Every day, as the days get longer;
Every moment that pushes forward
Into the existence that propels us,
As if a non-rebelling down slope
And gravity had a serendipitous
Waltz into the passing sunshine.
Glistening brightly into
The peering eyes of a dreamer
And her mother of fashion.
From here, they made their way forth
Into the shades of unknown
To hopefully grow as a unit:
Mother and daughter
A beautiful city that drags me forwards
With clouds so thick
And skies so blue
This city is weird, indeed
With a sun that hides
Most of the time
The streets here are filled
With a damp caress
Most of the time
It’s ok the sun doesn’t dictate
With it’s rays so golden
Most of the time
I drive forth, into the northern hills
With their peaks white and green
Most of the time
Perhaps it’s the smell that lingers in the air
That I find myself searching for as I walk about alone
I’ve noticed I’ve grown accustomed to wandering closer
To where the air turns thinner
But in all the hours and days and years
I’ve climbed aimlessly about my wits
I’ve never solved the mysterious problem
Of my indulgence in this superstitious trait
Where cleanliness promotes friendliness
Where a smile can soon become a friendship
It’s funny how an old car
Yesterday was new
We face life so differently
In the race for tomorrow
With life comes sacrifices
We must make every day
Sometimes we’re conscious
Other times we lay slow
For true greatness
For an unspoken award
In all that life can offer
Where do we gather our weapons from?
In the lost arts of mankind
When virtues became known
There lived a great answer
Truth we’ve never known
In this time that has passed
We’ve lost a great goodness
Head over heels
For what tomorrow will bring
Perhaps in this game
As we look for the new
We’ll remember the past
Pull closer what we knew
Perhaps it’s the luminescence of the situation that drives one to distraction when playing the small little games away from the goal.
I like to think otherwise though. I like to think it’s the severity of every single little nuance that will effect the end that sinks its way so deeply into my seared skin.
This, I’m ok with. This I’ve worked out long ago to be the true essence of life. The true essence of every single step that we take as we push forth. And in fact, with all of this that we push forth with every single day, everything combined, this is what makes us who we truly are.
When some of us sit on the the milk crates and watch the world pass by, or take the car down to easy road for a bite, or push the effort so easily away from the direct line of sight, some of us tend to also make our own destiny with the same efforts that it would take to take one single step into the future: forward.
Then some of us do not sit. Some of us push into the ground for stronger traction as we lean up against the building, tempting it to move a foot to the left. Some of us take that step into the darkness, and play with the fate of the unknown, unspeakable, unrealized, but oh so enjoyable.
In a lurch of passion the crucible fell to the floor and silence ensued. Lord have mercy on our souls; we were still standing. Still able to breath and had not yet been ruptured into the unholy gates of hell. There was no fancy smoke machine inhibiting our abilities and senses. And yet, as we lazily gained our wits and made our way casually back to the cheap diner for our fix of a makeshift, half way to noon morning breakfast, we still felt a nagging luminescence of the situation lurching forward into our sub-conscience.
I like to think we have no idea what we’re doing. I like to think that this is all just a dance as we make our way through the stratosphere of energies and emotions, trying to balance delicately on the surface as we push our consciences north, into the space that is a pretty good fit for a long haul home.
I have spent the day in a bucket of sorrow
Milking my wounds with spikes in the head
Perhaps the longer I look at my reflection in the mirror
The smaller the glare will be
Would it make sense if I chopped a little off the top?
Then I’d let the steaks burn just a little longer
To sear away the pain left lingering
Like the smell of clothes after a night out
Drops of laughter echo through the closed eyes
Into the open palms of wrinkled skin
Weathered like the sin I ate in my sleep
Like the sin I slept on in the night
When I crashed down, reminiscent of childhood
Riding fast along the single-track trails
Head first over the handlebars into the overgrown grass
Secret steps I’ve tripped over ever time
Empty bottles left behind the bed
We fight for our money
We fight for our bread
We fight for the clothes on our back
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our gold
We fight for our oil
We fight for the car that we drive
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our computers
We fight for our iphones
We fight for the laptop we squander
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our drugs
We fight for our pension
We fight for the crimes we commit
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
[This poem is dedicated to the brothers and sisters who are effected every day by the terror of what is known as Kony. Please give the Invisible Children a voice.]
Coerced into the blame game
I felt a little foolish as I washed the red expressions from my skin
I felt in awe as I sprayed down jealousy off the walls
Thrown up there in a fit of disgust
Pent up, for anger never held any grounds close to these blackened soles
There was, however, a time when anger ruled the lands
I vaguely remember those days
When lovers walked hand in hand along the boardwalk
Casting glances over their shoulders
Trying to disguise the thoughts upheld on their brows
Perhaps it was the technological shift that eased the lovers arms from around the clock
As the day shifted into another
As the listless lost little figments of their imagination
To the ever-slowing mechanism of the futures design
To the ever ticking tock of a lovers game
I had an uneven sleep
Like the homeless on the cement
Dying for the months rent
Listlessly wandering into another step
For what, I fear the answer
I fear the melancholy it invites
I fear the destruction it involves
Without a comfortable cloth to my name
How lame it must seem
To the truly advanced souls of this land
Where once was a stone
Now creeps up some glass
Greenery once ran rampant throughout
But now is delicately placed high above
In secret places only the few birds know about
But then, where have our secrets come from?
Whither have they gone?
Dueling pianos penetrate my skin
Forthcoming evening seeps within
Dangerous thoughts roam through my brain
And the night begins thus
Train rolls rapidly on
Jigging my jaw to an unwritten song
I have no fear, says I
I have no pain today
And the lonesome whistle blows off in the distance
I, left standing there in the cold
Watch as my breath floats around the glowing light
In utter silence, miles from anyone or anything
Flash back to a grand romance
Black lace and skin so bare
Knee bones and muted breath
Swayed by the motion of the long locks of hair
I remember now
I remember the long nights I’d speak out
Wondering what lessons I’ve learned
Never understanding the answers I’ve made possible
I’ve never been able to understand
Why searching and searching holds my name
Why memories will always remain
Until the last pair of leggings are just remains
