the moon is clear tonight,

though i can’t see it

these words are beautiful

though you can’t read it.

In this twisted world, of sunsets and bad tattoos

needles, and bruises

and the drug abusers

and the wrong word said at the right time

the left is right, and a song still shines

like a penny in the sand

listening to the mind, jingle, jangle back and forth

the journal of a madman, from back before

i am the graduate to unemployment

a ticket to work, my degree grows dust

and I look forward, to the next cigarette

and the television set, to sell me a few hours

of defunct reruns or, reality tv shows

where nothing makes me hurt worse

then those, who know but don’t know

struggle with mental illness

and you are labeled a misfit

i am a disease in a lung for hire

i am the sun in the shadow

the bird on a wire

the leonard cohen, who writes

for us Beautiful Losers

I welcome the unwelcome

to see the truth, in beauty

in poetry, and the spray paint

of brickwalls, we are all

and we are none

we are the generation under the sun

we are all and we are one.