Panic, Disorder

Panic, Disorder

That feeling of being on fire,
But burning under your skin.
Other times your marrow boiling,
Boiling from the outside in.

That panic from down deep within:
Won’t take control, though it can…
Makes you totally insane, but…
Won’t let you play the madman.

Your head on a well-greased swivel.
Eyes wide, darting everywhere.
But it’s almost in slow motion,
Crippled by paranoid ‘care.’

The world fades and retreats from you,
Taking all its weight, meaning.
While no-thing things rush and crowd in:
Chaos that’s suffocating.

Floating deep inside the river;
Going so quickly downstream…
Too worried about the waterfall
To try to swim, breath or scream.

When the Prophets Hide

When the Prophets Hide

Shave my head,
Sackcloth and ashes…
Feeling so dead,
As our life crashes.

Worlds collide,
And meaning is lost.
The prophets hide;
They can’t risk the cost.

Where angles
Will not even glance,
Our fate dangles;
We must take the chance.

All to lose,
And little to gain.
What we can choose,
Won’t avoid the pain.

We can’t win,
Just hedge our loses.
We can prevail,
Bearing our crosses.

What we hold
Deep down in our souls,
Is what we hold
Not to lose our souls.

It is not about
Being in the right.
It’s not just about,
Who will win the fight.

It’s about
Standing tall,
And walking on.

It’s about--
Fly or fall—
Passing it on.

BS

BS

Here holding court,
Covered in ash.
All on credit.
Never pay cash.

The world gone mad.
The world? Or I?
Should I just laugh?
Or should I cry?

What I see clear,
As through clean glass,
They see only,
In shards of glass.

Finding the rhyme
In the reasons;
As the weather
Follows seasons.

Wasting my time,
Calling Bullshit.
For one reason:
To shoot the shit.

Lost, These Days

Lost, These Days

“Oh, these kids these days.”
That old, well-worn phrase.

From every generation,
We hear this lamentation.

“This will not end well!
It’s all gone to hell!

The certainty of decline;
How we offend the divine.

But where’s the devil?
Not on our level.

Have we fallen below him?
Have we gone to black from dim?

Always, it’s the end,
Just around the bend.

Things have never been this bad;
Worse prospects, we’ve never had.

But what will become of us?
In the dark, so lost.
Will time damn or save us?
Are all our hopes lost?