Standing Outside a Theatre in December...

Important people wear black,
And smoke ciggerettes together.
With dark lipstick and
Expensive leather jackets.
Swarming, buzzing about how
Good this shitty show was.
They feel original, they feel real.
None say hello to those who
Wear color. Those who stay
Behind to clean and comment
On the day. Those who aren't
Important. The only black
We wear is in our shadows.
Watching the important people
Drinking coffee.

Untitled

Tangled with my vision few and
Far between reality and dreams.
I love to be in a room with you
Watch you grow from man-child
Up to the tippy top of my inspiration.
I can see that you'll never be a
Part of my future. Whether
As a phantom or as a man.
Dressed with new clothes and a new face,
And with my happy frown I cry,
Disappointed and crushed pride.
Oh, so perfect, your devil-angel personality.
A man, a boy, sensitive, wild.
You look perfect from the back
As you walk away with an absolutely
Gorgeous girl who is smarter, exciting and sexier.
And I hate her.

Drifting Asleep

Watching people fall asleep,
Like watching the sun set.
Aware of a change,
And yet so subtle,
That change is invisible.
Glowing orb blinking.
Breath slow, tides beating shores,
Rythem, nocternal hum, quiet.
Dull ache on the frontier of
My mind. Surrendering to the
Heavy hands pressing on
My shoulders. Drifting down
The coast of sleep.

Standing

Each of us stands with
Red blood, iron pumping veins,
Fingers pointing to our homes.
Each of us stands with
A mother's arms embracing
Earth shattering pain.
But we say: no, no
No to this; no, no to that.
No respect, no love within.
Without us, without you, without all,
We'd be stalled in the water now.

Each of us stands with
Ghosts haunting our hearts,
Tears streaking scarred faces.
And each of us stands with
Hands in prayer held up
This buliding called our body.
But we say: no, no
No to this; no, no to that.
No respect, no love within.
Without us, without you, without all
We'd be stuck in the bog now.

Each of us stand with
Pesky memories, buzzin' minds,
Running to the water.
Each of us stands with
Eyes full of blessings seen,
Acceptence lies withing the heart.
But we say: no, no
No to this; no, no to that.
No respect, no love within.
Without us, without you, without all.
We'd be dead in our graves now.

Airports

We are going, going and moving.
Flying and making connections.
Cell phones, paperbacks, tiny packets of crumbs.
We must consume the plastic inconvinience,
The humdrum of comercialism.
I wonder who are these people.

The men crowding VIP lounges
Speaking of cars and watches.
Luxery that lays cold and unfeeling
In their empty beds in the
Condiminiums full of designer furniture.

No hope for the women, urgently
Pursuing the success their empty
Wombs cry out for. They are
Missed by their children but too
Busy, too moving, flying and
Typing to hear their cries.

Everyone wants to go home.
But settle for the hard
Comforts and pricey sustenance of
The Airports.