A Different World

We’re in a world of media but no communication,

Called the new generation, millennials,

blind from our evaporated cell phone eyes,

teeth broken from our coffee our vision plastered from heroin,

and things are written  as a way to impress others.

We have love for Daoistic ideas and insubordinacy,

clouded constellations and imagination


I realize it’s hard to be unique,

For my heart and my soul are quite exhausted

I want to follow legacies of Ginsberg and Kerouac

With poetry that enunciates the division of light and aftermath of atomic bombs,

Cascades of red lipstick and contagious air,

Two souls pulled together through poetry and egotistical salvation.

We write with queer hands, cramped by sociopathic friends,

and are pushed to the corner so often our ideas are lost in this world.


We’re insecure with cayenne pepper and broken jaws,

lackluster posters on the streets, and

too often I jump to topics posted against city walls

staring down bystanders of communistic fears,

Elephants roaring with bureaucracy and dark attitudes,

Lying to the public, you know, it’s not that hard to manipulate the media.

I feel quite dynamic, or I want to at least,

People with money are given too much power,

Labeling white as great.


Our prophecies are formed by hate,

Our Buddha a supremacist,

My expired diary’s filled with souls

from centuries ago that peep at

a way to destroy in the name of Christianity

Such millennials that stand for justice

but blind their eyes with lead

And infrared light,

Hiding behind glass screens,

Barking but not biting

At issues embedded for centuries.


I can never get rid of a piece,

I belong writing and enunciating my ideas,

These keys that type until my brain is empty

I cry and whisper insatisfaction with the universe

and keep myself insane with intrusive thoughts

and obsessive behavior over those whom I’ve never met.


You see I dream about lost souls, dancers in the wind and

tongues on dead skin, hickeys and blood pustules.

I’ve got dead brain matter, dreams and noises for the future,

written a book for those misguided, and hope to achieve a

greater sense of unity. 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world