Prison Poem #00

In a hole. I find myself hear not because i fell but because i walked.  Slowly but surly step after downward step until I have to look all the way up to find sunlight.  Now I climb. Now I fight against the odds and struggle to survive   Survival is not guarantied and coming out of this unsecured is pretty much impossible.  Fighting agents this current will hurt.  Knowing my goal will make the pain bearable   It will be hard exhausting work but the struggle I relish  I once said that I would dig my self out of this hole when it deep enough.  Prison is deep enough.  I don't know why put myself into this mess just like i don't know why its time to get out of it. but it is.

Prison Poem #21

Life Is Like

life is like a rose.
life is like three dollar bill; pretty and real and spent well.
life is like a summer day; lazy
life is like no word at all; understanding
life is like time going backwards; things make sense
life is like sex in a hammock; two people afraid of falling out
life is like a prison cell; cozy, constructive, confusing, inspiring
life is like drugs bought on the street; over priced and unsatisfying
life is like a wake up hangover; wondering what happened the night before
life is like an old tombstone; politely ignored
life is like
life is like a misunderstanding
life is like a person
life
life is like a piece of fruit
life is like a peace of fruit
life is like a still portrait; sitting still for hours in an awkward pose
life is like a contortionists smile
life is like a wake; people coming together
life is
life is like a simple truth
life is like a simulation
life is like time trapped in a bottle
life is like the impossible
life is like a bad wine; only enjoyed at low standards
life is like a crazy person giving good advice
life is like a triumvirate
life is like death
life is like blood
life is like eating your greens
life is like expectation
life is
life is not like rose
life is like sweet honey
life is like bitter sugar
life is like a Nobel prize; not always given to the deserving
life is like a landfill
life is like superman
life is like a poem on repeat
life is like the shiny new toy
life is like Freud, Grafenberg, Descartes, Jung, Plato, Nietzsche, Gendell, Sunzi, and Rosen all in one
life is like a lie
life is like a GPS with out street names or destinations
life is like cake
life is like a Vandergraph machine
life is like choice
life is like change
life is
life is like life

Prison Poem #20

I am myself alone.  I am a singular entity in a maelstrom of others.  I am by myself in the emptiness between others.  I am singular and solidly consistant, my size does not vary, my perseption limeted.  i have a singular perception, it being incomplete.  I am just me.  This is new.  What am I? A machine of biological complexity processing fuel, exerting waist, and expending energy?

I am everyone.  all ma I.  The one I see is me.  God perceives all.  I see the waring parties and they are themselves each other, they are me and I they.  We are me as I am all.  Love rains.  Im so alone I am more man then god.

I am a man searching for his god half.  I am a devine uncertainty with without divinity.  I am

Prison Poem #19

I lost my breath
the rug was pulled from under my feet
I have been given an opportunity
I do not diserve such treasure
God is glorious
His majesty is mighty
I love him!
Thank You.
I am indebted to Him.
I will walk in his foot steps
I will thank him.
My word is my bond
My bond is my balls (dont brake your balls)
Love abounds.

Prison Poem #18

Its funny how growing up I was a member of the cult of self worship.  But I always thought religion was bogus.  The thing about therapy is it can be an addiction and now that I've gone without the therapist I self analyze  Any starter in the field knows the dangers of this but its also unavoidable.  I am great-full for any outside analyses but I don't usually go searching for it. When I do its for a one of two reasons.  One to self a firm a preconceived notion, two to get an objective perspective when I know I need one.  The first happens more often and Id prefer it never to.  The second is good but sometimes I thank its my goal but I'm under a cloud of self deception. One form of objectivity I've neglected frequently, is to write down my thoughts for tatter review.  This I do often now.  I like poetry because I can express a mood or feeling and be completely subjective with out worry.  My best poems are when I'm in the thralls of a particular emotion. Such times my rational is always clouded.  At these moments my rationale mind takes a back seat.  My preferred definition of insanity is the forfeit of rational thought.  The reason I don't like Einsteins is because there are times when rational thought dictates the repetition of actions. I should write a poem that has the starting lines repeat 'the definition of insanity is' Thought Id never keep a journal because I was to afraid of what the reader would think of me.  Now I see the catharsis in realising my thoughts to paper.  Not relying on it but giving it the burden.

Prison Poem #17

To men are one man in no-mans land.
Three men are unhappy without a woman
One man is silent on the face of a woman
Pi men have theory as to what they are
One woman has power she may not use
Two are easy they fight to choose
Three women are dangerous they will abuse
Both together in symbioses fuse.

Prison Poem #16

Every season has its rain. Every king has his bane.  Every man can go insane.  No one should be slain.  This is a crazy time.  All of us have committed a crime.

Prison Poem #15

"This is not a good idea" sayed the man with the gold hat, He was working on the rail lines for the subway company back in  the sixties.  No amount of shouting would dissuade Roger.  He had a job to do and he would get it done.  "At all cost." He mumbled ad he lowered the bomb into the circuit box.  If timed right the number of casualties would be one that Bob would like.  HE hoped Bob didn't punish him again for making it out of plastic.  Bob didn't like plastic it was something that Sally made.  Remembering how Sally hurt Roger made him go faster.  He missed the mettle of the circuit and detonated.  The explosion killed one.  Bob was happy with that number.  Sally asked; "Want to play another game?"

Prison Poem #14

A dialog with nobody

"Thought you were writing."
"Its not enough."
"Ha ha."
"No more."
"For now we will sing pretty little love songs."
"To much of a good thing can drive you angry.  Not that you'd knotes."
"From one to all."
"All is me."
"God is."
"Hellos welcome to reality, may I take your order?"
"This is a dream."
"Once I woke up and found that I was asleep."
"Tape this for it will not happen again."
"The, wind blows the, string sounds the, fire combusts the, field turns."
"Happy sounds make sad smells."
"From me to you with Gods love."
"She can only be one."
"Is it a loneliness that we make?"
"To me?"
"For what?"

Prison Poem #13

How in the haven can I remember that life is now but there cant be more to it than no one knows.  Life is gods walk.  True life is of death.  This is my act, your will.  You show me in discourse, visions, and repeated advice.  No man is subject to only them self.  I flower in your beautiful splendor.  Lotus, posies, tulips, gladiolus.  On harmony we strive.

Prison Poem #12

Tea is no delusion but the British forsake us

and imbeciles and gun lovers I do not party with

No I am a smart ass; which is why I hate fat

ivory; its so full of contraband   

Earth is my home don't shit on it, bitch.  

Prison Poem #11

Through the Cartesian thought experiment I can not trust the reality around me except on the assumption that it has been therefor it is likely to still be.  Statistics become the most reliable ground for truth.  Emotion throws a monkey wrench into this whole thing.

Prison Poem #10

Drugs are Wack

Irregular boils cover my ass.  Meth fiends are selling jewelry at a very nice price.  Crack rocks can cause cancer if your a Taurus.  Know thy self.  Gnow thy self.  Destruct attorneys play golf for friends in white hats.  No man is an archipelago.  White is the new yellow.  To much of a good thing gives my lady a hard-on.  Down with soup.  Tut-tut the king is a nudist.  Mary would you like a giro? Go to the bark and ask for your money.  That's what I'm talking about.  To much change can cause flexibility.  Yoga has a long list of side effects.  Take two and call me in the afterlife.  White powder is dangerous.  Many have tried.  One and one and one is three.  I've got blisters on my fingers.  Trust is a two way street.  How many lanes? Crazy people see the clues.  Nice try god Ill get you next time.

Prison Poem #9

Acid Trip

Bivel balather blah. No this is your dog speaking.  Yes you are stoned.  Don't touch that lamp. Where are you doing  Tick. Tick. there's a tick in my fun.  Dose this remind youof anything? Follow me.  Down down into christmass town.  The town of mass for christ.  What is mass is it the things that take up space or a great song? Maybe there's a requiem. Tick. Tick. Tick, your late! The baby is overdrew.  Your bass is going to fire you.  What time are you on? You mist it the buffets gone.  Your late.  Where were wing wizle. A nice pint is just what I need.  Wheres the sangria? Don't ask questions your stoned.  Fear is the mind killer.  Mine is the feeler.  Theres no business like showbuziness so get up on stage and shake it.  To much of a good thing can make you love Jesus.  Christ Christi what is up with you.

A dialog with nobody

Thought you were writing,  Its not enough.  Ha ha.  No more.  For now we will sing pretty little love songs.  To much of a good thing can drive you angry.  Not that you knotes.  From one to all.  All is me.  God is.  Hello welcome to reality, may I take your order? This is a dream. Once I woke up and found that I was asleep.  Tape this for it will not happen again.  The, wind blows the, string sounds the, fire combusts the, field turns.  Happy sounds make sad smells.  From me to you with Gods love.  She can only be one.  Is it a loneliness that we make? To me? For what?

Prison Poem #8

Mrs. Brown

Sylvia,
Sylvia why do you claim so?
The truths you profess are subjective at best,debating to and fro.
Descriptions in hand miracles worked, truths proven unsure,
Sylvia you are wonderful and let you voice be pure.

Prison Poem #7

Where are you Carl Sagan, they say you are no more but then where you ever?
Why don't you answer me Carl Sagan are you to preoccupied with something else right now?
I watch you Carl Sagan and I fallow the tune of your song.
The universe is everywhere even in your cashmere turtle neck.
Nothing will stop you Carl Sagan not even the Ghost oh so Holy.
Love is many a splendid thing and you know this Carl Sagan.
you know this all to well.  Down in the depths of heaven we travel Carl Sagan.  We are like explorers of a new frontier.  Not a thought for discretion have I.  In your investigation Carl Sagan did you ever find something and regret it? Did you ever keep some truths to your self?
Where are you Carl Sagan, I need to know!

Prison poem #6

Were once wise when wing was whelp.

Don't fuck with an upright and lawful situation Mr. Government;
 for I will not stop till you are no more.
Don't fuck with my consumption of knowledge Mr. Oppressor;
 for I will use what I have to make you nothing.
Don't fuck with my pursuit of faith Mr. Dogmatic;
 for you have but an empty shell of a religion and can not concur me.
Don't fuck with threats to my life Mr. War-monger;
 for self defense means the end of your life.
Don't fuck with my bran chemistry Mr. MD;
 that's my job.

Prison poem #5

Sum of the Parts

Two plus two equals for not that is matters why is god mad max is in thunder and lighting are scary.  Where two or more gather you have a conspiracy is the state.  None to much can I do what no.  No.  NO.  Yeah.  Feelings do not integrate with imagination.  True to form I fail.  Yell College of Music can be none to good a place for an Anthropologist.  Thrice the bell tells the time.  When we are in the place of mercy god says "to-ralu, tura-lu".  From time to time I can tell if this is real or if this is a dream but afterwords I cant remember which it is.  There is no mercy for the wise.  To much of a good thing is greater than the hole in my pocket.  For what is it that we are not or for what are we for? in the end we can not hear the devil speak for in the end we are not.  To much to much.  To much.  To much.  To Much.  Sing little birdy.  I will dance in the morning and go bad in the night.  Five times I fallow the path round and round the pentagon grove.  Flowers bloom and guns glow.  Round and Round in surceal sow.  This little piggy aught pork and glutinous was he.  I am.  He is.  They are.

Prison Poem #4

Cramped Living Space

Frisky business strategies make a life time of success.  Why? Because no one is able to ignore sex.  All react to it.  Love, Lust, Fucking, Abstinence.  The four are all in response to sex.  Life don’t talk to me about life.  True lie’s are antithetical.  Beast breast.  Young mercenaries march maddening into the midnight melancholy.  Ferocious fangs fight frisky fluid fronts of friendship.  Error.  Error.  Recalibrating.  truth.  Doctrine.  Dogma.  Catechism.  Satan.  Laughter.  Recalibrating.  Truth.  Love.  Freedom.  Boehme.  Drugs.  Unshaven.  Tweuwy we awew the most bewtafew peopew in the howe wide wouwd! Comedy.  Laughter.  Two men walk into a bar.  There is no business.  Drenched in sweet, shaking from exertion, smiling with pride.  Wondering if I got the part.  There’s a moment when the entire world comes together to celebrate one person.  This happens to everyone more often then we notes.  Life it’s all the… Can you taste the lemon? Fruit? Bach, Brams, von Batovan, Petrovich Eliach.  One man leaves, pause for laughter.  Change channels before the commercial brake.  Cramped living space