He says goodnight
To she who
Is not able to hear.
He says, to
An absentee, her,
Goodnight, loss.
“I
I tug on
Your heart strings
To
To feel my
Own heart saying
Anything.”
musings & scribbles
If we are one,
Then they are our fears
And we will face all of our fears together.
I don’t care to write stylized and metered verse. I like to be raw. I like to jot down how I feel and give it to the world. The very small world that reads these.
Honestly– to be completely honest– I don’t take ownership of what I write. That allows me a freedom to always disavow intent to be good. It’s silly to say an uncut diamond is dull; of course it is when unpolished. I always say my work is unedited, unfinished, “just an idea.” Really, it’s not loved enough to be revised. Sure, when one or two stick out, I’ll edit them and act like I’ve taken the time to grow them as a form of art, but really I just didn’t want to show them THAT raw. I have like 2 (!) poems that I think of when I recall what I’ve written, and that’s it. I’ve literally written thousands (don’t think this site has everything– I save a few for myself if too whimsical or personal or confusing, and a few out of thousands adds up). I’m nearing my 500th poem on this site. That hasn’t escaped my gentle humility, and I’ve thought of how to make sure the poem uploaded as the 500th is as normal as the rest. But, truth is, I don’t want it to be. I want to be the writer I can be, having been through what I have and going through what I am now. No life is ordinary, and few are not worth reading. Those few would be of the vain. No, I know the 500th will be typical. Otherwise, I may not meet expectations, and that would set me back.
the way things worked out,
i don’t see any better way;
i’m so happy to be with who
gives to me as much as i
give to her, whether barbs or
roses, we re-ci-pro-cate the way
only friends do; thank God
we’re lovers, too; my wife is
more than a part of my life, she
is my whole world’s sunny day.
“People look for depth in the most shallow of pools, and become enamored with their own reflections rather than see the chaotic dribble of the rain.”
To my buddy Ted, who dislikes people thinking those of an early demise are somehow deeper/better than they actually were.
If you ain’t fertilizing the earth, you’re just shit.
Repurposing a line from Wu-Tang’s, “Reunited”
About a million possibilities and I’m scared of each/
Holding my hand while you’re reaching to
Bring the world my presence, but am I ready, Lord?
Your love is a tickling of the soul I fail to stop/
“Best days ahead,” you say to keep my heart sane.
(written when feeling very stressed. I never was religious, not outwardly. I more personified a sense of logic and morality. but, I now am who He needs me to be. it’s funny. Spirituality is not a luxury, a benefit, a disease, it’s not a conversation with others; spirituality is the conversation within ourselves that we know someone greater is listening to.)
Like midnight
Falling on
A sunny day:
I may
Be slow moving,
But when I
Get there I
Will be wide awake.
She’s got that
Once in a lifetime
Smile, those eyes
That write as much
As read/She holds
A fire to the night.
And I can see,
In memory, how
Much I had to
Have her
In those
Minutes tricked by seconds
And the racing of the stars;
For no more lonely were us lovers
And no more vacant was my heart.
I just never know
Which way I am
To go when they
Turn me down.
So, I just hold on
Tight to the tem-
‘ples of a furrowed
Brow and pray to
He who gave me will
That ev’ry day is one
We will not regret.
We cannot forget
The lives here be-
‘fore we e’er step-
‘ped on this hos-
‘pitable land/A
Walk we of(f)’n
Forget was forged
Prior t’our stum-
‘bled pacings ’bout.
While doing what
Has been done, how
Often we look for-
‘ward to where we-
‘ve been, holding
On to what we see
Rather than the
Mountains we’ve
Yet climbed and
All those valleys
Within the crease.