0 0 0

a week's worth

I wish I could tell you which ones are important.
I know you’d say the same, if you could.
It’s cyclic, and it doesn’t really matter,
but it doesn’t stop the sensation, all the same.
Repetition is our creature of habit,
not the source, but the product.
We paint the ceiling with metaphors and French songs,
or Moon River from the balcony, a couple generations back.
We’re absolved of love or whatever
cynicism we use to disregard our absolution. 

It’s cold, and everything is frozen over
but it feels like spring in regards to days past:
You’re lifting up from yourself
and flying away, one body still on the ground,
the other, five feet up and looking down at the same thing you are.
And it doesn’t matter which one is you.
And which one is not.
We can’t all choose significance;
Such is the sense in negation.


0 0 0

The Clip-on Collar

to George Herbert wherever you ended up.


I broke my lead

and cried, "fuck this,

The scene is dead."

This rope of sands that twists

around my neck

shall burn for every time

it pulled me back

to these blank pages

and their accusation of a crime

as yet undefined,

in the embryonic stages

of requesting it's own writing:

The lord that calls itself child

While putting on a deep voice.



0 0 0

So...what now?

Caught clocked in

at another boring pitfall;

back blocked off


all wrong.

Thinking that

I've got to be

something better

than a better me,

and I could be content

but is that what it means

to say you're free?

I just move

(I never said that I am living).

I don't have to prove

a single thing

cause I'm not listening,

and the only one that matters

doesn't need to hear to know

that everything will follow

once he's finished saying so...

1 0 1

After "Nothing would be the same if you didn't exist"

Rejection has all but consumed me

wrapped me in bubbles started playing

the funeral march with ever pop.


When nobody wants you, how do

you move forward?  I am stuck,

a revolving door of hello and goodbye.


The universe never donates the

stories I want to tell.  I am left with

cracked casts and an eye patch.


I guess that’s what I’m here for,

to make other people look better

to help other people find their dreams


while mine remain an infant, desperately

trying to crawl away from home

with a rope tied around my ankle.

3 0 3


Good old childhood tree,

your branches break, your trunk's cracked.

You are just like me.

0 0 0

Blind Faith

A caste degraded


Way up high

They waved their signs

To a divine messenger

Who called them lesser

And wrote that sin

Was born of skin

And their innocent eyes

Were a putrid guise

To shade their demons

They couldn't leave them

For their devilish sin

Was, according to him, sown in skin

So they raised their pickets high

And prayed to that very same light

That the accuser prays

Until the end of their days

3 0 3



What is fair?

Milady Juliet is fair,

The fairest of them all—

She doth teach the torches

To burn bright!

Ah, but that fairness

Is in the eye of the beholder.

I mean fair—

Children know—

When one cuts the line,

That’s not fair!

Can be heard everywhere.

It’s not right is what they mean,

And so do we, but it’s more.

Children also know that

Every kid deserves a chance, and

When someone or something interferes,

It’s just not fair.

Children know that kindness

Can help to undo not fair to

Kids who life has not smiled upon.

They invite the kid on crutches

Or who has had no breakfast

To go to the front of the line;

It’s only fair.

But, of course, children also know bullies,

Whose fairness has clouded over with

The strong deserve the front the line.

They cut the line when they want

Or they howl with indignation

When weaker kids are given a break.

And the other kids in line?

Mostly they just keep their place,

Wishing the fuss would stop

And the line move forward.

But every now and then,

One kid will step out of line and say,

That’s not fair!

And it starts all over,

What is fair?

Ask your mirror.


                Chris Brockman




1 0 1

What's with All the Roads?

I never stare at the time
as I walk down this road
that walks on my mind.

I take my time
and get there slow.
Enjoying everything, everyplace I go.

This road ahead bends and curves
follow the path
and settles my nerves.

As I walk down this road
that walks on my mind

I walk down this road and take my time.

5 0 5

To be just


   Split Infinitive


     To be just


            to just be


     Is not just

        a matter





                         Chris Brockman 

1 0 1

Our Father

“Our Father, Who art in heaven
What the hell are you doing?
Why does it matter?
Hallowed be Thy name
Like prayer actually does anything.
It calms me down, okay.
Thy kingdom come
We don’t even believe in God.
I don’t need to believe in anything,
Thy will be done
So, you admit it’s pointless?
To do something that relaxes me.
On Earth as it is in heaven.
Why on Earth would you continue
I don’t care if it doesn’t help;
Give us this day our daily bread
Saying the same damn words repeatedly 
I don’t care if no one is listening;
And forgive us our trespasses
Knowing it doesn’t help?
I just need something to do.
As we forgive those who trespass against us
It does absolutly nothing,
I seriously doubt it affects anything
And lead us not into temptation
And I don’t understand
But then again, neither does pacing.
But deliver us from evil.
Why you need the comfort.
Plus, it kept you distracted too.