Climb Abored

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

passengers without tickets shuffle up the stairs uninvited

i’ve got many guns. time to play Russian Roulette

oh you think i don’t? then what’s this?

.       .       .

everyone’s quiet now.


shooting blanks. everyone’s delighted.

most of them clapping their hands, enjoying the spectacle, gay as can be

it’s all a circus

& then a man as tall as a hundred year old tree

walks up to me

& says: “perhaps you should relax. you gave me and some others quite a fright”

poor fools. they don’t even know the caliber of plight afoot

i toss the the useless weapons overboard. they clang against a wooden platform down below & are picked up by a group of rowdy teenagers, whom hoot & holler and run off into an alley with their new toys

we’re still at shore.

i sigh a heavy sigh. i wasn’t looking for death, just something more

for i know…

i find my cabin lodgings easily, at the very top of the ship

leaving the other passengers to do as they please

folding my hoodie into the drawer, kicking my shoes off under the bed

accepting the via blasé of what’s to come

for i know…

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

we aren’t going anywhere
not anymore


Coping Is A Joke (I Hope)

when coping stops being coping

do gentle breezes kiss your cheeks rosy
do aviary songs chirpping about begin to make sense
does a higher power guide you without precedence

when coping isn’t a constant existential war

will the crunch of leaves under my feet make me laugh again
or will I lament the end of a fallen glory

when coping is merely a sense of being

will I know if these are questions
or statements mixed with a deeper brood

if coping stops being coping

will it matter

will I even be in the mood

if coping stops being coping

I’ll No

In Due Time

Eye No U

Piss in the pot of
justice, while i look beyond
time. This I do know

will only survive
the cosmic thrust from The Great
Divine, faith & a

pinch of trust. Intense
scrutiny hovering from
the side at all times.

I’ve seen beyond time…
Its not real, its not out there.
Relax. That’s a must.

The Morning Exemplum

You turn around and hit the snooze button on your alarm clock again. You hear a voice tell you that it’s time to wake up and stop procrastinating the inevitable. The voice goes on to list your daily responsibilities and obligations, what to make for breakfast, and mentions how you forgot to pick up coffee creamer the night before.

Then you wonder why there is a voice inside your head dictating everything that you should be thinking.

Now the voice is describing itself being considered by yourself. In other words, you’re thinking about a voice describing you thinking about how it’s describing your thoughts.

So you try and imagine the possibility that the voice is merely a projection of some deep selfconciousness that you weren’t aware of before and will go away if you believe hard enough.

But doing so seems impossible since the voice is now contemplating the fact that it may be a mere prognosis of your imagination and is considering the possibilities that could arise if you kept thinking about it & how it’s a mere imagination & how it is thinking along with you on how to stop its existence.

So you stop and try to make your mind a blind slate to see if the voice stops, and it does.

Are you waiting for the voice to speak or is the voice waiting for you to commit an action for it to dictate on?

You lie back down and pull the covers up to your chin, refusing to make another move. You hear the voice say I would advise against that. So you kick off the sheets and scream as loud as your voice allows, asking what to do next.

The alarm clock sounds for the third time and you shut it up, but this time, you don’t push snooze.