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

A Pull (day 290)

I can feel a pull
From control and class
To the kind of
Un-adulterated
Sheets to the wind
Pants around your ankles
Kind of shift

This is the kind that gets you in trouble
The kind that wakes up with a massive fucking hangover

I’m prepared though
I’ve done this before
I’ve held onto the guard rail
And eased my feet into those shoes

It’s a long walk home from the streets of destruction

Wear a coat

Sunny Skies (day 289)

There’s no room for sunny skies here
There’s no point in having those hover around
Like the festering magpies
Crapping overhead in swarms
Few thousand or so

There’s nothing loud
About sitting alone
Blast out the speakers
Make that sky forever last
Hold out those buckets and catch in that rain

There’s only winners and losers
There’s no I’m almost theres
Pull down your trowsers
Flair up your nostrils
Pull in your feet to breathe

Brothers and Sisters (day 288)

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.]