Posts tagged ‘writing’

September 13, 2014

Ruled by Cats

Dust management,

scoop,

Lid removed;

Stench to prove-

Ammonia and hardened poop.

This moment,

What it is.

No king cleans out cat shit.

In the air hangs

remnants of digested remains.

Eyes pained

Hands to rearrange

Next to the toilet stool

What a silly fool

To be a cat;

To actually rule.

September 12, 2014

Testing Salt

Waking each day to test my resolve

Walking around with patience

Living through the storm and calm

Resisting tumultuous agents

September 4, 2014

Oh, what a night

This lonely night,
as I scrub clean the soiled dishes.

Wet hands, same the front of my day-old shirt;
dinged pale, blotched, and loose.

Nothing in its place;
bottles falling,
corners catching everything,
dirt sticking to the floor,
as the cat meows an indecipherable slight.

All of this would be impossible if it were tried.

Still, stifling hot,
inside;
humid as the night goes on,
out there
sits a lonely parking lot.

There is no relief, save for another extreme; Midwest seasons.

-We know, we know.

Small things noticed under skin,
this sliver- this time, sharp and razor thin.

Walking into this empty living room
the radio addresses the score loudly.

Fans cheer,
announcers describe.
Sitting on the couch I put my feet up,
and sink in.

Oh, what a night.

July 25, 2014

Stream-of-Conscience Free-Writing on Positive

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.

July 22, 2014

a writer engaged…

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 12, 2014

downtown alive

the downtown life;
bike,
bus,
people;
this traffic.

concrete jungle summer,
new-comers and city lovers.

the space betwixt is a waiting room for action:
excitement for concern,
mini-skirts, excrement,
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,
mind numbed.

through structures which shoot into the heavens;
box shaped, corporate; of consequence.

hotter than hell,
clothes transforming to shells.

spells, smells, and potions.

beyond tables,
the chairs,
the patrons,
and buzzing busy waiters and waitresses.

past signs,
commotion-
emotion,
causing big eyes-

knowing,
coursing
breathing
bleeding;

witness,
downtown alive.

June 25, 2014

Poetry for Profit

Poetry for Profit;
The dilettante says.

It just doesn’t happen,
It’s an illusion in the sick minded head.

Corporate sponsors,
Ads which have mislead.

They have a job to do:
They have to pose and fit for trends.

If you do it for monetary reasons,
You won’t genuinely achieve success.

Real artists have bled,
They don’t concern themselves with worrying about the point-spread.

People live fantasy lives all the time
Where they are famous
They are sought-after
They are “the greatest”, labeled by their closest friends.

Where they try their best to be noticed,
But no one cares in the end.

If you write to proclaim “I’m a poet”,
To get paid cash and attain lavish threads,
To fulfill a lifestyle image that’s been played-out,
In order to satiate big dreaming ego-ed heads.

I have news for you:

You could write non-stop for the rest of your life,
But writing won’t always be the hot ticket trend.
So many others have paved the way before you,
While you merely lazed lying in your comfy bed.

***

Try doing your passion for years and years to free your mind, to share thought, to pass the time, unnoticed.

Could you?

Don’t do it for profit, never do art for profit; take a look at the masters, they lived in destitute, some unrecognized in their lifetimes for what they had accomplished.

-Doubtful.

***

Go, go, go-
I know people who have done more with less, they are called my relatives.

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.

May 27, 2014

Who isn’t?

Who isn’t?:
“I am writing a book.”
“I am writing a poem.”
“I am a published author.”
“I have a Kickstarter of my own.” -Every Writer Ever

May 7, 2014

End of the Semester

Last of these few days together
There was no breakfast made
Non-existent intent, in good weather
We were making this class in so many ways

Gathered- some, walking in, I sat
Gathered- now, thoughts, just exist

Relax, no time to witness or waste
Intact presently;
Though,
Fleeting
Sentiment
Of haste—

Grades that won’t really matter in the end
That of experience made in debt we lend

Month-to-month climbing up that ladder
Procrastinated moments, shared in a scatter

It will not happen like this again
It will not be the same my friend

Take it in without tears
Shed skin of early fears
In and amongst peers
Exasperated we cheer

To contemplate is too late
Thinking is a past-moment’s luxury
To know the feeling to date
Can’t explain what’s become of me

Showered, shaved, straddled steel bike frame, then came
Locked and walked up stairs everyday
Opened doors in the deep Winter
Even up until early May

Nothing lasts forever
Maybe these memories
Moments that we’ve changed
Until they at once fade away

Gathered dust
Flight of feather
Come so far
Once together
Heavy hearted
Was all pleasure

Tethered to that time

I said I was here to make grades not friends
In the end I was wrong again

It was on that fast dying day that I knew.

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