Warm Shoulder Tenderness (day 3150)

Early one morning I was out banging rocks
I saw a young lady, she looked long and lost
I asked her her name
That’s when she cried
Into my warm shoulder her sorrowful thoughts.

There’s the blue skies to look at,
The trees to go in,
The birds always calling
To give you a friend,
There’s the clouds that have every
Masterpiece within,
And I’ll be here, Honey
Forever, Amen.

That’s when she caught me to give me a kiss
One mighty big one I’d forgotten I missed
She leaned in and looked up
With those beautiful eyes
Into my warm shoulder her wonderful bliss.

When the wind blows and the sun glows
My eyes take to close,
Just like when my girl goes
To lean in, so close,
Into my warm shoulder her tenderness grows,

Two (day 3033)

My memory woke me up;
Two dollars and loose strings
Attached to each of my morals
Dangling cheaply
To the tune of a Tom Waits album
On repeat.
I’ve gone over the top again,
My finger jammed
Into some random container
Taking up space
On my single seated table.
Two young girls
Giggled in the corner
But quickly remembered where they were,
Checked their long blonde hair
And checked their phones
Together.
Tomorrow I’ll be here again,
I’ll wear my eagle belt buckle
That reminds me
I’m more than two dollars
On the good days,
And ask the waitress
With the good smile
To kindly take this container away
For it’s killin’ my mood, man.

Todo (day 2519)

Counting out dollars of an unmarked womans purse
She told me I had nice hair, I said she was rather curt
That is when she told me about her dear old fathers luck
That had run its course as a scholar written from a pen of steel
I was young, she was pretty, we had fun and then we both remained
Dear friends just all the same.
When the water boiled I poured the tea for three
She hadn’t come alone but we seemed to be private
I wrinkled up my nose to an unexpected story
That had me rather wondering when I would ever read his book
So we took just a minute to choose what herbs would do
And we sipped, then we stirred, and sighed until we finished
All the deeds left to do in a scholarly mans todo.

Young Bliss (day 1873)

I’m young, you know.
Made of friendly banter
And anger so quick to jump.
I’ve a heavy foot
Along a freeway and open road,
A bypass of the byway.
My roots: growing,
Simple thoughts into
Designs and plans
Sewing a spot to exist in.
So I dance and weave
Hands held high…
Or beside
Because beside is with
And I’m young and in bliss
And coming home
To a fancy freedom
Upon my dawn
I’ll tie my shoes.

Hell is My Political Agenda (day 1356)

Our political agendas are nauseating.
They’re stuffed so full of capital letters
That the underlying messages of our society –
Hell, even our cultures,
Are suffocated with exhaust stacks and bottom dollars.

If I could have dreamed up a Heathenistic Hell,
I’d put city roads and destruction for progress
Right at the top of that scorched list.
I’d decree land had suddenly become a commodity
We could sell simply because we had a gun that said we could.
Just like young adults unable to find their righteous paths,
Explicit lyrics contaminating the innocent minds,
My Hell would be a prescribed better way, mothers.

Did you feel my heart as it’s ripped out every single day
When land mines help fight swollen populations,
Planted in a war to help save lives?
War to not war! Fight fire with fire!

And in my Hell, in my political agenda I call my country,
I would give us hope, every.single.day.
We would wake up to the smell of progress
And desire to capture it in any way possible
So that it could be shared with anybody we knew.
We would mutually feel good about the loss of our trees,
Because our heads were buried so deep in our electricity
Where we were collectively dreaming about
Ways to continue our progress.

For my simple pleasure I’d have dandelions everywhere
As symbols of true health and prosperity.
I’d pull up my old lawn chair, warm beer in hand,
And watch as all the sinners pulled out their organic chemicals
To spray the evil yellow root to death.
On the cold days when there were no death machines
I’d read my botanical books and let the rain
Wash tears into my Hell.

For me this is the saddest thought of all,
Because in spite all my attempts to rectify ignorance,
I would be a black seed living in my own true Hell.
I would be a puppet, inspired to raise my voice
And told that I do mean something to this Hell.
There I’d be, red faced eating my poisoned earth,
Handed another blank Party card
And told why I should be excited.

San Francisco - 201202 (144 of 809)

When We First Met (day 1210)

Your eyes in this moonlight
Keep reminding me of home.
Warm nights and a younger I
Filled with dreams
Absent far too long.

It’s hard to understand
How no one feels like you do,
No lucky card or future expressions.
Just diamond eyes and good luck charms,
Sweet smelling dew drops.

I still remember when we first met,
I’ll be going there tonight.
I remember how you came down
To lift my eyes like a sweet song
And you said: “No, no, don’t stay away long.”

Cutest Button (day 576)

Cutest buttons sparkle and shine
A sleeping baby stays warm tonight
Snuggled in with reindeer and rabbits
Where happy dreams do fill the sky
In this young world, all is well
In this young mind, animals smile

IMG_9286

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Photographer: Ieva Katana
I was given this customer photograph, and requested to write a short poem to go along with it for Minus40’s blog. The onsie is a Minus40.
Seriously adorable stuff.

Break in the Day (day 109)

Sun that’s hotter than a well used oven
With young faces that are nervously wonderin’
Alerted by the slightest disturbance

But me, I still look for an empty corner
Away from the clamoring multitudes over
My fate sits fixed as is my countenance

Waiting sit I as I wander nearer
Playing with the time waiting for the bearer
Maybe we all feel this sustenance