520 at 5:20

Nobody drives the 520 at 5:20.
I'm not sure why.

Perhaps they lie asleep,
Warm in a bed
In a room in a house
They don't know they can't afford.

Perhaps they'll drive the 520
At dawn when dew rests
Untracked on sod-sewn lawn.

Why wait 'til dawn?
5:20 seems so much better.

The choppy frigid water
May beat black waves
Upon the bridge,
But traffic is nil
And night shines its luminescent nothing
Solely at you.

Ashed Memories

A short poem written on scrap
Conducive to emotion and confusion
Burns well in the night on the beach.

As the flame nears my fingers,
I can't quite recall the script.
That was my hope.

As the ashes sit at my feet,
I am content in absence of recollection
And happy to be rid of one more fucking poem.

Doors of the Past

She was right.
I wasn't thinking of anyone
But myself.

And with that familiar slam,
The front door whispered,
"You'll never hear me again."

Hatred

As your blood runs out
I find where all my tears went
And although I am saddened
That sadness is overridden by joy
Watching my tears run free
With every drop of blood
As I think of life without you
I'll save my last tear for another day

Hey, That's Me

If you're looking for me,
I'm probably the one
Wearing the white t-shirt.

Justin Case

They've got a Justin Case
So we need one too.
A Justin Case for a Justin Case
Is a trade of me for you.

Motives

Why do they always
Question my motives?
Is it so hard to believe
That I'm not as selfish
A fucker as yourself?

No,
It doesn't affect me personally,
Except in the sense
That I might give a shit
About other people.

Ya, other people.
You see them every day
When you walk around this shithole
Simply going through
The motions.

Maybe you could take
The time you spend harrassing me
And look out
For someone else
For a change.

Plugged in to the Moon

Only trees reach the moon
Branching, climbing, twisting
Tips root deep in dust
Escaping, embracing, achieving
Lunar affairs soak the limbs
Foliage sprouts against all odds
Earthbound roots begin to whither
As a moonlit canopy unfolds

Question

At some time we know we are all one
Yet so different, so conflicting we are

As different as the snow is from the rain
Stern as cold, stubborn as mind

Trying the impossible while thinking it's impossible
Not knowing, in fury, we made a tear

I don't know what the future holds
Maybe for me, that is best

From my eyes, it looks bright
But something seems to be gone

As I ponder the aftermath, the end seems far
And I can't help but wish I knew

Reason

Its virgin sands uncharted
Its winds howl ever so softly
Its rains disturb no one
Welcoming all that are good hearted

For some the distance is short
For one it may be eternal
Pity the soul who misses his chance
By thinking what the future holds

I shall never know the distance meant for me
Through stubbornness it may be
For I stood admiring the sands
Instead of journeying into the unknown

Simple Things

I wanted to ask you
What you meant.
I often have trouble
With the supposedly simple things.
But I'm sure you know that
By now.

Maybe it's best
That I don't understand.
People often fret too much
Over the simple things.

It's frustrating though.
Give me complexity
And I'll act all acedemic
And analyze it,
But give me simplicity
And I can fuck it up
Without fail.

What can I do?
I'll fuck it all up regardless.
So I'll just wait confused,
Let you chart our course,
and see where it leads us.

Theorist, Weatherman and Butterfly at Heart

I never gave a thought
To a butterfly in Brazil.
And I never gave a thought
To what that butterfly might not
Have given me.

But now I wonder
Whether I'm fishing in a void
Or swimming in a sea
of complexity.

Trend

I am so correct
Conforming to the max
Recycling glass and aluminum
Mixed paper and cardboard
No styrofoam, no aerosol
Hemp instead of trees
Free speech, tolerance, philanthropy
I'm trendy to say the least

Yet I am still a savage
For although I greased the pan with soy margerine
The mix called for eggs

We Used to Hang

We used to hang all the time,
Playing crappy guitar,
Throwing snowballs
and skipping out on set strike
To chat beneath the stars.
You took me to my first frontstage show
And we got matching "I SAW THE EMU" stickers
At the fair.

We used to hang all the time.
They even asked if we were together,
Although I never thought of such things.

Situations, they changed.
Distance increased.
And we didn't seem to hang anymore.

We did see each other
On the street
Half a year later,
Chatting a bit
Before you caught your bus.

But since that time,
I've walked or rode or driven by
A few hundred times,
But not once did I stop in
And not once did I see you again.

You Were Always Against Me

Now that I'm off your playing field,
I can safely say
"Fuck you, you fascist bastard,"
Without worrying
That your petty rules
Mean jack shit.