Fitting In

Fit right in

Outside the depth

The darkness of humanity

Ignore the calamity, here’s a football game

Check out this nice pass

Demi Mawby’s nice rack

Here’s some slips of useless green paper

We call it cash

But long time ago it was backed by gold

Now it’s backed by nothing

Worthless, yet we deceive for it

Kill for it

It’s amazing what we do

So much for so little, we think ourselves value

But we’re nothing but meager dribbles

In the buckets the cosmos rain down

Sit right here

Class is in session

Humans have advanced to the point

Where we’ve regressed

America’s in a recession

Not because of Trump

Or the “supremacy” of white men

But because we forgot our values

We forgot what makes life worth living

Freedom, not because of a flag

But because of a God

Because of the essence of soul within

Given not by presidents nor parents

But the universe itself

Before you go

Remember not just who you live for

But why you live for them

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Reluctance

Specks of dust

Cloud the perimeter

Sweeping the chaos to a corner

The negligent, the sinister

Standing behind my own bars

Like a hardened criminal

I try to stay positive

but the blood stays cynical

Symbiotic with my need to destroy

Is the molting of a teenage boy

Into half man, half beast

Trudging on for a feast not of food

Or hard drink

But love

The kind that makes you think

Why we ever stopped caring for each other

And when

Did social media ever become socially accepted

When did pressing a button

Ever mean the same as a literal kiss

I would be remiss if I said this was good

And though I have seemed to miss

The want from a girl

I am still a patient observer, my time will come

The best chase is that of a mind chastened

My demons run, angels flee to protect

And in time the negatives will be undone

Lofty are my dreams

Descending from a rejected heart

Because I know there is more to give

Than a half-reluctant spark

Forget Me If You Dare

Sleep on me

And forget I’m around

I never meant much to you

And I shouldn’t now

But times are changing

And the days are glaring

You need the cool

That I happen to be maintaining

The end could be now, tomorrow

Or never

But until you look away from the horizon

You’ll never know

We want to see death coming

But it’s far better to be silent

And let it wash over

Then drown in it

And burn on the way down

Vessel Of Troubled Thoughts

The method of my madness

Is the confidence in blackness

In a meadow of white flowers

Some roses, some saps

In a forest of unintelligible raps

Small, handcrafted lines don’t stand a chance

And they never gave me one, no endorsement

But with patience and practice I absorbed it

Now wherever I go I pen the deepest passion

Without inspiration, just routine, no rations

Of any emotion I might be feeling at the time

Be it anger, be it guilt, be it sadness

That often warms as a thick quilt

Draped over a sick child in fits of agony

Don’t look at my misery, don’t behold

The catastrophe

But you can’t help but read, I can’t help but write

The tasers, headlamps, and body cams

The prisoners, the sentencers, the tweeters

They don’t scare me

Not nearly as much as I scare myself

Digging up these solemn regrets

And showing them off to the world

As if I were a vessel of troubled thoughts

With nothing left to give

What Words Bring

I had to get rid of me

To find Me

The suicidal depressions

And disappointment brewed

From pornographic misconceptions

The boiling, bawling anger I couldn’t control

Tearing myself from the flesh I called home

Descending into the valley, alone

I couldn’t come out until I figured how

Embrace my unique in a cookie cutter world

Screaming and crying until my nose would bleed

I was lost, so lost, it would seem

But when I went to sleep, I prayed to the walls

Please help me, lead me to something better

Something bigger and brighter than me

Everything in my eyes is failing, and I fell

Into dreams I haven’t had before or since

Wash my hands clean of the past

And embrace the new Me, the one you read

I don’t know what my own voice sounds like

Drowning in a chorus of many voices

Some needs are prioritized over others

But I always come back to the poet in Me

For words give me peace

Neither life nor death can bring

Bored (Simply Writing About Autism)

I became bored

Simply writing about autism

I felt like every one else

Just going on about the downfalls

The misery, the mistakes

It shouldn’t be ignored

But it has its place

I call it An Aspergian’s Chemical Romance

Because I mix love with the acidic burn

Of a childhood gone to waste

The adoration of poetry and prose

Through writing, failing, and gaining age

Withstanding the onslaught of emotion

And fear of being lost without a cause

This place became my refuge and devotion

Another round of poetic potion

Soothing rough edges of a world gone awry

Each line, each time, I raise the white flag

A sign that no matter what they call me

I will always be happy with how I’m made

I stain your glorious day

With a discord and blight

So you may never forget in your riches

There are those killed by your might

I felt with each breath a great pain

Now gone, this desire to feign my name

Apparitions

Sometimes, I can’t help myself

I just want to be noticed

I sit back in the shadows, listening

Pondering the words of those around me

Writing them down to question later

Or to inspire another line

The louder wins, the boldest wins

The angriest wins, the cunningest wins

But what if I am of all them and none?

Some days I am bold and reckless

Others timid and reluctant

A mighty pendulum I sway on any given day

And you might hate me for it

You can’t read me, deceive me, figure me

That’s fine, I can’t read you either

As we are nothing but phantoms

Of the others wishes

Two apparitions of the night

Nobody Listens To Me

Why should I listen

Nobody listens to me

When I say I’m tired, pouring on the pain

Becomes involuntary

Like the assumption that I’m slower

Or not there at all

Because I’m so still, so quiet

Thinking, wondering, adding

Really, you should try it

But don’t ever ask how I’m feeling, no

They only see what is thought to be insolence

And I became the last one picked for anything

I become the last on their minds, if it all

I become the first to reply, and the first to fall

Somehow I thrive and relish it all

The agony of being the only one in the group

Without someone who you’re close to

Who understands you, who cares about you

What I would give for a perfect son like that

But what I wouldn’t would be a longer list

Because in the space of time I am missed

I refuel with the words of my ancestors

Fellow writers, and leaders that inspire

If anyone is listening to me, it is them

Through the pages of history I am restored

Vindication shall be mine, and more

I’m Okay With This

Got a knack for poetry

Crafting heartfelt lines

Borne of an outsider

Watching the world go by

Never done what people said, got into trouble

World’s not kind to my kind, be in my bubble

Silently preying on those with open hearts

Check my blogs, see a lot of orange dots

I didn’t make a lot of friends when I was young

But when you comment “well done”

“Amazing” and “❤️

The words become alive, the evil undone

My father wasn’t kind to me, but you are

And I’m not finished, but I’ve come far

My life is a battleground, this means war

My heart is a bunker, these words mortars

My spine is a fortress, these tears are arrows

Tipped with fire

The invisible wires around my people

Will one day fall as I climb the steeple

Of supremacy and statues

Identity and virtues

But until then, I’ll keep writing

And you keep telling me how you feel

We’re connected, you and I

Even on a technological level

And I’m okay with that

The ABC’s of Me

The ABC’s of me

Autistic, because where else to begin

Broken from the people who discouraged me

Cunning developed from outwitting them

Dark lines brooding in irritated waters

Eventually becoming open to your company

Forever hating and loving it

Gone before you ever said goodbye

Headed to the outside of your inside

Incorrect politically because I like action

Juxtaposed is male strength

Kissed with emotion fragility

Lined inside a boy turned man still child

Made to write, man of words never enough

Not only written or spoken, but merely dreamt

Outstretched hands for a woman’s grasp

Perfectly aware of their unawares to my truth

Questioning why I just don’t tell them

Resting assured that they already know

Still afraid of what the future has for me

Testing my boundaries every day

Understanding growth is ugly and beautiful

Voicing my concerns with maturity

Warring to find the source of my strength

Xylophones were hated in youth

Zenith not nearly reached