Her sun kissed skin
My wind swept hair
Eating edibles by the ocean
So happy we’re here
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In the house I keep
In the house I keep each wall shall be
A coloring book for poetry
Where colors burst in harmony
Where war and peace succumb to paint.
In the house I keep each window sill
Shall only bear the daylight spill
Where succulents hang with free will
Where laughter’s never faint.
In the house I keep each lock will turn
With open ended thoughts to churn
Where no one line deserves to burn
Where honesty is quaint.
But when fear knocks in the house I keep
There will be no reason for which to weep
My hands dipped well within relief
Each wall we’ll finger paint.
In the house I keep my only wish
To deserve and serve this simple dish
Where forks and knives grow strong and rich
Where no wall goes untouched.
His laughter echos out of mine
His laughter echos out of mine
for which I hear each conscious time
I start to somehow forget him.
And like a long lost tale of old
I hold my breath and accept him.
It’s there he says—my mothers eyes—
to live and love more gently.
My son it’s up to you this time
his laughter echos out of mine
and there we build new memories.
getting out of bed
However you get up and out of bed
or off the sidewalk
however you dig yourself
out of the grave is commendable.
And if you choose nothing
that too is just as valid
as choosing something.
I see far too many people
driving themselves mad
with work and love
and money and power
and fitness and greed and guilt
trying to fit into some sort of
idea they’re bred to believe
will fix them when really it won’t.
They don’t need to be fixed
or loved or loathed or accepted.
They just need to listen.
Listen to the air.
Listen to the ice crack when hot water hits.
Listen to the sea spray.
But I know nothing really.
All I know is what I see and what I see
is beautiful and diseased and delicate
like a rose petal or a dandelion flower
plucked from the earth by a child
in the outfield of a baseball diamond
wanting nothing more than to drift away
with the seeds he’s blown to anywhere else.
However getting out of bed
or the sidewalk or gutter is the first step
and the rest well, the rest is just —
up to you I guess.
Words Of An Average White Male 