I believe in Saul Williams

always thinking
always thinking about what’s next
what should I do now?
where should I look now?
thinking again and again
wanting this and that and the other
a neverending ream of thoughts and feelings
bubbling up from underneath our gut into our heads
until our minds explode with ideas
and we speak our souls to each other
not knowing that our mouths are a trap
and other peoples ears are poachers
when I look at you it makes me sick
I want to kill children
I want to destroy the world
everything that came before is now after
the world spins and turns so much I am dizzy and nauseous
I need to sit down but there is no still spot in the universe
the stars look at me like what the fuck
when I asked God to prove his existence to me
I heard my breath
but it might have been nothing
I believe in Saul Williams
how many of us travel at night so we don’t feel lonely?
I am at home on the beach by the water
if all grains of sand are different
then who gives a fuck?
when I look out the window I see unnecessary
I know that was grammatically incorrect but you still understand the effect
that rhymed
open up your heart to try and accept others and you will find
that you just don’t care anymore
as I pause to think of another line words come to me until I latch onto one
and then another
building a sentence out of thin air with rules outside of my control
words come from nowhere but saying they came from me makes me popular
my nose is crooked
my back hurts
work is the most hellish thing ever created
if I had workers I would let them all go and fire myself
and we would party all night until there was no food left
and nothing to drink
that would be worth it
and we would live by doing only what is necessary and share with each other
my mother does not understand the lies that make up the foundation of life
my father chases dreams of fortune knowing they are like bubbles
only beautiful because they are empty
when you break apart the Earth
and split the soil apart
there is emptiness between them
and between the emptiness more soil
but between the soil more emptiness
that came from the Huckabees
if the world was like Heaven we would chase after Hell
if the sky was red maybe we wouldn’t ask why
sleep is a waste of time
so is eating and sex and pissing
education has been so important in my life I didn’t go to school
sacrificing the lamb we get blood
sacrifice you and you don’t get anything
but you’re sacrificed
I thought that would be nice
I don’t know how to end this poem
maybe I’ll type forever creating a record of the world and my thoughts
over the decades and it will be continued by future scribes for centur-

Terrorism or Revelation?

Finding something that just sounds perfect
sounds perfect but it’s so hard to hit the right notes
words don’t always arrive the same way they left and sometimes they get lost like a ship at sea
how do I rearrange my thoughts to keep me on course
I listen to music to focus my eyes on the line but it’s more than just about the line
it’s about each syllable
and each page
from images to paper
translation becomes a task of understanding yourself
when I open the dictionary I find the keys to my soul
they give my thoughts power and weight
I can say illusion and you know I’m talking about something fake
I can say fake and you know I’m talking about most of my life
when I was a child I used to think my life was like The Truman Show
silly thoughts thought some that were produced by an imagination in overdrive
daydreaming worlds of me and a princess flying on a magic carpet
flying through the city streets at night as a superhero what was I thinking?
who would want that responsibility?
I want to move but have nowhere to go and everytime I point myself in a direction everybody says I’m going the wrong way

#NaPoWriMo Day 14: Am I drunk right now?

the bottom of bottles
make for friends who listen
they take in all your worries
and drown them
only to wake up in the morning
hoping they were lost
but you found them
huddling in a corner of your mind
where they waited in darkness
until you woke up and your dreams
gave way to the sparks that
started the process
of thinking

Words

Dawn to twilight
there’s soon to be no light left
but what we share never decreases
and this thing is real
but don’t call it that
you’ll just tear it to pieces

The Pianist

broken hearted and living after I’m dead
what is it that I can do that will take away all the pain
and when I pray to God he answers in whispers
my story is one of sadness
one where nobody comes and saves me
God is God and they say no one should blame him so they blame me

Happy Endings

you can’t just leave a poem with no ending even though you feel no ending in reality and in your life you don’t come to endings or conclusions you still must have a poem with an ending
your story must ring true and your whole being must be in it and your characters must be real
there can be no easy way out or lack of trouble or no romance
you need a purpose and something to fight for
and an ending
everything that real life-

A Long Reunion

I am naked on a table in the middle of the world and some applaud, while others make fun
and some are not even looking at all

But now that I have found my love I can’t let it go
Runaway thoughts bring me back to where I was and I am still with my love
My love calls me in the morning and then sleeps with me at night
if only for a little while longer, it asks me, why not just a little more
I know that one day this love will turn to hate
But until it does, I will waste every second on this love

A new joy has entered my eyes and made the days clearer
I have a path to walk on and am not just taking step after aimless step
There is purpose now, where before there was only direction
And I am grateful

But I know God will pull me back and my mind will once again be brought down
to the bottom of that deep hole I call my, “who gives a fuck”
and I will once again be loveless, and without any joy, but searching
and searching for another

I thought I had stopped searching, I wasn’t looking for this love either
This time it found me,
among my thoughts that kept myself hidden from me
I am nowhere to be found, and this love is expressing itself
There is no lover or beloved, only love

Cemetary Teacher

He only ever enjoyed going there and nowhere else. There was nothing else he wanted to do but be with the dead and for them to speak to him.  The stony faces of their tombstones were alongside him in the photos he took. He was among friends and they welcomed him.

He would go in the middle of the week when it was most quiet and most people were at work.  Not that a cemetery is the most popular place to go on any day, but in the middle of the day in the middle of the week he felt he could be most comfortable there.  And he never came empty handed.  He always brought with him stories and poetry and sometimes flowers or small gifts for his friends.

He would make his way around the paths in the same order each day.  First he went by the old tombstones from the 19th century and let them know how the world was still an awful place and how god had not come to save humanity at all.  He told them how technology has taken over our lives and that the youth are filled with greed and selfishness.  Sometimes he would bring some whiskey for the men and flowers for the women.  Daisies or roses were his favorite and he would place a single flower on top of the grave, right on the grass.  He loved the grass and how green and full of life it was.  Even though death lay beneath the soil, there wasn’t really any death at all but a circle of death and rebirth.  He figured the body gave food to the worms and other insects, and also provided for the grass that grows on top of them now.  Their bodies have not disappeared into a black hole, but have been transformed into a billion new things, and will continue to transform until the end of time.