Archive for June, 2014

June 30, 2014

Certainty

Death, a certainty in life
Just one…

Gut-rot hung-over
Dirt in sleepy eyes

Then the rain came;
Drained,
Growth sustained.

Death, a certainty in life
Just one…

Changes as the clouds in the sky

Once tried
Once tried

No more

Certainly.

Advertisements
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 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 23, 2014

__Pizza

__Pizza,

For trauma
For party
For hunger

-Just pizza

I am addicted to pizza…

It’s an excessive fixation

And:

I think I’ve had a slice of pizza
For every situation I’ve been in.

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 17, 2014

Lock and Dam No. 7

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.

June 16, 2014

A Day to Live

Dependent on me,
Water plants and leave

Producing produce,
And green leaves.

Duty
Accomplishments
Human Objects
Astonishment

A day to live
What more to give.

June 11, 2014

Meaning

An anomaly
A puzzle
A quizzical notion,
-Enigma.

Light, dark, grey
Flesh opens to blood-stains and pains

Once wrapped taught around
Up top
A brain

Eyes,
A Nose that drains

Hands and feet,
Legs below

Born, an age
Names and clothes

Hair follicles misplaced; misshapen displays.

We make ourselves in better ways,
-But in better ways than what?

Big Bang:
-Molecules; me and you.

Fate;
Naysayers claim a choice to choose.

The Bible too…
It was made of something.

Paper, ink, think-thought, present moments, caught or lost—
That’s the idea.

Dare do take part,
Now,
How did it start?

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.

June 5, 2014

Measure of Man

Hands spun on a dot
Reflecting a scene before
The peanut butter sandwich inside
Or its crumbs on the floor

The wise-crack comment
That no one seems to get ever
The sheer weight of stupidity
In a mass of clever

This is as I am
I am truly just one person
I wake up in the morning
To make important decisions

I rest late in the day
Just to make it through to night
I am an average thinker
On the pathway of life

Am I the measure of a clock that hangs on the wall?
Am I a past person, moments ago, the one they recall?