Glossolalia

Like the worm of a dying fire

We reset the stage

For the world living on our wire

We connect the terminals

Impracticable

I am a word misspelled

And I feel my readers eyes

We reset the page

Before the word living in the fire

We begin to speak in tounges

Making language up

"MIA was right to use the sacred "middle-finger" hand-gesture during the super bowl half-time show" is too long of a title for this piece

Not only am I the observer,
Watching the cosmos unfold before me,
One emotion after the other rising from static and birthing physicality…

But so am I the observed, a part of that cosmic function,

experiencing the emotions in linear time, partaking in the manifestation

from inception to physicality.

We are a circle of flowing water,

you and me.

Sir, speak louder and closer to the drive thru microphone, please

If I give my best today

Will I wake up tomorrow

And feel the same?

I won't list the ways

It could come to mistake

So in my dreams I play a saint

The right choices already made

If tomorrow consents

I'll be on my way

Right back to today

When the wheel comes back around

I'll be abounding where I'm found

To give my best today

It connects us all, in a way

We imagine, together, the golden gates

And pull the present towards towards their embrace

We are the music makers

And the dreamers of the dreams

We weave the fabric of the universe

And bring it together at the seams

We play pretend inside

And call it reality

Things I want to do Shirtless

I want to go to the supermarket
I want to wash a sailboat
I want to go bowling
I want to dance at a wedding for a distant relative
I want to use a public urinal
I want kiss a beautiful stranger 'neath a waterfall
I want to cash a check at the bank
I want eat cereal on the dance floor of a nightclub
I want to be interviewed by Barbara Walters
But not just that
I wanna scream from the edge of a cliff
on a star filled
night sky
I wanna sleep by a rolling brook
I wanna hunt a buffalo
wearing self made deerskin
leather pants
in the snow
I want to do the Charleston
at a funeral
with a new widow

IN

Contemplating the weight of little words.

Can't I just cry to your songs
alone in my room
instead of falling so deeply
love with you?


Contemplating the weight of little words and the content of their desire.

Contemplating the weight of little words and the personality they obtain through delivery.

Contemplating the weight of little words and their distraction from the truth.

Contemplating the weight of little words and every other misunderstood intention.

Contemplating the weight of little words and the cross they never knew they'd carry.

Contemplating the weight of little words and the ability our culture has given them to reshape our psyche.

Contemplating the weight of little words and their impact on the rest of our lives.

Contemplating little words.


Like in.

Her mind had been taken hostage
She bit her nails

He looked in her for things he saw in someone else

She controlled the weather
Could make the wind blow the clouds about
the snow fall
the rain stop

And he, he thought he was the sun

Everyone on Drugs and God (forgives or forgets)

Some nights I look back in at all the breaking and think there's no point to all the points we were making, just to wake up shaken.
Put your foot in your mouth
so I locked you out
Stood alone, wasn't sure.
Outside the rain poured.
It was cold but you never noticed.
Probably all the pain killers keeping you frozen.
As the walls close in
your scars drawn
and reopened.


You were brought up like a mad dash for salvation.
Under an iron fist your faith you weigh in
at the end of each day
And you live afraid and drink thick
the blood of Him
just to stay sane
Some strange justification
to the repetition of poor actions
Taking snide pride in the pain you create
cause at least you'll feel something
while remaining hidden
Shrouded delusion.


Some nights I look back in and think about second and third chances.
Do I give them
How much time spent
Is it worth it
Who deserves it
And never was it said to be easy
to ignore the innocent beauty
Inside the mangled hearts you find
down any path you must somewhere draw the line
Stand to the side
let the traffic of the past
pass by

480 Days Ago

Morning doves
and sirens
Sleepless nights
and sleeping pills
Heavy lids closing
Waking in the evening
Bottles clanking
Windows rattling
Dark circles
Punching pillows

5/12/11

Coughing up the morning once again
It's been some time
I've seen you here before
around somewhere
No, sorry, the fault is mine
your name escapes me darling
but thank you for the ride

Now here we are left
laughing at ourselves
as the sun peaks over
the San Francisco hills
There are those birds again
serenading the AM traffic in

Work it out
Play your heart
I'll be hear
Hear inside you
Sing it out
Someone's there
always there
Right inside you
Its all we've got

Quick and clean
Keep those strings
surrendering
as fit you see
These are moments
always are
never have beens

Dime Store Cowboy

I empty myself on your tattered pages
I’ve questioned myself on what life and age is
I limped through our love and all it’s painful stages
Just to find your apathy is quite contagious

The rags and dolls you hang around you
Wear masks to match your velveteen ways
They clean their teeth with dirty fingers
And take the coins your organ pays

The piano drunk plays our final song
Gives six bars well but plays the ending wrong
Your curtsy strung along the mean and strong
And fooled me when I thought I’d won

I was shelved those years ago
Left open/ face down/ half way through
With an iron bust to crush my spine
To let me know the weight of you

Your voice in the distance
makes me think
I'm close enough to notice
but too far to touch

Bar Poet

You were spinning an empty bottle
Sitting at the bar
So many cigarettes
So much touch screen trivia
All to drown the feelings
That you woke up to
You have a pen in your pocket
You take it out
From time to time
To scribble a single line
On the back of your coaster
The waitresses all know you
They smile and say your name
You throw back
A distracted wave
You throw back
Another cool bottle
Looking for a place in your head
Where you can fit all this
Where all these lines
On the back of all these coasters
Might just find each other

Joshua Fink

Dead Celebrity

I am a dead celebrity
I have the latest hit
my name echoes acrossed the radio waves
my voice is heard by millions everday
I gave my name to a foundation
to help the poor children
of the latest flood
in the latest country of poverty
to the freshly aknowledged regime
of the most powerful and compelling story
on the latest news feed
I am a dead celebrity
My movie came out last Summer
I've been nominated
I've been concidered
for all the awards
for all the acolades
for the life time achievement
thanks to my tireless efforts
for my undying support
of whoever and whatever
I agreed to smile about
and speak of on camera
I am a dead celebrity
my clothing line just released
the "Black Collection" in my honor
and my fragrance
available at any upscale department outlet
just released the memorial collector's package
the same spray
in the same bottle
wrapped in a black velvet sack
this year of our lord
printed in gold ink
Fifteen percent of our proceeds
go to the starving/ hurting/ troubled peoples of...
see reference above
I am a dead celebrity
there will be men and women who earn thier names
who deserve a place in history
but manifest the character
to step aside and make a space
for my Gucci ensemble
and the beautiful plastic piece of nothing
I carry on my arm
They'll all cry at my ceremony
They'll all meet at my restaraunt
I co-own with Bruce Willis
try the Calamari
pair it with the suggested wine
don't forget to buy my comemorative key chain
and sing my song at Christmas
light a candle for me before you rest
light a candle for all I've earned
for my tortured time