I intended on telling you everything
But forgot too
Neglected too
Didn’t think I needed too
Thought there’d always be time for reminiscing
About the Mundane
Sometimes Insane
Flickering memories
Frozen in golden amber
All these things
Seeping from our possessed hearts
I wish I’d told you
How important you were to me
That you were Irreplaceable
But now you’re gone
Except for
Scattered Life scraps
Listen
I’m sending you these
Gossamer
Visions
About the things we once believed in
Like
Fast cars
Hot unapproachable girls
Nihilism and god
The absurdity of it all
Beer runs
Soul searching
Serious confessions
Nervous laughter
Blinding truths
Music and poetry
Secret battles
Lost faith
Dark drives
Riding in your beat up car
On cold December nights
Dim headlights
Leading us nowhere
Peering at life
With all its illusions
Playing our drunk and stoned
Out of tune guitars
Comparing life notes
Life messes
Life lessens
Opportunities missed
Abandoned promises
Posing our questions
Having flashes
Of momentary clarity
Time sneaked up on us
Here then gone
How could have we known
The inevitability of it all
If given a second chance
I’d play it differently
But you’re gone
And it’s too late
And there’s nothing worse than
Being too late
And you, like most of the holly things I value
I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you
But I do
philosophy
==============Of Tears—————
I just want it to rain
I want to be left alone
Except for the sound of rain
On blurry rain strewn window panes
I’m sick and tired of the 24/7 news cycles
It’s not new, news
It’s the same fucked up repetitive bullshit
Over and over
People killing people
Children starving
Bombs exploding
Turning buildings and lives into rubble
Where people
Once walked their dogs
Lived
Proudly called such misery
home?
Where the lost innocence of a child
Is excused as collateral damage
What a cruel world
Listen
The billionaires and politicians
They don’t give a shit about you
They’d just as soon
Grind your bones into dust
And blow your remains into the void
I just want it to rain
I want to be left alone
Perfectly
Quiete
But for the sound
The sound of rain
The sound poetry makes
As silent prayers fill puddles
With tears
———————-Deeper——————
I’m holding my breath
Because you gotta dive deep
Real deep
To find the ethereal things
Where the mermaids and Gods sleep
Deep and deeper
Dark and darker
Beyond the light
Only pure blackness
Down there, where there’s only
Muted sounds
Only the sound of your own heart beating
Thundering between your temples
Fear is in the hands of your demons
And guarding angels
Hold my hand
Show me your face
Show me everything
Do you wanna come with me
Swimming beyond the deep
Past, where there’s no going back
Beyond where it’s no longer safe
I swear
I can’t breathe
Open your mouth
Give me your breath
Give me life
The Last Second Chance
So be brave
So be bold
Everyone is going thru something
No one really cares or understands why
We all have our own living hell
Everyone is barely hanging on
Tired, lonely and the depressed
It’s just the way this life is
That’s just the way it goes
So be strong
Everyone is going thru something
The ragged homeless guy panhandling for pocket change
The trembling drug addict, dope sick
The innocence locked-up inside us all
The suicidal beauty queen
That’s just the way this life is
That’s just the way it goes
So be alive
Everyone is going through something
There’s howling wolves at the door
There’s night terrors in our dreams
There’s horrors in the waking hours
It’s all red lights and sirens
The noose dangles then tightens
It’s just the way this life is
That’s just the way it goes
So be happy
Everyone is going through something
Regardless of it all
Stare the devil down
Throw rocks at the squawking ravens
Toss your shoes over the power-lines
Watch your bridges burn as they light your way
It’s just the way this life is
That’s just the way it goes
Everyone is going through something
Your deliverance is paid for with your intentions
There’s a sacredness discovered in your last second chance
Nobility awaits the headstrong
You either give up, or get up again
There’s everlasting glory for those who refuse to give in
We find out what were made of in the 15th round
It’s just the way this life is
That’s just the way it goes
In The Depths
When I was a kid, I’d hop on my Stingray bike and ride it down to the city pool. I grew up in the Sacramento Valley where the summer temperatures could climb into the triple digits. 105, 108, Sometimes as high as 116. There would be a droning hum throughout the suburbs of air conditioners struggling to keep the stucco track houses cool. The streets are vacant. No one dares walk barefoot on the scorching pavement. Occasionally I would hear a distant weed eater or lawn mower. Much of the yard work was done by Mexicans. All the Republicans wanted the Mexicans to be deported just as soon as they finished grooming their immaculate lawns.
The only refuge for a kid like me was the city pool. Girls were screaming, boys had their water fights, kids would be doing flips and cannon balls off the high-board. All the commotion was unnerving to me. I’d dive in and swim to the deepest part of the pool and stay there for as long as I could hold my breath. Down there in the coolness, there was a tranquil silence, everything moved in slow motion. I’d sit at the bottom crossed legged Yoga style, looking like a red chlorine eyed Buddha. There’s a quietness there, a peaceful silence, like the deafening solitude found in the void of deep space, and there was a weightlessness like that felt while in the womb. With every birth the universe becomes renewed—-existence abhors a vacuum.
I’d burst through to the surface leaving my protective womb——body and soul colliding with the universe, I’m reborn into the madness—-Suddenly, inundated by the fracas of life with all its dissonance and chaos. As I’d sink to the bottom, I’d become acutely aware of the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
I exist!
The Weather
I’d once thought I could tell her everything, anything—– and she’d be interested in me, she’d look me straight in the eye, She knew me, finding our common connection, a peak beneath the flesh
I don’t know to much about love, but I believe it does have something to do with being interested in the other person—-and that’s something that’s hard to fake
She use to make my coffee in the morning, and remind me to wear my jacket when it was cold out, and I suppose that’s a version of love, caring for someone is in the little things, something we don’t realize until we get old—– getting old is non negotiable—-kindness is a spiritual thing
At the kitchen table we struggle to feign interest In what the other has to say, we give up and settle on commenting about the days weather, enjoying the simplicity of sitting with someone, knowing the rhythm of their footsteps as they make their way down the hall, mesmerized by the sound of a familiar voice, it felt as if these days would stretch on forever—–nothing is forever, so cherish the moment, she once said
mourning and morning sound the same but are completely different things, they’re called Homophones
How can something once so fresh devolve into foggy memories, it’s like the morning fog as it fades away, late afternoons clouds wrap themselves around us. The sound of a distant fog horn breaks my heart
You can’t change the weather, yet people still want to know what it’s going to be
For the crazy ones
There are many brands of mental illness.You’ve got your garden variety schizophrenia, Bi-polar, chronically depressed, OCD, PTSD, ADHD (not to be confused with LGBT). There’s Anxiety disorders, Mood disorders, Personality disorders, Alcoholism, Drug addiction, Paranoia, Narcism and insomnia.
If you string all those psychobabble labels together and allow them to infest a soul, you’ll find the makings of a poet. Poets possess a menagerie of mental health disorders. They come with many of the same symptoms defined in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, often known as the “DSM,” To be a poet is to be demented, a lune, batshit crazy, fool-hearted, delusional, insane and a vessel of junkyard beauty.
Poets hear voices, see visions, are paranoid of the demons and devils that chatter incessantly inside their echoey heads. Some are being channeled by Jesus or Lucifer. Some claim to have been abducted by UFO’s who’ve inserted micro chips under their skin. There’s the ones with tin foil caps covering their skulls to blockout the micro waves that control their thoughts. They possess super powers, they are the cursed, the blessed and the god forsaken chosen ones.
As far fetched as this may sound, these poets believe they can inhabit your brain and silently transmit disembodied emotions into your flesh. They scribble little black markings, or what we call letters on paper, arranging them into words and sentences. If these markings are assembled with perfection, they have the power to unlock revelations hidden within the readers gray matter. These words; these poems exist only in the readers imagination. They can’t be seen or touched, they mysteriously seep from the subconscious to the conscious mind. The author may be dead, but their words carry on in the readers head, like the breath of gods, omniscient, immortal——omnipotent.
How crazy is that?
This is more than an observation I’m sharing with you, it’s a warning. If you choose to go down that path of becoming a poet, then you’ll need to go all the way. You’ll have to fearlessly peer into the heart of the darkness. You’ll have to force yourself to see and feel the things that most avoid. And there you’ll find death threats, condemned love, contaminated truth, the meaninglessness of life, a fools complacency, naked truth and simmering nihilism.
If you can get past the fear and madness, if you are willing to endure the song of the sirens, you will find your own voice. There will be peace and wholeness. In the sadness there is beauty, behind crumbling walls of the fortress there’s freedom. In this secret place, time means nothing, reality is malleable, love is forever sustained and a poet is ordained.
Reprieves And Lost Causes
Let’s get this straight, people who seek simple answers are stupid. The ones who say, “Just repeat this mantra, just take this pill, go to this church, become a vegan, do yoga, read this book, join this party, attend this meeting, be affiliated, be indoctrinated, surrender yourself to a cult, follow this preacher, prophet, shaman, sacrifice your individualism, follow these steps, support this program and on and on into perpetuation. If anyone offers you simple solutions to the myriad of life challenges, immediately run in the opposite direction. Nobody’s gonna save you———except you!
Get this through your complacent brainwashed mind, “Life ain’t simple and surely not easy”. It’s filled with tough decisions, difficult questions and complex choices. Furthermore, life is unfair. Innocent children unexplainably die while evil murders on death-row live out long heathy lives——it’s infuriating! These dreadful thoughts keep me up at night. What kind of god creates a universe that approves such horror, inequality——such depravity.
There was a time many years ago when there were only three TV networks to choose from (ABC, NBC and CBS). There were two types of bread, white or wheat. You were either a Chevy person or a Ford person. You were a Beatle fan or a Beach Boy’s fan. You either watch CNN or Fox News. There was a time when we only required one hour of nightly news to cover the local and national fresh batch of calamities.
Nothing is simple anymore. Is “more” always better? Maybe the Amish have it right with their horse-drawn buggies, silly bonnets and goofy black hats? Maybe enlightenment is more achievable for the Zen Monk living alone in a cave in the Himalayas, no distractions, no facebook, no TikTok, no porn. Is ignorance bliss? Was Socrates right when he said “unexamined life is not worth living”. Are the stupid people happier than the seekers? It’s so much easier to be stupid and happy rather than struggling to find yourself, to be “woke” (whatever that means?)
Now a days, we want to see, hear and know everything. We watch with glee as our heroes fall from grace. Does the tragedies of others make us feel better about our lackluster lives? Life is no longer lived, it’s processed, deep fried, homogenized, propagandized. We watch life through a porthole, secretly peering into others Social Network realities. We seek out others in an echo chamber that supports our beliefs. We’re overloaded with conspiracies, truthiness and artificial intelligence (oxymoron). There are now computer apps that can be programed to write college thesis papers, compose music and create original paintings. I don’t know what original means anymore. Is there an algorithm for originality? For beauty? For reality? For Love?
What’s real, what’s illusion. What’s true and what’s bullshit? It’s all up to you because the future is up for grabs. There’s no longer a truth filter or bullshit detector. We live in a world of contradictions and complications. I don’t know about you, but I’m pissed off. Why you might ask?
The rich pay no taxes while the rest of us fight over table scraps. Politicians sit on their asses and do nothing while our children are slaughtered in another mass shooting. We have resources to better feed and house the homeless but yet there are more starving people living on the streets than ever before. We have better medications available to save lives but pharmaceutical companies charge more than what the sick can afford. We have science that has revealed the imminent dangers of global warming, yet our governments and industries fail to implement changes that will reduce the greenhouse effect.
This one life given, should be better lived.
Sometimes it’s a curve ball
A dear John letter
A tire with a slow leak
A misfire
Ruble and ashes
Simplicity lost
Regretful goodbyes
Cold left overs
Prayers and futility
Unexpected farewells
Stained excuses
Potholes and apologies
Pretend love
Leached out success
Players and fakers
Listing ships
Death by loneliness
Silent betrayal
Orphaned dreams
Waiting on nothing
On no one
Self forgiven
Forgotten promises
Stubborn solitude
Watered down desire
Driving alone
Getting nowhere
Squelched confessions
July Snowstorm
Unhappy endings
Reprieves and Lost Causes
Rants, Raves and Random Thoughts 