Vicious Cycles

When the shame of what I have done hits me like a blow one more useless time

I feel the trap of an endless cycle which I despise but never can escape

Once again, I realize that I do not control the foolish poison I have spewed,

And wish so hard that it did not always have to turn out this silly way

Afterwards I move about without the fire, in a juvenile shame for several days thereafter

Then I reach the point where I believe that it could not occur again

More time passes and I live what I perceive to be, an almost normal life

And gradually my emotions begin their slow rebirth once more

There is less and less depression and easy laughter lightens all the loads

The memories of my former acts seem very far away, indeed

I begin to believe, without knowing it, that things will finally go my way

Brimming with self-confidence, I face the problems of my days

Looking back, it seems that I really have, at last, learned that simple lesson

Now I live without the shame that follows so quickly upon my foolish anger

Then one day, indeed, it’s not ever very long, I am in some simple situation

Before I know it, the bell rings again and, as always, I must answer

Right or wrong it does not matter, my responses are always inappropriate

Loud and obnoxious, I willingly reject all I thought that I had learned

Eager in just a brief moment to accept that age-old urge to battle

Quite in spite of the fact that I know it never does me any good at all

I notice, but easily ignore, the not-so-subtle cues in each of these situations

The thought of being disrespected leading to a faster heart rate

The flush that creeps up to my face and the dilation of my eyes

Things I know are my own worst enemies, but by then it’s far too late

Part of me watches helplessly, simply cataloging the errors that I repeat

Part of me grows yet angrier, just knowing that I am losing control once again

My rationality becomes impaired and my judgment is affected

I cannot present my arguments in a clear or effective manner

In the back of my mind, I note that things are going badly

And then somehow I realize that I must have nothing left to lose

I give up all good hope and toss off my thin veil of civility all together

And at that point I do not really care anymore: Fuck whatever happens

Then it becomes a contest of sharp phrases and aggressive body language

A struggle not of minds but of emotions and ill will

There is no real pleasure in this pointless conflict behavior

But there never seems to be a way to escape them gracefully

Toe to toe we stand, exchanging insults instead of information

Unable to communicate anything more than a powerful subconscious hatred

Finally something breaks the spell and it is over for another time

A brief triumphal interlude ensues in which I am glad to be alive

Then comes the brutal truth of the redundant stupidity of my angry actions

At that point the foolish cycle begins again and I see blackly that, there is no escape

How Did I Get Here?

where did all those young people go

when you did not see them for a while

where does this strange person come from

who now greets you in the mirror every day

why have all the dreams deflated

to lie fading, ripped, wet and dirty in the mud

why does sleep begin to fail us

at the time we need it most

when did swimming upstream

give way to treading water

when exactly does the search for meaning devolve

into a mindless quest for numbed out comfort

how did those eyes, once so bright and clear,

become so cloudy and so lifeless

how do our voices, once so rich,

morph into such pointless cackles

what has become, as time passed by unnoticed,

to those who now toil only in the past

what was that lesson, almost completed,

just before this long twilight fell

where did all those dancing footsteps go

we left behind us in the sand

where are those fads of yesterday

we found so real and so important

why are all the roads now closed down

except the one-way that you're driving on

why do all these others, around your age,

look so old and tired

when did that child get up

and simply slip away

when will the voice inside finally say

now it’s time to leave

how can all these things that happen

really make the world grow better every day

how easily can we forget

those that go away without us

what can we do to try

and make up for all the wasted years

what became of that load of worries

that drove us for all that time

where are the many things

that we used most every day

where is the grandma's voice

that soothed the little boy

why is it now such a real task

to simply do our grocery shopping

why do we find ourselves more at funerals

than at the weddings of our friends

when will the truth finally emerge

from this roil of confusion

when did the thoughtless night lights

first hide the Milky Way

how can we justify our inaction

to those that inherit its results

how can our thoughts still be clear and true

when our bodies are so wracked and frail

what tales can we tell each other

to ward off the approaching darkness

what difference did that smile make

in this vast sea of empty faces

where are those fantastic opportunities

presented so appealingly in the glossy media

where are the charismatic mega-fauna headed

as we hunt them down and burn them out

why do I look now to the marketers of heaven

except to try and purchase life insurance for my soul

why do my days seem to focus on some dark pinpoint

instead of towards a window, open to the sun

when does one stop and say at last

now this is the happily ever after

when will the heat stop increasing

in our living blue-green space capsule

how do impoverished babies of confused little girls

grow up to be fit and moral human beings

how much time still remains to do

those things we always knew must really matter

what further savage acts are called for

to spur us on to our duty

what other, higher emotions, must we quietly forsake

just to keep ourselves trudging duly forward

Assiduously Pounding Sand

To engage fully in some futile activity

Along with all the braying hordes we pilgrimage to the magic places

Driving, drinking, demanding and defecating

Snapping memories at safe and well-marked backdrops

Then hopping back inside to drive on for another few more years

And, baby, it all amounts to just as much as simply pounding sand

At those very special points of interest, where nature spoke to a great soul so long ago

Thousands more now walk and snack, litter, laugh and urinate

They are pounding sand and moving empty holes, from one place to another

Ticking off itinerary items on rushed side trips towards a mindful fulfillment

Following the signs to littered scenic overlooks to snap the memories of a lifetime

Hurrying in the footsteps of long gone inhabitants and explorers

Experiencing another artificially cultured revelation before returning to the car

Driving what seems like way out into the quiet and empty backcountry and finding safe crowds

Returning safely as the snacks run low and the kid’s boredom grows

They think briefly of the deep meaning here, that they read of in the shiny brochure

Stalwart adventurers with electric generators

Taking matching 40’ RVs on a million identical voyages of self-discovery

Pounding sand but pissing blood, as it happens, and it seems, way too soon

Stripped of all dignity and grace by their very own swarming numbers

Unappreciated sights disappearing in their unused rearview mirrors

Like some vast post-modernist zen poultry operation

Flipping the remote with one hand and clapping with the other

Keeping the sound of no sound safely muted

By the pointless cackling and the idle strutting of the lamed

Preserving only the illusion until it’s too late to grasp anything else at all

Pounding sand and shouting until we grow quite hoarse and still

Pointless microscopic sparks in one ever-expanding and darkening universe

Useless To Say

 It is so useless to say anything and simply pointless to argue

your opinion does not matter since no one cares or listens

It is such a waste of time and every path winds up just the same

And everything can be captured in a few shades of gray

It is all very boring and it is all so bloody useless

all your life has been spent simply wasting precious resources

The tasks they spend their time on are irrelevant and stupid

all the really good things are ignored or quickly trampled over

The days are all the same, spent performing pre-programmed actions

and the freedom in your mind acts upon predetermined choices

The days grow ever hotter and the earth is always getting dirtier

but there is precious money to be made and silly management to be done

The times pass by more quickly for everyone, each and every year

except for those who disappear once again into the void

The people grow ever fouler through constant contact with each other

the madness growing ever stronger through collective repetition

There is no rhyme or reason, though many keep on searching

so you blame yourself for your confusion and for being such a dullard

There is no way to fight back and no alternate universe to flee to

but there are many forms of drugs that many people find useful

You are here for the briefest fleeting second and still manage to waste time

so our foolish lessons are not passed on and it all happens once again

We are comic in our self-absorption and silly in our incompetence

and our voices are mere whimpers while our hopes are but pathetic

Our goals in life are fuzzy and our strategies remain undefined

We will wonder why things end as they do, if we get a chance

There is no hope for dreamers nor any dream of hope

but still we fight on against the demon of our despair

Men are simply pigs who soil everything they touch

The future is not brighter, for really, things are not getting better

The odds are overwhelming that our kind vanishes again, into dust and into ashes

Yet, despite and because of it all, that hopeless good fight simply must continue