I want to lay down and sleep
Forever dreaming of the days I woke to your smile
The heady aroma of everything you are
Keeping me on the highest cloud
I want to return to the days
When I lived in your heart
Because I don't know where to go from here
In the world of today where "alone" is just as abstract as "dream"
And I don't think I remember who I was before I was yours
So
I want to lay down and sleep
Because I remember the view from the bottom
Where the floor needed vacuuming
And the old show under the bed was a comforting friend
The thing is
The bottom is up from where I am now
And above that is the dream of the memory of
You
I want to lay down and sleep
Because falling so far after rising so high
Feels like jumping off a bridge and not dying
I need to lay down and sleep
Before I start to fight the instinct to survive
And dreams become the reality of sleeping forever
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Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Crossroads
North is the land of memory.
All mistakes and stupidity.
The bright fantasies of inexperienced youth.
That time when your cock leads you around by your balls
and Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll are the law of the land.
Oh what a time we had!
South is the land of responsibility.
Everyone does exactly what they're supposed to
And live revolves around tiny boxes.
Tiny boxes to live in.
Tiny boxes to stare at.
Numb and believing they exist outside their tiny boxes.
To the East is the village of family.
Watch how they hide from each other,
Even while embracing affectionately.
Where the promise of 'happily ever after' hangs in the air
Like a carrot before a mule.
Everything anyone could need; just out of reach.
Westward the sun sets,
Its bright rays stabbing the eyes
A reminder that even in beauty there is pain.
A place where living as one was meant to be
Permeates the air with the discovery of the unknown
Explored by those who understand the limitless potential of the mind
So here I stand at the crossroads
Looking back at every trodden path
I wonder how it's possible that every turn was wrong?
The answer to this question refuses to show itself
It's so busy contemplating it's own self-righteousness
That nothing else matters
Have you ever rebuilt yourself from the ground up?
Splintering the past that shaped you
Into the dagger plunged into your own chest
All the while knowing that this moment is the moment
The one you've been rushing toward your whole life
With no way to stop it?
The right words always come too late
So I learned to cry in six languages
Just to make sure that every time I opened my eyes
I could see raindrops on the window of the world
A beautiful storm.
Perfect soliloquy.
I thought I was looking for death
But it turns out I was looking for love.
All mistakes and stupidity.
The bright fantasies of inexperienced youth.
That time when your cock leads you around by your balls
and Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll are the law of the land.
Oh what a time we had!
South is the land of responsibility.
Everyone does exactly what they're supposed to
And live revolves around tiny boxes.
Tiny boxes to live in.
Tiny boxes to stare at.
Numb and believing they exist outside their tiny boxes.
To the East is the village of family.
Watch how they hide from each other,
Even while embracing affectionately.
Where the promise of 'happily ever after' hangs in the air
Like a carrot before a mule.
Everything anyone could need; just out of reach.
Westward the sun sets,
Its bright rays stabbing the eyes
A reminder that even in beauty there is pain.
A place where living as one was meant to be
Permeates the air with the discovery of the unknown
Explored by those who understand the limitless potential of the mind
So here I stand at the crossroads
Looking back at every trodden path
I wonder how it's possible that every turn was wrong?
The answer to this question refuses to show itself
It's so busy contemplating it's own self-righteousness
That nothing else matters
Have you ever rebuilt yourself from the ground up?
Splintering the past that shaped you
Into the dagger plunged into your own chest
All the while knowing that this moment is the moment
The one you've been rushing toward your whole life
With no way to stop it?
The right words always come too late
So I learned to cry in six languages
Just to make sure that every time I opened my eyes
I could see raindrops on the window of the world
A beautiful storm.
Perfect soliloquy.
I thought I was looking for death
But it turns out I was looking for love.
Friday, July 31, 2015
For Those Who Are Still Tirelessly Pursuing Happiness
Happiness is an elusive cunt.
The carrot dangling in front of your face keeping you hauling these bags forward. Always pursuing happiness, have you even thought of what you'd do if you caught it? Have you considered that maybe you can't catch it with your arms so full of luggage?
Have you considered just being happy instead of chasing happy?
What a bitch smack those words are. The people who say things like that, they don't understand. They think it's as simple as just picking up your luggage and taking off. They're even glad to tell you, happiness went off in that direction. Wait, you dropped a bag. It says "depression" on it. It's heavy and clearly high quality, and it looks so good on you.
Do you think they have it in my size?
The luggage is heavy. It didn't start that way did it? The first bag was easy; I mean you weren't carrying anything. So you picked it up and you started walking; a nice walk, with plenty of people all carrying their own bags. After a while when your arm was tired you decided to look inside.
Remember what that felt like? First the feeling of utter relief when you set that bag down; the pins and needles as the circulation started massaging the numbness back to life. Remember how terrifying it was to reach in and pull the second bag out? When you started carrying both of them it still wasn't that bad. Sure, they were heavier but nothing you couldn't handle. Until the two bags turned into four; which turned into eight which turned into ... tell me, how fast did your arms get numb this time?
Maybe you should take up juggling. Everything might not be so heavy and cumbersome if you just keep it all in the air; and you might be able to reach out and grab happiness with your free hand at just the right time. After all, you've only got two hands. Just be careful looking ahead, you might trip over now. Maybe a forklift.
Do you think happiness has a forklift?
This goes on forever. The luggage just gets bigger and heavier while you fall further further behind happiness and you realize you don't have the right to, only the right to pursue happiness. No, this this problem goes much deeper than anything you could have seen or could have controlled. And no one can tell you where happiness really is. But I can tell you what I've heard:
1. I've heard happiness in laughing with a toddler about something nonsensical.
2. I've heard happiness in the raindrops hitting the roof of a covered porch warmed with hot coffee.
3. I've heard happiness in the beat of the drums around a fire of dancers.
4. I've heard happiness in the music of lights that shine from my fingertips.
5. I've heard happiness in a lover's voice wishing me good morning after a wonderful, sleepless night.
6. I've heard happiness in dark at midnight.
7. I've heard happiness in the first light of dawn.
8. I've heard happiness in the company of the friends who erase the concept of "inappropriate."
I've never caught happiness. Not once. I've seen it quite a few times and it's beautiful; and I can tell you that happiness isn't carrying anything. Happiness is always just a step ahead because maybe happiness knows something that I don't; because if happiness is traveling without baggage, what do you suppose happiness is chasing? The only way to find out is to drop your baggage, speed up and grab it.
The carrot dangling in front of your face keeping you hauling these bags forward. Always pursuing happiness, have you even thought of what you'd do if you caught it? Have you considered that maybe you can't catch it with your arms so full of luggage?
Have you considered just being happy instead of chasing happy?
What a bitch smack those words are. The people who say things like that, they don't understand. They think it's as simple as just picking up your luggage and taking off. They're even glad to tell you, happiness went off in that direction. Wait, you dropped a bag. It says "depression" on it. It's heavy and clearly high quality, and it looks so good on you.
Do you think they have it in my size?
The luggage is heavy. It didn't start that way did it? The first bag was easy; I mean you weren't carrying anything. So you picked it up and you started walking; a nice walk, with plenty of people all carrying their own bags. After a while when your arm was tired you decided to look inside.
Remember what that felt like? First the feeling of utter relief when you set that bag down; the pins and needles as the circulation started massaging the numbness back to life. Remember how terrifying it was to reach in and pull the second bag out? When you started carrying both of them it still wasn't that bad. Sure, they were heavier but nothing you couldn't handle. Until the two bags turned into four; which turned into eight which turned into ... tell me, how fast did your arms get numb this time?
Maybe you should take up juggling. Everything might not be so heavy and cumbersome if you just keep it all in the air; and you might be able to reach out and grab happiness with your free hand at just the right time. After all, you've only got two hands. Just be careful looking ahead, you might trip over now. Maybe a forklift.
Do you think happiness has a forklift?
This goes on forever. The luggage just gets bigger and heavier while you fall further further behind happiness and you realize you don't have the right to, only the right to pursue happiness. No, this this problem goes much deeper than anything you could have seen or could have controlled. And no one can tell you where happiness really is. But I can tell you what I've heard:
1. I've heard happiness in laughing with a toddler about something nonsensical.
2. I've heard happiness in the raindrops hitting the roof of a covered porch warmed with hot coffee.
3. I've heard happiness in the beat of the drums around a fire of dancers.
4. I've heard happiness in the music of lights that shine from my fingertips.
5. I've heard happiness in a lover's voice wishing me good morning after a wonderful, sleepless night.
6. I've heard happiness in dark at midnight.
7. I've heard happiness in the first light of dawn.
8. I've heard happiness in the company of the friends who erase the concept of "inappropriate."
I've never caught happiness. Not once. I've seen it quite a few times and it's beautiful; and I can tell you that happiness isn't carrying anything. Happiness is always just a step ahead because maybe happiness knows something that I don't; because if happiness is traveling without baggage, what do you suppose happiness is chasing? The only way to find out is to drop your baggage, speed up and grab it.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
From the Ashes
From the debris and
From the ashes
The Phoenix will rise
Though not the same as before
Tarnished feathers
Burned at the tips
Create a permanent reminder of
Horrors that can't be unseen
But now looked upon with the
Proverbial bird's eye view
A change of perspective
To offer peace
In a milieu of emotion.
Through newly acquired wisdom
The mundane will fall away
In the sunrise of a new world
Burnished eyes
Grim with determination
Take flight to the unknown
Soaring away into joy
Leaving behind all concept of "down"
It cannot be known from where this admiration springs
For the Phoenix flies beyond its reach
With knowledge of the universe
A gift imparted to those left behind
The greatest lesson ever learned
Wings are not needed to soar into joy.
From the ashes
The Phoenix will rise
Though not the same as before
Tarnished feathers
Burned at the tips
Create a permanent reminder of
Horrors that can't be unseen
But now looked upon with the
Proverbial bird's eye view
A change of perspective
To offer peace
In a milieu of emotion.
Through newly acquired wisdom
The mundane will fall away
In the sunrise of a new world
Burnished eyes
Grim with determination
Take flight to the unknown
Soaring away into joy
Leaving behind all concept of "down"
It cannot be known from where this admiration springs
For the Phoenix flies beyond its reach
With knowledge of the universe
A gift imparted to those left behind
The greatest lesson ever learned
Wings are not needed to soar into joy.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Falling
Have you ever heard a soul cry out in the night?
Falling through the dark into the unknown
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Always remember
The best laid plans of mice and men
Pave the path to hell
Where saints and sinners wear the same robes
And the rosebushes have thorns
While the thornbushes have roses
The urge to jump in
Where angels fear to tread
Shall surely be the death of man
Exploring the unknown with
Fight or flight's knowing guidance
We run into the night, embracing forever's possibility
With just a nudge
As light as a breeze
The course of entire lives change
For better or worse
Through thick and thin
It always comes there and back again
Time is the thief of memory
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Falling through the dark, into the unknown
Falling through the dark into the unknown
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Always remember
The best laid plans of mice and men
Pave the path to hell
Where saints and sinners wear the same robes
And the rosebushes have thorns
While the thornbushes have roses
The urge to jump in
Where angels fear to tread
Shall surely be the death of man
Exploring the unknown with
Fight or flight's knowing guidance
We run into the night, embracing forever's possibility
With just a nudge
As light as a breeze
The course of entire lives change
For better or worse
Through thick and thin
It always comes there and back again
Time is the thief of memory
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Falling through the dark, into the unknown
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
View From the Bottom (Rough Draft)
The carpet needs vacuuming.
There's an old shoe under the bed
I should really keep my room a bit cleaner
But I can't find the strength to even stand
Because this is the view from the bottom and
All I can think of is why I'm here
How did I get here?
Because the view from the bottom,
Much like the view from the top,
Is a place where you can see a lot.
All the things left unsaid.
All the matters left unattended and
All the tiny details that were missed.
My bad genes match the dirty jeans balled up in the corner
And I laugh but it's a laugh full of irony
Empty of feeling and devoid of joy
Because this is the view from the bottom and
At the bottom even cockroaches are looking up at you, saying
"Damn brother, you need to pick yourself up!"
Only there is no picking up.
There is only laying still.
Watering the carpet with my tears that
Flow for no reason, or rather
Not any reason anyone "normal" would understand.
See, laying in the bottom is the safest place to be
When it hurts to move; when you know
That movement can and will mean something terrible.
Because this is the view from the bottom.
Looking up at the sun, so affirming and life giving
If only it would burn me to a cinder and stop all this
Give me a chance to give back the life I don't want
The pain I can't take and the drama I don't need.
If only I could muster up the strength to move
Fight this instinct to stay alive that keeps me laying
In the dirt of a floor that needs vacuumed because if I move
Just an inch
I know the view from the bottom will be the last thing I ever see.
There's an old shoe under the bed
I should really keep my room a bit cleaner
But I can't find the strength to even stand
Because this is the view from the bottom and
All I can think of is why I'm here
How did I get here?
Because the view from the bottom,
Much like the view from the top,
Is a place where you can see a lot.
All the things left unsaid.
All the matters left unattended and
All the tiny details that were missed.
My bad genes match the dirty jeans balled up in the corner
And I laugh but it's a laugh full of irony
Empty of feeling and devoid of joy
Because this is the view from the bottom and
At the bottom even cockroaches are looking up at you, saying
"Damn brother, you need to pick yourself up!"
Only there is no picking up.
There is only laying still.
Watering the carpet with my tears that
Flow for no reason, or rather
Not any reason anyone "normal" would understand.
See, laying in the bottom is the safest place to be
When it hurts to move; when you know
That movement can and will mean something terrible.
Because this is the view from the bottom.
Looking up at the sun, so affirming and life giving
If only it would burn me to a cinder and stop all this
Give me a chance to give back the life I don't want
The pain I can't take and the drama I don't need.
If only I could muster up the strength to move
Fight this instinct to stay alive that keeps me laying
In the dirt of a floor that needs vacuumed because if I move
Just an inch
I know the view from the bottom will be the last thing I ever see.
Friday, September 21, 2012
After My House was Robbed
From the minute we're born
Our life as a statistic begins
255 babies born every minute and
Every step of our development from that point on
Is programmed and categorized
For easy comparison and reference
Apgar score, head circumference
Height, weight
How fast we grow . . . or how slow
From the minute we're born
We either fit in or we don't
We're either normal or abnormal
And every minute after realizing this
Is spent avoiding statistics
"I don't want to be a statistic" we shout, while
57 million Americans have mental Health disorders
(and there are 55 Million registered republicans)
How quick can we say
"I'm not crazy" when
1 out of 2 people abuse alcohol
Let's drink to not being the one with the problem!
4 out of 5 of us do drugs
Well, pass the dutchie because I'm. Number. Four.
1 out 5 children witness domestic violence
So maybe that's why I still shake when someone wants to fight
3 million homes will be robbed
1 out of every 6 women will be raped
(1 out of 10 men)
216 people will die while this poem is being read
The question is, Does that matter?
How many sunrises will be seen?
How many sunsets?
How many first kisses will be enjoyed and
How many last kisses will linger in memory?
How many job interviews will be nailed and
How many pink slips doled out?
When will success happen and
When will its relevance be questioned
How many books will be read?
How many poems written?
How much love will be fallen into and
How many dances will be danced?
(In the rain?)
From the minute we're born
Our life as a statistic begins
And we remain one until we die
This is the way of things
Birth followed by death
The part in the middle?
That's called life and
Life is now and
Life . . .
Is still to come.
Our life as a statistic begins
255 babies born every minute and
Every step of our development from that point on
Is programmed and categorized
For easy comparison and reference
Apgar score, head circumference
Height, weight
How fast we grow . . . or how slow
From the minute we're born
We either fit in or we don't
We're either normal or abnormal
And every minute after realizing this
Is spent avoiding statistics
"I don't want to be a statistic" we shout, while
57 million Americans have mental Health disorders
(and there are 55 Million registered republicans)
How quick can we say
"I'm not crazy" when
1 out of 2 people abuse alcohol
Let's drink to not being the one with the problem!
4 out of 5 of us do drugs
Well, pass the dutchie because I'm. Number. Four.
1 out 5 children witness domestic violence
So maybe that's why I still shake when someone wants to fight
3 million homes will be robbed
1 out of every 6 women will be raped
(1 out of 10 men)
216 people will die while this poem is being read
The question is, Does that matter?
How many sunrises will be seen?
How many sunsets?
How many first kisses will be enjoyed and
How many last kisses will linger in memory?
How many job interviews will be nailed and
How many pink slips doled out?
When will success happen and
When will its relevance be questioned
How many books will be read?
How many poems written?
How much love will be fallen into and
How many dances will be danced?
(In the rain?)
From the minute we're born
Our life as a statistic begins
And we remain one until we die
This is the way of things
Birth followed by death
The part in the middle?
That's called life and
Life is now and
Life . . .
Is still to come.
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