Posts tagged ‘love’

July 14, 2014

Cold Day July

Hot Coffee
Cold Day
Blue Sky
Why complain?

Books to entertain,
Existing on this plain.

Between life,
insight,
Likes
Bikes and Lakes-

There is nothing but happiness along the way.

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

Triple Double

we used to go to The Triple Rock on Tuesdays- every Tuesday;

they had 2-4-1’s:
two drinks for the price of one- natürlich,

we would stay late, dancing and sweating, and trying to get laid…

it was a spectacular spectacle, an idea with appeal; drink one-self half-silly,
amongst those of a similar age demographic,
-get lucky,
then attempt to maneuver treacherous city streets
on bike, in cars or cabs,
home.

the whole thing ended rather abruptly when a few kids couldn’t handle their liquor, words, and fists.

a fight broke out into the street,
under cigarette smoke, dim streetlamps, smell of stale beer in the air,
and the big kibosh was put on the entire coveted evening, the whole event was OVER.

the deal had turned into somewhat of a deal-breaker, and this was way before the wounds of those street-fighting kids  had healed;

egos and all.

so, what two things did we learn here?
if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is, and nothing lasts forever.

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 6, 2014

Positive Platitude (this day)

Have a great day, make it that way.

Cold shower and fresh fruit,
Radio’s on to get the scoop.

Come dressed in Sunday best.
Blessed, whatever that means.

The little things__

Counting clouds in the sky, as we are biking by,
Minnesota streets; avoid pot-holes in between.

Big warm sun overhead,
Oh! To leave pleasant bed.

The life we lead;
Not the life we could have led.
Positive thoughts,
The words we’ve read.

Making what you can out of what you have, this day-

For no reason at all.

June 26, 2014

The Great Human Specimen

(Words of which describe feeling; the impossible to relate.)

Thoughts we couldn’t possibly know
Interpreting best we can
Relating as we move in growth
From anger to love; make amends

Constant ebb and flow
She says it gets worse over time
Freeing and easing as we go
Futile attempts at relieving the mind

Struggling to care for one-self
Bettering to make it through
The toughest part of life
Is missing those we knew

Forgetting each moment one by one
Filling them with something new
A child once, now a man
Living only to pay our dues

We are the great human specimen; half of one life and half of another.
Our eyes, our ears, our smiles, our fears, come from our father and mother.

June 19, 2014

Minor Details

Eyes in front,
Focusing on some high-rise Ant Farm

Minor details…

No coffee; none for sale.

Thoughts on our time
When contemporaries write on depression
And how they want to write,
Immodestly mentioned

Do they write for words or recognition?

In my mind,
At the beach
Shirtless,
An ex heroin addict describes me as fat- I react.

Paltry people
Trite intention
Sad appeal
Apathetic apprehension

Now,

Off to work
Watching busy professionals pace hard by
Begging for fame- notice me! They say.
-Under heavy skies.

June 9, 2014

How do you “know” Love?

People don’t “know” love,
Love is unknowable.

It is a feeling:
Labeled
Assumed
Interpreted
And acted upon.

You are the love you make,
No labels
No others
No excuses
No blames

Just that.

Love:
If it is shit, it is because it was made as such
If it is the best, it is because it was made as such

If you love, then “know”
If you “know”, then love

People assume too much; age, race, and gender have nothing to do with love,
Inside is where it comes.

How’s your love today?

***

If the only thing your love stands for is status on social media your love is lacking…
***
Children speak of love as fantasy,
Adults speak of love as comfort and trust.
What’s the dichotomy?
So, what’s the rush?

 

If it’s broken, look in a mirror.

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