July 31, 2014
we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls.
Wheels spin, no gas on deck,
armies fight wars waged for black gold;
these things are related.
Glass punctures and creates an escape,
you sit roadside with a flat-tire and deflated ego.
An IED blows off a soldier’s leg,
an obese man eats a sandwich and drinks a diet coke,
a beautiful young model hates her reflection; finding flaws;
a CEO makes money.
And no one knew the half.
a book weighs down a hand,
words play heavy on the head.
Cottonwood seeds float on thick air,
tombstones bask in the sun.
So far away no voice could reach;
even so not of native tongues.
Days we have lost and the one that just began,
my toast is burnt,
furniture sits un-rearranged.
Affects leave me unchanged;
for certain of, same, -oh distaste.
Life goes on
a cat meows
a clock ticks
the heat moves in and settles down
Fall is here.
Only this time it’s without you.
I wish I could tell you about that.
July 31, 2014
Time is of the essence
We have now and others don’t
The mail comes in
Heavy, in boxes
Full of books
People count on efficiency
This is now
Time never ends, but when it does
Patrons to service
Phone calls to make
Papers to print
The life, the day, the dollar, the request
Projects and process
Building this knowledge
No one regrets
Nothing to fret
Days and what we do
Define me and you
The only proof lies in a check
Electronic deposit, hardly noticed notion
Who does anyway?
This is incredibly easy to forget.
July 22, 2014
Engaging keys to dance on the screen
a sticky banged-out sort of language,
eyes flicker-flash as they register,
each finely enacted word is painted.
Sentences used decidedly, discrete-
far beyond just average meaning,
right below the incomprehensible
reading brings light day dreaming.
Realism in lines, dots, and white blank space;
page-art, satire even written in haste,
excessive save excite, readers we do invite,
the slashes and dashes become grammar’s delight.
Ah, to scribe
Ah, what for?
Ah, to be a part.
Ah, what more?
Thoughts just come, one by one;
even when lacking to grasp,
some are produced with purpose-
others just come from the ass.
It is easy to complain, but so much harder to compliment.
It is easy to say we make, but so much harder to create content.
July 21, 2014
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
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.
sink filled with grease,
pressures such as time, hypocrites, saboteurs, hunger, cleanliness–… oh, and NEEDS.
hang about dizzy-clogged head
I should have stayed in bed
I should have stayed in bed.
July 21, 2014
Gatorade and Smokes,
MH-17 and Jokes;
And this concept seems remote.
Just ask CNN my friend.
you know they know, you know.
Just hoping these floaties float.
Peace is always an option,
I think about this as I laze in the sun.
Realize the damage that’s been done
Revelation: Gatorade is for athletes and alcoholics.
Noble Inquiry: How many atheists fight in religious wars?
July 16, 2014
Morning has broken,
Plants, people, and mechanisms are touched by light.
Strange concepts we call life.
Buses roll out onto Dalmatian-potholed streets
as sun hits gazing eyes.
Water beads bejewel, adorning the
perfectly cut blades of
Trash men collect garbage
swishing and slopping repugnant trash.
Commuters traverse out and through; up and down,
This is no winter,
summer months of reprieve;
hot to sweat,
we lay at the beach.
Though always in motion;
The never still late nights,
even if we embody the hard to wake early mornings.
Enticing to the outsider
a spider’s web for those who call it home.
You are here today
Taking it in-
on some corner of some neighborhood
in some way.
Morning has broken.
July 14, 2014
Books to entertain,
Existing on this plain.
Bikes and Lakes-
There is nothing but happiness along the way.
July 11, 2014
tell of South Ridge
and distant relatives;
revelations such as this
come hard to miss,
a loss of words.
These were once
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
and hoping for you.
July 9, 2014
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;
Now, what do yours mean? …
Everyone is jumping off of that bridge,
So I packed a parachute and lit a smoke- see?