Even the morning seems acutely somber
Broad clouded skies hold steady longer
Green leaves thick ripped from their place
Void departed relatives we save nigh space
Juxtapose this deep cutting- chilled contrast
Waiting for summer’s waning neb to fast pass
Vexed by cruel and unrelenting, stiff nature
Fool-heartedly with their lives they wager
On a single day we wish to stay the same
On forcible winds we wish to have changed
Man can live amongst this time and watch,
As he winds the seasonable swift ticking clock.
Even the morning seems acutely somber
Strong Autumn winds blow in;
Through trees, on a whim- these limbs,
and shadows made of them.
Exhausted year, once again…
Biers and tears,
Free and easy,
Mind’s been cleared.
Coming up wasted and frustrated-
Elliot Smith came up roses,
Empty handed impatience,
Changing mindset with practiced poses.
Some of the best luck of all time,
Some of the unluckiest best times,
Some logic takes heavy loads off minds.
Some laziness, what!? -The awful crime.
Round corners above pavement,
On a bike,
Life is dangerous,
Backpack filled with book pages,
Summer’s gone recently, but not for long,
This weather; indifferent, right, or wrong.
The Midwest is at least unique in that it is unpredictable in clime.
And I imagine Simon and Garfunkel will enjoy their vodka and lime.
Stench to prove-
Ammonia and hardened poop.
What it is.
No king cleans out cat shit.
In the air hangs
remnants of digested remains.
Hands to rearrange
Next to the toilet stool
What a silly fool
To be a cat;
To actually rule.
Waking each day to test my resolve
Walking around with patience
Living through the storm and calm
Resisting tumultuous agents
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;
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,
humid as the night goes on,
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.
Sitting on the couch I put my feet up,
and sink in.
Oh, what a night.
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.
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.
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-