Bare Hands

You see that statue over there? Yes,

that one. I formed it. With my bare hands.

You see that car over there? Guess 

what? I built it. with my bare hands.

You see that house over there?

I created it – With my bare hands

You see that forest over there? Yep.

Planted it. With what you may ask?

                 My bare hands.

You see that government over there?

Yes, right there. I created it – with my

bare hands.

You see that planet over there? The 

Blue and green one. Yep. Formed that. 

with my bare hands.

You see that galaxy over there? The one

with approximately 10 billion stars? Yeah, I 

created that with my bare hands.

You see that Universe?

All forms of matter,

All elements, 

All natural laws

Every single thing I formed

With my bare hands

You see that person? That person

that's standing where you are? I made

him (or her).

With my bare hands

Every attribute, strength, weakness, charm

that he (or she) has – I crafted that

WITH MY BARE HANDS

Blink

Observing silently –
a tiled floor pattern

Sepulcher gray

                  concentric squares

                                        marbely flowers

and jumbled conics

                              Repeating

                    and

repeating

                           Closing eyes

                anticipation

     knowing darkness

                                      a placid moment

and now

                                                         there's a wall

surrounding me.

I can't get out   

         but I can breathe

I can move

                          I can imagine

amorphous figures forming around

me

A yellow alligator in a tophat melts

and 

forms into my father

(oddly)

Eyelids open.

Observing silently –
a tiled floor pattern

     

Nistagmus

Crossed legs and musing
                                and relaxing
and observing

in a moderately comfrtable

seat –

emphasis on moderate

                           But outside

I notice the assortment,

                                   the array of

artificial and natural

                                     outcroppings

Reaching out

                                                                  one by one

with hands and fingers

made of

        bark or

                            Stone or

                                                                                          Steel.

Outcropping, better yet –

                                  Oppressing

the aggressive impartiality

                                                      of Nature 

                                                                            and

drawing their fates

                                           with

opposable thumbs and

index fingers –

wooded, concrete, or glass

and handing me the present

of awed appeasement 

Causing Nistagmus in this dumb

                                                    old

                                                                van

Gale

Tossing
             and
                            Turning

In a tornado of weighted and knowing Uncertainty

The unleashed wind

                                                   is a raving tempest

                       of sheer power

                                          and ability –

              too much ability.

                                   All this seemingly infinite

             possibility

                                    just a thought away.

and this hurricane

covers and

encapsulates

my world

At the twitch of my finger –

Manhattan is

barraged by

jet streams of pensiveness

                                The blink of my eye –

Gaza pyramids are

                drenched by

monsoons of musing

Yes.....                                                                      Yes!

The biosphere is flooded and storming

hurricanes, tornadoes, typhoons

Covering all –

including me.

                         Me?

flood-waters of ferocious thought rise

buffeted by gusts of anxxiousness

                soaked by the rain of uncertainty

            the tossing

and

                             turning

              now            out 

                         of

 control

Why?

Begining to drown in my own fears

enveloped in a waterspout of

borderline

insanity.

I was God.

At least it felt so.

Realizing the Gales of knowledge

                     are only

                                                  of

this

                                       world –

And the water retracts out of

weakened lungs

And the Cumulonimbus clouds

begin to disperse

And the hurricane winds settle 

As I settle on

the foothills

of knowing

peace

Apathetic Love

I DON'T CARE ANYMORE

                                             now that I'm with you.

I'll swim across the infinitely distant

galaxies. I'll inhale this planet.

I'll crush the sun with my fist.

                                 Nothing can stop me.

                        Nothing will stop me.

I just don't care.

I'll wade through the acrimonious magma of persecution

and fight and conquer armies of guilt.

                                      But most of all

                       With you,

I can protect me

from me.

I'm glad that I don't care anymore

                             Because if I did,

                              I'd allow me to

                                                      Suppress myself

abuse myself

                                   strangle myself-

                                                                                        Let me emerse myself

In the sulfuric acid of ATROPHY.

And allow myself to

deteriorate into a

                                                   skeleton of Sin.

You,

you take me,

                  and get in the way

You let me suppress you

                                 abuse you

                                            strangle you

and let me force you into that

VAT of ACID

You disintegrate

you take it all

While I watch and

"me"

continues to

SUBMERGE YOU

...but I realize,

I KNOW that 

you love me

Transcendently

                   Infinitely

                                Endlessly

                                    so I don't care about me anymore.

                                                                                               But even as

                                     you suffer through all of my

onslaughts of evil –

                                             You're there for me

                                           You care for me

                             so I care for you

and I

            don't 

                          care

                                                  about

me.

Monsoon

I love that it rains all the time

                          Sauntering down the street.

                                    Relaxing on a hammock.

                                                        Riding in the back of a truck.

Trillions of little droplets

splashing and exploding all

                       around me

                           and on me.

                  Drenching me.

At first there lingers annoyance.

           coverting into total acceptance.

Completely soaked now.

                                               No turning back.

Standing in a puddle --

                                                  looking up. Assimilating.

                             Enjoying.

             Listening to

God's natural washing machine.

(Rinse cycle)

The sky-water covering all

                                      completely enveloping.

              Tears of joy

                                      Lost in cascading chaos.

Cleansing 

                  my 

                          body

                       mind

                            and

SOUL.

Someone

Blah. Blah. Blah.

I'm not listening to you.

                                                   Just passing by.

                     What did you say?

I guess I'm going somewhere.

Finding someone or something to be with.

To grasp onto.

             And cling. 

Never to let go.

Not once.

I guess you're the first I

have encountered in this 

walkway of redundancy.

At least you stood out.

                                   To me. For some odd reason.

              Who are you?

I guess you're someone. Someone

                                    to cling to? 

         Grasp?

                  Good.

                                             Then I'll sit

                                                                 right

                                                                                here.

                                   next to you.

We can wave down wanderers.

                                 Like me.

                            You and I.

We'll make a smashing team.

Your stand-out-y-ness and my me-ness 

ought to do the trick.

Catching someone's attention.

                                                  Someone like me.

Someone who should notice your presence

                                    our presence.

In a moment of intense lucidity.

Someone can find us.

                                And the team shall grow.

                                       Thank you.

For being there.

Not a Poem

This is a poem

No it is not.

Roses a red –

no the aren't.

They're scarlet.

Violets are blue –

No, they're not.

They're actually violet.

Poems are supposed

to create an image

 that the reader can

tangibly relate to.

Golden tears like –

stop it. Remember

that this isn't 

a poem.

It's not.

The Sun isn't red

like my passion.

Nor is the

Moon white like

my "pure" sympathy.

I already told

you that this

isn't a poem.

Don't you get it?

Stop reading this.

Just because

           the writing

                     changed in 

                             structure

                                    does not

                                          mean that

                                        this is a bona-fide poem. I take things and

                                               I like to throw 'em.  When

                              I am writing poems like I am

    not

                                                                        right now. I always write

 like this. It's just a habit of

 mine.

I did not just do a slant rhyme.

                                 I have a thigh.

DARN IT!

ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

That wasn't just

onomateopoeia.

                                Did I mention that 

                          this wasn't a poem?

I like not writing poems.

It's like blowing out candles 

on a birthday cake. 

Or sipping your first soda.

It feels

so great not

                       writing a poem like this.

Oh man.

                           

So good.

                   I'm done 

with this

pointless non-

poem.

It's over.

Hah.

The Low-Down

This is just an announcement -- My Poems are pretty much random.
Whatever idea I get, I'll just go with. So my poems could be about Schizophrenia,
Time Travel, the opposite sex, or, (one of my personal favorites)
the Jesus Man.
If you're not comfortable with my blog, then just don't visit.
If you like it, then stay.
That's All I have to say.
(The rhyme was intentional).

Steve

Tunes

Numbed and Addled

                                          by an airstrike of amplified electricity.

                                                    but there remains

                                                                             a clandestinely

                                            benevolent injury

                              bleeding peace and 

                                                                              complacence.

                                     trying to bandage it up with the

                                            gauze of insecurity

                                                 the ointment of doubt and the

                                                         bandage of facade

                    but the infection spreads.

                                                                 and I gladly let it

                                                            Amplify and Multiply.

                                 Hurt,

                                                             yet oddly satisfied.

                                           Sounds good, Man.

                        

                                 

And so it begins...

I have decided to post my writings and such on the interweb.

Yeah, well this is the start I guess.

Beginning.

Of.

Things.