Posts tagged ‘life’

July 21, 2014

Monday Morning

alerted bolt upright by a sticky sheet situation,
first hours of the day
eggs toast and hot sauce
back pains and skin stuck to the bed.

radio conveying news, noise, whatever…
life has been brought to my attention -social media-
ladies promoting sexism; life venting on things, ironically, whatever…

moving stirring sitting standing
applying lotion,
fresh tattoos peel and feel like sunburns,
still drying to some extent.

packing bags, fingering keys, opening doors,
one way to the bathroom for relief
fake leather gloss on my bike seat
read something, anything—Nietzsche.

shower, shit, don’t shave
set- stare in the mirror,
look down to feet
making way, avoiding the cat and debris,
dust filled rooms, draw shades no heat relief.

silverware drawers,
sink filled with grease,
pressures such as time, hypocrites, saboteurs, hunger, cleanliness–…  oh, and NEEDS.

hang about dizzy-clogged head
one thinks
one forgets
one waits
one bends
I should have stayed in bed
I should have stayed in bed.

July 21, 2014

Noble Inquiry

Gatorade and Smokes,
MH-17 and Jokes;
People die,
Rebels lie,
And this concept seems remote.

Just ask CNN my friend.
you know they know, you know.
Stateside,
Lounging poolside,
Just hoping these floaties float.

Peace is always an option,
I think about this as I laze in the sun.
Long day
Hot ways
Realize the damage that’s been done

: Sunburn.

***

Revelation: Gatorade is for athletes and alcoholics.
Noble Inquiry: How many atheists fight in religious wars?

July 13, 2014

Sociopolitical

Sociopolitical,
as lipstick and licorice;
kiss with the tongue,
hard feelings then diminish.

We won’t mention that again.

She said she’s always fine,
the next week she died.

I have the text to prove it.

-Found her along a country roadside
with holes and blood and mud.
The Sunday newspaper said it as
a matter of fact- Just. Like. That.

We had this one class together…
-Fremdsprachen, Deutsch.

Who writes that shit anyway?
It can’t be real-

Those papers…

A life that lacks is labeled as that.
A life on track is labeled as that.

Hands tied, for gosh sakes!
Bright white lines,
Coldest milk shake,
I was on Valium so I don’t remember that day- anyway.

Then the poetry reading was over…
So was everything else-

No apprehension
No hesitation.

What’s tension?
We mention:

Now-a-days,
A lifetime away,
Full of choices
Did you hear them voices?

And you thought for a walk.
And you thought for a talk.
And you made art with chalk
that did not last so long.

-Some cloudy milk transparency.

But that was all you did,
then you slept-

after the sun had left.

***

Also, danke schön Pakistan.
Story: A patron puts one hundred-dollar bills inside of the books he returns only to promote reading.

July 11, 2014

Storied Weather (South Ridge)

Familiar clouds
tell of South Ridge
and distant relatives;
revelations such as this
come hard to miss,
a loss of words.

These were once
interactions,
turned keys,
and crossed-out lists.

Rain drops tapping my head soaking my shoulders.

We drove there in the morning
to leave by afternoon.

Now, I stand here under
dark spinning skies
watching
waiting
and hoping for you.

July 9, 2014

Tattoo II

Dark outlines
on pretty flesh;
a meaningful, forever, sentiment- lined sketch.

For life, for death,
a canvass to test,
bold bright colors; judgment: pretense.

Now art, now unique, now taut puffed; hurt when pressed.

Self-inflicted wounds to heal,
paying for this pain,
stories etched on the surface;
memories remain.

Now, what do yours mean? …

Everyone is jumping off of that bridge,
So I packed a parachute and lit a smoke- see?

July 8, 2014

Commuting on Como

Up,
Pedaling through
Como Avenue.

Alongside shared-living apartments
Neon-signs cluttered storefronts.

Following is
the
summer sun,
heat,
and sweat.

7 years ago I was more acquainted
There was so much to forget.

There was sun and snow,
Heartbreak and elation,
Sex and lies, good times;
Things called by other names, situations.

Past trees which grew
Broken glass from bottles drunks threw
Stand lampposts which haven’t moved
These quiet streets, home for rocks, sand, and dust- below shoes.

Maneuvering, wondering if the old neighbors were still alive.

Winter stuck in a basement
Bright light outside
Warm only within
-Hiding eyes behind dingy broken blinds.

Father stopped in around Christmastime
I was with a she who left like the wind.

Found in moments betting on the weather.

Two doves,
A cat,
Empty bottles,
Trash amassed; pieces of me mixed between.

Now I ride by this old familiar place.

Remembering,
Biking,
Thinking,

How did this town get so small?
How did I get so big?

***
She once said: biking is the best way to learn the city; Minneapolis is the biggest small town around.

July 5, 2014

The Metropolitan Recluse

Downtown lot
walking amongst trash, others, and pigeons.

Looking on,
Moving forward.
To self- no words
Same city we live in.

Spending money there and here,
Names for affluence, titles, labels, and idea appear.

Sharing air, space, and time;
Random moments in life aligned.

Yet they are hardly noticed.

Soft sun smell; triggered warm refuse
Familiar with no one close-

view the metropolitan recluse.

July 3, 2014

Nicollet Ave. in the back of some kitchen…

Having a bad day—usually
I just need to walk it off,

Most times,
I’ll even sell my soul at the coffee shop

They can’t judge me if I am stuck inside
I don’t mind,

Getting down
But you’ll be hard pressed finding me in uptown

Juice by morning
Beer by night
Winter take the bus
Summer take the bike

Kickball every Tuesday
Was routine as day and night
Had to cut back, and sit back
To make bucks to keep on the lights

My mind is freewheel spinning
My positive side is at start like the beginning
Nicollet Ave downtown in back of a kitchen
I learned how to deal with what I’ve been given

July 1, 2014

The Waiting Game

The Waiting Game,

To lose a loved one is a waiting game;
You are given a time to sit and think and wait.

There is no end to the sorrow you will sustain,
Only adding numbers to the day they went away.

I had helped a girlfriend out in the past, in ways.
Empathy, she had gone through about the same.

She called me in the morning to explain:
Over the months the only thing that grows is pain.

Memories remain
Memories remain

Until they fade…
And that is what you have, this cruel waiting game.

It is as slow as the streets of L.A., and cuts as deep as the Mariana Trench.

June 30, 2014

Certainty

Death, a certainty in life
Just one…

Gut-rot hung-over
Dirt in sleepy eyes

Then the rain came;
Drained,
Growth sustained.

Death, a certainty in life
Just one…

Changes as the clouds in the sky

Once tried
Once tried

No more

Certainly.

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