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Posts published in May 2012

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i fought hard to be who i am
greatest opponent was me
but that’s not to say i’m a loser or a winner,
just another person trying to leave the ring
and start a family, start soemthing more.

i’ve fallen while running and been running while falling,
trying to catch myself now, but neither’s that easy to quit
when the hill is steep and i’m on the decline.

now’s my time to say that i’ve been more of a man than my father was,
but i don’t think that matters much when i’m who i am
and he’s not who he was. times, they change without needing our say–
and i can’t help but keep quiet today, now that i know that fact
and know my words matter much more to the breeze than the ease
of life, lived to be someone i forgot existed a long time ago.
i wanted to be president, an officer, a gentleman and a benefactor to the world at large–
can’t say i’m not, can’t say i will. can’t say i’m not,
can’t say i will.

sad music about someone else makes me want to change the song. it’s like listening to a fisherman lament not catching any fish while staying in the same shallow waters.

we traveled the globe, hoping getting away together would bring us closer to who we want to be. i felt we could, too, until we got to each place we were going and realized we just changed the scene, but the players and the lines remained the same. it’s hard to change when you’ve not saved in a while– we’re always fearful of forgetting everything we knew, even though we always do and make up for it in other ways.

i fell flat on my face
to the softness of our bed,
lifted a tired arm around
you, the warmth waking me
to sleep with eyes closed
while you breathe into me
and i held up my lids just
enough to take you in again.

blahblah

yo, i
haven’t lost a good friend in a long while
to violence or anything that would be permanent,
but, damn, i feel like i’ve outgrown a few
of my good friends from when we would play war
like death was a distant concern– man, how fast
we grow up when put into a social situation
perpetuated by others and not ourselves, or
maybe i did it myself by not being a bit more
transparent.

it is written

i spit wit-out a care if da final product is da best n da world, or if i’m leaving a stream of consciousness that leaves you wondering, “da fuq did i just read?”– nah, i’ll keep goin’ regardless– not goin’ let my life be metered or kept back by a thought of nothin’ more than negativity. my style is positive, but like osmosis, i tend to absorb what’s around me– try not to be permeable, but can’t help it when cats talkin’ about entropy without knowin’ me. can’t cap me at an arbitrary limit set by assumption and not observation, but they’ tryin’ anyway.–

i hope these words find you

i hope these words find you,
years later,
when you’ve been able to live a life
otherwise reserved for the deserv’ed.

me

I write poetry because I like psychoanalysis more than strict observation and research.

left field

so, i gave up on love
to be with myself/
not something new, no, but
something i owed myself
after being in it for everyone else.

then,
without much warning,
but with all the reasons in the world,
you found me.
i was one smooth dude,
acting like i wasn’t the
most lonely man without you;
you, the most beautiful
of God’s creations, gave me
reason to be happy.

i said, “I love you,”
in a discussion on dinner;
specifically,
you stated you would
ask my Mom
how i like spaghetti prepared.

the way to a man’s heart is
through two things:
the respect of his mother,
and an appreciation for his appetite.

to be sad, to be frustrated,
to be angry, to be reserved
through it all.

a sentence

the world once stopped to ask me if i’d continue through or sit there, standing by while every petal fell and the seasons changed. i answered with a step and a camera shot; grabbed on to the beauty and kept moving.

i’m alright

have you found a song you
can’t live without when you hear it
but forget its existence when you’re most in need?
i forgave myself (or maybe i haven’t)
for all the nights i spent watching life, surrounding me
with motions i don’t know but envy anyway.
killing time, but forgetting to
when i need to most;
i’m forging my way with memories,
but unsure where they’ll take me;
holding tight to the radio, hoping
that song comes back i’ve often heard
when things were better/but i know
it won’t on this station, no, and i can’t tune
what’s in my head.
i’ve forgotten more than can be counted on,
given myself a means to be without care
just enough to give a… i’m alright, though,
i’ll be just fine; just need to keep in mind
all the times i’ve fought my way through
by staying the course/by being the same
and maybe i’ll be something worth moving for
when the motions stop to let me in,
or this head gets lighter and i can walk once more.

thought a day

a thought (or more) a day
10458 || world life is all about scale. so what if we can build a skyscraper? termites can build a proportionately larger structure. || romantic love is bothering to have feelings for someone else who bothers to have them for you in a mutual way. || pieces are picked up, but a whole is hard to keep steady (the heart). || picture life like the ebb and flow of bathwater; remember, you’re just there until the cord’s pulled, but be grateful for the time spent out of the pipes.

10458

10458

i have woken to
beat the odds
left for dead
hovered instead
let my mind go
let my mind go
and it’s making circles in the sky
with clouds swirling to keep up;
birds, confused, stay grounded or
attempt to get ’round it.
i see my life through a kaleidoscope:
distant, disheveled, broken, stained,
shook, shaking, individual by
appearance alone (but still uniform).
i see my life from the third-person looking back;
i can’t remember the story of my life,
but damn, it’s catchy/catchy/haunting when
i can’t think of this/that/the other/maybe
i’ve reappropriated the memories into
a sieve
which fills, surely, but leaks.

i am frankenstein
and his monster;
a world apart, a
world inside, i’m
just walking along,
minding my biz
when i gotta stop
and remember
where i’ve been, but
it’s kind of hard
when the road’s
gone, the path’s
now a mountain
slope, the world’s
become round
and i’m just
seeing a horizon/
don’t know there’s
more below, more below,
or am i the one
in wane?
bruised by ego,
i wait for purpose,
and find the daily misleading.

musings & scribbles