Day Drinking

Three in the afternoon--
Grab a beer, or two!
Chug, Chug, Done.
Drink another?
one more cheer!
Let's go shopping,
beer in hand.
But we must not miss
happy hour at five!
Gin 'n tonic,
Coke 'n Rum.
Seven PM--
time to eat!
More food, more food!
We dine like Kings.
Feeling tired?
Let's make a quick
stop at the store.
Mix up that vodka
and red bull!
Time to fly to the bars!
Beezies left and right!
Grape shisha and house wine!
Drink 'till you stumble upon
some cricket-playing Indians!

My Dear

I lied to you today, m'dear
it's hard to say why,
perhaps out of fear.

I wasn't scared of you
persay, but scared of me.
we want different things
you know, you and I

I tell myself:
do not involve her.
I don't want to hurt you,
but I might.

Sometimes I can see
you think the same
behind those shined eyes.

it is a delicate mix
of love and lust,
m'dear.

Obedience

Obedience is
a game for puppies
and grown men.
It is never knowing what
lies on the otherside,
just because
you didn't climb the wall.
Obedience.
It is the sworn enemy
of creative minds.
It is what compels men
to spend years and years
listening, searching
searching, wishing
for just a little corner space
in a vast web of society,
as if, as if he is content.
Obedience, it
befriends the meek,
never the great.
So listen to your mother!
To your television! Obey!
Obey, and you will be anything,
but extraordinary.

Sober and Somber

Sober's not the same as fun
don't listen to your mum,
I tried it yesterday--
Let me tell you, it's serious, gloomy,
not to mention depressing.
What I'd really like right now:
two shots of whiskey and spiced rum, each
perhaps a gin and tonic
three beers to wash it down
then a cigarette for dessert.
'Cause I don't know how long I'll live,
but so long to being Somber!

Spirit Within

Last night I walked home in the freezing cold,
one of those bitter nights that bites the skin,
there wasn't anything pleasant about it.
To keep my thoughts from my aching ears
I imagined a sunlit meadow
with row after row of golden poppies
and soft music from a trickling stream,
This image brought forth curious warmth within.
I realized then,
the spirit feels not what the senses tell
but rather the mind's own stubborn will.

Why I Can't Marry You Sweetheart

My mother called last night.
She was wondering what I saw in you.
She was asking why I waste my time.

And it's true.
We've always had that relationship,
you know, the kind of thing where
I didn't know where I was heading and
you didn't know where you were going, yet
neither of us ever thought of stopping or settling.

The sometimes frantic hugs at first sight.
The sometimes cold hello's and goodbye's.

Sweetheart, we're like two strangers
sitting across the room from each other;
we both happen to look up at the same time,
our eyes lock, and
for a moment the two of us are no longer strangers
for we shared that same glancing moment.

But its nothing more than innocent fun.

MATH 2210

My Professor's name is Ram Dubey
and his office is in Mallott Hall, that I know.
I think he is from India and I think he is about forty,
I would ask but it's a hopeless task,
'cause he only speaks in symbols on the blackboard
with his nose in the chalk.
Wait! He's saying something!
I can't understand.
What?
Goddammit Ram Dubey!
I Think I'm going to leave.

Work

I pass the time staring at the window curtain
which can't even be opened.
They gave me an office with two computers,
a phone, pens and notepads (to entertain myself),
still the day seems to never end.
Surrounded by white walls,
I can only imagine the Great Alexander's travels
and dream of excitement;
modern life is devoid of myth and prophecy.
We are all thinkers like Aristotle.
What ever happened to taking risk,
slicing the Gordian knot, capturing glory!
I quit!
But not before I can pay off my credit card debt.

Borrowed Time

At the opening of the door I was entranced,
before she even set foot within.
I couldn't wait to see that smile
and hear her dainty laugh again.
We shared our precious moments that night,
watching T.V. and making love
like two rogues on borrowed time.
It had to be a dream! A dream?
For she would be gone
by dawn tomorrow,
And my heart would again
be filled with sorrow.

One Summer Morning

I always drew pleasure from counting
possessions.
I believed in artifacts of fleeting permanence,
never confessions.
but Grandeur and Greed can only go so far.

I awoke to clear vision one summer morning,
the voice of a sensible spirit echoed in my ear,
and the weight of her words clinging to my breast.
I couldn't deny that she had been right,
for all my life I'd been winning
a trivial fight.

It's about time to abandon the seeming
and peruse my heart for something of meaning.

Philosophy

Every once in a while I find myself on some sort of ledge. A vantage point. Perhaps with a railing to keep me from falling off. I often glance over the edge out of curiosity for curiosity is powerful motivation. It is in these moments of wonder that a strange yearning from within compels me to leap. Why leap? I never seem to know, but maybe it is the need for destruction. To bring an end to everything I have labored for in nineteen years -- in which time I have never taken the leap. For it is precisely the thought of destruction, taking apart what is ordered, that reminds me of creation. And I glance at the structures (of wood and concrete and steel) around me, all testaments to those who have spent lifetimes building; And building knowledge.

Downtown

Smokin'
cutie downtown
foxy art
and sweet music
taste the moment
liquor spilling
so drink doubt
'cause
love is a game

in time.

Universal Truth

The sun shines from East to West,
as water flows, high to low.
Every dream ends in waking;
a man writes when moved.

Being American

Last night I heard the President speak,
"Stand up, Americans, for our ways and beliefs."
I'm sure he meant democracy, freedom, and truth,
as well as the sacrifice of our innocent youth.

Apprehension

Comfort abounds with many choices,
the ability to hide from truth, masked faces.
The ignorance of those too young to slow
darting through birches, row after row.
I delight in trails that wander wide;
but never was I one for the gift of flight.
For the bird, though swift,
sees all too soon--
the edge of the forest,
the will of the moon.
for abundant paths to navigate
bring solace to my heart.
So in the darkness I'll forge ahead
until the day one way remains
and beauty leaves the fray.

Boarding Pass

A blank stare at the document clenched in my hand,
By then I was bound to a faraway land.

Futility

A pretty figure staring
out her third-story window,
dreaming
as her pensive eyes glance
below and away, not knowing
that one window over
I dream of her.

Miles Away

You live three thousand miles away
I dream of you, by night by day
I wonder if you listen east
to hear my whisper in the winds
and every time the sun rescinds
behind a sheet of snow and sleet
I feel my heart race forth and beat
for fear of losing you.
But there isn't snow in L.A.
As I imagine your sweet voice say
from the passenger seat (as you fall asleep)
you must have listened east.

Hookah Haze

It rises with the hopes of Yesterday's dream
weaving through the Sun's midday gleam.
It sinks under harsh reality's gaze
for one cannot shape this mystic haze.
It dances with the sun, settles with the dark
and eases away with each gentle bark.
Until the next round of breaths implore
ever-wishing for just a bit more.