Before you fear the story
Or judge the storyteller
Look at the period in time
The story told was written
To fully understand
Without pride or prejudice
The underlying message
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Seated in the summer sun
Seated in the summer sun
drenched in heat
reading a novel, alone
how sweet.
With memories of you
drenched in heat,
feet stretched out
along the beach.
Where in the summer sun
you’d sit and read
a novel too, my mother
sweet.
While you’d watch us kids
the swimming sea,
and how you read
effortlessly,
I never wondered then
like I do now,
how a quiet lesson
could teach me how.
I turn each page
my mind at rest,
my mother’s sun
warm on my chest.
FAWAP!
Awake now
on my back
thumbing through
Kerouac
rattle-tat-tat goes the rain…
While the birds chit
and others chat
another day’s here
Oh, what’s that Jack?
ho-hum-mum
FAWAP!
one page at a time.
I sit, and read:
—”Comparisons are odious.”—
sipping, my tea
with birds feeling studious.
It’s calm.
I am happy.
Counting my blessings,
one page at a time.
die a King in your fantasy.
I don’t want to be a burden
I just wanna sit here and read.
So if that’s ok
then the band can play
I’ll look up a couple times to see.
Everyone who’s silently cursing
checking out the latest feed.
There’s someone I knew
from another life
I look away so they don’t notice me.
It’s a living, a hard living
the barista says while pouring cream
a couple swirls and a twist
now there’s a swan swimming in my drink.
Guess I never really felt like drowning
I just swam in this misery.
I guess I can’t complain
I made my bed
skipped my prayers
now I’m counting sheep.
Guess I never really felt like dying
just romanticized how life could be
it’s like a game of chess
you protect the Queen
and die a King in your fantasy.
Cause it’s a living, a hard living
it could be worse is a common phrase
a couple riffs then applause
now the band packs their noise and leaves.
If I have to take a vow of silence
plead the fifth in double time.
With all due respect
I think I must confess
I cracked up like a nursery rhyme.
Still I can’t sing that song without crying
so whatever shall be shall be.
I guess the world’s the same
rinse repeat complain
the punch line never hit with me.
So if you’re living, a hard living
here’s raising this glass to you
and if you’re worried, don’t worry
there’s bound to be an answer soon.
Cause baby I don’t wanna be a burden
I just want to write my poetry.
Because I’m not a rock
or an island but
ain’t that the only way to be free.
“majordomo”
If I don’t know what a word means
I look it up on my phone
I type “majordomo” for example
And learn that it means
“a chief steward in a large household”
And it’s that simple
It’s quite refreshing in a way
Like I’ve led myself to water and know now when to drink
Change.
It’s clear that you are trying.
But things have changed,
haven’t they?
You have changed.
And that’s a good thing,
change is good.
But it’s clear, from us
looking in
that you aren’t quite yourself
you aren’t quite as we remembered.
And if you are,
then clearly we too, have changed.
But we haven’t changed,
not really, in the sense
that your new found glory
has taken control.
And if I’m wrong, tell me.
Tell me something beyond common sense.
It’s crystal clear,
isn’t it?
Us know-it-alls, know it all.
So for now, you’re out of the club.
And that’s a good thing, rest,
because we all come back eventually.
a not too special little thought that’s as comforting as a freshly plucked sliver
I sit here and write.
If you read it, good.
If you don’t, fine.
If you like it, better.
If you don’t, that’s alright.
Either way I’ll sit here tomorrow and write.
