grossmens

        When you are nothing, everyone thinks you are something, when you are nothing you are hope for the weak.  There was a day when I was something, but over the years I have tried, and tried and finally I have fostered nothing.  I stand outside of my own existence.  I desire nothing, I hope for nothing.  As I said before I am nothing.  A long time ago, I existed within myself.  A long time ago, I needed something, and I looked for someone who was nothing.        His name was Ronald Reagan he was homeless, and very crazy.  He thought so much he thought of nothing at all.  I passed him daily; I gave him lots of money.  When I talked to hi

Born in the in the roaring twenties, a child of the great depression was the great reverse Buddha.  The Reverse Buddha was born in a time when suffering was very apparent.  The mass media was in its infancy but the radio waves still projected despair.  He fought in two wars, and only fired his gun once on accident.  Never the less he saw death swirling around him; he saw what the age of enlightenment had wrought.  He saw Auschwitz, and the walking dead.  He saw the production line of death.  He fed an SS soldier to some vengeful Jews.  He saw his eyes gouged out, and his skin pealed off of his bones.  On that day, he saw the age of enlightenm

"The End of the World" They came like streams of melted ice.  They formed a river, and converged into a delta in the middle of the world's greatest city.  Wherever they stood they believed they should be somewhere else.  They saw their lives from the view point of a child watching an ant farm.  No matter where they stood, they stood at great distances.  They walked on fire, and breathed concrete.  The exit was blocked.            They held signs of protest.  They protested many things.  Mostly they protested the act of protesting.  When they were young, they were told not to feel what they were feeling.  As adults they didn't know what to

Where do I begin? Where does the highway end? The edge of the word it seems. Oncoming traffic casts long shadows To briefly shade the sun from my eye To tell me one mistake and I die. The flowers, the cross Pictures blown by gusts Unique to modern culture Another unexpected death The tree’s canopy And the farms that I see The towns that blur past They all look the same. Will I always be a guest in a house? Will guests always be in my house? As the birds fly high As they loop in the sky As they live and they die They really don’t mind That’s probably the way to go.

"Absolve The Mystery" Everyone has a secret life Right behind cyanide eyes That no one else can bare I am flying high on my paradigm Across the ups and downs of the stock market Round about the corner store Inside the matador A couple of kids are playing There is a guy from the CIA He seems to be doing the same. Here I'll stop and take a breath Inhale a seed Exhale a wheel that won't stop rolling Absolve the mystery Wading through history Blind folded with your arms tied Mixing up metaphors Looking for foreshadowing, in chemistry. Spreading butter on mountain ranges Improve their taste My tongue has been erased. The