broken doesn’t necessarily mean
waiting to be fixed
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give em hell
You are not great
You are not special
You’re another puzzle piece,
a letter of scrabble.
But spell great without the G,
or special when missing a C,
place yourself wherever you fit
it’s for them you’ve got to be
they’ll take credit either way, so
if and when you tell
listen son, be a good girl now, when you’re all worn out
it’s best to give em hell.
blue jay’s back
blue jay’s back, cloaked in sun
hopping from grass to concrete
his colors I lack, flutter from wings
they drift-float-and-pass all around me
as I turn my back, cloaked in shade
I can’t tell if he’s mocking or loves me
Untitled for,
all
that
time
effort
energy
left
to
H
A
N
G
—
between the lines
If nothing else sticks
take solace in that,
life happens—and—you die,
between the lines
there’s simply time.
For what?
Bah! You tell me!
Besides,
I’ve got to get my watch fixed.
It came scarlet red
It happened one night
then again,
and another.
It spread like a plague,
unbiased wildfire.
It couldn’t be contained
or shocked from the brain
It came scarlet red, burnt bright
in a pyre, it’s beauty, arcane
giving hope to the choir.
Writing.
Most of the time, it’s like
banging your head against a brick wall,
trying to knock some nugget of sense loose,
but other times it’s easier
like morphine, numb to the world — regardless —
while telling it exactly how you feel.
Shh…
knowledge
can be the most powerful form
of despair
Shh…
(said the ventriloquist)
dummies don’t make a sound
a drop of rain
The steps you take are big
where mine are small,
the steps I take are soft
while yours make imprints.
For now it seems that I am lazy
as you wipe sweat off your brow,
try to understand my empathy
for oak trees rooted to the ground,
and take heed in the soil, though I may
not make a sound, a drop of rain
breathing life, the only way I know how.
circus-pocus
Not one trouper builds a circus alone.
(I could go into detail about the intricacies
of setting up and breaking down a circus
but now is not the time or place for that.)
When a clown throws a pie
he doesn’t expect the trapeze artist to clean it up,
but she helps out anyway, knowing
that he believed in her, marveled at each step
while she danced on air, inhaling her courage from below.
Words Of An Average White Male 