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I don’t really know
Exactly what I am
Perhaps a shadow of my former self
Turned inside out
Back to his former self
Like a Ferris Wheel spins
I can be any focused face in the crowd
Though I don’t know the difference anymore
And we’re too old for carnival games
I’m a writer at my worst
Never at my best
In the belly of the beast
I’m boiled like the rest.
So now all we get is tomorrow.
While yesterday’s dreams unravel.
Ticking like a clock are we
ever able to grasp the moment?
Present in ourselves,
though hardly in another.
Tomorrow’s but a shadow
hurrying to catch up.
Life ain’t always about
doing the things you want to do,
more likely than not it’s
doing the things you have to do.
And maybe some cool shit along the way.
I will always be here
Alone, in waiting.
Not all of us get the happy ending
Not all of us get the sad one either
Most of us get the open ended
Rattle-Tat-Tat Who-Dis-Mad one?
And frankly, with enough kicks in pocket
I’m pretty alright with that one.
I like listening to the sound
Of beautiful melodies
Ones I haven’t the heart to play
Ones I haven’t the strength to ignore
Mostly those that come in waves
After morning, noon, and night
You can hear them like catching
The glimpse of a shooting star
Barefoot atop San Jacinto
Bend Oregon or Williamsburg highrise
Naked in the ecstasy of flight
Knowing even as your approaching
You’ve already begun to disappear
All these words, I wonder
Are they merely inaction?
Inaction with consequence?
Consequence through
My own due process, which
I know I deserve
Feeding squirrels
I’m reminded
How clever nature is
And how clever
I am not.
I am, it seems
A coward
To my own fate
Except when
A bumper sticker
Tells me different
And not to believe
Everything I think.
Words Of An Average White Male 