Author: Roger Mugs

because without the possibility of being arrested you lose some of the adventure

poetry

when i was younger
i dreamed dreams of bigger things
and wilder places

but today (though my dreams were small)

i rode through mud, poop, and tarmac
around a prison
and was nearly bit by a sketchy dog
i stood 100 feet from a jet airplane
and no one knew i was there

fearing being arrested i returned home

when i was younger
the dreams i dreamed
were so much smaller than the
dos i do

because sometimes for no good reason it feels like you’re alone, but you never really are

poetry

sometimes things happen to me
as if i had not chosen them
which in itself is a lie to be ignored
and redeemed
but i do them anyhow and i find myself
at a loss for words
and thoughts
trying to justify it to myself
knowing paul had a beautiful discourse on
the things he wish he did not do but did the same anyhoo

so i feel that way at times when
i’m not alone but feel that way

just like when years ago i would feel
alone though surrounded by my many friends
and take a stroll
i passed by astroturf set juxtaposed
to cement and the shiny blades i mistook
for real grass with rain dew spread anew
and knew

i really was alone

eh?

poetry

filled up but not what i’d call full
because i’m more a glass
partially empty
kind of guy
3 days
of 5
but
the rest
of the week
i tend to be slightly
more optomistic about
the things i see and feel and
all the places you go when i’m not
around to check into our dealings of sorts

1 Peter 3:15

poetry

tally up your sins
just press them against your hand and look
the places you’ve shot and killed
poured over in blood
washed them “clean” with words of
valor?

short by ten thousand, a million, more
thick snow could not cover the black
you’ve made
press them against your hand and feel
madness at your things gone right
and accident – nay

i knew exactly what it was i done

and exactly where i find my hope

because if your sole purpose in life is to produce cotton and you don’t – consider your life a failure

poetry

whether you are aware or not
my ability to write
epic poetry of love and life
has been reduced
to that annoying little whine
coming from the breaks of a ’57
chevy station wagon
stacked with a whole house’s
worth of furniture
mattress
desk
rocking chair and all
up to the top of the
cottonless cotton tree

and almost as sad

thank God that time always moves forward and i never have to go back. life was good then. eternally better now.

poetry

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for the times we had but left behind
my “car”
your shirt
“don’t hate me because i’m beautiful”
and then the “sidewalk talks”
airing our dirty laundry
opening ourselves up to hear rebuke
and how it all went awry
when she disagreed

or what about when you got speakers
great speakers
mounted in your car
but only a radio? terrible quality
remember how excited you were?

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for the times we had but left behind
and infernal discussions
he shopped at women’s clothing stores to buy
“pimp” hats
and corduroy pants with pockets big enough
for what? 16 coke cans?

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for times i had, so glad to have left
behind

man

poetry

jobs to big for you
i can man tain
water too cold for you
can be held in my
man teen
you eat bananas
but i eat
man tains
you do things ten times
i do them to the man teenth time
and people are impressed

you carry a multitool
but i carry a mantool

and you drink beer
i drink maneer
and poop
manooer

i’m more manly and drink
man 2 – oh
while you stick with hydrogen
and my manercise
makes your pilates look even more feminine

i do one-armed man ups
and man presses in my sleep

but usually i only feel
mantastic when i’m around my woman

i’m the sieve and the sand success story and they’ll say “hey give me a chance to read that poem,” they’ll say…

poetry

what i would kill
to command this language
in the way you do
to bring to life the light
you’ve chased
(and yes i’ll chase it with you)

to have mastered the crescendo to
bring to life that which we have forgotten
taken for granted

your worship (whether you’re aware or not)
it brings Him glory as you have mastered
that which He created

set laws to govern
skill to feel
grace to
embrace
master

for a guitar
and a stage to lead people
to Him like you do
to glorify
the savior you dont even seem to
know
recognize
serve
bow before

but your gift
(so obviously supernatural)
brought forth from the sun
endowed by the father
graced with the spirit

if you only knew whom you worship
how you yourself would bow
prostrate
before His glory
waiting for eternal glory
you are

need an invitation? you must

her it goes (and what)
i would kill for your skill
with which you’ve been graced

waiting for attention
i’m not
yea
but His acknowledgment of who you are
and
amen