Failed Meditation

what happens 

if you stop 

being busy 

I think about pain

the pain has a shape 

it’s the shape of the world 

all fears and violence 

flashing 

and I feel sad for others 

in their 

ignorant bliss 

and sad for myself 

that I can’t achieve 

that said 

bliss 

My happy place in a dying empire

 

we don’t get out of this alive 

we don’t avoid the blame 

all we can do is get comfortable 

as we go up in flames 

we have to participate 

can’t stay in our caves

won’t be immortalized 

like that guy in Pompeii 

fight them in the streets

and on the barricades

but unless we suddenly evolve

those burnt seeds still remain

Thinking is hard

sometimes there 

are no prompts 

you’ve lost your 

battery memory 

you have to rely on 

the invisible reality 

above your thumbs 

it’s always hiding 

only mostly 

from you 

Hills

If I died today 

I’d be satisfied with my tiny life 

feeling that I tried things 

my own way 

there’d be some bills to pay 

few things to give away 

and the hope your anger 

wouldn’t stay 

knowing we worked at capacity 

making our own mistakes 

what felt like cruelty 

were lessons with other names 

if there was will involved

much as we got caught up

in something more than us 

I just hope it didn’t cause much pain

Thatness

F$ck everything else 

when it comes down 

to it 

there are a few who really care 

one or two who make it 

worth it 

spaced like atoms in the air 

and the ship sinks 

with them and us 

and we didn’t pay extra 

we go down with the sharks 

reborn as lions 

Living and dying for ideas

fifty-fifty you’re wrong 

technology might come 

with a new solution 

dissolving this dualism 

you’ve helped 

prop up 

you were built to fight 

you chose a side 

after all how can you 

have hate without love 

what if we just 

changed the subject

and help to make 

something else up

Cargo Cult

 Cargo Cult 

we’re devastated 

on our backs 

bracing for 

the next attack 

still drinks 

in the fridge 

cheese 

under the lid  

packages sometimes 

arrive unopened 

another Mideast 

massacre unfolding

currency’s currently 

underwater 

delivery trucks still running 

our desperate orders 

in this cargo cult 

I’ve got you involved 

Tarzan and Jane 

in chanson 

to this cargo cult

I’m enthralled 

while time runs 

in and out 

I build this sarcophagus 

brick by brick 

by imported novels

and Blu-ray boxsets 

I’ve decided to put Greg’s kid 

in the will 

I don’t know who else 

would get it 

good life is never 

won by degrees 

doctorates colonizing

your feelings 

happy inside 

my force field pull me out 

well-done my pages 

are burning 

Secretly Good

 Secretly Good 

secretly good 

don’t tell anyone 

powering through bad 

damage done 

when things 

start to hurt 

I become 

an onion 

layers of good 

cover the bad

allowing me 

to overcome  

bad in me

affects everything 

one day, I dream, 

I’ll live in harmony with it 

in the 

meantime

I fight it

with everything 

Team: People

 Team: People 

I’m on team people 

there’s no sequel 

the enemies 

in the next season 

are even 

weirder 

we lose 

more than we win 

then again 

did it ever mean anything 

the writers 

have been replaced 

drop in quality 

has been suggested 

it’s all visual now 

seems a shame 

weren’t words visual 

in the first place 

maybe fan fiction 

will be readable 

or even equal to that 

initial thrill