Sunday, November 3, 2013


ROMANCE PART 2

You realize how austerely trivial it is 
to change your outfit twice and again
and so unnaturally significant that you
always have to move across the room

You hate a clock since it sometimes stops
and jumps hours at a time and time becomes
arbitrary like it does in eternity
as you compete with modernity

You want to dream out loud so that all
can hear how great it is to be awake and you
hate to sleep since it robs away
the precious banters of the day

You want to pour over two coffees
at a cafĂ© and never stop speaking because 
you never have to worry that you will
become steady, bored, tired or still

You are truthfully waiting to lose your mind
because you fully embrace your folly
as you position a final stance
when you experience your first romance.

Saturday, November 2, 2013


ROMANCE PART 1

When the motivation to wear your best tie
is tied to the reason you always go to sleep late
and why you gravitate to one side of the table
instead of staying where you were first able

When hours can both slow down and speed up
in your time together because you think of each
movement like the right step to a swing-dance
and every touch like an opportune chance

When dreaming is no longer a depressing topic
that you are ashamed to speak of but is that
which you must reasonably consider because
reality is no longer bitter

When you look for every common thread
to talk about despite its irrelevance and you
consistently consider competition a threat
to the attention you strive to get

When you are truthfully unaware of how to act
because you finally feel warm and happy
and are pummeling into an emotional trance,
you are finally experiencing your first romance.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013


UNDER-STANDING THE REAL WORLD

Belittled by rejection of 1 Timothy 4:12,
The maturity of my face weighs more heavily than
The size and nature of my heart,
Whether it has known scorn or joy seven times over for
I’ve barely turned past a few chapters and
Each momentary page is not that weathered.

In fact the years that I have passed are considered a
Prologue or skippable prelude to reality, the main story;
I have been told that they are not real, like an introduction
That’s fiction for a make-believe story that’s a biography,
Which is frightening because I thought I was the author of my life
When apparently I’m just among the stage direction.

It seems that being two or three years elder
Makes one two or three feet taller, since
Each page is not marked by my stylistic fingerprint,
But by the tread of a heavy footprint:
Staggered, jagged lines that I try to read
But must be too youthful to heed.

What is my purpose if it is solely to grow older,
To add age upon page until I’m recognized as legible or
Credible enough to beckon thought when
My spine will then tire of the weight of pages bent and
My memory will be lost like page 43,
And I simply become the epilogue?

I would rather live as a child and crawl
On all fours, smearing the ink ordained norms
And demean my image with insulting stains
Than learn to walk upright and commend the younger
For upholding the table of contents of the older.

I want to toss away these doctrines and stories and
Ask the greatest writers what the point of life is
If our hearts are only paper thin.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013


A TEAR IN THE PAGE

I dream of open hearts that are open journals
where imperfectly crafted thoughts are
thoughtfully transacted crofts that sit in lots
for different minds to excavate and till.

Yet today I find it hard when all I see are hills
that mask my clarity and birth disparity until
I am sure that I can never sleep because slumber
makes me stumble down the steep spiral binding
of this page off unto some incoherent writing.

For the words I publish are dismissed as rubbish
like barren land laden with weeds that fail to represent
the deeds of an overworked farmer or meticulous gardener.

Is this then the nature of collaboration -- desperation
for communication that transcends the self
unto the shelf amongst the univocal sound of other farmers?

It seems unsafe for me to think of such a harvest
because the ink on this paper is so heavy it sinks
past the brink of reason causing my eyes to water
the script I sought to author.

Now my journal is closed and my mind grows tired
from speaking dire words that remain unheard so 
I drift off and grow numb to these cold winds called 
winter.

Monday, September 16, 2013


WHEN THE TONGUE LEFT THE CHEEK

Our mouths do all the talking
They’re the most powerful being in the body
The tongue that is
Surrounded by the walls of teeth and gums
The tongue is the strongest muscle man has
But experts are wrong if they stop 
There because the tongue also has a brain
He says what he wants when he thinks it
Moreover has he a stomach as well
Craving all sorts of things like a meal or another tongue
Even a pair of legs too, since he speaks words that
Take man down past paths and future roads
The tongue always wants to be satisfied 
And what he wills will be satisfied because
When he’s hungry I eat
When he’s thirsty I drink
When he’s tired I yawn
When he’s inspired I sing
When he’s mad I swear
When he’s sad I wail 
When he’s confused I question
The tongue is my master and he says he is lonely
And I don’t know what to do when he is lonely
Other than all these other things.
So I’ll eat and drink and yawn and sing and swear and wail and question
Until the tongue is satisfied by what I give it to taste.

Monday, September 2, 2013


CHOOSING A NEW VOCATION: LOVE

I will tell you a few words on love
love is not an emotion nor is it a feeling
it is not how you react based on how your day is going
or how many people smiled at you on your way to work
it has nothing to do with how happy or sad you are
how much you laugh cry sing or 
get laughed at or cried with or sang to no it is none of these
this non-emotive love depends itself on nothing
that you can touch with your hands or see with your eyes
loving is true when it hurts you back because its unfair 
as unjust love is the only kind that exists
since there is no pride in love there is no expectation 
for it to turn around and love you back
for it to say well done good and faithful and
give you a medal with a trophy and a hug with a kiss
love is what you do with your time and it must
be accompanied with action surrounded with intention
rooted in patience and kindness 
akin to submitting submission without apprehension  
love is a man denying his instinct to give up when the
going gets tough or the same old gets old
it is a bondservant working so his master can have more
when we try to bring love into politics that is when
we emasculate it of its heart which is nonsensical as
there is no love without the organ which gives it life
therefore love is not dying for what you believe in
but staying alive for what is noble and true and right
despite the pain of a breaking back bent over in on itself
because surely the man who stumbles forty times over
practices love better than he who walks straight in line
with a wife by his side with curled lips for an entire life
love is the only key to joy that you will ever find
no matter what height you have found from feelings
however when you have scaled that summit then jump right off
pummel till you lose the hope of surviving the fall
and when those close seem to fade from view
and they start to fall right along with you
love enough not to let them go but
love enough to let them know
that you are falling for them.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013


CONGRATULATIONS, SON

My greatest fear
is that I will achieve what
I have prepared for
this entire life. 

my greatest fear
is that this entire life
has not been the real world
but just childhood. 

my greatest fear
is that childhood
has left forever
and now I have to grow up

my greatest fear
is that I will drive a nice car
and work in a 50 story building
or the pentagon

my greatest fear
is that I will wear a suit
with a leather briefcase 
in the suburbs

my greatest fear
is that I will be comfortable
and not worry about mortgage
or savings or paying bills

my greatest fear
is that I will see 6 figures
in my white picket fence
praising my success.