i like the darker days

i like the darker days
the early coming night
i like the oppressive times
they help me see my pale light
it stands out

i like the colder days
of bone-scouring wild wind
these frozen moments
they help me see that
………………while i have sinned
there is a warmth within

i like the heavy days
rain sodden, world crushing
a pressing down upon me
til’ the air within comes rushing
that i might rise above it all


today is a down day –
not a goosefeatherstuffedcomforter down kinda day
but a hooksintheyeskickintheballs down kinda day
a gravityturneduphighfallonyourface down kinda day
am i painting a vivid enough picture here?
it would be composed of dark reds and blacks and greys
it would be a picture that said a thousand shitty words
                                                                       in a thousand shitty ways
so if i’m the painter why choose these pain-filled pigments?
why not re-create the day in brights and bleached whites
cover over the doldrum drabs with more engaging sights
let it be a painting over a painting kind of day
let the art preservationists uncover the lost image
buried beneath the this candy-covered clown-smile of a visage

Newton’s Cradle

i took a few (a lot)
of punches to the head
when i was younger (no jokes)
when i boxed/fought/beat the anger out in fists on flesh
i was that kind of fighter
let me fall or fail but not before
he feels the force of this life…my life
transferred through me like a Newton’s Cradle
crashing into his fresh face…
only to come back, though less than before
and in the end i would always win
in blood and cancerous clouds of smoke
i was never a boxer…
i was a cannon the world aimed at others