An expected failure or fork

Am I really such a loveable loser
that my flaws disappear
in the glow from my heart?

And these things are always on my mind
moreso every day they become more real
when future plans become procrastinations

Like my future is school paper
that I should have started weeks ago
and it's due at midnight
Will I even have anything to turn in

Or to show for it

And you
so willing to allow yourself
to be carried along by me
convinced that someday
I could lead you
to a place uncommon
a better place

And I admit
feeling that myself
But it was easier
when failing to do so
would have resulted in
lost potential

But with you
it is so different isn't it?
And you willfully ignore it
or brush it off
don't you?

I guess sometimes the future is either too hard to predict
or too scary to look at?

Is it really so hard to know the destination
when my feet are set in this path?
Or should I have faith
that somewhere
a ways down
there might be a fork
I never could have
expected?

We are two explorers
in an increasingly dense wood
looking for a clearing
but you are just
looking at me.

The special ability in youth

When my mind races
At what feels like 1000 times
Faster than it should
Time seems to slow down
And it's hard to concentrate

It used to happen all the time when
I was young
Like a special gift
I was given and had no
Control over

But I know that things like that
Have left me since getting older
Like being able to
See many colored dots before I fell asleep

Or knowing that wasted time was
Mostly time for self exploration
Like the electric swirls I learned to control
Or the anxious dread I can
Force my body into on command

And it all shaped me into
A very tightly controlled
Defensive machine
Where all my attributes became defense mechanisms
And my tastes became closely guarded secrets

Putting others around me into the
Position of being threats to my
No longer special traits
And instead imprisoned
My mind in paranoia

Of a nuclear submarine out to sea for months
Pinging the ocean
And mistaking schools of fish
For foes

Not a part of the sea but a
Drowning island within it
Like Atlantis
Or the colossus at Rhodes

And since my mind continues to
Lose touch with the freedom I
Once had no control over in youth
I've become trapped
In a system of my own invention

Unable to love freely
Unable to think earnestly

Just a torpedo barreling
Toward a blind but plotted
End

The thunderstorm and the clock and a Beach House song

Time to me
is like a sad melody
putting us in a place we could not reach otherwise
a fleeting imprint of emotion
that will
end

The song is precious
like a gold dust in its impermanent perfection
raising the spirit like a natural act

Yesterday i watched the splendor
of God in a thunderstorm cloud
in the darkness
lightning flash after another
incredible pure energy
caused by the most natural process
on our earth

Just warm air rising

I watched the time on my watch
rotate and felt stagnant
and immutable

Unable to fathom another day like this
a day where I did nothing
and was no better for it at the end
than when I first awoke
a natural process
a rhythm that a needle drags accross
until my melody is over

and I want so bad
for it to be something great
and not a metronome

To see the seemingly chaotic
blasts of light
in my own life
from nothing but warm air
exhaling in
and out

like the inaudible tick
of my watch
rounding out another day

One that begins in pain
and ends in addiction
my addiction to avoidance
to stagnance
to giving up

An hour later the lightning had ceased
but i still looked east
to see if it might
strike once more
for me

A supernatural nod
from nature
to me
letting me know it was ok

But the storm had passed
and I know some day soon
I will too

It seems the only things which are eternal
is the rounding of a clock
and my unexplored
potential

Tuning forks and empty wine glasses

Saying things to say them
is like getting drunk
to throw up
It's all vomit and mess
and the result of going to far
away from yourself

Hiding in excess is despicable
its meaningless
like wandering in a circle
hoping to find a new path

We live in an age full of intelligence
smart beyond our ancestors
arbiters of millenniums
of compounded knowledge
so self aware
so far reaching in our mental scope

So worthy of praise
so enlightened

So void of wisdom
because wisdom cannot be learned
through a browser window
or a professor's word
or pastor's for that matter

Wisdom comes from life
life we seem intent on not living anymroe
because a selfish pursuit
is an empty one
and a crowd of cheering people
is like a row of
empty wine glasses
humming their resonant frequencies
when touched

And is that all we are?
tuning forks
to whatever randomness abounds

A sad arrangement
of instruments without a will
who don't even know
how rigid their lives
will be

A forgetful goodness

Sisters and brothers

come near

witness the birth of

the new Right

the new Good

the new Morality

the brightly colored prism

of a new reality

a new judgementalism

fearful of debate

afraid of

the disagreeable

Proclaimers of reason

doubters of dissidence

A new society

formed in ideal looking forward

forgetting the past

looking on it with the regret of a long 

night and wobbly morning

Once again

drunk on the idea of a new way

filling up 

chugging and chugging

the rhetoric of a confused

pantheistic 

athiestic

but deeply religious society

worshipping many more idols

than the Athenians at Mars Hill

Philosophers 

Epicureans

Stoics

Endlessly streaming consciousness in public forums 

spewing thoughts on each other

until something sticks

This new era is perfect in its own way

moving together as one

gaining momentum

like the Facists in the 30's

we are swept off our feet

by the inherit rightness of our leaders words

Impressed by the prosperity of our minds

blown away by our potential

always thinking forward

never dwelling on any moment for 

very long

This new society has a strong hand

which sweeps swiftly

removing the inharmonious chorus

trimming and pruning

with impunity

unsure of what we are creating

but striving for it

For the ultimate end

for that perfect sunset

for that long night

for that wobbly morning

and for the long nap and medicine that follows

A perfect people

standing on the imperfect lattice 

of old

While the vine of a new morality continues to creep

twisting and branching

like wild ivy

unsure of where it started

covering up 

what doesn't belong.

Roots to china

The tree stump in the desert

has no purpose

but to turn to stone

some day

It's life is over

no longer able to grow

or hope for something better

it mearly sits

decapitated

while the sun bakes it's heart 

And a sun baked heart

is the hardest kind

because

it feels heat and longs for water

but cannot see the day

for which the floods might return

And just like a dead 

petrifying tree stump

I have no mobility

and feel the pressure of 

a life now wasting

in the sun

A once promising life

beaten down

by God's life giving rays

because I am not in a position 

to accept them

No leaves

no branches

no families of birds and bugs 

no rich

cool

dark soil

the kind you would dig your fingernails into

when you were a kid

and you had an idea of what 

life would be like 

and you wrenched your fingers through the dirt

searching for China

and worms

and other things

that made being a child

so much better than now

We hug the cold shoulder

We wont know ourselves
until
we reach that crest
 where the sun hits our eyes
like an arrow with three halos
piercing in intensity
yellow

I thought the light would be different
yet
it wasnt that the light was odd
but I could not fathom what it was

Do you know the feeling
of unknowing?

Of course you do
we all do
we are humans
and humans
do not know much

But we are familiar with
uncertainty
the cold shoulder of the void
is like a comforting fire to our
imagination

We embrace it
not quite like friends
maybe, like a parent
we have a hard time seeing eye to eye
with

I abhor complacency
and adult sensibility
I think nothing exciting comes from it

Sensibility never built anything that stood
the test of time

And yet we fear the illogical
the unreasonable word association
we call it
crazy
schizophrenic
manic

But my God
what is it that we truly love
that isn't a bit crazy?

The wanderer's heart

What worth is there in love
to be cast aside so easily
disguised in a mire of
personal struggle

That happiness can be found
in a break is folly
a fool thinks to himself
that his needs should be put above
others
to help them

Trickle-down familial politics
the worst policy
of an unregulated heart

Who knows the mind
of a pride-less lion
aimless in it's direction
gaunt and hollow
never able to set down
and claim a place for it's own

And if you are in the savannah
it's these lions
you must be most careful of
because they are shifty and unpredictable
dangerous because they
abandoned the decor of being
the king of the jungle

And likewise
a heart without love is unpredictable
and dangerous
hurting indiscriminately
guilty and hardened in it's obstinacy


And so cold
likened unto dead

So again,
What worth is there in love?
when it does not last
when our best intentions are superseded
by our temporary desires

When a family is broken apart
as carelessly as the wind changes direction

The answer is another question

What worth is there without love?

The oath to mediocrity

Why is my life so inconsequential
that 2000 dollars is the difference between life
altering change
and being stuck

That something good can be so consistently tainted
by old things
that cling to me
with mechanical will

Every year the things I wanted
seem dimmer
and further away
frustrating me
with their unreachable coyness
causing my hands to shake


I shake
because
I hate what I am forced to be
the most meaningless tooth
in the most meaningless cog

part of a machine i thought i would latch onto for a while
only to find that i had become stuck
by a shoelace
and now i'm being dragged behind
the choices
which at the time seemed so small
now bound to them
like an oath
to mediocrity

A pledge to un-success

I wish i could go back in time
and focus myself
reorient my priorities

less on relationships
and self deprecation
more on becoming something

though
those things which caused me to fret
6 years ago

have hardly left me.

I see my generation crumbling
under the weight of their dreams
not achieving the lofty ambitions set before us
since we were young
feeling the bleakness
I believe
only a true lost generation can feel

and trust me
we are a lost generation
never living up to our potential
never making our mark

Forced to fill in the gaps
caused by recession
and sometimes
slipping through them

Like a half a cup of water
like a few grains of sand
drawn by gravity
to unremarkable
end

Separation from ambition, pure expression

I feel
Shackled and at the same time
I feel like a figure with
arms stretched wide
albatross
free

Free from the expectations of those who dont know
jailed by those who do

I feel
like a box which rejects no content
free to mix
and collude
together in color
SOUP

I feel like a thousand fire crackers
burning hot
and booming
that perfect blend of light and sound
all around startling

Lingering as a black mark

I want all art to be
merely a black mark
of some beautiful reaction

The soot from energy and feeling
and new neural pathways
being forged

A pioneer of the mind
Free from the religion of
solidity
of reassurance
of tradition
of piety

Like Sampson
crumbling the pillars
with his chained arms
is the final act
of a creative mind

Beautiful
and Godly

Like the big bang
Like anti matter
Like a coral reef

I know the tongue behind their teeth

It took a wedding to realize

that my girlfriend's

parents

will never believe I am anything

worth spending time 

on

They will hug and handshake

and smile

but behind every smile

will be a cloud

of thoughts

those thoughts will be my shortcomings

or their perceptions of them

They will judge me 

against every other guy my age

and maybe against an ideal of themselves

at 26

But they've never really asked me about myself

I realize now

that there are people who will never care to know me

whatever their first surface impression 

of me

was good enough

But it still bothers me

it bothers me that they will speak for 20 minutes 

to an aquaintance and laugh

and engage

But they will never care enough

to ask me about my thoughts

my feelings

I admit

I'm horrible at small talk

and I have been many negative things

and respect is something to be earned

But at night

they would rather walk right past me 

than spend 10 minutes trying to find out something new

as if I am so simple to read

with no complexity

no ideas

no real hopes

To them

I am always just a Used Car salesman

selling my dreams 

To whoever will listen

And sometimes

I worry that I might become a used car salesman

or roofer

or office secretary

If I don't find my place

in life

But i've never lied to them

I don't lie to many people really

nobody wants to know my secrets

my depths

They look at me

like an idiot

they speak to me like a toddler

in entendre's

inserting jabs at every pause

double speaking to my face

as if I am not perceptive enough to figure it out

but I do

I always do 

I am insulted continually

but I can't say anything

Here i can say something

I can say that I think they treat their daughter like an afterthought sometimes

I can say that regardless of the amount of pictures of God

on their walls

I find little evidence of him in the quiet places of their home

I can say that while i will defend them if i think they are right

they wouldnt give me a hand if i was sinking

in a tar pit

they wouldnt give me the time of day

except when I'm expected to leave

they will hurt her to demean me

they will say to me that they care

and wipe their muddy boots 

on my face

they will smile

that goofy toothy smile

with red cheeks

kissed by alcohol

and teary eyes

belying their obvious pain

and whisper in secret

That I am nothing

And for that I will only trust them

when i can see their hands

because I know that they wait

for me to screw up

so they can reveal

their hate

"Lighten up"

they say

"Come into light"

I reply.

The can't feeling

Tearing through a bag

of kettle barbecue chips

with abandon

sad

and angry

all things but myself

all things but thinking the thoughts

i default to

All things to no men

The sky has been all gloom lately

grey and wet

like a soft piece of tofu

nearly inedible

and blank

Like my mind on most days

except to distract myself

job number one

is to forget reality

these days

Some turn to drink

or drug

I eat

I am sad

I feel chained to the swivel chair 

in my office

held in by a two walled

cubicle

My heart

as well

snared

to a job i do not love

But I just

can't

Do you know the feeling?

the can't feeling?

It's just awful

almost every day

its awful

Some call it depression

but I call it

can't

not even cannot

The weather will warm up soon

and i pray that I move on as well

even if it means months

of heat

and smoggy days

I think

Sometimes the smog is more breathable

A Conversation between Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre About Coachella or How Holographic Tupac Came to Be

Setting:

Calvin Broadus Jr. AKA Snoop Dogg AKA Snoop Doggy Dogg AKA Snoop D OH Double Gee and Dr. Dre are sitting in the family room of Dr. Dre's Beverly Hills mansion at 10PM, 3 weeks before their Coachella performance.

Scene:

Snoop Dogg takes a drag on an illicit substance and looks at a platinum record hanging on the wall. That record is the 1995 single California Love.

Snoop Dogg

 Yo Dre.

Dr. Dre

Whattup Dog?

Snoop

Gotta give em what they want.

Dr. Dre

 What's that G?

Snoop

 We gotta break em off somethin'.

Dr. Dre

 Hell yeah.

Snoop

 And it's gotta be bumpin.

Together

 CITY OF COMPTON!

Dr Dre

(Rap Laugh) Haha, good times man.

Snoop

Oh fo sho.

Dr. Dre

You man, though seriously tho, did you want to tell me something?

Snoop

 What ever happened to him?

Dr. Dre

 What do you mean.

Snoop

 I mean Pac. What happened with him?

Dr. Dre

(Somewhat confused) Uhh, what are you serious right now dog?

Snoop

(Takes a hit) Yeah G, I literally mean 'what happened to him'. I feel like it's been years since I seen him around and I was wondering why he wasn't comin to Coachella with us. Fo real tho.

Dr. Dre

Snoop...

Snoop

What.

Dr. Dre

Man, he's dead.

Snoop

Dead? Dead like Interscope or dead like Eazy?

Dr. Dre

Dead like Eazy. Like 187 dead. How did you not know this? We even went to his funeral, you sent flowers to his family.

Snoop

Man I've been to tons of funerals. Remember that time I killed that dude? I even went to his funeral. I'M INNOCENT.

Dr. Dre

You woulda remembered this one dog. (shakes his head) Honestly, remember East vs. West? Suge Knight? Biggie Smalls? People still try to solve the case.

Snoop

...

Dr. Dre

...

Snoop

Man, I think the all the chronic is goin to my head. Especially that real sticky icky, oo wee.

Dr. Dre

Yeah.

Scene:

Snoop doesn't speak for a few minutes. Dr. Dre sits at his mixing console and turns on a tv. Snoop sits up suddenly.

Snoop

What about a hologram?

Dr. Dre

What tha fuck you talking bout?

Snoop

I mean, I know Pac is dead and can't go to Coachella but like, what if not Tupac showed up.

Dr. Dre

Man, I seriously think you have a problem.

Snoop

Hear me out, hear me out. Yesterday, me and my son were watching some wack movie about space or some shit. It was a trilogy like the Godfather movies.

Dr. Dre

Star Wars?

Snoop

Man, I guess. Anyway I wasn't givin a fuck until, this tiny chick appears on the ground and asks for help and I say to my son, yo why is this chick so small? And he said to me, 'dad' thats a hologram she isnt actually there. He said it was like a 3D movie but without the screen.

Dr. Dre

Dude, what does this have to do with Coachella?

Snoop

Remember that song, Unforgettable, where that chick sang with her dad after he died? Well what if we did that with Tupac, but, not for the radio. For peoples eyes.

Dr. Dre

Is that even possible? 

Snoop

That space movie is like 35 years old, shit we gotta have that technology now. Get those scientists who worked on your headphones on it. They ain't doin anything.

Dr. Dre

You know, Snoop?

Snoop

What's that Andre?

Dr. Dre

At first I wasn't sure that what you were saying made any sense. And honestly, after thinking about it a little bit, I'm still not sure that if we could pull it off that it wouldn't seem tacky or maybe even come across like a big joke. It's been a lot of years since Pac died, man. He's meant a lot of things to a lot of people and I wonder if he would even want us to remember him in this way. Would people think we were just cashing in on his fame? Trying to squeeze every last dollar and cent from an artist that has already been wrung dry of all he is worth? Would people think that this is just one more egotistical act of a couple of formerly innovative musicians trying to feign relevance while at the same time showing how out of touch they really are?

Snoop

Man, those people can eat a big fat dick.

Dr Dre

That's what I was thinking too, Snoop. Coachella is gonna be tight as hell.

Snoop

Hell yeah.

Dr Dre

Wanna watch a movie before you go? I got Blade or Scarface, which one?

Snoop

Both.

Dr Dre

Hell yeah.

And that is how the hologram performance of Tupac Shakur came to be part of  2012 Coachella. 

The End

Don't think twice

When all the caves
in all the world
have been searched
and places both high and low
have been uncovered

When all the battles have been fought
and the swords are dull
from too much blood

When Life and Death
are just modes of thought
and the differences between
a walking breathing man
and a stiff in the ground
are matters of philosophy

When the crowns on our heads
are too heavy
for us to carry
and the footsteps of our paranoia
feel like hot breath
on our neck

When you are alone
and I am there
with advantage
finally

I will leave you alone

When all these things have come to pass
and the things we have done
will be shouted from all the
mountain tops

The harp will not be enough
for no sweet music can cure
a wicked, sickly soul

When you are old
and gray
and you turn to look over your shoulder
and see no one

You will either crawl back
groveling and repentant
or die

When the voices of those who have gone before
are haunting you
and restful sleep is as surreal as a dream

Will you regret what happened today?
The day you let love die
like a dog on the side of the road
broken and gullet ripped open
bleeding into the gutter
ignored and pitied
while flies and maggots
eat their fill

The flaws of my fathers

A curse
which follows through
the generations
flowing as flash flood
through cracked desert

Flowing through veins
pushing the outer walls
coursing unrelenting
from life to life

A flaw
of character
passed down from
one fumbled moment
one vicious statement
a dark mood
unrelenting

The flaws of our fathers
the pan-generational sin
of pride
and vanity

Of fear and cowardice
of betrayal of trust
and weakness
in tough moments

My great grandfather
my grandfather
my dad

All were greatly flawed
gargantuans
larger than life
but in seclusion
small and petty

Unable to let go of themselves
to make the right choice
to say the right thing
to bite their tounges
or save their families

It is not lost on me
that I
am next in line

Already exhibiting
these
the worst of character deficiencies
already having the symptoms
of a now long running
rush of destruction
building up in me
like magma in the chamber of a volcanoe
burning and rumbling
cracking the surface
spewing and oozing from the thinnest
parts of my skin

I now understand what Christ meant
when he asked His Father
to let this cup pass from him
and for Him to be up on that cross
asking the most High
why He had been forsaken

His Father was perfect
mine is not
His affliction was righteous
mine is wrought with
petty insufficiency
in the worst ways
to the people who need me
most

But I have a choice
to change
for there is one thing I am capable of
that no man yet
in my family
has ever been capable of

Humility

Something Christ had in spades

My dad/my monster

You are a monster
plodding and blunt
uncaring and unsettlingly calculated

You are a coward
making excuses
talking in circles
laying down like a dying dog

You have drained the joy from my life
left me feeling numb
and unstable
constantly remembering good things
and crying

You are not my father
I don't know where he went
or the exact time he ceased to be
but my father is none of those things

My father was funny
goofy even
my father was wise
my father loved my mom
my father loved us

Now you just love yourself
claiming other things are the problem
when it is so clearly
your heart

How could you bear to look
at us
teary eyed
angry
broken hearted

And feel nothing
I looked at you
I looked into your soul
deep
to the core of who you were
and
there was nothing resembling you
there

Because you sold your soul
and you have gained nothing

the worst part is I still love you
i don't want this to happen to you
I don't want this common story
to become my own
I don't want to let you go
though you've already let us go
I want my dad
and i'm scared
that he is
no longer

The prophet Jeremiah and Ridley Scott

I'm hurting
wounded confused
 you're the bush in the wilderness
 aimless and thirsting
but I still feel lost

 The heart is above all things deceitful
words I did not write
 but my own heart feels deceived

 And drained of whatever strength
I never realized it drew from you

 Every thought is tainted
 is brushed aside
like the life I thought i lived
was made up

 Like i'm a replicant from blade runner
and i can't accept
 the science fiction
that i mistook for happiness

 If you decide to leave
i can not follow
If you leave
you'll be taking
part of me with you

 Do you realize this?
 or have you stopped thinking at all

Separation

I want to wake up
to begin anew
in a day
that hasn't been
for years

To remember you chasing me
through the house
smiling
young
confident
happy
and remember how that ended
I got stitches in my head
but for me
that is still a good memory

But memories are long since passed
like the light from stars
in the blackest nights
stars which are dead

And we marvel
and wonder
at the good times
floating above our heads
every single night
The constellations
comforting us
like the feeling of having
my parents together sleeping
20 feet away

But light has no substance
and the stars which supernova'd
before time began
though they may comfort us today
are only hollow reminders of better times

And at some point
we must move on

But i'm afraid
that if I lost the comfort my dreams might also fade
into the vastness of space
upon which
they were first created

And now
so few things feel safe
because 20 feet away
nobody was happy
but they kept right on shining

Not yet gone
and I feel like i'm sitting on the doctors table
when I was three years old
screaming and crying
while the doctor sewed my forehead

I never wanted to hate you
not even when you chased me and I hurt myself
because I loved you
and you loved me
but now
it seems like
you're forcing me to

And I wish I could wake up
and be three
just to get
it back

An icon of the heart

Your daughter
is much more intelligent than you think
she has made her own decisions
for a long while now
she is responsible
and hard working
and loving
She has beautiful skin
She has bold eyes
Your daughter is the daughter I'd some day love to have
myself.

The daughter you pretend she is
is compulsive
emotional
immature
lazy
inexperienced
and a blight on your reputation
as a respectable member of society
and most importantly
confirmed devotee
of the Catholic faith
but

to be embarassed of your daughter
is to be embarassed of Christ himself
for she has the heart of God
and you
you can't seem to see it.

You do not have the daughter
you think you have
and I only hope
your shortsightedness

Does not push away
the best thing
you ever made

Much more beautiful
than all the 2 dimensional icons
or plastic and wooden crosses
or gold rings
or photographs
or stained glass
or incantations
and many other Holy things
which are
only objects
as Holy as the unseen heart
of their beholder

But your daughter
is better still
than all of these

Blood brick brooding

A brick wall
is a nearly perfect barrier
a red aggregate of solid
cold masonry held together with
an incredibly rough
mortar

Have you ever scraped your arm on the hardened
surface of a brick wall?
it slices right through
our delicate human exterior
and exposes the
red innards
the pink
the gash

We are weak compared to brick walls
humans
So easily tossed aside
so easily broken

There are some brick walls which have stood for hundreds of years
thousands even
but no person has ever lasted more than one century

The red in brick is
maddening
so dark
like blood
so frustrating in it's absolute boldness
and saturation

How something which started out as a viscous
mud
could be so hardened
is an affront to myself

stuck in the mud stage of life
unable to find
the warmth of sunlight

Unable to pass a seemingly ever rising
ever expanding
ever hardening
brick wall

in my life

The ups and downs of a perfect day

What is wrong with letting a whole day pass
my birthday
blue and clear
from the apex of the 2 freeway
i could see the ocean
and i said
"today is perfect"
with a slight headache
and unstable feeling
that only a hangover can give you
but with the window down i felt cured
we both did
a little bit
we walked across a bridge with painted ivy
to cover up the tags
of feral humans
the solution
of society
to cover up
what we prefer not to think of
a rusty salon chair was on the porch
of a tiny wooden house
with a weeded dried out lawn
paint chipping
glass yellowing along the frames
and not a soul in sight
and later by the reservoir
looking down at the green grass
too green
while young families tossed all manner of sports
around
and you hunched over
cause we thought of that day when you lost it
because you lost your grandpa
and I really should have let it go
but couldn't because
that was the closest we ever came
to letting each other go
but eventually you perked up
like you always do
and we threw away
our plastic cups and walked back to the car
while a woman with gardening gloves drove a wooden stake into the ground
and my mind felt aerated
just letting everything I heard and saw and smelled
into my being
and it stayed with me while we slept for hours and hours
so that when we woke up
I finally felt older
than the rainy day
before

The wisdom of age while eating breadsticks at Olive Garden

An open letter to ambition:

don't believe me
because I don't know
what it is I want
and who does?

What I want
is the aftertaste of a grapefruit
bitter, fleeting
inexplicable

You pick at me
for a laugh
and embarrassingly
I just have to take it
while you enjoy your meal

Poke at me all you want
she's going to be mine
no matter what you think
or say
or what "wisdom" is contained in your
peach fuzzed head

You two laugh
and privately complain
I laugh and privately
silently
hope

I move up
you plateau or diminish

At some point
I will have the high ground
what then,
will you say to me
red faced and aging
what then?

Acts 5

There is something wrong
when something personal
becomes a personal parade
using a stage
using emotion
to vindicate ourselves

I never seek vindication
nor have i ever thought
it was necessary
to feel the therapy of
written word

Just being honest
is worth it

Honesty that night
was a joke
sure
there were truthful things
spoken
written
whatever
but the motives were less than pure

Beware the ones who claim to be artists
beware the ones who smile when they read
beware the ones who fall in love with themeselves

Avoid them
to keep yourself pure
They risk nothing
pretending to risk everything
like the Biblical
Ananias and Sapphira
if they sought to gain anything more
substantial than
status
they would be struck dead
where they stood

I saw a group of college students
trying to have a good time
but they just looked like
nervous
actors
Dancing and smiling
using
and ultimately
losing themselves
in the pursuit of self

I allowed myself a bitter moment
these people would not have given me
a second thought
when I was their age
I know it

The popular kids don't play sports
or cheerlead anymore
they wear tights
they wear plastic glasses
they smoke

But I say look closer
because their teeth are too white

The string theory in central park

I think you and I
were part of a dimensional shift
i'm almost certain of it

remember when Marty Mcfly looked at the picture
and it disappeared
and that's how he knew

Well that day
we walked over to the park beneath
the Queensborough Bridge
our feet were
bruised
and tired because of all the miles
we had traversed that week
and a police officer was starting his shift
directing traffic
he looked at me and you
and said that he loved the weather
when it was like this
we agreed
even though our faces were frozen
and crossed the street
and sat on the bench
while a father and his son tossed a football near some townhouses
that were millions of dollars
beyond us
I bet
they cost more to buy than the Bridge did to make
but it didn't matter because we had such a short time
in this beautiful city
and it moved with the current of the water
passing beneath us
so that before we knew it the sun was setting
and we were walking through central park
passing beneath a bridge through the zoo
and by the carriages
and the lights were coming on around us
surrounded by giant buildings
and the glow of the sun on the horizon
so that it looked like we were surrounded
by a crown of golden light
and it was perfect
so perfect that I almost thought
to search for a ring
one that should have been in my pocket
one that should have been handed to you
but it wasnt there
the moment came and went
and I knew
that in some other dimension
that ring was there
but I checked my pocket time and again
and nothing ever materialized
And I was sad
not because we would never have another opportunity
but I don't know
that i'd ever see one
that good again

Too late: too soon

What good is a large orange
with thick skin
a deceptive
fruit
with suspect innards

And some days
I am an orange
already off the tree
and supposedly ripe

Filled with all the nutrients
I was given
given every opportunity
to be the best orange
so when I am seen
I will be picked
and sold

But i know
that my color and size
are just a thick peel

And now
cut off from the branch
from the vine
I grew up on

It seems too late
and I only just
ripened
too soon

Facebook events

The trouble with agreeing to be there
is the a crisis of availability.
Because I can go
will I go
The answer should be yes
but I want to say no.

The trouble with inviting people through facebook
is a loss of effort.
There was a time when going somewhere
mattered.
It mattered enough to have to call or mail invites
to the people you wanted to be there,
You had to acknowledge them
so they could acknowledge you

So today, at any given time
I am invited to 5 things
from 5 people
who only want to know
yes
no
maybe

Do you like me?
yes
no
maybe

And it's like being in school again
not important
not elegant.

Not everything will change your life
not every night was the best night
not every part was the best party
its just another one

They're called events
but they are
a grind.

Concrete support structures

"I feel like i have to like LA because if I don't, nobody will"
he said
with anger
with compassion
and it's true
nobody loves you
LA

New York is fantastic
and full of life
and flavor

San Francisco is
beautiful
and clean
and classic

Chicago
is the crown
of the midwest

But LA
is just LA
and it isn't
any of those things
But maybe
that's ok
maybe

LA is the flawed
family member
the down on it's luck friend
the oft forgotten
awkward
step child
of world cities

But it is real
it breathes
not with the sigh of mixed cultures
or passion of political past
but it burns
with its wide reaching
sprawl
it takes on the weight of more people
than of which live in it's borders
LA is not LA
but all of Southern California

It is all encompassing
rich and poor
glitz and murmur
legal and illegal
fake smiles
and dirty faces
LA is everything that it is
and it bears it for anyone to see

For all the talk of its surface
the heart of LA is where the beauty is
to watch the city at rush hour
arteries clogged
with the life blood of a region
everyone looking at the towers
the graffiti
the smog
the signs
and the abandoned factories.

LA is the past
and the present
without preservation
or kid gloves
it exists in all times

It holds much
and strains from the weight

That is why he loved LA
because LA is burdened
and alone;

Like so many of those under
it's care.

The girls who are artists

The girls who are artists
are the girls who are the most lost
and all the things they ever wanted
are in the chalk dusted pad

The boys with the journals
are the boys who never were included
in those girls dreams
and all the longing for them
was in cramp inducing poetry

These girls
these boys
they never meet
they just stare at each other as they pass

Red lights
felt canvas oil paintings
warm spirits
cold cigarettes

too much time alone

Too much time missing out
too little time moving on

the boys and the girls
they never succeed
when all they do is want success

I saw a car drive off the road
this morning
and a large man with a beard ran to help
two other cars stopped
and i wondered how my life would have changed
if i'd just pulled over

Squeezing water out of rocks

I stopped writing
for over a year
and some months
and a few days

I started writing
when I was 18
and some months
and a few days

It poured out of me then
just gushed out
of holes
like
my head had been a very old mountain
with a glacier
and it was the warmest summer
in 10,000 years

And the words continued to flow
for years
for 6 years
and some months
and a few days

And it was as if
last year
the very old mountain
was now barren
of glacial ice
and what was left behind
was dull grey conglomerate
rock

And no words came
for a year and some months and a few days
nothing came




But today

it felt like something might be left
like i still had a purpose
like i still had something to say

As if despite the dry weather
my will to pour out
will draw water
from dry rocks

Until there is just sand