If you’re not sure
then pause, wait
and listen to the sounds
of conscious—nothing—ness.

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If you’re not sure
then pause, wait
and listen to the sounds
of conscious—nothing—ness.

What looked like yesterday
out a kitchen window I saw
tomorrow and everyday
moving forward
as carefree as
a walk in the park.

What is it that makes you Tik? And I’ll tell you what makes me Tok.
(But for real! What makes you get up in the morning, drives you through the day, and helps guide you to sleep?)
I’m curious to know more about you.
I’m all ears…
I will always be curious
and allergic to cats.
Ain’t that a kick in the head!
Hate is easy.
Love is hard.
Truth is the only thing
that will set you free.
Freedom is man made.
Man is weak.
Women are God’s strongest creation.
God is love
and love conquers all.
I would never hurt you.
I will always honor
and respect you.
My love, there is no room
for anything more.
I don’t wish to have the answers
for any questions of concern
just know that I am working
my hardest in reverse
to tame the wild memories
once thought of as a curse
those now that are a blessing
from the backseat of a hearse,
cause friendship it has shown me
like the calm hand of a nurse
the answers to the questions
where love’s the only cure.
How curious it is that I
no longer beg or question why
but rather like the naked eye
accepts the sky is blue—
with honesty and strength that I’ve
been granted through these tales of time
woven as one as you are I
accepts the ancient truth,
for like the moon and sun decide
to shed or shield eternal light
with arms spread thin wide opened eye
keep mine closed now to see,
what beauty lies beyond the pine
is neither up to you nor I
it’s always been like time gone by
regardless of the proof—
in truth it’s curious that I
could feel so pure estranged from life
whose meadow in the golden light
is heaven here on earth.
I spared him a quarter
alone where he stood
next to the Madonna
as if she’d do him good.
He gave me a blessing
gentle and aware
the wind it was violent
messing both our hair.
While Girl Scouts are selling
cookies for the troop
a week ago maybe
someone died on that stoop.
But don’t tell their mothers
as if they would care
no you don’t get the badge unless
you’ve sold your soul there.
My eyes they grow weary
still I can’t look away
at the hummingbird dancing
a loneliness grave,
still I’ve got this feeling
that there’s no escape
am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.
Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.
At the cafe I buy coffee
either iced or cold brew
the barista he tells me
nothing’s ever new.
But still I ask questions
like how do you do
and she recalls my name
it’s the least she could do.
I don’t mean to sound faithless
I’ve just seen enough kicks
see the old man he died, well
some things never make sense.
It’s slight of the hand, it’s
a scam with three cups
you follow the ball then
it’s gone where it was.
My eyes they burn red with
the heat of the day
it’s winter in Burbank
what more can I say,
still I’ve got this feeling
that there’s no escape
am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.
Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.
Now I take to the bar, where
Happy Hour’s till 6
Scott the tender he knows me
pours my whiskey then gin.
What’s the good word? Pal, tell me
do you think that you could
spare me knowledge like change would
do me some type of good.
I don’t stay past the hour
happiness never lasts
after shame there comes flowers
then of course there’s the past.
You’re a good guy he tells me
see the pain never lasts
I assure you it does, Scott
he just nods then he laughs.
See there’s beauty in living
it’s just hidden by stars
who illuminate sidewalks
like two subtle hearts,
still I’ve got this feeling
that there’s no escape
it’s an obvious cycle, one I’ll never break.(?)
Am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.
Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.
I recall the calm
as I recall the storm.
Lead foot hesitation,
the slamming of doors.
Endangered are many
who’ve less stayed for more.
Excuses are fatal,
not ours anymore.
See I recall quiet
death and coffin smell,
his mustache, beard shaven
estranged from the crowd.
Was I the unwelcome?
The burden? Expelled?
His name once my keeper
I’ve written it well.
Yes I recall freedom
wished upon a star,
a second floor window
alone in the dark.
The price no one bargained
unimaginably hard,
his soul like a raven
still blackens my heart.
A kid and a coffin
for now I recall,
the parlor room floor
dead silence in awe.
While tears spill to carpet
and jittering jaw,
echoed through the parlor
with no sign of God.
I recall the calm
the storm never ends,
it grows like a Cancer
bad thoughts fill my head.
His final farewell
is my cross to bear,
how no son of mine
shall feel such fear.
Look at me lovely this here is I guess
a mixture of meanings which help to make sense
of the past which gave us nothing but suspense
with fearful longing and a mother’s defense.
Look at me lovely with eyes in full bloom
now imagine a child alone in his room
the covers are pulled tight warm as a womb
his head full of static his heart thumping doom.
Look at me lovely take into account
these present day feelings are years gone without
comfort or closure confused full of doubt
exchanged for composure now deep underground.
Look at me lovely two decades gone by
and please ask yourself to whom do you cry
an eye for an eye I used to imply
now I want nothing more than to sleep through night.
Look at me lovely with infinite jest
this smile is armor for that I confess
in daydreams I make up reasons quite complex
for nightmares which haunted that boy in his bed.
Look at me lovely it’s lovely in fact
walking down sidewalks avoiding the cracks
though sometimes it feels like breaking your back
the pain that defines us with love cannot last.
Look at me lovely with harlequin eyes
for we are not wells that dry up inside
and take with you this last line then decide
his failure’s your lesson, her nurture’s your pride.