There was no hope for us then
We were already too far gone
Gone from where? Neither could tell
But going gone, regardless.
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A Leap of Faith
Faith is half the battle
The Leap is up to you
Flirting with Death
It’s much easier to lie
in the afternoon light,
steady’s the humming
bird that takes flight.
Oh whispering wind
forgive me tonight,
how flirting with death
has been a delight.
The Other Type Of Feeling
You know that feeling?
The excitement you get when you see someone
And that someone’s a stranger
A stranger creeping up on the ground itself
Cautious and casual as not to disturb the air
And they think they’re not being watched
Yet secretly hoping that they are, because
What they’re creeping towards, they believe
Is gold, mercury, or an ancient artifact
An artifact no one but them has discovered
Or ever will—first—in their own time,
And in that moment you get excited too
Except you get excited for a different reason
And when their discovery turns to a shameful frown of defeat
Your lips turn upward towards the sky
Chuckling to yourself, kind of happy, kind of sad
Yet you understand enough to feel commradery
Wishing that stranger was your friend
Just so you could kick em in the pants
Temporary Fate
I accept this temporary fate
In faith with the sun
In faith with the moon
In faith with the stars
Sinking through the ether
To rise like Roman candles
In the gasp of morrows yonder wake
A Tale of Two Cities—Broken from Birth
People were always
Dying to get in, or
Dying to get out.
Nobody ever wanted
To be where they were—
And it was always that way—
It was A Tale of Two Cities.
Cruel and hostile, broken
From birth—The bread
When shared, had long since spoiled.
So left were the people’s
Disgruntled denial, who’d sacrifice
Even their own mothers love—for lies—
Because, the truth was tough
and too hard to swallow.
And it was never their fault.
But neither was it His.
So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.
I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.
But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.
Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?
Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.
Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.
Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.
So then what?
Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.
We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.
So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.
Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.
So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.
Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.
So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.
I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.
But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.
So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.
Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.
So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.
A mother cries out for her loss
It’s a shouting match, Liberty song
It all depends whose side you’re on
An 80’s flick, a telethon
The donors can’t afford
A peaceful march is a riot for
The higher ups keeping score
A father dies, a baby’s born
To a family torn apart
A mother cries out for her loss.
A brother vows vengeance.
Humanity what have we done?
Another brothers grave is dug.
It’s a quick escape, getting drunk
Do what you can, never enough
It’s a 90’s jam, a slogan sung
To another civil war
It’s a house of cards, a hand of fate
A demonstration turns to hate
It’s a feeling I just cannot shake
It takes all I’ve got to watch
Wake me up when it’s all over.
That’s no longer good enough.
It’s getting harder to be sober.
With history books full of blood.
I see everything at once
Staring into space
I see everything at once
No matter who you’re born
When you’re done
You are done.
In the early evening calm
She breathes in deep
and exhales his dreams.
In the early evening calm
he falls back asleep.
And just as she wakes
in the mid-morning sun,
he brings to her coffee
just after his run.
Words Of An Average White Male 