What to do when you no longer care:
drink a beer
have no fear
fill the air
with silent
prayer for
a peace
to find its way.

Someday
it will come,
harmony
will find its
eternal sunshine
upon this place
and then
spread its
love across
outer space.

This crude era
will be marked by the use of overwhelming technology
for base ends
for the rest of history.

It’s too late to change it.

The new barbarism
of self-centered society,
lost
in it’s
own
rapidly
evolving
environment,
until there was no longer
self
but
what was put there by others,
or taken away.

I don’t see commercials for
going to Hawaii very often.
Or anywhere really.

They don’t want you to see how much better it is
everywhere else now,
how run down this country has gotten
by soul suckers,
by fighting pointless wars.

They don’t wan’t you to know
how the quality of life in
Canada and Norway
and Germany
surpass our own.

Once in a blue moon
i’ll catch an advertisement
to vacation in Haiti.
Since the tourism board
can’t afford
to buy commercial time
on American TV,
they riot
and then you get to see a commercial for Haiti on TV for a week.

I think with the bad economy
they don’t want people thinking of vacations
and relaxations,
and the things of tranquility and peace,
because advancement has always come with flux
for us
for me personally
i know it has;
and historically
innovation is the product
of a need
and if we don’t need anything but love anymore
all the products of power will diminish
and products
and promotion
of goodness
will replace it.

But that will also replace
the ones who have the power
and they don’t want that.

Art hangs on by a thread,
until someone makes a show called
“America’s Next Top Artist”
“America’s Next Top Poet”
etc.
which is the nuclear bomb
that will wipe the minds
of America clean
of anything
but consumer/worker mindset,
definitely not real art
definitely not freedom.
I think though, they realize
they can’t fuck with us, if real artists
feel the same,
it is like some kind of
mythological entity
consuming
intelligence in mass quantities
filtering it and delivering
only what they want you to see and hear.
But what do you feel?
Did it make you sad when Dawson drowned in the creek?
I missed that episode.
But i saw a man run from the police
and get blown away live on television.
The only feeling it elicited was shock.

Good ol’ SHOCK,
the cheapest and easiest way
to capture attention;
do something shocking;
spike your hair and color it like bozo the clown
or dress in neoprene and walk around
with goggles and a snorkel ON
and your
dick hanging out,
that’ll shock the shit out of everyone
and get your name in the paper
and on the sexual criminal list.
SHOCKING.

Shock bores me now.
Gore bores me.
Seeing a man eaten by a shark is old news
when everyday
news report of bombs killing twenty people here
twenty people there
their little cafe bombs
and street bombs
OUR STUPID SMARTBOMBS
indiscriminately shredding
everyone in its blast radius
fill the news
anything less than
some fucking asshole detonating a nuclear bomb
doesn’t shock me much anymore.
And even that won’t.

Down on the
banks
of the bright blue light
that
runs like
a river
in the night
i flew to you once
and then
in flight
i fled the
love
that i might
be free
for
a little more
that
we could
always
remember,
the thought
of it
inspires me
to write
you a note
but instead i wrote
this poem
because this
is for me,
i would be a liar
if i said
i thought
you loved me,
letting
go
was always
what you need,

watch each other
so
beautiful
because
Roberto
Benigni
was right,
that we might
one day
stay,
i’d rather see you come
and go
than
just go.
we’ll never know,
lest the night never end,
and you never leave,
the morning is bound
to take us away again;
there will always
be home
to come back to
again.

tell me
what you
heard
me say
when
you dreamt about me
that day

did you hear me ask you
why are you away?
did you hear me ask you
to stay?

Or was it more like a play?
Did everything seem
like a dramatic part we were
apart of?
And was I slain
in the end?
Did I say
“I am slain.”?
and hold a sword
under my arm
and fall to the floor?

or was it a real dream,
with a real sword penetrating?

i’ve died in my dreams before.
so it shouldn’t surprise me
to have also died
in yours.

I bought a strange hot sauce
i’ve never seen before
and the last ingredient
was Propylene
Glycol
Alginate
so i looked it up
and apparently
it’s a thickening agent
that also happens
to prevent the absorption of strontium,
a fatal element found
in nuclear fallout.

So if we ever get bombed
i’ll make us some tacos.

I wonder how many other things
contain
Propylene Glycol Alginate?

I think everything should contain
Propylene
Glycol
Alginate
so if we blow up a bunch of nuclear bombs
we won’t die from strontium poisoning
and bone cancer.

The end.

oh
if i could
sing
the song
i dream,
i would serenade
you
from
the place
that all love comes
from,
but
oh
since i have no one,
i sing to myself.

I only focus on
things i have control over
because no matter,
to master
my control
will result
in the latter,
i have found
that
i feel better
watching
the world spiral into oblivion
afloat
my own illusion
of semblance.

Ha.