our most lost days
can be our most found,
it all just depends
what’s lost,
it all just depends
who’s in the bin
Home » 2019 (Page 23)
Yearly Archives: 2019
give em hell
You are not great
You are not special
You’re another puzzle piece,
a letter of scrabble.
But spell great without the G,
or special when missing a C,
place yourself wherever you fit
it’s for them you’ve got to be
they’ll take credit either way, so
if and when you tell
listen son, be a good girl now, when you’re all worn out
it’s best to give em hell.
blue jay’s back
blue jay’s back, cloaked in sun
hopping from grass to concrete
his colors I lack, flutter from wings
they drift-float-and-pass all around me
as I turn my back, cloaked in shade
I can’t tell if he’s mocking or loves me
smart for a change.
I’m an idiot,
a great big idiot.
Aha!
Now with that out of the way,
who’s next?
I implore you,
let down your guard.
It’s actually quite satisfying,
being smart for a change.
Untitled for,
all
that
time
effort
energy
left
to
H
A
N
G
—
breathe
Get out of
bed
Untangle from
sheets
And
breathe
Each day
new
Another crack at
life
vague for vagueness sake
Is it vague for good reason,
or vague for lack of meaning?
It’s a struggle not to tell,
exactly what I’m dealing.
It’s more or less about
the act, that is perceiving.
It is vague for vagueness sake
for whatever needs believing.
the dark of day
Like an archer without aim
I’ve shot myself so many times
into the dark of day.
Like a horse’s leg gone lame
I’ve broken mine so many times
into the dark of day.
Like night and day the same
I’ve hid away so many times
into that dark of day.
Though a dear friend it became,
farewell the night
which lit the way
out of
the dark of day.
two sparrow
This morning, a sparrow
gnaws at my ear, his absence
is all that I see, while sunlight
casts shadows on tree limbs
I hear, nothing but sparrow clearly
while stillness, and calm
fly all through the air, impressions
a Renoir scene, two sparrow
take wing, like dancers I hear
them tip toe paint gracefully.
a repeating theme.
If I wasn’t me
what would I see?
Life’s laundry list, a repeating theme.
In times like these
things start to get clean,
it’s just all the other times,
that have left me soiled, but boy oh boy
that’s not the point of today.
Bare bones in the wash, dare tell what they say?
If what I see, is merely a shell
then I’ve got some listening to do
before hearing that ocean once more.
Words Of An Average White Male 