Soothesayer

It’s a night for a poem,
For my soul aches for petty pretty things,
And I can’t find a song to soothe,
Not even ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’,
So I’ll be the soothesayer,
To comfort my star wars bones
On this planet alone
Searching for my kind,
And they’re all so detached;
Our parents fucked up love for all of us,
And their parents for them,
Most will do it again
All for a chase of the love they never had,
That’s what makes people dysfunctional,
For the functional are secure
And a misery of rejection for the dejected:
Contrasted with a misery of codependence as escape;
No center balance,
Person is falling into void;
Self-esteem destroyed
The hunger is real,
Thirst pales;
We truly want for them,
To fill us in
Where we cannot be seen,
We grasp into a vacuum:
Space:
Our own emptiness:
Seeing itself in them,
And we are so drawn in,
Lost in them;
The moth burns in the flame
We never win in this dark mirror game;
For there is light in a being of light,
Otherwise, none.

unconditional

outcomes and incomes,
and what the judge says
who knows
i just have these damn wants
these sufferings
these attachments:
the things i count on,
they whittle at me in uncommon hours
even after i gave up escapes;
tired of being a dopamine fiend,
i traded fear for calm and trust,
(but i still need to know what the judge says…)
i still wonder about my chariot, still wonder about this christmas…
oh how tiring it is to care,
to look at the calendar, to want to be sure;
“man is born free and everywhere he goes he is in chains…”
and still, there remains no liberation in a discourse, a treatise, a pamphlet, a goal,
only in the present moment, in me, accepting myself with love:
no matter what, unconditional.

This is The Temple: In Your Nutrient Fed Brain

Google can’t help,
Reddit can’t help

Unless you want to be an average,
The collective can’t help you

Nor can an individual,
But it’s a great tale:

The Mickey Rourke, saved by the Marissa Tomei –
It’s a great lie, that you can be saved by some girl or some guy:

Another’s love can not save you, cannot make you whole,
Impossible…

‘A Star is Born’, and he hangs himself in the end,
Never knowing how to be his own best friend

Pain, repression, denial, fear, worry,
All the dragons one must slay – they stand within

And you must face them within:
Without the crutches..

The wine, the weed, the woman – the funhouse mirrors – social media too…

As if they can show you a better side of yourself,
As if happiness isn’t health!

So the sage returns to the basics:
Food, water, breath, sweat, sleep, meditation, hard work – repeat

The means to get out of debt with Self,
So there is no longer, “I owe myself some high, some sojurn as reward” (…oh my)

Slippery slope,
When one needs escape to cope

You don’t need to get away,
You need to come back home

Where you’re peacefully alone,
Giving yourself that radical forgiveness, that raw self-love, which connects thee to the above

Your medicine is Grace;
The space for your inner child to play is how the dragons are slain

Homeostasis, balance,
In your nutrient fed brain.

Savor It

Dear boy, you want love,
But it takes steps,
Listening to Ariana Grande’s,
‘Thank You, Next’
It’s crazy,
You look at Bradley Cooper and think, “one day, thatt’ll be me”
Just grown,
With my Stefani,
The Fame,
Crown prince of the pen game
And damn, maybe I’ll find her when I’m 40,
So until then,
I’m not worried about shit
Just myself, so I’m gonna savor it

Le Cost

I need love
But all I got’s a bong and a Peep song

Ain’t nothin’ wrong, it’ll do,
Beats being sad with you

And I’m still gonna break your heart for leavin’
Stuntin’ in La Lolla like Cary Grant, best believe it …

What the fuck they ever think I was gonna be,
So go hop on some late alpha dick – see em at my age and he really wasn’t shit

But see me grown and you’ll regret it,
Should of made the investment

Wrote me off like a loss,
That shit gives me so much motherfukin’ sauce

But I’ll never be lost,
Never beleive in love like that again

That’s why I’m still writin’ poems after all this time,
That was the cost, my only friend

This Pain, Uncommon Thoughts

There were no old men who came before me,
Not a soul who wrote a goddamn-fucking thing down!!!
Nothing passed on but these well-worn genetics:
For this I am ashamed
How the fuck does this happen?
Tragedy
And I’m born into it
What the hell happened –
Exiled into this world,
In my mountain home, by the fire –
A product of a breakdown in culture,
Capitalism birthed me into poverty
Why did my family choose each other?
What the hell was so special about them;
I know nothing of my ancestors
Just a little money,
A lot of Irish, and the dischord between …
Exiled from my grandfather’s “will”
My own father hated by his mother;
Ugliness all around,
Sadness;
So my family has never really lived,
Just existed –
I’m a needle in the hay,
First one in generations who didn’t rush to breed
The very word speaks to its unconsciousness
And I’m disgusted,
Like a cow born on the factory farm,
Knowing in my marrow something is wrong
WHY THE FUCK BREED
Look; I’m not mad to be alive –
Just wouldn’t bring someone else into this until it made sense
Because I feel like the first to be conscious in generations…
And I am in pain
Wounds that were shared,
Never healed
A dis-ease
As far back as we go
And I don’t blame my exes,
I’m stuck with myself
Maybe to be loved after I am dead
But I’d rather that than to share this selfishness; this lonliness
This pain.

And I’m sorry this poem is so sad,
And I – but I’m glad to be thinking uncommon thoughts.

Where All Boys’ Dreams Begin 

Motherfvckin-go-in on-this-poem like-a-koan,
I’m a pure Brahmin spirit, ya I know-em,
I could clone-em:
Take in the yin and the yang,
Fire and the rain,
The Masculine and The Feminine,
And you heal all the pain;
All the sacred texts say it again and again:
You put the jewel in the lotus – om-mani-padma-hum – and again and again, a god you become –
Welcome to the truth,
It’s the sage’s only friend
Cause she’s alchemic, shamanic, hermetic, daemonic –
Hindu Kush is my favorite, oh Poet Vyasa that’s ironic –
Now I’m at the temple door and my desire is chthonic,
So I bring the dark to light,
Dakini goddess of the night;
Inner insight, my anima restored inside:
Two in one together, own the things I used to hide
Like the Thomas Gospel,
I am not Here to divide –
So people they meet me and they can’t even decide,
Is he a demon or a god?
You don’t know, but you like it;
He and Her makes Aman-Ra;
Even the Egyptians didn’t hide it;
So when we get naked, I’ll worship her as the highest;
For what the fuck else does a god look to, but a motherfvcking goddess –
So come with me, and return to yourself again;
And return me, to where all boys’ dreams begin.

Her, Him, She, We / Like Magnets / More Than You Ever Dreamed

“I want to swim away but don’t know how.”
Jesus fuck I love Blue October
Love her,
Love my pain
This stoned, emotionally overwhelmed feeling
Just how many poems can I write to say your’s was a heart I never fully entered
But I hope my pain left you a key, as your’s was to me
Because I am open now: I am in my own heart as I’ve never been before,
And there’s no more sitting outside on the stoop, smoking cigarettes,
No more pouring poison down my throat because I can’t get in;
No more abandoning myself;
No more needing protection in another;
Finally, having awakened to the duality of my inner and outer, male and female consciousness:
Yes, complex people have complex identities and require solutions more complex than in your books –
And I think about her, and my Anima, and how she wasn’t who I tried to project my inner, feminine self onto,
And I think about how I too am dead to her, in that she knows I am also not the inner masculine she projected onto me,
And I know we are both freed
For, I know Her now: She is in Me
And I hope she knows Him, or finds him in someone else…
But it can be HELL trying to find yourself in another
And you could get lucky, but you better hope to fucking god you are simple in your heart,
You better pray to be a basic #happilyeverafter bitch,
Because you’re probably not
I looked for myself for 15 years in other women, relationships,
Other as in separate from Self
And my heart was mechanically separated, like a chicken on the factory line, every fucking time
That was the price
But in seeking, we find ourselves – the gold in the pain, real treasure: Jules; Althaea;
Parts of Her were found in her, and in her, and in her, and in her, and in her
I could describe my inner feminine self using a portmanteau of my exes;
Their best traits are all in me, living, present, graceful, alive, in this room with me tonight
And She’ll keep expanding outward, in twin flames and in soulmates and flings, and friends, and they’ll hate us for Our security, sincerity
Because We’ll never confuse her for Her again,
Alas, the anima gets no other avatar than the Self –
But this is a gift once you realize
Literally, your Other half, which you found in your other other halves,
Goddesses born and dead,
We find ourselves in other people,
This is how it works, like magnets attracting and repelling.
But god it hurts. Until She or He emerges in you.
Then you’re whole. Then you can look outside, complete within.
No longer afraid She is Medusa or Grendel. Or your exes. ;)
But You. More than you ever dreamed.

Thank Gawd We Only Give a Shit About Ourselves So We Can All Stay Fucked (These Days)

Days like this,
When I am working like my Dad,
He hated what he did – Rest in Peace
His son still hasn’t defeated the oppressive computermatron,
So I’m in SQL (Sequel) hell – database slave, level -32

Days like this,
When my dreams don’t budge an inch –
But still, something moves, the pain in me
It pushes me,
Says, ‘Fuck this’…

Days like this,
When I look back on all the love I had, lost;
The wreck I was
Dread Pirate Roberts –
But I turned from my nefarious clients, ran from the dark web

But I’m still slutting it up for a check,
A pay for play hoe,
Like all of us – pimped out by the system…
We have to be, it’s the FREEDOM of capitalism, in this fucked Darwinian system of uber competition and commoditization of the worker, till we are all living the lowest common denominator life, only enough to get by… and Trump, the fucking dream daddy of ‘Murica, gave the corporations billions in tax cuts…

FREEDUMB.

And the Communist Manifesto, which the title alone makes those fortunate boomers in the winter of their lives piss themselves – the Communist Manifesto spells out the glaring truth, plain as day:

“You are horrified at our intending to do away with private property. But in your existing society, private property is already done away with for nine-tenths of the population; its existence for the few is solely due to its non-existence in the hands of those nine-tenths. You reproach us, therefore, with intending to do away with a form of property, the necessary condition for whose existence is the non-existence of any property for the immense majority of society.”

And we are the 9/10ths, the 99% – we vote for this SHIT.

For days like this,
When I am just shouldering the roof over my head,
The sink full, the laundry bin overflowing
No control, limited power, all advantages and disadvantages made plain,
Life reduced to a birth lottery

For some are bred and some are born,
Into these days.

Young Prince

I’m letting go of her,
Committing to myself, my plans,
To being secure in myself;
Maybe 5 years single,
If need be:
I’m Walt Grace and Walter Mitty:
I have my dreams;
Secure in my loyalty to them
I’m laying in bed all day,
A black robe open, stoned
Cookie dough and colby jack for snacks
Jackson Browne’s ‘These Days’ (Live) on repeat,
Reading Carlyle’s ‘On Heroes, Hero Worship, And The Heroic in History’
My great-grandmother’s copy
A singular hand me down,
But a treasure, a key in itself,
For her great grandson, whom she never met, would be pondering the divinity in humanity, himself,
92 years after she wrote her name inside the cover 
Talk about a relic (Ready Player One),
A story that had me in its destiny long before I – 
And within it, ideas I hope to enlarge in my own life, wonder 
And Sunday night now upon me, I say Assuredly 
Unto myself eternally:
Relax and trust, young Prince,
Relax and trust… young Prince.