Poetry Fell Into My Lap
Poetry fell into my lap.
Or perhaps I found it.
Amongst a lightpost lonely in the night
Yet lighting a familiar spectacle
Of bar dwelling regulars
Of trash bins accepting the days goods
Of strangers strolling to their destinations
And in that moment the words spilled out.
Perhaps never to be absorbed by another
But experienced through self nonetheless
And that was enough!
The Rock
I’ve never seen a moon so bright
That I felt if I could pedal just right
I’d hit the edge of the earth
And dip off into the galaxy
And float off to a nearby star.
That would make me see my life
From an outside view, perhaps give clue
To the never-ending life that
Floats upon a big rock
In a sea of no-thing
But yet is not nothing.
Quite the opposite; for as we
All take breath and partake
In love and out
Friendships slipped by
People lost, minds not forgot
Yet our hearts beat on
In timeless space,
The past staying still, and grasping at our interests
Yet plodding us forward, on and on,
The better part of our betterment
In hopes shoots us forth
Until life from us hence
And last breath forsaken,
And our rock always moving, forever, never stagnant.
The Feeling Within
That clenching feeling within,
That gnawing ache that pulls in all directions,
Can only ever be satisfied through creative means.
Through yourself but never for yourself,
For, for yourself, brings more entanglement,
For, for others, brings unbreakable shackles,
But, through yourself, will be the key
That releases those bounds
That unwinds those knots
That relieves that ache
That, makes you whole again.
On Presence
Presence; Is it elusive or omnipresent?
Wind rustles hairs on arms, machinery hums from all angles.
Music stutters on in fashionable form.
And yet the mind rambles on about things looked over
Times that were
Times that could be
Romances had and lost
Laughs that have been
Perfumes of loves
Backlit alleys and vast expanses of sky.
And yet here, in this moment, is the remembrance of the things that are, the present tea that sits solemnly on the table and a world of opportunity to be experienced
Now.
What's With Our Mental States?
What’s with our mental states
It seems so simple when they put it on the TV
When they put it on the radio.
When they put it on the phone.
When they put it on social.
We don't need our mental states then.
We surrender them to the external world
For what do we need them for?
Mine floats off with fear and doubt
With foreboding and falsivity.
With their lives of accomplishments
If even briefly,
At least I can say,
For a split second,
I thought I was them.
The rich, the wealthy, the ones we believe in
For why should I believe in myself
When I see Cardi B being a B to all her friends.
Procession to Nowhere
Procession to Nowhere
Through cobblestone streets
Echo’s off the buildings
Awakening the souls
Of those passed on to the undiscovered country.
A tick and tock, not of time, but with time, and in time,
Tapping to the tempo, a smiling child
Glides in front of a sea of flesh and blood
Leading life on.
The Fall
The Fall brings about a feeling that is neither present nor past.
It makes a gaping hole inside my chest that is open and vulnerable, but no matter what I receive, it cannot be filled up.
Nostalgia comes off the waves of the winds and echoes through the hole, wallowing as it pours through, but no matter how hard the wind blows it can never fully fill every space at once.
Nor will the wind solidify to make it whole.
Transmit
It’s time to let go,
But I can’t.
The force,
Invisible,
Tugs at the depths.
Loosens up the hidden and forgotten,
To be remembered.
Nostalgia sets in.
Life and Death.
Death. Dead. No more. Peace.
​
I want something real. Something solid.
For me to Believe in. For me to live for.
​
Then I remember. The Angels and the Devils pull
At each other, and I am the vessel to transmit.