Laugh at yourself more.
Make alternate plans.
Stop speaking in arguments.
Get out while you can.
Eclipse those bold around you.
Expand your mind like desert sand.
Excuse the ill-hearted.
Lie in the sun, get tan.
Be realistic less.
Find happiness more.
Search out your inner Self;
caress and appreciate its core.
Be happy for what you have.
Never attempt to settle the score;
forgive and forget-
because what’s life for?
Realize you are always wrong,
even if you “know” you are right.
Become a better person,
this can happen over night
Be the nicest human being,
not some stuck-up snob.
Tell the government to end wars,
by dropping photo-bombs.
Shake hands with strangers,
meet your new friends.
In the end there is nothing to lose,
so start a new trend.
Open your eyes to adversity.
direct those who can’t.
Try the best to be yourself.
Try your best to understand.
Always exercise patience.
Always exercise. Period.
Never stop learning and reading.
Never stop being weird my friend.
Today is right now.
Yesterday is gone.
Listen to sweet birds singing your song.
Rainbows happen in storms.
Sun is better when it rains.
How good do you feel?
For that you can thank pain.
Understand there is no certainty,
from one moment to the next.
So do everything you can,
be passionate- do your best.
Laugh at yourself more.
At the beach,
this burnt sand desert;
Swimming lake water to avoid the heat,
people lazing on towels,
hiding beer cans
attempt save discrete.
Plants sharp as knives while walking with bare-feet.
At the beach
At the beach
Sex parts covered by diaphanous cloth,
where we sit with wandering thought lost.
discussion minced, quiet commotion-
ride, bipedal, or car from the city to the streets to meet,
at the beach
at the beach.
the downtown life;
concrete jungle summer,
new-comers and city lovers.
the space betwixt is a waiting room for action:
excitement for concern,
and trash abandoned.
business casual, with cash they flirt,
although beggars with signs ask first.
there is always art, music, and thought to sell.
waiting is the pedestrian,
some adventure sought:
tourist; look at the mess we’re in!
bus-stop theatre, a show free of cost.
completely and utterly lost,
sticking out like sore thumb,
through structures which shoot into the heavens;
box shaped, corporate; of consequence.
hotter than hell,
clothes transforming to shells.
spells, smells, and potions.
and buzzing busy waiters and waitresses.
causing big eyes-
walking amongst trash, others, and pigeons.
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.
I am addicted to pizza…
It’s an excessive fixation
I think I’ve had a slice of pizza
For every situation I’ve been in.
On a boat close an expansive dam
A boy accompanied an Old Man
Fishing for hours cold hands
Only to have come up few clams
The river remained rough
Water spray wet brown splash
Bubbles in the water swirling
Bottom of boat held beer cans
Farther up the boy could see birds
Up close to the tumblers brightly red
Over white-caps exchanged few words
The Old Man palmed his rod in hand
Lock and Dam 7 lent no pension
Yet many prospered in its wake
The Old Man and the boy lay patient
They trolled up and down, but had to wait
Ice coated concrete walls
With rope or hook they fastened tight
Daylight lasted only so long in afternoons
The highway lights suggested night
Untying they came undone
River smell and worms in hand
The fish on the stringer were meager
Pushing off they went towards land
They passed others by and by
Anglers that were mastered
Coming closer to the landing point
Lights on avoiding disaster
Trailing wake in full gait
An out-board went ‘bout 20 knots
Blackness and bugs flew by about them
As they came closer to the docks
Lamplight held empty parking lot
Shown just below the river’s edge
The flat-bottom came parallel the wooden structure
The boy managed at his sea legs
With a hard bump from running in fast
A rope was fastened—quick, and down
The boat made way with the water
The boy made feet with wooden ground
Cold rushed from the river valley out
Nothing held the boy more in life
Than to be out near the Mighty Mississippi
In the dwindling hours of night
As children we are exposed to habits which prove a tradition
As adults we revisit those events to see what lessons were given.