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Everything is quiet now
in the middle of the day
where misery has settled down
like bricks on my chest lay
and although I can’t make a sound
my voice has gone astray
I will not settle underground
tomorrow I shall wake
to soft sounds of the morning
like loved ones I have lost
reminders that my mourning
is not in vain but just
and in the shadows of my mind
to where I now so lay
forgive me father for I have sinned
relieve me of this day.
At the end of the day
here you are
in a box
with dirty thoughts
tired but unable to sleep
strong but ever so weak
hungry unable to eat
fierce but intolerably meek
crazy isn’t it
how four walls is all it takes
to drive a sane man mad
and a madman sane.
There must be something better
than living in this state
like a free floating feather
I must be on my way
it just took me some time
like Jenny on the run
through city lights, a heroine
to forest I have come
to recognize the stars
on a boat far out at sea
floating through the sky
my legs have taken leave,
and behind all of the people
I’ve passed along the way
is a shining light, a ray of hope
a beacon to this 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.
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.
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.
It’s
too
early
to
be
tired
and
I’m
tired
again.
Not
the
I’ve
been
on
my
feet
all
day
tired.
No.
It’s
that
special
kind
of
tired
we
don’t
dare
speak.
It’s
the
reason
we
stand
all
day
on
our
feet.
Yes.
It’s
that
special
kind
of
truth
we
work
so
hard
to
forget.
Until
we
remember,
no
longer
able
to
sleep.
Life.
A series of sparks,
on a windy,
windy,
day.
Words Of An Average White Male 