In the spirit of finishing a notebook here's the last poem. None of my poetry has titles. Just dates.
Share my confusion
Looking for purpose, purposefully
Not claiming to have a meaning
it's all just here and now
Everywhere; while my mind wonders
To record the vibrant grays in the storm
To find significance in the living
Hoping for an explanation for apparitions
Digesting holy figures in the mad house
I came for the blood, for the capital Truth
Servants to feeling; to religion
Expansion doesn't cost much
You're all screaming "freedom"
Wrapped up tightly in your egos
Hoping it deflects the bullets
I was out eating rainbows under overpasses
Crying in the gutters because you lost reality
Living with religious zombies; Jesus freaks
Looking for truthful martyrs
For artful role models
An uncommon sense of sanity
The wounded bleed from their brain stems
And you still don't put love on the table
So much of life has become destructive
Decades becoming interchangeable
Taught to use fear as a security blanket
The world isn't ready for the sheets to be ripped out from under it
Still appauled by the stand still
And uncertainty is my final offer












