Simplicity.
To reach a goal
While spun out of control
To listen and be heard
Without speaking a word
To know and accept
Without needing regret
To understand
The base of your plan...

How can all you want be torched
From a flame to a blaze
When it seems so clear; transparent
That without it you'd be stuck in a daze..

So to ask the simple question
And recieve a knoble reply...
Can this endlessness really pass me by?

Can I give it up- since the joy I spread gives me pain
Can I break this and be able to relive it again??

There's a flow to one's patterns,
like a song.
We all have a song.
After hearing it a few times,
it becomes predictable.
Often it can be played with different notes,
but the same outline is always there,
and in the end
you've still heard the same song.
The song is born,
eventually dies,
and then over time
is remembered.

Now that your song has been written
and played over again,
you are gone, and I will remember your song
my brother, my friend.

When my song runs out of tune,
we will meet again.
We will play music together,
in a place where our bloodline,
our ancestors, our loved ones
will play along in the band.

Your song isn't particularly
a happy song.
I know from the tears I shed
in which you currently live in,
for now you will live in my tears
and then in my heart,
where your tune
will come as background music,
a song forever on the soundtrack
of my own existence.

My heart is in so much pain for you,
and I will be there for your boy.
You were always a lesson for me on how
not to live my life.
Now that your pain is gone,
and your in a better place,
I want nothing more
than to have you here alive
so I can hug you one more time,
so I can let you go.

I love you,
I will always love you,
through the one glimmer of your eye
that you left behind.



R.I.P
5-15-2012
Mark Mieczkowski
My brother, My blood

My God is not a computer
My scriptures hold no equations
I disavow banking, modern alchemy
I find refuge in rock, leaf and book
Objects less transitory, though equally doomed
Unlovely decay is the beginning of life

Sitting on the subway platform
reading about the cynics and the stoics.
From the Blue Line comes
spaced out guitar rock.
At the Red Line
an old Japanese couple
plays proud ancient music.
How did we end up here?
Separated by a pile of quarters and crumpled dollar bills?

I dreamed a deserted shopping mall.
From the balcony all I could see was a stone Buddha
and two folding chairs.
A guitar player sat in the open elevator behind me.
Me, my shadow and a wise old man
met In a deserted shopping mall.

I sat down across from the guitar player.
“What do you want of me?”
He pushed a bowl of black liquid towards me.
Drink.
I drank.
I felt his greed
I lived his rage
I sank into his cowardice.
I put down the bowl and saw he was gone.
The old man smiled.
I bowed to the empty chair.

The old man began to walk away.
“Excuse me. How do I get out?”
The old man laughed.
“Don’t expect me to show you the way. You brought me here.”

I want to see Earth Firsters teaching
suburban Americans how to monkey-wrench
tar sand pipelines, fracking jobs, mountain top mining

I want to see rednecks teaching city slickers how to hunt

I want to see economists burning their suits and neckties,
walking pure and naked to thrift stores to buy overalls. Trading
in their Cadillacs for tractors

I want to see the libertarians liberated from Ayn Rand

I want to see pro-sex activists
dumping buckets of semen
on Rick Santorum

I want to see cars melted down to make bicycles and monorails

I want to see Carl Jung declared a saint
by the Church of Mystic Sanity

I want to see polar bears eating oil workers
trying to drill in the Arctic

I want to see a peer reviewed study
concluding that world leaders need
Viagra not more missiles

I want to see America admit that inner city blacks, rural whites, reservation Indians and Mexican immigrants were never given their ration of bootstraps

In all honesty, I want to see a world where I don’t feel guilty for having these bootstraps I haven’t earned

I am homeless in my house.
Caught in this timeless temple
to false stability.
Shutting windows and doors
will not keep me from changing or dying.
Tomorrow I am going home.

The stars dance as the moon sings.
The night is wrought with unstable certainty,
clinging to altered passion.
We, on this night will live as we wish
and trail-blaze our way into oblivion
only to elevate and heighten our plane, to new levels of understanding.
Chaos commanding our every move to level the senses.

This chapter's page overturned,
scars of unsorted thoughts bleed
into chapters to come.
My book is painted in confusion
and bound by love,
contained in a leather case
of misinterpretation through longing.

Ahh yes the walls
how they stop so many words
we have all these things we want to say
but the walls
oh the walls
stop them dead in their tracks
I could tell you a story
of how I walk your dreams
like how you walked mine
treading softly at times
so that you don't discover
but it matters not in the end
because of the walls
oh these walls...
the secrets sit in my brain
(secrets, secrets, secrets)
they are unfettered by promises, happiness, or pain
sometimes they rot me
but I keep taking my drug
the music drowns out the world
and I harden my heart
so I can become stronger
time goes on
oblivious to the rest of the world
and maybe one day
as enough of it marches by
these walls
will come down