rubber gloves?

My body is a pretzel
because my mind is a stew.
I try to be careful
so I don't become a fool.

I suppose this could be stressful.
I suppose I could drool.
But I am only fearful
of those that are cruel.

The Fear

The Fear-
A poem

I am eating peanut-butter from the jar
and I don’t like it.
Actually,
I sort-of hate it.
Peanut-butter makes me want to gag,
especially in spoonfuls.
I feel the same way about bureaucracy.
The way our system has been unconsciously sculpted
innately self-destructs.
But who wants to pay attention?
Here we are, “A human alarm system” and many of the T.V. People in our world
Still
tap
snooze.
They sometimes awake groggily,
Wide-eyed
And whisper: “oh, shut-up!”
And return to their favorite program.
.
We stand
with our signs, silently crying,
sometimes
even chanting intentionally, potentially
inspiring mantras
and not denying.
The curtains close.
The handkerchiefs are passed around.
We don’t make a sound.
We whisper
frustrated,
yet compassionate and
empathetic secrets.
Passing them, (our thoughts and feelings)
from ear to ear.
And suddenly!
Roaring again!
In our “idealistic” (somewhat realistic) cheer!
Attempting to awaken all from
The Fear.
Roaring:
We are here!
We are here!
We are here!
For you
And me
And we.
See?

There was once a man who was made for the moon

There was once a man who was made for the moon,
who walked simply to a beat that was in itself his own "tune."
He had character,
he knew of despair,
he knew of everything
except the process of his own hair.

There was once a man who was made for the world,
who had the aura of travel in his mold.
He had freedom,
he knew of charm,
he knew of everything
except of people who choose to live on farms.

There was once a man who was made for the sun,
who experienced intense heat when he knew he was done.
He had passion,
he knew of hesitation,
he knew of everything
except the animation of his own great creation.

There was once a man who was made for himself,
who created everything and never asked for help.
He had knowledge,
he even had fact,
he knew of everything
except that it was all an act.

behold

behold,
The envious creature weeps for you.
she cries out in fear
And anguish
Though she can’t finish
This state.
she wants to warn you
Of herself.
she often has nightmares of
Losing control.
Practice,
Be strong,
Envious creature.

No more words allowed

“No more words allowed.”
My ears have been cut off.
Oh,
Don’t worry,
You can talk all you want.
I know that is what you desire,
So,
In order for me to save myself,
My brain,
My mind,
I have to stop being able to hear you.
Please,
Do not be offended.
It isn’t personal.
I know you don’t hear me either.

Patience

“Patience,” Cries out the universe.
The creature stops in its tracks. It looks above, it looks to the left, it looks at the ground with a vicious smirk.
But Nothing.
Nothing.
I need to re-acquaint myself with sleep.
Which has been defeated by
So many people
In the last few days.
I trap myself from the world.
And I turn on music?
I turn on the lights?
I sit,
More. And more.
No,
I should be
sleeping

We were all seeking something

We were all seeking something.
Hunched vagabonds in the mist.
All eyes,
perplexed stations of thought.
All eyes,
in awe.
All beings too busy,
too overwhelmed
to be violent.
Community.
Community.
Community.
How long will it last?