Good die rolled

If I was brave enough to die younger
I'd be prolific
Something worrisome in a world
That ties its life to children
As if they were sages
A gift from the ages.
Perhaps the older me to cynical, clinical
Hanging on the threads
Treading water into apathy toward
Recognition, never realized
And yet I sit high on a throne
Of following other ambitions
Ones that pay bills and builds
A better world one person at a time.
Alas if I had given up
I'd never known these luxuries
This idyllic existence
Out on the ridge that once felt like a razors edge, worn blunt now through the beard hairs it has peeled away.
I gray and wouldn't trade it
Energized by the potential.

Know this on your darkest day
There is hope
When you are lowest
There is only one way to go.

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Wait… you're already here… thanks.

As the plastic bills disintegrate 

We lose our faith in money

Not the same anymore 

Poison lit cigar with cash

A dollars worth not found in a dollar store

debt ridden in whose interest

Crumbling cash for charity 

Last vestiges of a bygone era

Tapping like we all suffer anxiety 

Every change a loss till clarity 

The question 

What are we invested in?

The royal we

All that be

Hardly can be invested 

In everyones benefit.

So we pick a tribe

Of parallel ideal,

Sometimes it feels 

Smaller than on paper.

It is for the appreciative few

We fight, we serve, we teach and sell

For these every effort a ripple 

To the world

Throwing pennies in a fountain.

Watch it pay dividends.

IkE/2024

Feels so good to

Be spitting and rhyming 

Feels sublime

When you hit that timing

Talk in phrases unphased refrain

Unconstrained by chains

Of acedemic striving

Set in my ways

You could call it surviving

Tasting the fruits of the labour I gave

Working for me means I'm never a slave

Spending out every penny I save

Saying shit like that is really showing my age

Wage raging against the debts, yesterday was a good time to start.

In my heart I see the parents you had

It is your fault you never grew up

Out of it

Success is a hungry persons reward

When your stuck on a razors edge you learn balance

Or suffering .

May you find the happiness 

Of moral contentment 

To hold your integrity as an asset

And a superb credit rating

A warm house

And a healthy family. 

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You are here

There is gone

Please visit www.bleedpoetry.com (thanks)

To have a daughter

Know she'll be fodder
For longers, barely hanger goners, wrongers
And her right to choose what she might and I might guide her to a bad choice looking for a voice like mine.
To know she'll grow and show the world a side of her I never want to see, in womanhood freedom, always my little girl to me, defend furiously, raise liberally.
A piece of me that may flourish or wither depending on weather, whether or not I'm a saint or myself and all the other factors of nature, nurture and luck. Influence in and out of control.
A goat to blame for short comings or a shout out at a lauding. Or just a forgotten memory if I don't last long enough.

What can be said

About it.

A one man show or a collective preformance.

Everybody, places please.

Dancing with mighty machines, so rough and yet so delicate, they know no feelings, they just want you to be gentle, get the blade spinning before you try to push it through the wood.

Let the hammer do the work. See your goal, follow through, get good first then fast will come naturally.

Math doesn't lie, has nothing to gain by it, if but the world had the same constraints. To master plumb, level, and square in a world that's constantly breathing, is a feat in and of itself. Follow the math.

Spiral in spiral out in the constant friction of an irregular number. Round tubes lashed with metal,  vaulted towards the ceiling through sweat. A different sweat than what you get in an unconditioned classroom.

A constant learning, an invested advisor facilitating a curriculum while espousing an ideal. Ideal is a goal, oft times not the end result, this is the beginning, not the end.

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To a friend on passing

It just wasn't the same

After Eeyore died

These hundred acres

Seem so desolate empty

A forest with nowhere to hide.

It's not like you couldn't see it coming

All the signs,

A dour sense of self doubt and sadness

Posted in his every remark.

"Thanks for noticing me"

He'd say, we'd laugh at his self abasing ways.

Oh Eeyore, your smile a gift worth a hundred of any others;

When you joined in the revelries what joy it was for everyone.

I lick hunny off my paw,

The taste is not so sweet,

To know our paths will never cross again. 

In days and weeks and years I know

I'll come to an agreement with the pain;

When I stop to think about you

I'll remember the good times,

The times we laughed,

Lest I cry.

The bear is not takin it well.

I can tell.

The writing on the wall.

The fall.

Preposterous it wasn't predicted,

Imposterus friends are we?

I simply can't believe it to be.

He was sad. What about me?

Was the impetus on us? We tried!

The ass wouldn't let us inside

Just a gray wasting away.

Oh well oh well

It's been a hell

We lost a good one

A kind one

Never a bother for nobody

Just a good ol' pal

I hope he's happy now

Though I know he's dead

Underground.

The woods will never feel the same.

If only he'd asked,

Why, I would have given.

Never had goals or dreams

He just never…

Will never.

I can't speak for myself

Having passed from the mortal coil

But know I am at peace,

Every individual particle of me returned to the dust it was created,

Chemical composition decomposed 

Into a new chemical composition 

I am one with my choices and apologize to those I've left behind, give it time

It will all be fine

Thanks for noticing me.

The leader of the lost boys

The leader of the town
The justice seeker
Public speaker
Fundraiser
Host
Trail blazer
Father
Husband
Man
Leaving behind a legacy
To carry forth the town
To carry forth the family.
One could only imagine
What he could have accomplished,
Still striving to take in
All he had;
The lives touched by his jovial nature
His passion forwarding agendas
For the greater good.
A piece of shared history
A page torn to soon
A void
For everyone he served
For everyone he loved
Everyone who pays reverence to the man
He was.
May the things he built continue to flourish
May his example embolden others
To fix societies vexations
With such grace and charm.

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If

When I become

No more

Than my bad habits

A riddled shell of vice

Stripped in succulent 

Barred with indulgences

Prisoner to pathology 

Would you still see me.

Slowly it rots me

It would rot you too.

Could I stand to see

What was done to you?

Shame and guilt

Singed paper 

Pulling me out

Of society.

Pulls me out of myself

Sage burning demons away

Strange fear it's all

That is keeping me sane.

IkE/2022 apr21 8:39

Free NFts

Change

Chop it into NFT's and sell it out 

We only ask full credit

And that half your profit 

Goes to charity.

Literally an economy

Of Interest

Worth as much as your willing to pay

Attention 

My gift, my poison

My urge to be a society

Unto itself

A match to light a thousand fires

Offered freely

Content

Competent or not

You get what you paid for.

        

Balls of energy in space

Fighting against gravity

Burdened with hand me down expectations 

Raised in a world lost to time.

Keep taking

I'm waking to

What I'm willing to give,

I've plenty more where this came from.

Old one

'I felt bad to have lost a finger, till I met a man without an arm'
Old Adage.

Beautiful face
Poisoned personality
Maybe if your face was flawed
It would balance you out mentally.

'How does it feel to be, one of the beautiful, people'
The Beatles

She had acne scars
And webbed toes
A heart of gold
Tarnished daily.

'Capitalism has made it this way'
Marilyn Manson

All the money to fix
To snip, nip, tuck and shave
Carve, sculpt, lift and suck
Freeze
Till only an abomination
Unnatural remains
Rotting.

January 3, 2012

Lost words,

The never found poems

Rotted parchment insulating 

The attics

Back alley of libraries,

Hidden among the intricate web.

The never scribed,

Never arrived

The over judged by self critics

Over ruled by the schools.

Lightning in a bottle

Fizzled to decay,

Trunks of regrets, 

Ocean trapped

Closets of discontent

Fearful youth never exposing its innocent anguish.

Languishing in its own creation.

Laid back

Laid to rest

Detested by the creator,

The nature of ones opinion

Read back silent 

Outcast instead of recast

The editor tears holes

The tears flow

As the murdered manuscript takes

An unrecognizable form

From a confident perch to a confinable abhoration.

Find me reading the works unpolished, seeing the reality.

August 15 2020, 10:05 p.m.

Alexa knows when your not home

So does your home.

Your assistant knows when you're all alone.

So does your search history.

They can see who's allergic to 5g and vaccines, been selling it to you for years, confirmation bias.

And here we are at the precipice of a second wave of a new plague, Camus rolls in his grave, how predictable the parade.

Spend your money on saving lives, vilified.

Save your money on cheats and lies, sanctified president.

We residence of the hollow tube, the last of the  cathode-ray generation, sucked into LED arguments with our little touch screens, against PC players, armchair experts.

They'll sell you the VPN then sell you to the highest bidder. Lure you in with an algorithm, then use your input to make it smarter. 

Smile for the camera so we can get a clear view of your dental record. Post your location or don't, tracers on the file. turn off light. It was never the media, it was only you and what you choose to consume.

We resume in our doom on the prosperous dreams of tomorrows never promised.

We became greedy in the food chain, bad times came upon us. Mother nature is a Libra.

Any hunter'll tell ya, When the herds get to thick, illness can creep through quick and decimate populations, a controlled hunt socially distances them enough to ensure their survival. 

Herd immunity is not the cure to a hardly understood disease.

What was I on about again? Takin' to talkin' in meme.

E

Sentimental

Grandma's cigarette 

A generations Apple pie

Childhood couldn't help

But get a little high

Just a little one

That was barely worth its wiff in the eye.

Backseats without belts

Sleeping on the floor as we drive,

Tragedys averted with a little bumb on the head against the dash, shouldn't have been standing there.

Somebody had a van with a table.

Flying 7 in a bird made for 5

Four crammed in the back

fifth in the trunk, a generation changes if the drivers drunk.

Sweet memories of hands swimming out windows

IkE/2022

Can you

Here upon the 

Amongst the

Connected, an RF pillow

Flesh and bone.

Yesterday's 

Over

Underestimated it's impact.

Carnally absorbing adultery

Adult films limbs nimbly navigating

Never knowing if it's really a sin.

Reason dictates but not

Everyone listens

A victim to their conveniences

Down a dark narrow road.

Better days ahead

Everybody says

Take advantage 

While you can

Everyone makes money when

Everybody pays

No value attention

Live Laugh Love

Inscribed upon a mantle

Never hurt anybody

Everybody thinks

Saturday night

1. Gave up handsome for handy.

became a jack of all trades instead of a jack dandy.

working with my hands instead of letting arms hang idle.

The character was played put the facade to heavy.

what my past self would tell my self, rotting pages on the shelf.

and here i sit alone on the apex of society grieving its loss. silently.

dog laying on the carpet at my feet, knowing no one else lets her on the carpet.

I could be a better me. I better be. Need to quit smokin (was a g but i began erasing, habitual me)

I gave the dog a bone, now shes back in her bed chewing noisily.

The things that can be built is astounding, what limits our capacity but resources. and reason.

Reasonable and responsible is all I really want to be, yet part of me shuns the stress of responsibility.

But if I'm handy, can't I always get handier. Not getting any prettier, teeth rotting up and down, not for lack of trying with oral hygiene, cursed nicotina making me a monster. but if I get handsomer, I might forget to be handy, dangling arms down the sidewalk instead of a grubby vestige of the late 90's.

We aren't wearing silver suits (yet) but this future they promised us sure is exciting.

From the 60's to now, unfathomable the exponential growth in technologies. Humanity with many hands building against itself. Living entwined in incredible growth, unsustainable unless we make it so. 

writing this on an apple the wont rot but rather be recycled... god i wish i could find a better font.

is this how the narrator whispers, I think I saw it once in a novel

im brushing my teeth right now, multi tasking. amazing i can type with my left thumb. 

and now i'm having a cigarette because the dog wanted to go out. it's cold.

so silent so deadly sickly sweet, you know my mind made we add the last adjective. My pronoun is now "we", my microbiome and me, losing to plaque and afraid of the plague knowing the build up in those lung quadrants.

so much of me is not me.

so we.

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Drown

Is water wet to fish?

Or it a perspective of us,

anthropomorphism. 

What if no other creature, experiences moisture like we do?

Then is water truly wet if we are the only ones who experience wet this way; a tree feeling it's wet roots, an amoeba the wet in it's fingers?

Aliens among us, covid virus mutation, attacking us, does it feel wet in the rain or does it crave wet as we crave dry warm blankets?

So what is wet, we already know the spectrums different animals see in never truly looking out those eyes.

How far is too far to extend what truth is to.

Can we at least accept our fellow man and know no man likes to work out in the rain.

The flies may not feel damp but I do.

We've already poisoned so much water, why build in drizzle, slow down the world and blame it on the weather.  

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