terrible thoughts
take their toll
when we wander-bout,
walking where
nothing, no,
nothing knows
we exist.
all i can say
i’ve said before,
but something more
is on its way.
Month: November 2013
-
terrible thoughts
-
hairy wrists (a sign of aging)
hairy wrists
the hair of my wrist
bends with movements
made by warm digits
over a body frictioned
into place.i write with
nothing ahead of me
and want the world to
forget so
i can continue
unhindered,
unhinged and
unrelenting.i’ve
forgotten more than
i’ve learned
about writing and
that suits me
just fine.
i’ve never been selfish,
try to
include you
more than my own mind, but
now i feel like
why the hell
waste so much effort
on being clever
when being
me makes
much more
sense?
-
what is this need, necessity
what is this need–
a
necessity
to be
accepted?
statements, made
for context, yet
seem forced–
is
the forced the
execution, or
the requirement?
-
be better
i got more drama than the daytime,
keep grindin’ like it matters and
i know it’ll make an impact eventually.forgot more about myself than anyone should.
forgot why, so i try to rebuild Me, but it’s
difficult when i’ve got no building blocks
from back in the day– shit, i can’t remember
yester’, let alone then. but, she keeps
me working harder at who i am so i can
provide a life for our children, so they
can know more about Me than i, and i’m
okay with that– being better than i
was when she told me to be. helped
a thousand others be who they are, so
can’t be that difficult to do the same
for myself. or, more profoundly, can i
put enough worth in Me to be a greater
human being than i otherwise would
have the opportunity to be?so long as We build We, i’ll be following
along like shoreline with a river rollin’
-
maybe I should stop waiting
got a million in the bank;
basing wealth on morality
and not greed, right? right?just kidding, i’m flat
broke and hopin’ for a breakthrough,
but i’m not sure through what or
if i’m strong enough to break any-
thing. it’s hard to see the future
when i’m so stuck on now and how
nothing ever goes my way, when i
refuse to get up/get out and get
somethin’. anythin’. maybe i
need to wait, and keep waiting
because those who are still get
run over in the life lanes by
those who bother to start their
engines and go; maybe i just
missed the cutoff for luck, or
maybe i subtlely sabotage myself
by lettin’ the fuel sit long
enough to go bad and i’ve got
a yard to care of, but no house
because i’ve been sitting in
the same spot without bothering
to get up and be a benefit to
anyone.
-
a hollow sound never felt so welcoming
a hollow sound never felt so welcoming
as when on the other side, listening
for anything to make its way ’round
that corner, there, where i sit and
wait for life to tell me i need to
move. yesterday to some other day,
i followed through, gave you something
i didn’t know i had ’til the day you
came on and brought it out of me.a hollow sound never felt so welcoming
as when on the other side, listening
for anything to make its way ’round
that corner, there, where i sit and
wait for you to come back to me, show
-ing me that life i led was worth liv
-ing if only to lead me to you, she who
covers me when feet get cold and laughs
at simple looks left to be found on faces
much better together than apart.a hollow sound never felt so welcoming
as when on the other side, listening
for anything to make its way ’round
that corner, there, where we sit and
wait for ours to make their way to us,
giving more than we can take but making
every moment worth having if only to
know there are more ahead, ahead, ahead.echoes bring a sense of more to come,
much more to experience. always let
your voice walk before you if it
knows the way better than your feet,
hands, or heart. just don’t be surprised
if you’re further behind before catching up.
-
saint valentine’s, 2013
Though you asked,
I have relented
And given you,
Dearest wife,
A bouquet but
A bit as lovely
As you are.
-
(funny that) we practice inertia only when we’re already moving.txt
a couple things got me down lately,
making me think the world is forgetting me,
helping my ego shrink, my ballast sink;
i’m trying to be a better person as a result, but
my heart is heavy and my feet are dragging;
i’m rolling along a way i wish i could control, but
my head is down and my eyes are lagging
behind all there is to comprehend, all there is
to take in and appreciate; “you know the sun? yeah,
that one– it’s still shining, brightly, son”–
i just need to hear that once from lips other than
these fingertips, but all i do is smile and keep
moving on like centrifugal force is the only motion
i know.a little bit more here:
hardly ever given up, just given in to all
the temptations i’m allowed like wondering if
i’m the only one who knows we’re all in
the same planet and it’s not infinite– far from it;
i can now talk to my buddy on the other side of the globe,
but we can barely walk by someone beside us and say hello–
it’s a fucked up world where i think i’m alone
and everyone else feels the same way, even though
we’re all right here– we’re all in the same planet
and it’s not infinite– far from it;
we can now write one thing and it’s immediately available to all.
-
vestigial
brought a brick back from the alley we lived in,
tried to see the fireplace as something
other than a mantle/we couldn’t afford
the gas? you sure?, we’re drinking soda
24/7, no, seriously, waking up at
1am for a coke/not the white stuff,
nothin’ hard, just a little pick-me-up,
high fructose adrenaline pumpin’ in
me while i tried to be a better son;
not going to fight anymore, nah,
not worth the agony my mother had
because of me, but… i’m not a punk,
not a chump, i just won’t fight back,
but i’ll outlast you because you’re
both of those; don’t see reluctance
of another as an advantage over
who you just can’t control,
even though you tried and i refused
to supply that vestigial need to be
dominant or dominated.
-
Ramblings 18
Mistakes are lessons not learned.[ Mistakes are the eggs of regrets, not yet fertilized with accountability.]
Memories are kept and not recalled.
Laughter bleeds bad blood.
Tragedies leave us and offer their condolences through progress away from what led to them. They, tragedies, are meant to carry us, as a society, further from where we were; in this way, they push us to be better. They pull us along to hope we become better, so they will not happen again. If they do happen again, surely it is us, us who remain, who have given our lives; they who have been lost, then, remain as a symbol of where we could be, if only we were to learn and not be complacent, not be unconscious to the world and all that lays ahead of us, ready to be picked up and carried, as we were and continue to be by miracles, tragedies, and wonders of this world and this life.
Life is a surprise we merely try to comprehend, until such time as we wake up to our being surprised, and follow, again, with attempts at comprehension.
Favorites should be fluid, right? They should change as we do, as our experiences do, as our outlooks do. If I still had the same favorite book as when I was a child, I would be reading nursery rhymes. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, and they do come back for children, but my point remains: There is no age at which point we cannot change our minds; so, too, our favorites can change– and rightly should.
Losing a marriage is as easy as trying to be the winner.[ You can lose a marriage by trying to be the winner.]
Look at the worst that could happen, then the best. Which is more substantial? Which outweighs the other? If you can hold success in one hand, failure in the other, and not break a sweat, what is holding you back?