First!

This is the first poem from a series that I hope is published one day. An "Ars Poetica" piece (for the english nerds who know what that means).

great words come from great people.

"quote"

envoking a muse hold no value to me

I am no great poet, I am no great man.

A child has better diction

and a mute better language and speech.

I am dirt, filth, grim, putrescence.

Walk upon, tred upon, my immobility.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhelp.

There is no hope for my future.

The ones around me spek of success,

fortune, plans, marriage, economics,

i speak of feeling and thought

and putting myself into states when

vocalizing my thoughts take more than

unconscious efforts, it takes painful concentration

The connivance of touch is overwhelming.

How do you expect me to focus?

*- J. Pilch -*

'I am a problem'

I am a problem.
fixation.

I am schizophrenic,
a sickness.

I walk and walk and walk and walk and
nothing.

The trains leave as soon
as they arrive.

I am but through the station.
Not to stop, but to break the
stale air of waiting with
a burst of oxygen.
quickness and lifting of breath.
but all is past and has become
once more pale and stagnant.

I wish you in Paris, Venice,
in Saigon, in Tokyo.

To sit along the water's edge,
the lip of society, and
to drink of experience.

To become intoxicated by tomorrow
and hung over from yesterday.

To walk and walk and walk and walk (in the
smoke and haze and heat and humidity)
is bile; grotesque & acidic.

I could pass by within minutes
or miles or feet or years of space
and not know the difference of measurement.

But I am hidden, out of sight
and audible consciousness.

I am. I am. I am. I am. I am. I am. Iam.
Iam. iam. iam. iam.iam.iam.iam.

written. June, 2011.

Post-Grad writings

I wrote this the night before my class's graduation, at around midnight.

I'm not dying, I'm living

but thinking of all the life

I could have lived.

All the love I could have loved

All the pain I could have felt

All the joy I could have filled

up with every second.

Not part of me leaving,

just layer upon unknown layer

being built, erected in your honor.

Take from what I know

to what you don't.

To what we stood for every waking

moment of past life.

To each soul you came to love

To love not as a friend, or

lover or elder,

but as your brother

and as your sister.

Back! Sorry... I got distracted for 4 months... stupid Facebook.

Wrote this today, in a parking lot, at a Goodwill. It's about a guy who bases he identity off only the names embroidered on the shirts he buys at Goodwill. I though it was pretty clever.

"They call me sales"

They call me sales, down at the Goodwill

No body knows my real Name.

come to think of it.

I don't either.

Yesterday it was 'Steve' on a windbreaker, embroidered, left chest.

Tuesday it was "Big Mack" on a bowling shirt, collar.

All I can tell you about myself is whoever I am, I must smoke.

There's an open ashtray and Zippo lighter in my car. The lighter

looks like someone hurled it off a cliff and at the bottom it was

peacefully greeted by a trash compactor.

The car is its twin.

Every morning I have the same thing for breakfast.

I think.

Cereal with no milk and three Newports.

Lunch is a trip to visit my self. purchase my identity.

I think I'll look for something business casual tomorrow.

That is.

If I can remember all this in the Morning.

i need to post on this more...probably?

"not titled"

my Point will never be made.
I am no God.
I am no deity
my Life cannot save
the millions or hundreds of
ones that I love
It's like screaming in your sleep
or falling in a dream.

At some point you have to wake up.

Pacing

"Pacing, Exhausted, Beat"

I'm Pacing.
Not only the depths of myself,
but the halls of my home.
Drawn between choice, I find it only
necessary to Pace.
Tell me to stop, Go Ahead!
At least someone will be giving me
a legitimate answer to
one question in my life...
'Should I stop Pacing?'

Having a great day?

"ihaven'tbeenanywhere"

SHow me a street,
a place, a face,
I haven't seen.
SHow me your shattered
and broken glass
and I will call it a mirror.
TAke me down the abandoned street
and I'll call it heaven.
LEad me to the old house,
And I'll call it home.



And some art, to mix it up. Its a space bird about to seriously take down some scary thing. ENJOY!