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 to kiss a beautiful stranger 'neath a waterfall
I want to cash a check at the bank
I want to 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
In....


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

I am the buffalo contemplating barbed wire

confused by the world that hands of men have built around me

but in awe of their ingenuity

the craftsmanship found in small objects

and the belief that they will live

forever.

Existence

It starts slowly

creeping up the back of my neck

until it's whispering in my ear

we are all riding an escalator

up up up

and at the top just darkness

or a guillotine

or a firing squad

whichever end you may find yourself choosing

but it's inevitable

you hit terminal velocity the day you were born

and it's somewhat unfair

because you didn't choose this for yourself

which begs the question

if given the choice

would you choose existing

knowing full well

that someday you would blink

back out of existence once again?

Godspeed and have a good death.

Tonight

If Betelegeuse goes supernova

and night turns to day

if the moon hides

behind the gamma ray burst

and starlight rules the sky

I will hold on to you

until darkness returns

Traffic Violations

I often mistake Stop

Signs for Yield Signs,

And I think I have the

Go ahead then POW!

Now I gotta explain

How I thought the

S-T-O-P looked like a

Y-I-E-L-D, even though

Not a single letter is

Shared between the two,

Or how in my eyes, the

Octagon lost five sides and

Morphed into a down-

Facing triangle.

I also need to read Traffic

Signals better, but Red

Inevitably flows to Yellow

Inevitably flows to Green,

All those colors blending

And easy to

Misinterpret.

Halloween for The Walking Dead English

The night's October air
came with a ghostly whistling wind
the corn fields leaned away from the air
and let the still terror in
The power had been out for days
a storm had been approaching
the battery powered radio told the tale
of the evil encroaching
The windows and the doorways
were boarded/nailed/obstructed
the few stations left on air
read off names of those abducted
"These creatures in our towns and streets
are not monsters from our fiction
the drones ravaging cars and homes
don't follow film restrictions..."
Mae and I were wrapped together
huddled on the floor
lamps extinguished, beliefs relinquished
as the dead came to our door
The wood began to creek
from the rotted front porch stairs
Mae was screaming behind my hand
when they broke through the wicker chairs
We heard naked bone scrape the doors
flesh-flies came through broken glass
the smell of death and stagnant blood
came wafting brisk and fast
The pine was snapping, dead skin clapping
breaking through our home
moaning, growling, slobbered scowling
we, together, are alone
Through the darkness of our dining room
come faces plagued with sores and gashes
we kick backward into the fireplace
sitting/hiding in the ashes
As the first wave comes we kill the rum
Mae's drug screaming from the scene
They pass her back like army ants
and soon her bones are clean
They lay thier teeth into my legs
I start to bleed and scream
and as I go my last real thought...
My first real Halloween

Turn Back As We Go Our Ways: An (re)Arrangement, in parts, by Missing You

Gosh how I miss the way you sit, one leg bent
With your guitar rest against your belly...

I miss your turned out feet and
The way you sleep
with your eyes covered by the hands you create with

I miss the tobacco in your teeth and the moments you sneak away off into the folds to
Right before you step in front of an audience with only your guitar to lean on
Your dear friend.

I miss the start of your song
right before it's born
when it's still in the womb
and watching it turn
into a masterpiece grown

I miss the shake in your leg when your on cocaine or just excited about the music.

I miss the coffee drip
your fingertips
Their calluses
Their stains

The crumbs in my bed
From 2am picnic's
choosing netflicks
pressing buttons
Taming the beast
Squeezing your hands
Your sigh of relief

I miss you drunk in the dark I miss your legs curled up with mine as we wrestle the sheets.
I miss simple things like the silent passing of our time and the sound of your lighter as it hits the street.

Your socks on my floor
playing cards everywhere
The metaphors throughout your stories
You losing your pouches

The sweet n low
Your cup 1/2 full
The ice you chew
The smokes you roll
Butts left all over

I miss falling into a kiss
the tension and release
And your shyness
Your hand on my knee at the movies

I miss the haze in your eyes
After you've gotten high
That mischievous smile
and having someone to bring leftovers home to

I miss your concern when I do my work or for the Gypsy I insist you can't cage

I miss the baths you draw
and what the fuck
Your hair amok
Shirt half untucked
But...

I miss you most in the morning, right out of our dreams
Yours you can't recall,
mine I replay you everything
Sarcastic and silly witting, laughter ringing 
off the bedroom walls

I miss the tricks up your sleeve and
How you make me believe
In magic, in myself, in love

I miss catching your eyes and knowing that you see a part of me 
I miss you catching my eyes and showing a part of you to me....

I miss....
You.

The Leap Frogs

took you to the leap frogs
walking between the sleeping buildings of downtown San Francisco
the time of night that makes a ghost out of the city
a coward of the brave by daylight
In a quiet you can count your blessings on

the city is a faker
and the daylight her disguise
people running around
carving their marks
her skin bleeds

in the quiet, in the still, as a ghost
She licks her wounds by moon and streetlight
breathes deep
and can finally be at peace

took you to see the leap frogs
because they are one of her subtle scars
because in the dark, in the silence, in the still
You see the scar solely
without the daylight to blind you
without the busy distracting mask
you learn all her secrets

that's how I know her
in the dark, still, alone
she is so far beyond beautiful
with her leap frog scar