Archive for ‘make’

December 24, 2017

the ultimate distraction that nobody mentions, too busy with everything else (millennial debt)

I am ready
for the #consumerism this year to end,
my dragon to slay.
This money, that money, where? donate!
Ready to be more #frugal,
like peanut butter sandwiches
continuing every day until I am #debtfree.
I wonder if goals even exist.
I think more people should #protest that,
protest debt by ending it: mine, theirs, et al.
Instead outside blaming, pointing, aging, etc.
Do that, I suppose. Or don’t.
Sort of some responsibility.
Then worry about everything else.
Because you are owned by your debt,
but you don’t really care until you know.
That plastic, that is you.
The banks that you fund.
They are all in the shadows laughing, watching, pointing you on.

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July 29, 2016

advice for students from a post-graduate (survey answer)

Take all chances.
Study abroad.
Do things that others tell you not to do.
Do what you think is right.
Try everything.
Prepare yourself for a career you enjoy from experience.
Labels and titles do not matter.
Always network.
Always be present and visible.
Be different.
Believe in yourself, really.
Have a passion for what you are interested in.
Always, always be early.
And think positive.

February 26, 2016

For-Profit Poets (What Bugs Me)

i wonder if the gnat in the shower mist
understands that money changes art.
the very idea of creating something for
pay transforms the something you create.

as if you aren’t going at it for self,
but now going at it for millions. this comedian
bug in our bathtub garden had the sense of
humor to remind me the importance of not

knowing, of not assuming, of not trying to be
the best in any situation, because there is only
self happiness inspired by the true muse.
and nothing more. and those words changed

for the pennies they paid, and some poets
would rather fill their bank accounts than self
actualize. and especially not talk about it.
notice it in similar words and formulas and

themes around these twin towns. i’ve seen
art on the green line, art on the transit, art
at the office desk top in non-profit form that
gave more to the world, so much more.

and i’ve begged and asked of some time to
merely experience, and some think they
have a chance at competition that proves
nothing more than some of us like just this.

January 13, 2016

Naked between clothes…

As you do,
you’ll figure it out.

As you do.

December 27, 2015

Motion

I find myself
in motion–

in driving;
as a vehicle,
a vessel.

not waiting.
Just go.

November 24, 2015

Nowheres else

Don’t you know?

You can get it
nowheres else…

Right there it was
and then it was gone.

Goodbye.

Like that lottery ticket found worthless.
Like that dream that you watched die.

You can find it nowheres else
but in your mind.

People talk different
but I dare you to try.

October 27, 2015

That Sound from The Street

construction season
is over, it is no longer summer
yet still in the morning
a hum comes from the street,
a banging comes off of pipes,
beep-beep beeping of horns,
bells and whistles.
it starts sharp at early,
the streets are blocked say signs,
no one can park, and now
they almost shut off our gas;
we had to tell someone
because someone told us.
how do they fix things
this way, by digging hard
by going down and tearing up,
causing something new
to be half-assed covered,
a little bit more bumpy
something ugly?
i watch in the morning
from my three season’s porch,
i just stand there in the open
t-shirt and shorts,
wishing for warmer coffee,
asking for time off,
wanting a vacation with silence,
needing to make work
so i can construct my own
in old framework decor,
needing some sort of renovation.

October 6, 2015

Hey Joe and the Word “Like”

Joe, he kills it in class
with his well-formed questions,
he does—it’s true.

I wish I would have gone
to the same high school as him,
I assume he was popular,
probably played ball.

Alas, I didn’t, alas, I sit far,
far away from his dicey interactions.

Another classmate I sit in a room with—confusedly,
she uses the word “like” more times
than I ever thought understandably possible,

like, oh my fucking god,

if I hear that word once more in rapid succession
I may just leave class early unannounced.

But Joe—back to him, he is like the honey bee that stings,
he is like a one hit wonder from the mid-90s,
he also dies intellectually from his act.

It is tragic like Hamlet, not enough college to know:
let the teacher talk, this is their show.

As a peer I will admit this is fun
to watch and hear and be a part of—

(The professor’s ahem interruption of the grasshopper!)

like the Titanic sinking on film,
like an ungraceful fall on March ice,
or like a public argument growing in volume and irrelevance,

as the instructor says: we are a part of everything…
OOOOWWWWW! AAAAAAHHHHHH! Some theory…
The classroom is full of minds blown.

I enjoy these acts,
but they are painful.

So painful…
Oh yes, but fun.

Education offers much.