Spoken word poetry,
till I get it,
I leave it alone.
Wow, it’s left alone.
In case of good poetry break this glass.
I just sit here and discover,
letting the word explain itself
in the giving of lines
and in the hurtin’ of the world.

If I show you the pain will you stop it?
Will you even know it’s there
where you feel your pain?
Oh no another Holocaust movie
all about bein’ numb.
I can’t give you this star-glow
to ride the world on its tongue
feelin’ people.
I’m not a robot I’m free,
but the price of my freedom is your pain,
your wellbeing I feel like my own.

It’s shoots me all the time,
or it gives me stars.
I’m there with you
in the delivery room
of another bucket of world today, huh?

I see through all these sleeves
of world maker’s art,
a world upon world
in the moments with mine,
a conglomerate of worlds
of this group of people and that,
of this person alone,
of all the mini worlds that make up this world
that we call Earth.
Can you see that
simultaneously with your own?
I taste you there.
I know you’re there.

How do I communicate this to you
so you feel it too
like you have your children’s hands in your own,
like your best friend’s smile,
like your mother’s love?
I don’t die there,
but I question God all the time
and Sri Aurobindo.

These are terrible times,
and they get ready for tomorrow
terrible too,
with a past just as terrible
starin’ us in the face.
Let the good times roll,
and my God they do.
How sweet life can be
in its gathered moments,
how manageable,
but why does it always add up to this:
life is not a bundle of joy;
life gets us in corners
and does bad things to us.
Can you understand that?

Why does the world go on like nothin’s happenin’,
like it’s free and easy and clean,
so standardized?
They scream on the news bad news
to an audience of normal,
of tie your shoe,
of everything’s alright here, ain’t it?
Not in every bubble.
So much quiet desperation it has been said.

Do you know the rovin’ hellhole?
Somewhere on Earth
at any given time
they’re eating each other alive.
It’s the worst place on the planet
for a moment.
Hell swallows them whole,
unbelievable cruelty,
and nothin’ to redeem them.
Goddamn that stinks.

Alight I’m blessed.
I live in a little pocket of warmth
and forgiveness.
I have opened the doors to humanity
in the stadium of my room.
I ride there all day
figurin’ you out.
I take great thoughts to the skies,
but I must remember I’m a low man on the totem pole
in your eyes.
I do nothin’ here
that grants you my room,
that shows what I’m doin’
larger than life.

A poet of world standing
I am not.
I’m a poet among many thousands
in the availability of today,
and no poetry comes along and wallops your head
or smites your heart
from my pen.
I just spit in the breeze.
That’s the trash dumpster,
and here let me give it another poem.
I put my dogs to sleep,
and I wish you goodnight.

All united and happy
they think.
Come here Luna.
Get your head… [vision of Luna Rottweiler putting her head in a hole in the ground]
One doggy at a time.
Oh fuck I’m on Candid Camera.
He’s just gonna go for it.
Well then the surprises and bad secrets,
heart is ruined on the same thing:
waging war on the Fourth of July.
What’s the significance of your dog
growing?
Into a likeness of you.
What I didn’t have:
put every slept of it 
complete.
My God,
they should be spilled.

What is it this time?
Dr. Milk Powder—
I haven’t called you;
I’ve had enough,
is that the plan?
You know he’s lost his boy.
They’re travel uneasiness
way to stutter.
Don’t you see?
Alongside with it it’s real.
You know his boy’s called
not in awhile.
Suffer this,
and it just last of people’s hittin’.

Do you like people?
Is this fruit juice?
Why is it we always hate somebody,
run there all the time?
You really enjoy this life don’t you?
It seems all fair winds.
Need to pull her pregnant
with the grenade.
It will get you every time.
Just look around the world.
Just look at your neighbor.

Do you know how we get along?
Do you know how we get through this?
We don’t be monsters to each other.
We don’t be mean.
We try to be kind and giving
in our painful moments.
This is overcoming the world
and getting better at yourself.
It’s a love angle,
and we need more love.
That house definitely,
where you put your hat off,
where you sit around.
Love those people,
the people you’re life-in’ with.
You don’t know how much this counts.

It’s all an effort I know.
We have to overcome ourselves to do it sometimes,
but we have to give this baseball
to all the standin’s in the world,
so we can have a world that works.
Is that so hard to believe?

You know the world is full of holes.
Even the divine is negligent
and will crush you to make the world,
will just stand by and watch.
These are not pleasant times,
but we have to endure them,
tryin’ to find joy inside,
tryin’ to give our children a good time.

What else is there?
Spirituality’s a pole we lean on.
There are surprises in consciousness if we let them.
There’s a world maker’s art you can see.
These are deep down inside,
past the underwear,
past all that gets in the way.
There is strong inside,
even after you’re shattered.

This world’s a dream maker’s art,
so much more than show,
but this is a common dream we are having
that the significance of dream shows.
We’re living out a representation
telling a story,
and all our lives add to that
One involved,
and all our lives keep going.
We’re where time loops around itself
a great big mechanism of being
that has definite boundaries
that we can cross and get out of here
after the whole has been complete.
We’re goin’ somewhere together,
and yes some escape before time,
but they’ll end up on another world soon.

This great big ship
has a destination you know,
something worth time,
something bigger than ourselves
and is ourselves at the same time.
I’ve gone out of the universe you see
and been myself on high.

Stupid me,
I describe experience like you’ll believe it,
but you can kill me and it’ll still be there.
It can’t be erased from time.
I’m a nobody because of it,
liftin’ up my room
for you to see.
It’s got crosses on it
and monkey bars,
because I’m just like you,
but I’ve been given a breath of supernal air,
and I need to tell you about it.
It’s affected my vision.
I see the world.

I’m just like everybody,
but I don’t live like you inside.
I live with you and inner vision.
I get rocked by joys
that fill my noon
the outside world doesn’t bring me.
I feel oceans of sadness
I’m not in the world about.
I feel existence pain,
and when I walk outside,
drive my bike through the town,
the countryside,
it’s a wonder-weft of miracle,
and I feel every person I come across.
I see the One inside,
and all the many representations surround me.
I can’t get over it.

Now I’m here
with another poem.
Let it ride the day
if you read it,
because it puts us together
if you escape,
because it’s here
we learn to live again
after your world has been taken away.
Can you see me now?
Can you hear?