Words in my head
Words on a page
Words that make me think I’m a wizened sage
Do they pierce you
The things that I said?
Do they bring you
To a new place in your head?
Does anyone else feel this sense of dread?
Am I wasting the
Precious breath that I breathe?
Am I wasting my
Bruised fingertips as I seethe?
Nobody needs to bleed
One thing I know
Is that I can’t make myself stop
No place I can go
To bring the words to a stop
Climbed all the way to the top
Only to still be looking up
Blistering bewildering badgering bumping bouncing
Today, yesterday, and some other day
Thinking more than I can possibly say
It’s a pressure valve
Letting off steam
From inside this cooker
Where it can sometimes seem
That there aren’t enough words.
That no one’s listening.
That I’m misunderstood.
The pen isn’t mightier than the sword
But it’s kinder. Smarter. Better informed.
Thoughts that are formed
Like wealth when it’s hoarded
Scattered, frothing, foaming, bubbling
A cauldron of intentions
Pulsing with frustration
Vibrating with desire
To change just one mind
To say the right thing just one time
In the crack of the asphalt I found a corroded dime
In one big circle that leads us back to
Or put on our thinking caps and
What if we already know the answers?
What if all the arguments are stale?
What if noone wants to truly change?
What if every question wastes time?
There is no why
There is only when and where and how
When is now
Where is here
How is quickly
Excuse me while I kiss this guy
That was weird, Jim.
They told me there are no more heroes
They told me everything is as it should be
They said step down and play your part
They said it’s time to start running
Cower and quiver
Work the Earth and watch her quake
Tonight we shiver
Tomorrow we shake
Looking for a single crack in the foundation
A fissure in the wall
Holding back all
That needs to be
The anger that burns is a wasted take
The sadness that bleeds is a wasted ache
The horror that suffocates still sits on the throne
The indifference that laughs cuts me to the bone
You walk with your latte
On the way to a paw-tay
But you stepped on a crack
And all the backs are breaking
The Earth is baking
While a few are waking
Saw a dead Messiah on a stone
She can’t be the only one
Wondering why nothing is done
Slowly, quietly... a moan
No coherent message
Just a thought
Just a word
At long last
Leaping over the past
Going every speed but fast
Sinking into the night
Something just isn’t right
But I’ve lost the will to fight
At 506 words, this is the longest poem I’ve written since Sept. 11, 2000 —
A Nomad, As Always. As of this writing, it’s
my seventh-longest of all time. Of my 12 longest poems, it’s the only one that wasn’t
written in either 1999 or 2000.