I Can’t Relate To The Worm

I can’t relate to the worm

Because the worm is spineless

I can’t relate to the dream

Because the dream is kindness

I can’t relate to to the chimp

Because the chimp is in a cage

I can’t relate to your hope

Because my heart is pure rage

I can’t relate to the neanderthal

I don’t live with a tribe in a cave

I can’t relate to a Christian

I’ve never desired being saved

I can’t relate to the thunder

Because the thunder is mindless

I can’t relate to the worm

Because the worm is spineless

You Confuse Life With Art

“You confuse life with art” I say

“What?” he says

And somewhere a horn goes off

“It’s time to eat” he says

I follow him through the pallets to the lunch room

I can hear the pigs squealing in their cages

And a beefcake is putting chains in the truck

The lunch room is filled with knobs and a few beefcakes

Some nerds sit at a table alone talking tech

Everyone else eats in silence

“How did you finish your sandwich so quick?” I ask a beefcake

“He nods at the clock”

I don’t know what he means

I open my lunch bag and pull out an apple

I a bite the apple

“What do you mean I confuse life with art?”

The room goes silent

Even the nerds stopped talking

A few knobs look at me and the beefcake I bothered earlier stops chewing

“I meant” I said “you were saying…I mean….the context of it….can we talk about this later?”

“No” he said

The beefcake stood up

A few knobs gathered around us

“I was saying…” I said

I looked at the beefcake and the four knobs

“What did you mean I confuse life with art?”

“I just…I think you could write better if….”

“If what?”

The beefcake put a wrench at my neck

The knobs smiled

“What is this?”  I said all of sudden

But just then the foreman arrived

The beefcake backed off

The knobs sat down

The foreman gave me a stern look as if he had never seen me before

“And who are you?” the foreman said to me

“I”m new.  Jackson is the name.”

“Like Micheal?”

“No not like Micheal.”

He sneered and put the work slips on the table

I Drive The Feelings West

I drive the feelings west

Behave like a nobody in a nowhere with no one

Kind of brave

Kind of lonely

Kind of a twat

“I should read the newspaper” I think

But I don’t

I just sit down and write

I write:  “I know nothing.”


I drive the feelings east

Behave like a someone in a somewhere with a somebody

Kind of loyal

Kind of loving

Kind of a twat

“I will do whatever you want me to do, within reason” I say

And you reply “why within reason?”

And I don’t know what to say


I drive the feelings north

Behave like you behave go the places you go see who you know

And it seems as though you are an alien

A memory

A fading image once important

A face I can’t envision

A life I can’t remember

A ghost of what could have been haunting me


I drive the feeling south

Behave like I’m going to die and be nothingness and meaninglessness

And a crack of pain opens inside me

“NOOOOOO!” screams the depths

Screams my most inner thoughts

As I tumble down


Into the deep hole

That is death

The Fruitless Tree Of Life


Indistinguishable from feelings

And thoughts

Arising like a bubbling brook


Lost in the words of a language that expresses nothing

That changes nothing

That tells me nothing

Writing poems that have no meaning

Empty like me

Shuddered out of fingers unsteady

And a heart that flutters

To a state when I am ready

To pour out the blood

To make up thoughts and….

To lie the truth into being

Why Don’t You Write About This?

“What should I write about?” I asked her

“Don’t you know?” she responded


“Why don’t you write about this?”


“You and me right now”

“What?  Me asking you what I should write about?”

“It’s a start”

“Not a very good one”

“So?  How many of your poems are good ones?”

“I see your point”

“Just don’t end with death”


“You always end with death.  People can see it coming.”

“Well if I’m writing about “this” and you mentioned death won’t death be in it?”

“Yeah but it can be in the middle.”

“How will it end?”

“How about a happy ending?”

“That’s dirty.”

“Not that kind of happy ending!”

“What kind then?”

“You meet someone”


“A girl.”

“How about I meet you?”

“Why me?  I am just a friend.”

“Well we are writing about “this” aren’t we?

Should we really introduce someone else who’s fictional

when we’ve kept to the “real” all along?”

“Well what’s your idea then?”

“I don’t have one.  I meet you here at the coffee shop.

I ask you what I should write about.  You say this.

And don’t end with death.  It’s not much to go on.”

“Well don’t write anything then!”

“I won’t” I lied.

“Add Me”

“Add me”

The dull sound of the machine had me mesmerized

And I didn’t hear

So he said it again

“Add me”

This time I looked up at him

He was sitting on a chair beside the print machine

I made a concerned look

“To what?”

“What do you use?”


“Not even Google?”

“No, not even Google.”

“Where do you blog?”

“Never mind.  That’s my business.”

“C’mon, add me to Facebook.”

“I don’t have Facebook.”

“Everyone has Facebook.”

“I don’t.”

He went back to his phone

After a long silence he began to laugh

“You should see this” he said

But I ignored him

I went up to the machine and loaded the paper drawer

I clicked a switch

It began to rotate

The lunch buzzer went

I sighed

“Add me” I could here him saying to the Operator

The Operator said nothing

“Add me” he said again

And the Operator just looked at him

And slowly walked back to the control room