I Shall One Day Wake (day 300)

I struggle
I struggle
I struggle
And I see

I push
I push
I push
And I feel

But for all these errors
For all the hours a dark
When the wind cries softly
I shall blow my faithful winds
Sitting amongst the poplars
With eyes so content and far
The whispers of my fathers
Caress me with these stars
Shaping my immediate thought
So profoundly that I begin
To shake from the inner confines
Of my scared and lonely soul
I shall one day wake
From this horrible torment
I face with every breath
I shall not walk alone

Mother and Daughter (day 299)

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

Grasp (day 297)

There is never enough time to grasp what we must in time
For the swallows don’t stay long when wind is on the run
Do we catch the sun’s longest weapon whilst down and blue?
Do we wander aimlessly through the gates unknown?

For much to long there has been an order
Stronger than the great tides of time
Stiffer than the hounds of fate
But I bark out loud against the dead of the night
Fearless, naught, there is no sorrow
There is no lost language, sweeping through the night
Entranced in an unbridled emulation
Of all things that have passed before these eyes asleep

Time follows me slowly forth with it’s mythical whip
Slapping the stare out of my humor
Perhaps then I’ll grasp onto the unknown
As I sit here and twiddle my thumbs

Wander Closer (day 296)

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

Springs Night Air Thoughts (day 295)

A lonely walking along the springs night air
Has a traveler thinking about matters to beware
If ever there was a time for spewing melancholy
The drip drip drip of the morning dew would induce
Such a state of ephemeral excitement ensues
Leaving the steps slightly quicker
In a race against time to return home
Gather the tidbits of nonchalantly whimsical
Ideas that flow rather seamlessly forth
Did we exude the true meaning of all of our thoughts?

Old Cars and New Livin’ (day 294)

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

Luminescence (day 293)

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.

Empty Bottles (day 292)

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

Eyes (day 291)

The eyes of the tired
Close at all hours
The eyes of the tired
Will miss a few verses
The eyes of the tired
Have journeyed through the night
The eyes of the tired
Weren’t idle last night

The eyes of the tired
Say things words cannot portray
The eyes of the tired
Work overtime, on the weekends
The eyes of the tired
Haven’t called their grandmothers
The eyes of the tired
Rest a while with me