Little sheets of fragile fiber

Look at all the power you hold

Upon you is written

All that you shall know, cherish, and own


Little sheets of fragile fiber

Who knew that something so weak

Could make our heads spin and our eyes weep

Or rule us with an iron fist

Or turn us all stark raving mad


Little sheets of fragile fiber

Why do these words have so much might

For something so light and slight

So much violence, hate, and malignant right


Little sheets of fragile fiber

Enjoy your time in the limelight

One day you’ll be worth nothing and gone from sight



The quiet drip drop of rain

pitters and patters

swishes and splatters

collects and pools

onward it flows, where does it go?

deep into the earth, the creeks, and rivers

so one day it may be delivered

into the clouds for more downpours

A Selfish, Egoist Love

When I speak of selfish, egoist love, I mean that I do not love another or an object because I am told to do so. Any commandment or dictate of which amounts to: “you shall love your neighbor, the earth, wine, etc”, is not “my love”, but another love imposed on my own.

When I love another, an object, or activity, I do so because I realize in myself love for those things. I do not recognize any authority of, or on love and its contents. On the contrary I love only for my own sake, do not allow for an unselfish love that is based off of some universal, inherent “love” in society, religion, or the universe. No external “love” can make value of me, my love is my value.

I am to have love, love is not to have me.

Love is what I make it; is how I use it; possess it; consume it; utilize it. Love is my power. My love is my will. My love cannot be taken from me and I take as much love as I want! My love is my own.

My love is my property!


Society is a ghost

the biggest untruth ever told

a falsity often repeated

by those in power, who covet control

over us individuals, they claim we are equal

you, you beautiful individual

in all your uniqueness, and a true unequal

are the only actuality I see

you, the only one, the single one

the only you there will ever be

so banish this ghost from your head

lets live restlessly, and as vagabonds instead

onward I march, to the nothing I dance

A Bizarre Spectacle

If one wants to see a bizarre spectacle

One only needs to see a commuter car full of people

The walking dead they seem to be, unhappy, disconnected, angry, equals?

Zombies they are, doomed to live

A life they do not want, not chosen, do not believe

If only they all realized the power they held

This nightmare would be over in a fortnight, the end of this living hell



I cried ambivalent tears that shimmered like a false oasis in the desert sun

I screamed harsh coarse whispers at everyone I saw, yet they passed by me, looked not, cared not

Invisible I was, unheeded I have become

I shook my fists in anger and hatred, let it consume me, became rage embodied, scornful, and disarmed

The storm passed, and I sat there contemplating

What have I done

What was once gone

Where the grass once grew, as high as the horses

Now suburban homes populate, little prisons of wood and stone

Where the salt marsh swayed in the wind, the tide ebbed and flowed

Now nothing remains, covered up in soil, sand, gravel, and stone

Where the forest once grew, the bears, wolves, and birds once roamed

Now torturous strip malls of concrete, asphalt, and metal have come

Where the cool streams once ran, filled with brook trout, and aquatic life once roamed

Now dried up, dessicated, what water runs, rotten, fetid, and slow

I look to the sky and smile, what was once gone, will one day return

Long after I am gone