There is a boy
Heart so sweet
Wants to make the world a better place
On a mission
On a crusade for right and wrong
He believed violence is not good, yet
He did such violence to himself
Suffered for his myths
World too big
He breaks
Can not do everything

Poetic Dialogue No.1

How juicy are these memories

How this monkey turns about to
Squeeze and squeeze every drop:
Lemonade again and again,
And OJ again and again.
Cider, too.

Such Olympic endurance, though
No golden sun for this work,
Or bronze, or pendant argent.

This is monkey entertainment
Of shiny fantasies
So tasty like plum punch.

Playful play or sickening days?

To be satisfied even
In my wrongness
With my badness
In my ache
With my monkey
In my dreams
With my doldrums
In my bull’s eye
With my gloom
In my dissatisfaction—
A beautiful thought.
A beautiful puzzling thought.
To not ache for fantasies
All I know is to ache for fantasies, for this monkey voice.
I am the fuel and I run low.

Outside the frogs sound.

To be satisfied and be able
To say yes or say no.
Or to walk simply because
To be okay saying yes to my pleasure
Fatasies fantasies
My selfish nature or humbled nature
Are fantasies.
I don’t have to ache for the fantasies.
I am the fuel and I run low

There is nothing to fix
Nothing to make right
Nothing broken and
Nothing whole.
Only us moving things
From here to there.
Filling this time
Passing this time till
Passing away.
Can it be?
Is it really true?
Please let it be so, let it be.

Why can I not let myself be satisfied
What a thought.
A desire for so long
And I will not let myself have it
What is this.
Why do I deny myself happiness
I deny myself because I feel bad inside.
Bad men do not deserve.
I have not done enough and so do not deserve satisfaction.
Lazy men do not deserve.
If you are happy it means you are not working hard enough.
Satisfaction is selfish.
Do not deserve satisfaction.
Satisfaction is a prize for only the worthy.
Am I worthy.
What is worthy
Who is worthy
Is he worthy a nice man?

So concerned with fate
So much gloom
It burns.
Can not see the present because
Fantasies have taken its place.
Can not see
Can see nothing because there is
So much already there.

Is it really true
That I do not have to be responsible for
The fate of the world
For the fate of all the people
All the creatures.
I want to help. I can only help so much
I am no God.

To be
In the reflection of light on the plant pot
In the little street light
In her annoyance
In the passing of satisfaction
In this writing
In these tears
In the darkness
In the bull’s eye
In my bad bad boy subconscious
In the aching
In the squishing
In the tapping of fingers
In the squirrel movement
A beautiful thought passing here
May it stay
May it go
Satisfied that it will pass
Satisfied with disatisfaction.

Don’t have to be so God damn pleasant
Not even to these thoughts.

Don’t have to please the world
Don’t have to please myself.
Or him or her
Or that or this.

Sometimes pleasantness is not what is
Needed, necessary, requested, effective.
Can it be true
That we don’t have always to be nice
To ourselves or to others.

Just gotta please
Just gotta make it work
Just gotta be good
Just gotta forget yourself
Just gotta give up yourself to yes

Gave up myself with yes
Take back myself with no.

I gave this life to fantasies
Now what?

I’m a bad boy
I’m. Bad bad boy.
Gotta please the world
Gotta please the thoughts and the people and this God.
Else I’m off to the eternal fires, shunned and turned away.
Cause way back I got it that I am a bad
Boy. I’m a bad bad boy, and
I better ache over it. I better suffer
Because I am bad. Have
To serve and sacrifice.

Here is a pleaser breaking in two
In attempt to please and make better the
Whole world, and all these thoughts, And you.

Way down at the end of the line is
A boy aching, aching, aching
How he yearns to make it better
Make it all better, because it hurts and That is no good and it needs to be good Else there is more ache.
He wants to be God

Hello bull’s eye, hello stories of fire
And how are you today
How are the kids
How is the wife
I see you have come for your daily dues
How persuasive your aches and gloom
I submit
I do not know how to fight
Even that fighting is bad
I know only to submit and endure.

Fear is so consuming it hurts to write
Hurts to even think about the word,
The idea.
A great mental ache

I hurt I hurt so much
There is nothing else
Will not even allow anything else.
Will not allow satisfaction because
I am bad, a bad bad boy

How do I know I am for hell
Why so certain.
When only God can know
I am not that.
I can not know because
I am not God
Yet still I think I know for certain
That I must
Break myself to make it not so.

Only God can know
I can only be true to this here.
I can not know
I can not know
I can be satisfied or
I can be displeased.
It is what is.
I am not God

I am displeased that I do not have the
Godly powers.
Why do I need them anyway
Because way down there is a
Bad bad boy who want to stop the hurting.

I am not God
I am not God
I am not God
There are so many dragons and
I am not God

So obsessed with outcomes
I want so bad for it to be okay.
I am scared.

I am scared
I am scared
I am scared

There is guilt being born in privilege
When others have not
There is guilt when others suffer so
And I have so much.
There is guilt to be with satisfaction
When others are not
There is guilty to be in happiness
When other are not
There is guilt to feel comfort
When others have so little.

I don’t believe I would be satisfied even
With every drop sacrificed.
More, always more.

Why do I feel it is not fair
That I can not do everything.
That I am so selfish in these desires
If it really matters to help, then
Breaking is not the only way.

All I want is to be free and loving
Of everything. Even
The dragon’s eye.
That is how I wish to die:
Loving the clouds of gloom
Dancing with the fire.

Not fearing the bull
Not despairing

Here I am
Guilty of this existence and
Day by day
Hour by hour
Tear by tear
Ache by ache.
Trying to make up for it.

Satisfied even in the guilt of being

I believe
The world doesn’t need another
Disatisfied intellectual needing to fix
And mend and please
The world and himself.
There is nothing broken
Nothing whole
Nothing to fix.
I believe
I am going to give it a man
Satisfied in what he is and is not
Satisfied in what the world is and is not.
Satisfied with not needing to balance every right and wrong.

How is it that it bothers me so much
To ask for much for myself?

I tried the aesthetic life
Nothing there but impossiblility
For a human
Can not be everything and nothing.

In the hate
With disagreement
In annoyance
With anger
In breaking things
With death
In liking
With disliking.

Don’t believe the world

The world needs not another guy who thinks he is
Right about everything and deserves
Better. And yet that is just what I have been doing.
Thinking I am right and they are wrong.
When really I despise myself so much
I can barely ask for anything for myself
Without guilt.

What is the overwhelmed
Where is it
Who is it
Why is it
How is it
Just wondering about it it
Makes it go on a little more
Existential hoohaha
Please, no more
No, not please.
Always asking for allowance
Yet it goes on and on
No stopping the automatic
Only can be satisfied in creation
Satisfied in what is there and is not there
Perhaps one day it will quiet down
There thinky thinker monkey
Programmed into this being
To think and monkey about
As if that will solve and mend
That will make the little boy not hurt
He does just want to be okay
Yet can no longer because
This thinky monkey
Claims its dues
Clamors for attention
And this boy know only
To submit
Feels righteous in giving away
Giving away
The power
This boy is so skilled in the monkey mind
Can analyze the world to bits
His own satisfaction
His own enjoyment
His own being into bits and bits to no end
Always finding not enough
Because way way down and back
In the soybean field
In the summer grass
On the tractor road
He was disowned
Sent away
Given up
Not needed
And his only option was to please
And please, and please the world, and
And he was to think and think it out
And it could never be done
He never found out how to be
to be
So the pleasing game broke
its maker.
Overwhelmed at the task
Only left to be satisfied, and
Choose which fire to sit in.
Flourish in the fire
A new game to overwhelm himself with.

Into Breathe

Yes I do like nice things. I like kilts. I like dresses. The ladies look so good in them and maybe me too. I like women. They are so lovely. I like how some smell so nice even without the perfumes. I like earrings and necklaces. like nice trays for carrying food. I like sweets. I like movies. I like cartoons. I like video games. I do like long hot showers. I do like fantasies and fairy tales and magic and secrets. In fact I do like hard physical work even though I can’t anymore. I like how people smell after a day of farmwork. I like chilling. I do like manga. I do like anime. I do I do I do. I like poetry. I like art. I do like friendly people and friendly dragons. I like flowers. I like how they look and how pretty they are. How they smell. I am in fact something of a pansy. Always wanted to be big and strong but that ain’t me. I like plants. I love baklava and tiramisu. I like knitting and sewing machines. I like simplistic things. I like Japanese art. I like scientific research papers, I like all those fancy words; the content is nice too. I like how it is just the facts with no convincing. And silly humour iss the best.

If you must to punish for what I am and have become—go ahead.
I am done with that employment.

I’ll probably like too, you.

I would like to like what I like. Feel when I feel. Let go this squeezing away the self in a box whose corners are
So tight.
Open rather into a space for breathe.