& even if I went there

I did not know any other way to be

no clues ideas inspiration

all support had dried away

& even if I went there

they too

had no other clues to give

I needed to change

change my life change me

without knowing

where I was heading

the route plan map to be

so I stopped dead

in whatever I was doing

got down to the basics

eating sleeping reading

noticing the world as it is

began building things in again

& if they did not work

help create a better day

dropped them quick

a long series of start stops

learning everyday

mistakes mishaps

which as you might gather

is still going on today

village idiot

sitting in the sun

swapping stories telling tales

stupid things we’d done

I used to love to listen

used to love the man

but now he sends me silly shit

pointing out the village idiot

other low hanging fruit

expecting praise some applause

& I try to explain

we found our own yuk yuks

had ideas thoughts to explore

I find this stuff boring just inane

low hanging fruit is too easy eh?

he gets in a huff tells me I’ve changed

maybe he’s right mebbe he’s wrong

& mebbe the village idiot

had something to offer all along

shades are drawn

there was some expectation

dropped in as boulder hints

about shades of grey

ideas as things

not being so simple

as I was

all charging forward

at the start of each day

the shading between people

finer lines creating

distortion distance

infinite nuance

the closer I got

the fuzzier the outline

much more than I expected

creating spaces

for folks to hide

act like who they wanted to be

if not who they were

looking on

there was a con being sold

dress like this say these things

think you will

the same as everybody else

& I look back now

fading photographs hanging there

still to remind to look

what is up for sale now

what furrows must we run

fenced corrals of ideas

be pushed into my minds eye

fashions they come & go

but there is a hand there

a beady eye

guiding the weak of flesh

forcing the wind in the sky

go this way

think these things

& all will be well


solid gone

the kid I knew

I was looking past

the weight gain

change of threads

bordering on grey

some kind of fawn

straight into those eyes

I remember blazing

night ‘til dawn

ideas riffing

moving 100 miles an hour

& the guy was gone

solid gone

that bright soul no more

spiritually dead

zombie living days

& I asked him

wassup man?

& he told me straight

nothin’ man

just bored y’know

life ain’t fun no more

mr. parker

my art teacher

the man listened

looked at what I did

sure there were other kids there

making better representations

in life sketches & paint

while I flung down

trying to force fat fingers

shape stuff from my head

& this cat got it

understood the frustration

of getting it down

the ideas vision

even if the flesh was weak

he was willing to follow

& that was good for a while

but like all jealous lost adults

children have to have hierarchy

& they thought themselves

better than me

surrounded the artist

to let no one else in

looking over their shoulders

thinking only they

could love the man

needed the attention he had

as ideology

did not set out

to be the enemy

but somewhere she got told

with obvious certainty

as a man

I was the problem

& worse

she would be the victim

& that mindset

is a trap

of the first order

any kindness is enticement

all cruelty holds the idea true

& who has the patience

the time the energy

to wear down

such sad thoughts?

far easier

to find another whose ideas

are their own

not thrown

as ideology

always something

I read too much

drank the same

wrote too often

slept late alike

shouted wrong answers

at quiz shows on the tv

had pretensions of ideas

begged stolen of course

above my lowly station

as nothing was right

in this deserted old head

spend time thinking of other

than them

& still they’d offer cool love

drag me off to bed

& I’d leave them slowly

or with the whipcrack

of a late hour slamming door

if I was never right for them

just how could they love

hold me tight in the night

if I was such a dead hearted

half crazed slow witted boor?

I burned through them baby

there with my youth

energy ideas & looks

all on my side

like a knife through butter

nothing taken or given

just excitement

lust love sex


each of us accepting rejecting

moving on to other newer times

& now I hear one has gone

taken by death silence

no more shining in the sun

& I couldn’t ask for details

burn or burial

to think of that beauty

twisted & torn

no chance now for apologies

forgive me’s for being young


that everything would continue

in the way life had always done