when it works out

when things go the way i really did anticipate
and someone is helped out by the words
proceeding from my mouth rather than destroyed
by them

i feel a certain amount of pride
though the pride is misplaced
and instead there should be thankful humility

that somehow my asinine nature wasn’t able to leak out and slowly spread all over the floor filling books and crannies with that stuff that is sweet for the sole purpose of molding and attracting ants

but yet, pride is what rears its ugly head

inadequacy

i’m fairly certain…
no i definitely say it with certainty—

i’m failing at this on some scale i don’t yet understand

there are details here which i simply must be missing
and others out there who do it better than me

they understand the grind
they get the details
they are capable of sorting through all the bullshit
and what am i?

good at these other things i suppose
the wrong things?

i’m definitely fearful i can say it with certainty.

it feels like forever

since i carefully sat and wrote something
out with more than a thought
or a passing care for producing
words on a page
full of ideas and “word pictures”
the kind that make me gag
because what the hell is a word picture

instead i spend most days barely scraping
by with a written word intended to last
more than a few moments after which it
will literally be consumed and erased from
the record.

press on they say
as though i’m not busy pressing on elsewhere
as though i am just overwhelmed with time
to play with my word output

bullshit i say.

in remembrance of times i took my anger out on you

warmth from the winter sun hitting fifty eight degrees
in this dry land where the warmth is exacerbated by the lack of humidity
and our chairs don’t fold up
our feelings don’t dry when
they’re exposed to the sun even if we wish they would,
instead they’re like my shorts on a long run, long long after my shirt is soaked with sweat
and the moisture leaks in to my pants and causes outrageous chaffage in the midst of the simmerish-winter weather.
never a problem in the warm
when my nipples don’t chafe in the cold-sweat of my wool wrapped body

it’s not summer and dammit, it’s time I let you know by screaming of my frustrations to you

how the hell

how the hell
do I reconcile the foolishness of my day to day
with the reality of the world?

how do I fight for what I care about
when the world just laughs, cries.
ignores me

when everything else seems hopeless
at least I’m pushing forward
pressing on
and chasing hard after other cliches
I desperately hope are cliches for good reason

if i

if i better understood what was happening
perhaps i could control it better,
keep from being swept away

look forward to the right things
have hope where i should

if i cared less i could do more
if i was humble more i would move straighter in exactly the direction I thought we should all go and then everything could just line up and work and be easier than it is and there would be profound rest instead of mild dread.

it would be nice
if i could just… somehow…

hip hop will make you (jump jump)

wood legs and broken glasses
you wade down this river on tubes
gliding on your asses

the water freezes your arms
and your legs
you never know if you’re just
someone’s misplaced pegs

pegs out of place at this job
pegs out of place in a mob
breakfast, dinner, more broken glasses,
on your couch like a worthless blob

but you live life you get up every day
you work hard, or (so you think) till you hit the hay
and your girl she smiles at you faintly
and your dog still listens to you gaily

now it’s the weekend, screw on your leg
and get down to the river you worthless peg
these tubes aren’t going to wade by themselves
this river is effing cold even for elves

that shit

done gone and hit the fan
like a flood in Louisiana it was no small deal
and now (due to the fact that the fan was on high)
shit done gone and been flung all over all your other shit

time to clean that shit up and get on with your shitty life

exit

today I heard a bright man give terrible testimony
if what he values is truly what matters I’m damned
if what he advises is true I’m saved
if how he lives is right, l’ll never find rest.

never.

these two weeks I give you up

for these two weeks
and these alone
I take a break from you (unwillingly)
and want you to know, if they weren’t making me
this would never be a thing

you’re made to be held
you’re built for use
every smooth and rough finish therein
but these folks consider you a risk
and I have to pretend I agree for a time

tin, leaf, bowl, bit, and only tobacco be ye
pot would be more quickly accepted
for it is nicotine free

absence will make my heart grow bitter
I need you to be strong for me

For the moments I feel pissed

I can remind myself of the real reason for things
and preach to myself about where my value comes from

I’m comforted at the foolishness
of my breathing thinking fearing
and pleased with the vanity for a moment
till the smile fades and the reality of my 6am
hits me hard again

but that’s why I keep preaching.

draw some damn roses

I consume so much
lately I fail to stop and draw the roses
myself
I sniff and breathe
view, appreciate, enjoy,
and fail to create. and fail to create. and fail to create.
allowing all the beautiful roses to be representations of others
failing to give back

well shit. no more.

shitless

I was the only one there without a suit on
without a shit
to give

and the topic was great
and the food should have been better
but I was in jeans and a short sleeve shirt

the only one
without a shit
in the world
to give

my eyes see only inside

i’ve grown appropriately concerned
with the way my head has turned inward
on itself,
my eyes see only inside.
i’m entirely incapable of looking at others,
neither noticing nor acknowledging their existence.
my eyes see only inside.
my ears hear the world
around me. the very one my vision ignores
and the signals in my brain are confused.
at once aware of the world, and blind to it at the very same time.
inward facing, while certainly more familiar,
only gives me front row seats to watch
my heart harden.

hey dude

(to the tune of Hey Jude)
Hey dude, don’t get that backpack
Take a side bag, and add a strap to it
Remember, to save a sport for your fart
Then you can try, to save it for later

Nah nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, hey dude
Nah nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, hey dude

ponderings on pot

toilet design was taught in college
completely void of training in the field of acoustics.

hey na. hey na na na na.

i’m pooping in my in-laws
considering this clear omission

hey na. hey na na na na.

befuddled at the human race.

hey na. hey na na na na.

unrelated: too many bathrooms are designed in to houses too close to kitchens or dining rooms.

hey na. hey na na na na na na.

they’re out now
looking around the corners
and digging in our back yards
for our secrets
to hide them away
all winter long
where we will never
find them.

they use our secrets to keep
warm, and call it hibernation.

they’re out now
and digging around, looking for
buried skeletons.