticking my neck out for you, not again
Going out of my way, it’s getting way insane
You took up all my time, you insulted my way
I rendered an old master’s masterpiece
but I didn’t build a drive-thru window
so you could easily order me, off your greasy menu
I got it all memorized and organized, it’s all for you.
I just stuck my neck out again – but I’m not going to pout
It’s the truth
Now what do you need me to do?
Drive across the state or two?
You’re breaking up, I can’t hear you.
I’m not even going to even bother calling you
I won’t stick my neck out anymore
I never got anything for it before
You’ve entered the twilight zone
Check your walls, after your cab drives you home
a masterful work of art awaits, madone!
Crayons and permenant markers,
day glow colors in oil paint and acrylics and all
Dead serious meat with glitter potatoes and brown wavy gravy
Get a good night sleep minions
You need to get up early in the morning

November 2015
I can see you through the vents, artist-lament.
I hear you through the windows, fluffing pillows.
I can smell you through the walls, cleaning the floors.
I can feel you through the doors, doing the chores.
I can taste you though the seasonings, gracefully born.

I flush you from my eyes, like tears from the sky.
I cover you from my ears, blind folding the fears.
I squeeze my nose from the scent, candles on cement.
I wash you from my hands, but still you remain.
I speak to you with my mouth, I can take your pain.

I see you in photos, this mindless mirror game.
I hear you in old songs, passing down your misery.
I smell you in new rooms, sweeping up cronies dust.
I feel you in true blue, living happy again.
I talk in interviews, letting out what was in.

Mission sunrise, I’ve dropped many needles on many records.
I’ve listened to many songs, and I know now what I enjoy and what I don’t.
So many songs were thrown away at sunfall, I’ve lost many marbles for rent.
No sunrise will do, no shade of blue will ever be able to tell you, how I feel for you.
That’s right, no setting sun or sunrise will do, all I need is the needle in the groove.
A lady I call rude, is one that won’t sing a song or two, only a brut would snoop so low.
In the mission, waiting for you, warm my seat, ’til I return with muffins of corn.
Chapel bells and dogs on chains, prayers on walls and rainbow scents.
A sway away and know I’m enlightened to say, be with me in the mission today.

Surrounded by life, who needs your deadbeat heart contract.
Sad songs get thrown away, just like you, when you get washed up
skipping my feelings as you walk up your beach, young troll.
No one cares about your music, no one cares about your materialistic home.
Fake paintings and varnished phoney phones, you’re out of tune again bro.
I mixed the wrong color, son. Good luck on the run, J.Cash doesn’t know you.
We never saw you with any ladies, how could you write those songs?
You havn’t kissed any women in so long, yes we are family.
I got all my sisters and me, learn the lyrics before you try and break me.
No body clapped once at one of the songs you played at a wedding celebration.
you made each one sad, like you were out to make us cry.
Weird guy. I see you need more love in your life.
But your odd heart contract – exclaims your masked life.
Rude is what you are, and you made us feel low, not high,
Go sit on mom’s mountain, with no wife to kiss, and look down below.
We all are waiting with pens in our hands, for you to never mention
our names, well when I look at song credits, I dont like to smell ghosts.
The scent of the Saint’s burnt flesh, swirl up from their blessed toes

I’m thankful, just to mind
many circles in my time
see the autumn sun unwind
devoted to life, in tune
dedicated to gratitude

April 2016
There’s a maddening sound somewhere out there in the world tonight,
there are thieves and there are poor souls,
there are spirits left cold and there are memories left untold,
there are colorless poems written in crayons on the back of old closet doors,
there are words in swirly letters, like snakes snatched up from bald eagles.

There are fluorescent insects and lazy lovers lurking in dirty dusty hallways.
Each of them are gasping sick in mold,
looking like stolen make up, applied thick for faker fluttering eyes.
There’s time well spent, sparkled in the moonlit clubhouse tonight.
It’s a good old place where the films just roll, and roll and roll
and all those old stories finally get told.
So it’s on tonight, we get to see,
the blind men dancing wild in the street.
We just stand there and watch them spinning gracefully, out of control.

The ugly people are out there tonight, lurking lonely on the back roads,
they’re driving in their cheap cars, down dark roads in dreary eye fulls of denial,
they know good well, they drive over leaping toads, just trying to cross those dark roads,
they were even uglier when they were a child, grins boxed in,
held in dusty piles of old sensual photos, not even in albums,
just locked up in odd miscalculations of scuba diver saddles and sensations,
unholy ugly ducklings play follow the leader,
and other mindcontrol games such as mother may I and hide, and go seek,
scrabble, chutes and ladders, and look how they fold fake money up
into animal shapes from monopoly board games. Oragami prayers.
The smell of rabbits and bad art, a single heart of shrubbery, lost in the wind,
all with a gunhoe attitude on misfortunes and X’s & O’s.
Let’s not go down that road, keep going, turn here, no not that road either,
Wow, jealousy won’t get you anywhere. Take me home,
I’m sick of being jacked up in the back of your car with old cookie crumbs and mold.

The maggots are hungry tonight, look at the way they eat your money,
it isn’t right, the maggots crawl over each other and havn’t any feelings at all,
they interrupt each other, ridicule, laugh and squeal for attention. Drunk on jinxing.
The fatest one speaks for them all, frowned and bent on fake cement,
quick eating fast food, they eat through your masterpiece, painted a fool.
They eat you inside out, growling with vengeance.
They think red lettering, like blood, is cool. Framed like a jailbird.
They are the impurity of the soul, over paid and planning nothing for events,
they only want their rings of nothingness, puny, small and weak,
walk a million miles in my shoes, hope you like the blues,
count the steps and use your glitch toys to calculate your swarm of unintelligence.
They’re out there alright, playing sports and wearing skirts, putting out flames,
questioning each other, bloodless fowl left to the curb,
maggots singing songs that only teach the wrong, salsa pop,
you’re energy is worthless and you seem dumbly, picture popper,
posing like your some fame, mean while you can’t even pronounce your full name.
You got issues with birds and you get eaten and devoured.
Sleep in hours, after hours, steal me 500 dollars and a bottle of vodka,
watch the maggots get sick, positive, no wonder.
What you see is what you get, large fries with hidden maggots inside.

There you go again, showing off your John Lennon,
whippin it out, wigglin in the middle of the street, naked.
Posting it over and over again. Why didn’t anyone tell him they were looking so good?
…just standing there, bare, cowardless hair, long and feeling proud.
Hugging your best friend, humming songs you never meant to write,
…man, things got hairy down there, mama mia,
where are you going with all that waste of white paint,
Move the curtains some more, adjusting privacy settings 40 years later.
Sky blue room features gallons of paint on the attic wood embankment, look
There goes John and Yoko, spray painting the whole city white again.

A butterfly flutters to and from, like dancing to a song
back and forth, techno-blinking in waves
landing within a line of static on a TV screen
masked in between zapping colors and lightning beams
it finds the perfect line to balance on, flips up and it is gone
from sad abuse, to the poor old man online spreading the news
it’s just gone, like tired bloodshot eyes of a life inside, looking out at all this
another butterfly floats to and from, closer now, back and forth
coming and going and back again, like a warped record spinning, ending to an end.

I’m going for a walk, outside, barefoot tonight at midnight,
beatles crawl beneath my feet, cricket sounds heard all around,
bass driven passer-bys honk their horns, watching me walk, white boy walking
slowly, barefoot at night. What a path I creep.
I step on green glass and my blue blood stains my beat,
dirty rats quickly come out at night and eat the pizza crust off the street.
I imagine lonely people tossing food to the curb, I step off the sidewalk
to a clean linoleum floor, soft lights and elegant Buddhist beads glow hot,
this mini chandelier with ruby red beams, holds my thoughts,
the end of this night is near, reads the fluorescent tube lit lights, I, in coached fear.

May 2016
Lord knows I tried, to be a friend. The good lord knows, I really tried,
but God tells me, you have to try harder.
Be nice, kind and gentle with words, forgive and forget the hate in this world.
Lord you know, I have tried, to lure my friends into safety, in your arms,
with long rides in my car, with music and art, someone knows I only tried.
Forgive me, my friends, times have changed
and I’ve driven my self to places unknown to you, only to find peace.
I’m not too far away, visit me. Lord knows we’ll all find a way. Some day.

Done with saying the two syllables, Thank You,
when people don’t even know how to say the three syllables in return,
You’re Welcome. It’s a sad state of feelings, when one feels ignored.
It’s a mean spirit that won’t take the time of day off their own wrist
only to share it with you. It’s like starting a new life, in a new season, with new friends,
just to become enlightened how not to be, instead of how to be.
Especially, in this day and age, when the simplistic notion is so easy to do,
to press a few buttons, pause in contemplation/meditation and patiently wait
for our new technology to do it’s thing.
But I suppose there are lost angels out there, grumps and old farts
scented in the still smell, centered in it all, and they are still looking to be followed,
when the path they leave for us a path full of curruption and lawlessness.
Freedom is a gift, don’t abuse it, pushing little daisy stems up won’t hurt any your
blades of grass in your yellowing landscape, it’ll only show ease, feed the birds
and most importantly, shed Peace.

Music hidden in the dusty grooves of yesterday
Harmony buried in the sleeves of album covers I crave
Digging songs, never heard, until now, the vinyl slides, the scratch devine
Sounds of the past in my mind, sounds of today, ending time
Sleep spins near and dreams begin clear, tomorrow is another mountain to climb
Memory and scenery, energy of color reaching, dew of the early Spring feelings

June 2016
Maybe I moved, gratefully, and gracefully, and greatly,
from one side of this blue island to the other.
Maybe it smells better, maybe it looks better, all I know is
I feel better. So take away, that old day, you remind me of,
with your dead flowers, only looking to grow up high from,
in a dark blue sky, dieing out of my life, one friend at a time.
Just one friend at a time. See, I’ve made a name for myself,
do not call me a pal, or a kid. I’m over and beyond you, you dark cloud.
And there goes a hand full of lost souls,
flew out like bats out of my caved in heart.
I looked sideways to the skyline, and everything and all things
every little thing seemed alright. Next to another twin of sight,
yet through these eyes, I only see light. I’ll pose and show you my weak side.
Funny little man.

silence hits, like a storm of thieves tip toeing through no replies,
you must be too good for me, to write back, strangers and good old friends
failing to comprehend, tomorrow could be the end
crashing waves blasting down on your musical home
with no more room for anymore paintings
toothpicks flying and crying trombones, so this could be our last dance,
but still you ignore me like inhaling hits of silence
how’s it feel, being gorilla faced in the studio of disgrace
no, your songs won’t do any good, when a 500 foot wave hits you dead in the face
like the speed of a running illegal alien, buildings falling on your favorite paintings
money minded musicians have no right to speak from their obscured political minds
anyday now, you’ll be forgotten, everything you’ve done, gone, just completely gone
murals, posters, pictures, photos, every note you thought was your own, simply gone
flipping magazines flutter like monkeys from this telephone pole to the next
a river of tears starts to grow in your mother’s dining room home
I can’t help you, I know it’s too late, you’re tired
and no pretty colors helped you today
shy friends, ashamed to share me, dissheads in the evening night
I watch you in your windows crashing with spiderwebs,
so take it all too hard and forget your wimp of a world,
pussy feathers and grumpy voices, baby talk and a dancing fool in the kitchen
dressed up like a punk rocker, lame as a squirrel in a nutless tree
write a poem for me, laughing so hard, I cry inside
I hope you got me censored from your daily scroll
it explains your false reality, happy smiles in photos
photos of the coast gone to ruins, well, tough
laughing crows giggle to the ink colored sign that reads, warriors.
a 1970s NY gang now gone astray three thousand miles away
the dog doesn’t know the difference, the cat meows just the same
and the rat sweats out its’ last form of hibernation
a hand full of junkies that knew my name are all dead and gone now
so I won’t go outside today, I’ll only find trouble, fines and egotistical minds that’s all
looking for my 12 dollars to support their lame scenery
toilet paper costs more, here comes that tidal wave, sick man

I wish I had a real smile, to share with my friends
I wish I could flip off the hate, on to love and never look back
I bitch about it in conversations and I know there’s something I lack
I bang out another and tap on the counter and order the hardest drink they got
I never want to get old, but I guess I just did, wrinkled up skin under my chinny chin chin
I figure I’ll just be clever and live on to see the next decade blow me in
I wish I could smile so real, like I see you are doing with your man in your 1980s photo album
I wash away the dirt and brush off the poodle from your skirt
I rub two colors together to make a third,
I love the way your eyes flicker to and from, here to there, adored
all around the square, skipping and singing, catch me catch me if you can, but you can’t
I wish my dreams would never ever end, but then we would be so boring
So when the morning sun comes, I just may take better pictures,
if I could just be myself, naked, skinny and loved

July 2016
The prolific crickets are out there tonight.
You can hear them all at once or listen to just one.
They rub their wings together, out of blinded competition,
it’s only proof of being alive while the early evening repetition unwinds.
Feeling the breezy summer winds from way inland, we sit and lament,
another evening.

Someday you’ll find yourself,
clean and clear like the waters of Lake Tahoe,
strong and bare like the trees of Muir Woods,
colliding and crashing like the waves on Ocean beach,
stretching and smiling miles wide as you’ll raise your arms
wider than the East Bay hills. You’ll be young again
and singing like the wind, blowing across the mountains
higher than those of Mount Diablo, leaping like deer, never in fear
and coming out of hibernation like a motherly California bear.
And you’ll say to your self, with your paws now to the ground,
I’m alive, yes I’m alive this one time seeing things clear, clearer than before,
yet now you’re wide eyed and patiently waiting to arrive, home.
There you’ll know, you’ve found what you’ve always wanted, feeling in peace
and held in warmth, next to your closest family and friends and loved ones,
laughing in a new tone, chuckling like it’s all a new joke, just to get it right
you pinch yourself and finally feel uncaptured by the outside sight of struggles and worries.
You’ll find yourself, just as you always wanted to be, being yourself, undaunted
and unhaunted, simply kindled in a beautiful light, of your father’s eyes,
prayed for, blessed and harmless •

The Setting Sun (1)
East Bay California photo by Christopher Fabbri

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