What have we done?

I am not quite sure exactly what

Some parent’s expect of their children

In terms of success and failure

Because of course each individual is unique

In their own belief system developed through life

Though I do know exactly what

Some middle aged men and women

Expect of their parent’s, which is

Love and Understanding that

Love and Understanding means more to them

Than any award or prize, delusions of wealth

And superfluous measures of success

Handed down from Great-Grandfather to Grandfather

Then Father to Son who’s soul purpose it often seems

Is to belittle the latter, like some draconian wheel

Turning itself in circles, only to cause

An endless cycle of fear and inferiority

Leading nowhere fast, leading nowhere good

On an endless road of resentment and ill worth.

And we don’t ask for this. We are born to this.

We are flesh and bone

Fueled by the imperfections of our father’s

Father’s, father’s son

Who one day will understand he did nothing wrong

Oh Mother, dear mother

What have we done?

If Hemingway was here today

If Hemingway

was here today

would he Instagram

his catch?

And dare you say

that Hemingway

was rotgut—

his defense?

Out on the bay

he’d fish and say

what pleasures

have a man?

His slow decay

here but a day

come then let’s see your stance!

Put up your dukes

and lace your boots,

a fight? No sir

let’s dance!

it’s dark living in shadows

Living in the present

got you long lost in the past

now there are only memories

but how long will they last?

Like waiting for a moment

that since already’s passed

it’s dark living in shadows

of those which fear has cast.

Do spells exist you wonder

indeed I’ve seen a few

that stranger in the mirror

the stranger he is you.

So tell me of your sorrow

belief is up to you

you just grow older darling

regardless of the truth.

Memories

I keep coming across memories

in the background of my mind.

They say to live within the present

or else life’s a waste of time.

But presently these memories

have left me color blind.

And I can’t quite find my way out

of this never ending rhyme.

I keep coming across memories

like bicycles speeding by.

Their features blur together

with wind burnt summer skies.

How presently these memories

present themselves as I,

remember each one vividly

to whom each one I’ve lied.

How precious are these memories

kept sound within the dark.

Each one with their own melody

from which I’d never part.

Though presently these memories

which bear my open heart,

may one day get the best of me

for now are works of art.

the times I’d lost my mind.

The only time

I was ever certain, were

the times I’d lost my mind.

But even then,

I never had a clue — I did.

What I couldn’t say in person.

I can say I failed

Or

I can say it worked out

just as it was supposed to

And

her and I can move forward

knowing our paths weren’t meant to cross

Again

the past is all we had in common

and well, the past must be laid to rest.

Sleep well my friend

until then

I wish I hadn’t been so mean

But

I wish you only the best,

even though I’m sure that’s hard to believe.

a little jig with the birds

I took all my why’s and what for’s one day

and threw em like confetti out the window

fluttering and cutting through the air

they just fell to the ground as the wind

picked up and the cars and people

mulled through the day dragging with them

my black confetti underfoot and tire

picking at em like stuck gum

confused in chaos

I watched just for a little as they disappeared

and the crowds dispersed with the morning

afternoon and night till all was quiet again

all but me shaking my unchained head

and doing a little jig with the birds.

stars

While everyone was looking around

for celebrities and stars

I was looking at em all

and wonderin

with fire burning in my eyes

what it was they couldn’t see

that I saw so vividly in all of them.