From my Sister, From my Friend

I don't know why
your poems make me cry,
but they do.
It's not because I'm sad
because I'm not.
I feel like when I read them,
I can see what you really think,
who you really are.
And it's beautiful.

To my Sister, To my Friend

When you can't sleep
the words start to creep
and hands creek and win

I write floridly to
forecast the Whitman's of
the past

the Walt that is
not the school
not the vault
not to droll

over

a group of books that would make better brushfires
than bedtime readers
and a group of sheep that would make better friends
than lonesome breeders

so ladies. listen closely.

bring forth the brushfire
that I see in your eyes
and light all the novels
and fill up the skys

with the smoke of hope that
runs and billows
from your eyes
seize it, let us sing these cries,

"this is my moment,
I won't look away.
I have found my future,
it is starting today."

Now girl,
look in that mirror and
see what you can be;
a woman with fire in her eyes
and a heart like the sea.

Oh My Goodness

lets talk about free
will. What is it?
do you know?
I might think it's an illusion

some say it's the best gift
that humanity has created

I am not creative.
why do I need to be free?
who has the authority?

tell me are we all free

are we?

the questions are fashioned
to be answered or even to be questioned
is my mission
to search for truth

because only the end will give it all
to us.

all of what we seek.

what do we seek?

Love. In the end. Is Love.

Mary

We used to be young
we were so smiley
we used to have fun
we were so happy

I was at home
cuz i had a best friend
I wasn't alone
beside my best friend

Mary, I should have kissed you
when I had the chance
"Mary, can I kiss you?"
I waited as we danced

Your face might not
have been the thing I miss the most
if I had a photo of your face
instead of the song of a ghost

Mary, I should have married you
when I had the chance
Mary, I really need you
my one true love and romance

I visit you almost everyday
your the thing I wish I could save
my bed is so cold at night
I live out my days at wait for the grave

Mary, I really need you
you were everything to me
Mary, I need to see you
at least come see me in my dreams.

(I cried at the end of writing this.)

Josh Jenkins

Free Music Download

I am at the center of the rabbit hole. smiling.

I should have gone to the pool today
to live and flip in the air
between the lockerroom and the water
between the ground and the stars

I should have gone to the shower today
to baptize my angry hair
and worry less about being greezy
and more about my heart

I should have gone to the church today
to clean and climb from my care
finding nothing but everything
finding a space between bars

I should have gone to the sky today
to live and flip in the air
between the mind and the body
between the ground and the stars

asdfasdfasdfasdfasdf

jug jug me think
of quietsly drink
and pinks around the finks
and sink of diamond blinks

oh way the weigh of orcas oceans
the ounces of solidtude we see in the sea
the jumping freely we find in free willy
the culture we strain in the drain of the sea

and me and only me will find what this means
for I have nothing but cream in the dream
and clean the seem of the couchs coochin
the kings cross of coughing lutgin
dominos with fall in a chain reaction

i have opened up a place where nothing novel or novel nothings will excape the crappppp

crap

fall fall the fancy feast of facts and peace
of truth and hororrororoorororororrorrorororoorororooororrorroroorororro

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asdfasdfasdfasdfasdf

jkl;jkl;jkl;a;sldkfja;sldkfja;sldkfj

pasdf
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tasdf
tasdf
easdf
rasdf
nasdf

jump jump jasdf
jump jump jason

JUMP!

My Aim is True

I see a bird in
my sights. I stay
awake and sit out the
nights.

I red-eye and caffeine
all of the flights.
I'm nothing but make-up,
sequins and tights.

and rain drops keep fallin on my head
and I couldn't be the right because
soon I will be dead. nothings left for me, cuz
I won't be livin while the rain drops are waiting.
nothings worryin me.

I know just where I stand. a boy stuck in the boy of a man.
I'll teach myself to live. I take and I will give.
I leak out knowledge like a sieve.

Facing what consumes you is the only way to be free.
release all those poisonous fears. I am Buddhist.
Days months and Ears.

I am Mickey Mouse. I am Bo Derek. I am Ben Franklin
with my Franklin stove. I am a mouse with a key in a kite.
I am a blonde bombshell immortally on the beach with beads
thinking about my next line... of coke.

I am a classic. Where ever there is fun there is always me.
I am a naylor and I am thread. I am quiet and I am dead.

When you read this or you hear it, it might be from my mouth or it might be from my tomb. Either way. I spoke it aloud while I wrote it alone in the hour a day after the end of day light savings. I wrote it on a mattress on the floor with a stiff back and an empty hope that someday, someone who I don't know will identify with me and this and my exisistance as an ant will become invisible and I will again become human and not just a name and not just a nothing. In one hundred years, no one you know will be alive and all of our actions will be in third and forth reassertions of digested dust. That will sit in the liver of the mind and be processed as waste. I wish I knew the dead writers who wrote like this that stand beside me as I write. I wish I heard the voice of the upraised and the un-praised and the unrecognized student or shopkeeper or journalist or teacher who spent a lifetime working to be something bigger than this life and will never achieve it! I am them. They are me. We will never meet because we have nothing to go by. All of there work is dust in my wasted mind. all they gave and all of there everything is gone. I AM GONE. i AM GONE i am gone. I am gone.

I sit with a frown and a heavy brow but no matter what. no matter what. After this is done. I will go to sleep and dream every dream for those men, for now. for. now. I am still breathing.