On christmas

The Thought Process:
what has happened to thought?
things have become so mechanical
i just wanted to shout to anybody asking what i want for christmas
"shut the fuck up"
use your heart not your wallet this year,
sure i could use a sweatshirt, why not
heck, i could use a new ink cartridge, how bout that
well hell, how bout just some cash, hows that
now i can get whatever i want, isn't that what christmas is about :)

The Travel:
i returned home to find
the house a little nicer than the previous visit
the carpet, new
the hardwood, new
the paint, new
but it all seemed so distant to me
what happened to the slightly chipped wood
or the slightly frayed carpet
or the slightly chipped paint
that i left impressions on as a boy
i ate mud off that floor before,
beleiving it to be a hunk of brownie
i guess i was lucky it wasn't another
brown substance
and i unraveled that carpet before,
sucking it right up through the vacuum
and i smeared that original layer of paint
recognizing it each time i passed as a child
and marveling at my work

christmas had come, and so had i
back to a home i'd not like to just have to memories of.
but you can't stop progress,
the continuing act of polishing the original
when maybe all it needed was to be appreciated

The Main Event:
that night i went to bed without a tingle of excitement
(had i outgrown christmas?)
and awoke without a disturbance after noon the next day
where did the wake-up call go?
where are my brothers jumping on my bed
(had they outgrown christmas?)

we finally centered around the tree realizing
there's no surprises anymore,
no tricks to play, no beating heart
just a bunch of improperly sized clothes
and a tree barely decorated
and a yard void of twinkles
and receipts lined up on the counter

The Aftermath:
and maybe it was just the puddle's overtaking
the snowball wars
or the tv overtaking the sled rides
that sent me into a spiral of confusion
or maybe i just haven't come to grips with growing up
or maybe i just realized
people don't give a shit

an anthem for the people

The lights dim in preparation
of something profound
the voices come to an abrubt silence
you can't talk here!
enlighten me!
scream a thousand faces in silence
eagerly waiting for a spotlight,
a voice to guide
a baby's upset, better throw him out
how dare he interupt

a speaker emerges
all smiles and what appears to be
botox injected cheeks
he'll walk slowly and talk emphatically
and spring new sayings off the cuff
of 3 days prior
"such a mild, kind man he is" thinks the grandmas
"what a casual guy" thinks the middle agers

says something about a rich man and a poor man
and heaven and hell
and how they mingled
but something didn't seem right
but we all took it in, bent it around our brains
and let it somehow sink in
and we remained still
staring ahead, eyes fixed
analyzing his spoken word
we all need a voice right now
and we all await his final anthem, a message for the people
for today, for tomorrow
and later we can check the box that say
"went to church"

afterwards we can sit in the lobby
and discuss how it made us "feel"
and how good the music was this year
or how funny that run-on was
ha
ha
ha
and we can feel proud
because we're holy
but secretly i was tired of daydreaming
and just wanted his bow
a farewell, enjoy the holidays
please donate

oh the perils of youth

Act 1:
aw shit, not again
well at least i'm sitted down this time
but crap class's about to end
maybe ill just stay here a lil while longer
prentend to organize or something

-bell chimes-

Act 2:
standing after most of the class is deserted
i do a quick turn around and attempt a quick
tuck-up
but it's to no avail
mesh shorts was a poor option
i guess ill just walk ass-out hunched over
art class isnt too far down the hall is it?
aw shit yeah it is.

Act 3:
walking down the hall
think non-sexy thoughts
baseball
there we go,
um, lenny dykstra
darren daulton
darren daulton's slammin wife, goddammit
uh, new topic...food
cheeseburgers
spagetti
that hottie from the food network shiiit
um, shit in my bag
pencils
paper
highlighters
darren daultons slammin wife wtf

Act 4:
whoa, where'd it go
hope nobody noticed
somebody had to of though
i mean im huge!
hmm, whatever, guess ill never know
its time to go mold a peice of clay into some sort of dish anyway
i'll chat with you later, mr. peepee

The nutcracker prophecy (seen through a skeptic)

ill sit and stare in awe
of the sickness i'm witnessing
you all can live your watered-down lives
here in this bar
you can grab the nutcracker and make him sing
make him dance and shout and rejoice
for rejoice's sake
it doesn't matter, it serves no purpose
so i'm in a shitty mood today
and this scene in front
it's humiliating, it's digusting
so maybe tonight i'll pretend to take a piss
and walk out the door
but no, tonight i'll cause disorder
i'll fool them all and go home as if it's all normal
but when i arrive i'll blare the radiohead
but only through headphones
and i'll write as a cereal killer,
one who kills for more LIFE
and ill make sure to spell things incorrectly
like cereal?
we're all just actors anyway
and somehow i'll let them know i exist
in the shadows of my own head
and i'll fool them all and cause panic for the holidays
i am the zodiac killer
i am chip reese
i am the prodigal son

the sandal

i trudged up the hill the other day
walking unsteaduly, careful in fact
the thread linking the sandal upon my foot was wearing thin
the walked turned to hobbles when the thread broke,
just a few feet from my door
which was in fact the very beginning of my journey
but i was too stubborn to turn around and grab a different pair
besides theres a free sandal in the road down the street, right.
its been there forever it seems
and i've seen it almost every day on my way out
and its there when i return
just the same, but maybe a few feet north or south, east or west

and i think about this useless sandal as a constant in my life
whether im having a shitty day or not, ill still see that sandal,
and i'll still get angry at small things
and i'll still get depresed over my (lack of) love life
and i'll still end up at the deli
and this is what i thought about limping to class
about the constants

but that night we went back to the deli
to find that what was once a "cheers bar", our bar
had turned into another run of the mill, their bar
and on our way back, that sandal in the road
had been picked up

the things that were a constant in my life had changed
but it wasn't some spontaneous, random occurance
something, someone
had changed it
whether it be a poor man in desperate search for a
second sandal to complete his ensemble
or a coke-dealing rolling pin swinging
crazy son of a bitch with some sort of mental and/or rage disorder

so i went to bed that night with these thoughts on my mind
a 22 year old
a student, a scholar
in hope i'd not wake the next morning
a 60 year old
a skeptic, a sinner
alone

i had every intention of mending my sandal the next morning
but when i woke, i just decided to toss it aside

maybe i'll get to it eventually