Do you do much marketing?
She asks.
I went to Art School, so…
So what?
They taught us how to feel,
not how to eat!
Monthly Archives: March 2017
You’re never completely alone.
Allow me my sadness today.
We can talk tomorrow.
As you walk away, we
die a little more – separate machines.
But take care knowing, if
you decide to speak.
We can talk today.
Always.
Change.
It’s clear that you are trying.
But things have changed,
haven’t they?
You have changed.
And that’s a good thing,
change is good.
But it’s clear, from us
looking in
that you aren’t quite yourself
you aren’t quite as we remembered.
And if you are,
then clearly we too, have changed.
But we haven’t changed,
not really, in the sense
that your new found glory
has taken control.
And if I’m wrong, tell me.
Tell me something beyond common sense.
It’s crystal clear,
isn’t it?
Us know-it-alls, know it all.
So for now, you’re out of the club.
And that’s a good thing, rest,
because we all come back eventually.
Those who speak of love.
Beware
of those
who, so often
speak
of love,
remember
not to
get too involved
with
their plight,
chances are
there is someone
responsible
and you
just might be
picking up the pieces,
because Love
too often
is mistaken for
infatuation,
but they
won’t see that,
they can not
see so well through the fire
the mystery
of the heart,
the failure
of the brain,
at face value, yes
they may seem true
but beware
the unhinged
romantic,
they know
what they’re selling
but not so much
what to do after they’ve made the sale,
yak-yakkity yakking
their pattern back
to heartache.
Where the actual music begins.
Living life
like a Bright Eyes song
will only get you so far.
At some point
it’s time
to turn the music off.
That’s where
the actual music begins –
that’s when you sing, your song.
E major
works for me,
what works for you is not my business.
White Noise.
Somewhere among the static
I remain
speaking on your terms.
Individual Sadness.
We each have our own
individual sadness.
Like a fine wine.
I drink it down.
Some tastes better
than others.
I drink hers down.
Then open another bottle.
We much prefer red over white.
Dry over sweet.
Though there have been those who’ve poured
and those who’ve carelessly spilled.
But none like this.
None so direct.
Covered in a deep, warm red
I much prefer her careful aim
as she throws the Cab into my face –
Betty Davis style.
Peer Pressure is an Infinite Thing.
Lots of makeup.
Lots and lots of makeup.
To invent the perfect you.
That stuff clogs your pores you know.
Believe it or not.
I wore makeup too.
But nobody told me
it didn’t match my skin tone.
Nobody but a few.
You can’t break a kid’s spirit like that.
It’s unnatural.
But that’s what we do.
That’s what’s beautiful?
I beg to differ.
That’s not the perfect you.
But it’s under there.
Somewhere.
Working harder every day.
Creative Bursts.
Creative bursts,
like drunkard
bar stool
thoughts,
I can actually do something…
That by morning
are swept away,
like confetti
on New Year’s Day.
In your passing: for Alvaro
Listening to Rob Zombie.
You dug his artistry.
I bob my head compulsively.
Go figure.
And in this moment, I’m reminded.
Of your grace.
Some people have it,
you had it.
Though I never told you, it was clear
you had no intention of being graceful.
It’s just something we’re born with.
No matter the number of tattoo
that cover our skin.
No matter the loony stories
we tell ourselves to get by.
It’s sort of an unspoken connection.
And when you smiled you meant it.
When you frowned, it was for just reason.
In retrospect, our time knowing one another
was shorter than most.
And after College, we only spoke via
likes and shares.
But nonetheless, your spirit breathes on.
Like the orchestral breakdown in, The Man Who Laughs.
You did and still do inspire me.
I see this now.
So in my thanks, I know you’d just laugh
and say,
“Ah Dave! I love you, you crazy bastard!”
Words Of An Average White Male 