forever unfinished

goddamn this poem
six days and counting
and I still can’t get it right

dial pads and dial tones
text messages and tangled hair
wet and in love (with the moment)
it’s like socialism for a day
with dreams of prison and
hospital wards
or was it
wal mart in war time
sometimes I can’t remember
but it’s always the same
even in the forest
signs and road posts
men in suits
forcing rules on the little folk

i’ve told you it’s all just a circus
do they think we’re that stupid?
i don’t like being told what to do
presumed guilty and force fed, rules
tasteless gruel, in
uncomfortable clothing with
no style, insults and invocations
confined, regimented, licensed
those regulations are written in
an unrefined manner (useless)
locked in a beta test and
stumbling from place to place

working six days a week is
intellectual slavery
daily i seek to produce
a mobile documentary
to let the world know
I’m still alive
thinking, and dreaming

for you see i’m
chaos incognito
a dew dropper who loves
giggle water, sex
and the midnight air
the feel of breasts
and a splash of hair
eyes that hold me in a spell
breathing in that sweet woman smell
a body like a good book
begging to be read
with the whisper of songs
it’s leisure in open source heaven
virtual reality of the mind
and persistence made flesh
the first time’s always the best
unsound, unsure and
remember how I told you
fate flies in fear of the moment
did you know evil spelled backwards is live
tempus fugit, carpe diem
the music possesses me
caught in a trance of
hula hoopers and fire spinners
drummers without rhythm and
bad spellers with a pocket full of
drugs and information
hidden, in earnest desperation
waiting for a hacker’s inspiration
methodically we creep, something old something new

looking for dart boards and pool tables
silver bowling balls and crystal waterfalls
we wear faded sun glasses and spill our drinks
off the edge of high cliffs
take the leap going deep
skinny dipping under the
pale light of a quarter moon

i’ve tried so hard to be the villain
i wonder if theres any soul left
eventually these summer nights will retreat
living slowly on the embers
and walking on tired feet
past a real life movie set
scripted by cold actions that are incomplete
with cigarette in hand
it’s nearly time
to forget
just gimme one last lineā€¦
a prayer and a sign





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