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There’s something bout the Summer
that makes this all ok, yet something
bout the Winter that
would have me feeling grey—
Like the cement of a tombstone
or the flowers of decay
In Springtime there’s a forward march
No Fall back plan could save—
Perhaps it’s in the heatwave
that makes this all ok, or perhaps
it’s the chemistry
where praying mantis lay
Today the time ran out
just as it had begun—
Hot water fills the tub
you swore you’d never become—
It’s warm and shallow now
cut servings for only one—
The echo down the hall, well
that’s just yesterdays love—
Now it’s all become a song once sung
to an infant under the gun.
Today the moon refused
to trade place with the sun—
Sidewalks full of people
but still you know only one—
It’s an impossible force
that drags you from yourself—
Now it’s all become a song once sung
to an infant under the gun.
I try, you know I do, to balance
fault lines and faith, the surgeons
steel blade, it draws a bridge between both—
It’s a symphony of simple things
that will seem eclipsed by the sun—
Cause it’s all become a song once sung
to an infant under the gun.
It is as cold
as a steel locket,
isolation
loosely hangs
two chains from a collar,
white as bone, worn
from the hours, of nuance
carefully placed by the bedside,
waiting to be opened
polished and willing
as obligatory as peace
before, the inevitable dawn
which beckons us to
repeat, our autumnal fall
from the burdens we carry.
How many times a day do you feel overwhelmed, frustrated, angry or confused?
After counting all of mine, would you mind if I borrow your fingers and toes?
In Peace Is Every Step, Thich Nhat Hanh suggests a breathing room. He writes, “we have a room for everything—eating, sleeping, watching TV—but we have no room for mindfulness. I recommend that we set up a small room in our homes and call it a “breathing room,” where we can be alone and practice just breathing and smiling, at least in difficult moments.”
If by chance you’re thinking, why didn’t I think of that, then join the club.
He goes on to describe this common space, the “breathing room,” as sort of a fortress of solitude where with respect to the inhabitant, no one else may enter or disturb their chosen silence.
It’s basically for that moment when a conversation turns into a discussion, which turns to a debate—with seemingly no agreeable outcome—which in turn forms into an argument, with no resolve.
So it’s reserved only for that peak moment of, “I need some space,” or “give me a moment to think.”
With so much information cycling in and out of your subconscious, be it social apps, advertisements, marketing, news, or work, where it can feel like our minds get lost in the shuffle, or rather programmed with ideas that aren’t solely our own, this often causes our discussions or thoughts to turn to anger and confusion, which in turn manifests itself in words of anger and confusion.
So instead of falling into a pit of verbal debate which at the start was never our intention to begin with, there in lies the breathing room.
It seems a bit strange at first but if you factor in the amount of screens we allow to jumble our thoughts on a daily basis, it really makes a lot more sense as to why it’s more than necessary in today’s day and age to have a space for mindfulness and calm reflection.
It’s a practice I continue to engage, like a well oiled machine, with proper maintenance and care, we can all find peace and understanding, and better ways to dealing with hard situations.
And I think that by allowing ourselves this space and time, we can find a better means of listening, speaking, and treating one another with the proper respect of another that we also deserve.
Breathe in. Breathe out. And by getting to the center of ourselves, we can then find better understanding of another.
Beams of light which dance on my wall
Aligned with the sun I know they’ll fall
Deep within my own hearts embrace
Like shadows cast I’ll leave not a trace
Where beauty fills the untrained mind
My love, my dear, sweet dew resigns
Each blade of grass from which we crawl
Is timeless, still, the moon does fall
Where valleys lay and peaks do rise
Is where my sight and yours align
And to the depths, the deepest sea
Like an anchor rests, my heart to thee
Everyone has problems
More elaborate than my own
Like these they fall in autumn
Their limbs are all exposed
I want to tell them something
Assure they’re not alone
Still leaves they fall in autumn
Sometimes to live you’ve got to die.
Some say the world’s worth saving
Some say we’ll never know
Like a corn cob pipe and button
Left in the melting snow
A fireplace can warm you
For a while from the cold
Still a child holds his coal eyes
And now he knows.
It’s not his fault that his friend must go
Either way he’s gonna cry
You’re beautiful so it’s logical
This season’s just a state of mind
If I could save you, you know I would
But even I know that’s a lie
See summers change and then grow cold
It’s no longer up to me to decide
I found you in the dead of winter
We grew as one in the light of spring
Our passion climbed in the heat of summer
And we fell like lovers on autumns leaves
All this life it seems I’ve been running away
Thought I could turn it off
Pour me a cheap escape
Fine tune this sort of self therapy
It never goes away for long
An undying mother’s love
Nursed me warm when I was not
At 13 I learned a lot
To have and to have not
Yet still I’m dreaming of
His wake —
I tried to look into the psychic’s eye
Try to figure out what’s going on inside
He sold me fame and fortune, it’ll be alright
Still I wound up bound and down
Screaming never made a sound
I feel freedom in the clouds
A kiss really meant help me out
Some fell in love and some fell down
But I’m not looking for that now
Another needle in the crowd
Another burden, a life
released —
I had a girl you see, she was better than not
She gave me all she could in a parking lot
I forced myself to try but it was never enough
Yellow light flickered around
We were kids no one talked about
An endless stream of aimless doubt
Like a weight dragging me down
When all I wanted was an out
She burned quickly then burnt out
But she was pretty
I was lucky, she was free —
Daylight savings time in another month
I’ve been killing time since I was young
Never quite so sure who I was or what
he meant by get away from me
Or rather feeling the relief
His coarse beard upon my cheek
In the mirror what I see
Sometimes it isn’t me
I try my hardest to believe
A half hearted destiny
There’s a reason or a message
To be —
I turn myself around, spin it upside down
Try to feel awake the best I know how
Still that echo rings in one ear then out
This haunting jealousy
For everyone who isn’t me
For everyone I long to see
I keep them safe within a dream
Scrubbing never kept them clean
My hands is what I mean
Everyday is Halloween
Except I can’t wear my mask
and see —
So I’mma take a walk, drown myself in thought
kick rocks until I figure out the plot
I’ve held this silver plate as long as I can take
It never helped me in the end
I’d have to die to make amends
Till then I’ll cheers to friends
A forced smile helps you fit in
Sometimes it’s better to pretend
We don’t break until we bend
His choice is my defense
For choosing, to live
The end.
We must rise like Titans
and fall like Titans
no matter the course
we will one day perish
leaving only our ruins
to tale the tell of time.
If you can manipulate life into a form
that suits your needs then wear it.
Or walk naked if you have to.
Either way,
Winter is cold. Summer is warm.
Spring is boundless. And the Fall is inevitable.
In this life
the naked and clothed
are one and the same
some just get lucky
while others wear the blame.
Words Of An Average White Male 