Darkness At The End Of Fall

Without leaves, tree branches glisten from late November rain

reflecting an empty light from the gray sky on the dead grass below

unshaven men in dirty clothes muddy their tattered shoes leaving old cars

soaked litter lies hopelessly where the wind draped it weeks ago

somehow the crows locate calmly-moving death and gather like huge flies

off in the muffled distance, an empty freight train squeals

muzzle frozen in a grimace a dead dog bloats down in the brown grass swale

the dark evergreen casts no shadow as a church bell strikes off noon

cold floors and dark closets await behind the dirty windows

rusting metal appears where the weedy shrubs long ago lost their leaves

naked lightbulbs hang dim from bare cords in moldy stooping-low basements

old pipes groan all night yet bring but very little dry and brittle heat

the light gives up completely in what seems like early afternoon

the muffling darkness grows stronger as it slows life every day

the mud grows hard in the morning after the puddles have skimmed with ice

the sun shines wanly an hour a week then quickly disappears

the nights are absent moon and stars beneath a low gray ceiling

colored lights are used to try and ward off the gathering gloom

cars idle inside steamy clouds of their own wastes and the people stay indoors

now the old, sick or weak fall prey to the first wave of infections

brown and rain-soaked dead leaves molder in every corner

lifeless flower beds sadly mock us with their current promise

sleep increases with the length of night and tiredness overtakes us all

there is little joy upon awakening in the gray and damp and cold

the lakes move steadily towards freezing and look duller than the skies

far off dogs bark away the dark hours in their lonely solitude

a howling wind springs up to freeze the rain upon the pavement

women shiver and grow pale as their skin dries to thinnest parchment

And castoffs walk the streets alone, absorbed in careful examination of the darkness

The Bag Man’s Tale

        An ode to the necessary medical removal of human dignity

Shuffling so very slowly down the street with your head cast sadly down

Carefully, so very carefully, one foot painfully, and barely, after another

Each step awaiting agony, with every tiny bump a shooting pain

Yet, that last one was not that bad, maybe just one more might be all right

How can you really help yourself when you walk so stiffly and so slowly?

Perhaps you should have just remained drugged and on your back in bed

So tired now after a tortured quarter-mile covered in just under 20 minutes

Young children sense fearfully the malignancy that controls your painful gait

Even small dogs, emboldened by your weakness, approach to run you off

There is no point in even looking at the young men passing by

And the women really do not see your faint shadow from their shiny cars

But the old people nod in recognition, remembering well, at the sight of you

Creeping along not lifting your feet or ever even bending your knees

Bag man with that disgusting mystery no one ought to see

Practicing the humility with which debasement has replaced your dignity

When they say that things could be worse they often point at you

Bag man, gray face sculpted by chronic pain into a wickedly grinning skull

Trying very desperately to walk so smoothly that he won’t feel a thing

Toenails grown long and yellow, white stubble and hairy earlobes

What made you scuttle into the light In those funny, wrinkled bedclothes?

Your sparse hair is sticking out in all directions and you don’t know or care

You’re too thin and the children see the yellow bruises from all of your injections

The muscles in your long thin neck distend as you grit your teeth with every step

Onlookers long to scream, just straighten up your back and walk upright like a man

The shabby slippers that you are wearing look so very wrong out on the street

Your weak presence both a lesson and an affront to the busy lives of others

Mr. Bagman shuffle back home now and fumble through all your medications

You’ve become all those things you never thought you could possibly grow up to be

Your pallor is unnerving and there is a redness about the whites of your eyes

You try to avoid their glances and answer in strained monosyllables

Your life reduced to merest painful basics, not unlike those great oriental Zen masters

Finding vast relief in the simple stillness following the great suffering of your trek

Mass Anger Mismanagement

we are angry at the grocery store, we rage alone in our financed automobiles

we are incensed at our inability to control even our own stupid feelings

our lack of control scares us enough to keep a pistol close beneath the car seat

we cannot swear, we cannot fight, but our resentment festers deep inside

mad that we are failures by the glib advertising standards that they force-feed us

our long sought-after calm shatters in a violent hypertensive instant

there is conflict in the predawn traffic, we awaken bitter late at night

heated disagreements brew during the happiest of family celebrations

diners are at each other’s throats while seated at their supposed leisure

people calmly riding bicycles gesture obscenely at the passing traffic

there is swearing at the televisions and the opinions on the gonzo radio

arguments erupt into violence over short walk fast-food parking slots

family members remain enraged for days over trivia they had forgotten

strangers grow too close, too quickly, in the bonds of instant violence

workers nurse bitter resentment and smilingly attack each other’s backs

sweet little mommies command replicas of paramilitary vehicles to shepherd kiddies

we hate the crowds that we must fight, we hate the fact that we are sheep

we resent being controlled by faceless, spineless corporate billionaires

we hate the perfect television roles that we can never hope to play

we despise the weakness and incompetence we perceive within ourselves

things heat up when we are drinking and domestic violence erupts

children push our buttons and become subjects of hysterical abuse

tax and spenders infuriate us with their godless fuzzy maths and junk science

so-called conservatives upset us, greedily slashing & burning everything in sight

fundamentalists rear back with the righteous wrath of god within them

ordinary people reflexively react to the latest gov’t bogeyman advisory

the middle-aged fume against those who have no cares but still have beauty

the young despise their worn-out elders but covet their possessions

the crowds are driven like the jews, for everything must be done in a hurry

the slightest inconvenience and it all goes up in anger and uncertainty

we break things if they don’t work right and call them dirty names

even sorority girls lay awake nights plotting revenge over a multitude of slights

retirees rant about the newspaper and then just try to take a few deep breaths

endless mental replays ensure that we can neither forgive nor forget

we rage about things that do not even affect us and that we absolutely cannot control

we raise blood pressure while relaxing with chants of woulda, coulda and shoulda

our children watch us hyperventilate over issues trivial and unimportant

and wonder why we castigate them when they raise their voices

men often think that killing something would bring them great relief

then, at certain times in our self-reflection we are shamed by what we see

the blindness and stupidity of other people almost drives us crazy

the more we dwell upon some trivial incident, the angrier we get

our path must be truly trying since we find that we must flail our docile pets

sometimes a simple stoplight can bring on suicidal regrets

just the sight of neighbors bringing changes to the place we live

might throw us into a state of rage we never truly comprehend

impotent husbands angrily try to control every move their spouses make

this merely a reaction to the helplessness that they know so well inside

children lash out at each other even before they learn to walk

when they are just a little older we teach them how to kill for real

surely anger is our natural state since that is how we find ourselves most often

therefore, heart attacks and strokes must surely be, measures of enlightenment

our anger must be well inbred, just look at the dogs that we have created

a Lab will never bite you, but never trust a pit bull

the angry man is a survivor, he kills and then he mates

thusly do his genes live on, but he dies full of violence, hatred and resentment

getting mad about being so mad is quite maddening in itself

then after anger overflows, there comes this stupid sense of guilt

still, despite our best intentions, we observe ourselves at it once again

trapped in a damned and miserable cycle, continuous and out of control

we despise those who are like us and hate those who are different

we resent the strong, revile the weak, and hate the old and the young, as well

voices on the telephone are quick to grow impatient

misunderstood intentions bring on anger which harms our relations every day

there are quarrels in the churches, factions struggle in the government

brothers stand against one other and strangers bond in instant hatred

attitudes are cultivated with an eye towards antagonism

opinions are expressed with an eye towards spurring conflict

opposing groups are brought together and baited like bulls and bears

deliberate attempts stir up controversy merely to provoke a nasty spat

we have these wars on poverty and terror that we must all take part in

and this guerrilla war on science and education that we will surely win...

politicians often tap into sources of public disaffection

pushing buttons to manipulate opinions and to reap emotional votes

fueling up on caffeine and dissatisfaction we go forth to fight out our daily lives

late at night the best can only mumble in confusion, sadly asking for forgiveness

I Drank Too Much

The high-functioning alcoholic might have a high-powered job, strong finances, and an intact family, but...

I drank too much and one more time I swore it wouldn’t happen, ever again

But I lived for it and I planned for it and I really thought it helped to keep me going

I liked to drink alone and numbly ponder the darkness of the night

It did not matter if times were good or bad, for I drank happy and I drank sad

It helped me to hurt those who tried to love me and to despise myself as well

I drank too much but would not see that it really didn’t do me any good at all

I made sure I had a good supply even if I did not plan my meals too well

In my mind I had controlled it by letting it take control of me

I drank every day and twice on Saturdays and even more on holidays

I never missed a day of work and that’s how I measured my success

I planned my activities to leave plenty of time to spend simply drinking

I enjoyed vodka, wine, scotch and beer in their own true seasons

I sometimes awoke devoid of memories with an all-pervading sense of guilt

My head would ache and my muscles would be sore and that I called the flu

I drank too much and spent my time with others who did the same

I learned to sleep it off a while in my car before driving back towards home

I would drink with women and that made it easy to brush them off like flies

I could always pay my bills and I was never dirty, homeless and mumbling out loud

I liked to drink right before bedtime and then pass out for a while

I was a good member of the defiant class of working alcoholics

I drank too much and though I always knew, I tried not to give a damn

I would drink before going out, to save a little money

Later on I really straightened out and only drank away the weekends and holidays

Not a bit less did I live just to crawl down somewhere deep inside of the bottle

I bought the largest containers of liquor and it made me feel thrifty and secure

I would hate it when I would remember arriving somewhere but not driving home

I’d take my vitamins, ibuprofen, water and exercise to try and kill the hangovers

I never blamed anything on anybody, I knew my problems were my own

I drank too much but now I find, much to my surprise, I can’t drink so much at all

Black Hole

A darkness so powerful that it swallows all incoming light which can never escape

I spin around its gaping, beckoning but absolutely empty center like some doomed spiral galaxy

So that is fracked because this is broken and therefore so am I and thus it all makes a tortured sense

And actually I don’t care because nothing makes any difference, so it cannot really matter

More than any simple sadness, it is a hole deeper than we can fathom and as dark as empty space

It is the wide maw of an oncoming and inescapable, empty and unconscious forever

Shortly, these tiny, ego-driven moments will be vaporized into some blind and ultimate equality

Every gesture futile, all struggles useless, each gain pointless - given the looming, infinite backdrop

Pathetic and foolish to dwell upon, yet so overwhelmingly puerile that it cannot simply be ignored

Every direction leads to a dead end, all the doors are locked but, nonetheless, lead to empty rooms

The past was wasted and useless, the future is pointlessly repetitious - so it’s all so very hopeless

There is simply nowhere to hide and all their bright fantasies evaporate as I enter my own Black Hole

I Am Filthy Poor

dropped but not picked up

ground in and never mopped

broken down and left unrepaired

foul smelling but long-accepted

gotten dirty with no thought of cleaning

carelessly discarded from a tired bus

washed down again with dirty water

smeared once more by septic rags

rubbed too often with fouled fingers

cleansed only by their grimy sweat

sandal feet deep-caked with dirt

poison trash burning 24x7

discarded mountains of drinking plastic

runoff tainted by human wastes

fed off plastics dropped in place

got a cellphone and dirty underwear

living large robbing tourists

totally used to things decaying

accustomed to wet toilet floors

waving flies off cold street food

ignoring things that climb the wall

made poorer still by accepting filth

The End Of My Life

Nobody could have despised me any more or much better than I did all by myself

I saw the looks of disgust that they tried to cover while quickly turning away

Children spoke to me frankly and their parents hissingly pulled them aside

I hated myself for even the slightest hint of feeling sorry for me

Many women were frightened to be left alone anywhere with me

Others fled laughing together and I was left devastated in their echoes

In a world of clean and shiny youth, I was a disgusting pus-filled sac

I knew without a doubt there was no sense in even trying, ever again

I was isolated and alone and I knew it was far easier that way

I did not want to be around me, either, and I could clearly see just why

Books and drugs took me away, not from so-called reality, but from myself

A simple glance in the mirror brought on hours of suicidal thoughts

Everywhere I went people stared briefly and then turned away quickly in repulsion

I chose silence knowing that I would never have listened to such a thing as me

I grew obsessive and compulsive after seemingly endless failures

Family occasions became agonizing ordeals though only of simple polite conversation

Too cowardly for suicide, I tried to kill myself by being accident-prone

No one could help me and I grew less and less willing to help myself

Self-hatred banished self-pity and caustic cynicism encrusted me like a scab

A selfish depression weighed down all my thoughts and filled my head like a bad cold

I knew I would never play the good or even useful roles I read of in their books

I never understood why this would happen to anyone, and it had happened to me

An overwhelming sense of guilt, futility and foolishness was always upon me

I gave up on plans that others made and kicked aside the dreams that they pursued

Quit bothering to try after they proved to me too many times that it did not help

I watched as others grew up and moved on and knew that I would always remain

Would not have bothered listening had anyone ever tried to talk to me

Wore the same nondescript clothes for years because it simply made no difference

Avoided eye contact out of a sense of shame and bitter self-loathing

Went for days at a time without a word and never really spoke to anyone

Slept as much as I could but never awoke from the foolish nightmare

Spun slowly in a powerful eddy of painful but meaningless absurdity

Saw all too clearly the trivial nature of my inescapable predicament

Laughed most harshly at myself over many a powerful dose of self-medications

Could not think of the future for my overpowering disgust at the present

Grew mute and apathetic from visualizing myself as others saw me

Could not conceive of a future from the ruins of my self-destructive present

Traveled to distant fantasies with the music to forget for just a few moments

Had to take the bit part of an irrelevant fool in every single thing I did

Sat in the back in silence and simply took all the tests for no good reason

Could not adopt any role models for I knew they would not want me as a follower

Had an overwhelming need for drugs to gain brief pause from self-loathing

Spent almost all my time alone but was ashamed to be my only and best friend

Hated the world I had to build because I was not fit to be in theirs

Did not want to live but knew it would be even stupider to die

Grew so tired of being lonely, but that did not help at all

Had to stay numbed up because everything I did just made my lame shit worse

Missed all the good times then and I bitterly miss them still

Kept my mouth shut since I would not have taken seriously anything that I said

Tried to remain invisible but stood out like an infected wound

Wanted to be alone behind closed doors but there were always things to do

Woke up hung over to inescapable self-hatred each and every morning

At last I turned all of 16 and I had managed to remove all hope from my future

No Longer The World I Knew

It is no longer early morning

It is no longer cool yet bright and warming

This is not the place where I was born

This is not the land where I was raised

There is no point in being angry

There is no profit to being sad

These are not the people who once knew my parents

These are not the values they taught us as children

There are no excuses I can give you

There are no reasons I could understand

It is far away from my home town

It is far from what I had expected

This is not the place of which I dreamed

This is not the wellspring of man’s hope

There is nowhere left where I could hide

There is nowhere else I have hope to find

These are not the fields we walked together

These are not the cities I once imagined

There are fewer things that we can count on

There is far more for which only faith can serve

It is not as quiet as it used to be

It is far easier to just go and shop

This is not what my father fought for

This is not what my uncles taught me

There is no longer room for doubt

There is no longer need of such good faith

These are not the Western skies I slept beneath

These are not the lakes in which I swam

There are still scattered pockets of resistance

There are fewer stars in each night’s sky

It is now that their family values must sustain us

It is a time to cast aside old reason

This is not the path I thought I followed

This is not the goal I sought

There is comfort in the words of our sponsors

There is safety in our righteous flock

These are not the ends they worked so hard for

This is not the gentle laughter that we shared

There are reasons to keep silent

There are judgments that will be made

It is late but all the lights still burn

It is not peaceful but they say we must be winning

This is less than we could have done

This is more than we should have taken

There is no longer any question

There is no halfhearted middle way

These are the days when we must not falter

These decisions cannot ever be regretted

There are no more secret places for the boys

There are no longer reasons for compromise

It is soon our debt comes due

It is not for hunger that we continue eating

This is not some cable movie

This should not be so easy to ignore

There is time to search for answers

There is good reason to avoid the questions

These are the things the old ones could remember

These are the times to reduce your dreams

There are those who would see us in hell

There are children in need of guidance

It is said things are getting better

It is not for lack of trying

This is not some rented movie

This is your son, somewhere face down

There is pride that decorates our folly

There is no more time for a peaceful twilight

These are not the winters I once witnessed

These are good times to promote consumption

There are now no children who await the summer

There are foolish secrets we’ve not been told

It is true that now folks live much longer

It also just happens food spoils more slowly

This is not the role that I was raised for

This is not the reason we removed the Indians

There is something on our hands

There is no reason to feel sad or guilty

These are not my wildest dreams

These are things my grandma would never imagine

There are logical reasons that we got here

There are still fine excuses to be used again

I hated me as they must have

I hated me and could not look other people in the eye

I could not tolerate my own reflection in a simple mirror

I knew that they were right to shun me and so I, too, tried to shun myself

I had no friends because I did not want to know those who would want to know me

I hated myself deeply and became, unconsciously, quite self-destructive

I grew bitter and sardonic, caustic and cynical well before my appointed time

I stayed alone just to avoid exposing myself to any normal people

I longed to be simply ordinary and not some monster who frightened children

It was no heroic battle against overwhelming odds

Just a mundane pusy deformation that blew up in my face

I hated me as they must have, as well, and I tried to let them know

If you tried to like me, I would have to hate you because I could not stand myself

I spent far too much time alone and it only made me stranger

I grew so knotted up inside I had to avoid even simple conversations

My face grew long and narrow and I remained always in the shadows

I lashed out in my frustration and, of course, they all just shook their heads

I could not take me seriously and thus I could form no plans

I simply ignored the future since I knew there was no place there for me

I sat depressed in the dark over the foolishness of my loneliness and anger

I peeled my silly mind like a very small onion and found no kernel at its center

I did not speak until questioned, then turned red, mumbled and looked away

I hated me and it showed in my clothes and voice and hair, my walk and expression

I hated having to hate myself because it seemed so petty and stupidly selfish

I hated those who tried to help me because I knew they did it only out of pity

I was devastated by that look of disgusted fear in women’s eyes

It seemed I tried with all my energy to simply disappear

I looked too closely within and was nauseated by what I saw

My future ended just after puberty and was replaced by anxiety and self-doubt

It was no noble struggle, no cross was borne and no hard lessons were won

I knew everything I did could only be unimportant and totally absurd

I lost interest in my constant depression and escaped into works of fiction

But I knew enough to never identify with the heroes, anymore

The best I could hope for was to be simply ignored and quickly forgotten

I saw everything I did through the twisted prism of the way that I looked

I could not feel sorry for myself because I hated that as well

I became quite absorbed by total failure at a very early age

I knew that I was not weak but it was also very obvious that I was worthless

I kept close company with artists, writers and musicians whom I would never meet

I felt sentenced to a foolish and degrading bit part that I was loathe to play

I employed various drugs in constant vain efforts at self-medication

I was shunned and I shunned others and myself in equal measure

I observed myself with disgust and just wanted to crawl away

Everywhere I went in public I heard these voices screaming ‘Freak’, ringing in my ears

I cursed god and bade him strike me down, as I lacked the courage to do so myself

I did what I was told in school without question, comment or objection

I bitterly rejected the sickening role of the unspeakably disgusting to which I was assigned

I hated myself for even fantasizing over ordinary relationships

I laughed harshly at my wasted lust as women fled, revolted by my appearance

I hid stoned within a book as much of the time as I could possibly arrange

I made it so they had to turn over a rock to find me, scuttling away from their light

I grew angry realizing my stupid hopes to be normal could never come true

I hated myself for the hypocrisy of my own continued existence

I was too ugly to live and was too cowardly to simply die, so I just tried to hide

There was never anyone to whom I could reveal my shame and deep despair

I grew defensively contemptuous of the ordinary habits and pleasures that were denied me

I sat alone after midnight as the walls closed in and the carpet weave rolled in waves

I hated myself and truly believed that it was the only correct and proper thing to do

Not Quite The Right Stuff

Perhaps got too much shade instead of good warm sunlight,

maybe took root in soil that was just a trifle poorer

not drained quite as well as required

or, perhaps, a bit too close to a footpath

took hold under limiting obstructions

very young, there came this hailstorm

maybe stepped upon as puppies

or smaller than all the others

grew too close to the downspout

possibly their mother was just too hungry

came up a season later, with siblings that were larger

or just shy and awkward, right off the bat, from birth

perhaps a trifle walleyed, a bit hare lipped or just a little deaf

father drank some and mother sorta accidentally fell down the apartment stairs

family was poor or they had prettier older brothers

often got no breakfast and wore that old and castoff clothing

simply could not always find the nourishment of mother’s teat

almost killed when he was still quite small, simple and defenseless

came to school in old sandals and her feet were brown and sandy

thought herself very stupid because she could not see the print

crippled by constant criticism resulting in chronic self-repulsion

thought that life was over after only sixteen totally embarrassed years

mother torn up by a nasty dog before she had weaned her kittens

the survivors having to learn of life bereft of her tender care

unable to pay attention long enough to ever start thinking straight

written off and forgotten though hardly even more than infants

left outside alone every day, slept on cardboard in the shed

ignored into chasing, growling, barking and then, at last, to biting

shaken for crying by caregivers who had been busy drinking

slowed considerably by mother’s chronic illnesses

rooted in soil made nearly toxic by construction

watered only by the runoff from dirty freeways and oily parking lots

diagnosed and written-off as failures by those who were their role models

told they were worthless and unworthy by parents that they just loved so blindly

instructed at an early age by authorities just to give it up and go away

totally invisible to those who might have been there to help them

given away when they stopped being cute

never socialized properly into any pack

stunted and bent by untimely snowstorms

grazed too low, time and again by passing deer

born high to a smoking, snorting, shot-up or drunken mother

squeezed into a modular beside a desolate road without expectations

found brothers in the prison and learned more there than at any school

knew only a family missing a parent and led by the child of a child

grew too close by the highway and was buried too often by the snowplow

road salt thrown up on their branches drained down into their roots

perfectly formed but not meeting accepted standards of normal beauty

written off quite early and very consistently through their formative years

hatched in a smaller pond where food was not too plentiful

finely-formed fish which weigh less than what we count as average

born without nurturing parents, favorable schools or sense of community

nonetheless, with good effort, able to pull just above the national average

surely you have seen them but perhaps not even noticed,

those far less than perfect, nonetheless, doing more than surviving

even though ill-favored or scarred, maybe abused, still they strive

they surely travel just as far, but on harder roads, than brothers of better circumstance

Darkness within and without me

It was not just dim or even like a completely cloudy and moonless night

For I stayed in a dark that admitted not even the idea of light

Things looked the same with my eyes either open or closed

Turning all the way around and looking up and down, I saw nothing different

How often did I stumble over simple obstacles unseen?

And not a single photon ever fell upon any of my myriad receptors

How easily I might have walked given just a little light

But I could not even know what my eyes were for

I might have begun with an imagining of colors

Though without sight all descriptions were simply meaningless

I arose from the dark and in darkness I remained

And I had no need of longing, for I had never seen

I dreamed in but the singular image of total darkness

No shadows could ever cross over me upon my unseen path

I knew not sunset nor the difference between day and night

Sunlight could not penetrate the depth of my thought

Darkness filled me instantly from everywhere without

And I remained as dark as my absolutely colorless surroundings

It was not just dark - for there simply was no light

The emptiness of not black was the only truth that I knew

I could not miss that thing called light, so far outside my ken

But, I was not blind, for I was always seeing nothing

So, I was blind but could not ever notice

Therefore, the darkness did not bind me in any form of sorrow

For me there were no things better left unseen

I did not strive to make out any shadowy details

I always saw everything there was, all at once

I could not fret over things I never knew that I could hope for

It was not blackness but it was the unified and true darkness

I merged with the no color, as empty as the void that surrounded me

My field of vision was consistent in all directions and both up and down

I lacked for nothing in the completeness of my ignorance

The mindless darkness bound me before I had emerged

I might have learned to visualize my surroundings but the void was silent

In the dark I found I had little understanding of how far that I had traveled

Darkness touched me all over until I took its form from within