It is always evident
that harbored resentment,
like the sharp bite of a cavity
it comes and goes depending,
and like a hole in the tooth
digging deeper, it spreads
into the root like a cancer,
with no more reason than
that shit happens, and happens
and will continue to bloom
like the wakening of Spring
or an Autumn river bed
so isn’t it evident, when
it is time to let that harbored resentment
set sail back into the open vacant sea.
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routine maintenance
I was holding on to you, not out of fear but rather routine, unaware that I was hurting you more than I.
That’s till I let you go, completely.
And we took off like two hares in a turtle race.
It takes routine maintenance sometimes, to fix the broken parts, and make them work together again.
That’s when you let me go,
completely.
And we finished like two turtles splitting hairs over wine.
be here now
I look at his wrist
it reads:
be. here. now.
and for a second dwell,
what a way to be.
Laughing loudly over stranger conversation, we shoot whiskey then wash them down with pickle juice.
Later I gaze at my face in the mirror
it reads:
be. here. now.
but I do not dwell.
Finally, I am here.
resting bitch face
the older I get —
the more smiles I see
the more frowns I disregard —
the more I grow
to appreciate
resting bitch face
and the people
I’ve known who’ve sported
it not being their choice
but simply their face —
and all the times I never should have said a thing.
Advice
When someone
somewhere
or something
is making you
tired and mean
sluggish or obscene
pale, green, or just
downright dead inside
it’s more than a sign
to seek,
alternative grass
that is in fact
greener
in times like these.
Write. With. Fire.
Fill your life
with the people
who will fill your prose
with fire.
I told you once, I tell myself again —
Write.
With.
Fire.
It was a good day
The palm trees sounded like palm trees
and the sun was in his eyes,
there really wasn’t all that much else to say.
So he kept reading his book about nothing
and fiddled with his silly poem’s,
until the sun dipped behind the rooftop.
With sleep in her eyes, she lifted her head, and said,
it was a good day…and he agreed.
It was a good day.
I’ll be a mourning dove
Every thought is vital, so while I find myself
on the verge of another vital breakdown,
at least this time I’m in control,
creatively speaking,
so that’s got to count for something.
If not, I’ll be pushing daisies by morning,
or at least I’ll be a mourning dove, lying in their virtue.
To taste a little death
To taste
a little
death
once in a while
is essential
really,
for it gives
us
the hunger
to live
again.
It
doesn’t always
taste that good
death, in fact
it tastes
pretty sour
most times,
but if a pucker
is worth
a thousand lives
I’ll save mine
for you, if you’ll
save a bite for mine.
more or less.
How long does it take to change?
A second
A minute
An hour
A day
A week
Two weeks
A month
Or six?
A year
A decade
A year
Or six
A month
Two weeks
A week
A day
An hour
A minute?
A second.
It takes as much time as it does to stay put,
more or less.
Words Of An Average White Male 