Help Me Get Through Another Day

If I could define myself,

then what would be left

except to live a life of

some boring rampage of

quiet disharmony.

I want so badly

to understand why


waking with my coffee

staring at the same slats

in manufactured windows

always wondering

what part of this is me

and what have I borrowed instead?

Seems I’m on a journey

I hear we all take

throughout different periods of our lives.

This one for me,

I could use a break,

maybe a simple analogy

help me get through another day.

For Ignorance

I’m siting in a room

looking at some plants,

trying to be sure

I am the complete self

It seems that’s all we do,

make sure our balance

is matched with an eternal

mirror to our external self.

I’m having a big

me moment here

where everything seems

to rely upon confidence.

What of such little nature

I have right now.

I am scalded by the pressures of the day,

I place upon myself

not having allowances

for ignorance.

Because We Think

For aren’t we based upon

what we think,

then why is it all thought

becomes redundant.

How many cycles of the mind

are necessary to contain

one single thought,

enough to sustain dialogue.

Then soon swoops in

the next thought,

don’t forget the old one,

don’t make it too easy on yourself.

We live in a world of order,

and when we break the code,

we feel somewhat anxious.

Because we think.

Black and Blue

If you looked inside my heart,

the exterior lining would be

black and blue,

The blood would sort of

lose its crimson red,

and show strains of yellow

and purple swell.

If you glanced inside my brain,

the pain would be a strain,

as all that could be seen

is a mishmash of unguided

synapse bouncing off

one another with no

particular sequence.

I suppose they call that confusion,

when the ego so beaten down,

finds it impossible to breathe,

only waits for the final cleave

to chop through all the bullshit,

and let us find a place to breathe

Tonight I’m Alone

I can really feel it tonight,

do you ever,

I mean have that feeling,

when hanging out

watching the sunset lights come on,

all alone in your apartment,

letting your thoughts

rule the moment.

Is that what love is all about,

feeling compassion for our own doubts?

Do we understand

when in the throes

of a moment,

our greatest fears

are brought on by ourselves,

no one else,

there is no one in the room

telling me how I should feel,

only me deep in the river of thoughts

winding through my mind,

having fun at my expense.

Seems there isn’t a lot of trivia involved,

with finding solution to our state of mind.

Words Pouring Out

Sitting in my chair,

laptop waiting my taps,

just illuminating

a blank page

with so much on my mind,

just want to write,

find a way to express

the ideas in my head.

I want to circle the wagons,

not reveal my scariest truths,

and yet,

here I am

letting myself be consumed,

almost eaten alive

with a fury,

a desire,

an unknown,

wanting somehow

to step away from the fright.

I saw her the other day,

in a crowd of a hundred,

didn’t matter how many really,

you stuck out in the audience,

I was happy, somehow relieved,

to know how happy you appeared.

I just wished I could …

The Evil Nature of Regret

We might have a solemnity

turns into rage,

or at least some unimagined


Our lives are designed

for happiness,

the ecstatic nature

of finding wonder

in how we live,

where we go

with our minds,

especially in the compass

of a beautiful afternoon,

with sunlight and breeze,

feeling the airs of winter,

watching the snow melt,

and feeling the crunch

below our feet as

we trek across a day.

Ever wonder why a song

plays at that exact moment,

leaves us imagining,

hoping there might be reason

for such lyrics

to embrace our heart

in that given, silent moment.

Our quiet is often so filled

with a pain we cannot define,

instead we live it out

waiting for relief,

some silent barometer

lets us live out our lives.

Oh the pain of regret

inside the solemn nature

of a wondrous state of mind.

Stepping Outside of Pain

I chose to walk away,

rather than dwell in the dreary

nature of feeling sorry for myself.

I thought of better ways,

fresher thought,

just really appreciating a sunrise

rather than simply talking about

it so I could be heard,

so somebody might believe me

without my actually experiencing it.

I decided to leave pain behind,

for it had given me enough strength

to now know beauty,

the wondrous nature of love

in all of its magic,

setting a tone

for how we live our lives,

how I live my own,

rather than dwell upon the beaten path,

perhaps there is a new shadow

leads us back into that sunlight

radiates such energy

that we take deep breaths,

we reach out

we hold the world in our minds

and express only love.

Wanting Only This

I want to write poetry about you,

how much I adore you,

how every moment of my life,

contains room for you,

desire, passion, only hope

each day begins with a picture of you,

and I go from there,

I let my imagination go where I want it to go,

thoughts of you,

the beauty of a smile,

how simple that can be,

just in the moment,

the way your stocking hat covers your bangs,

how your eyes sparkle in the moment,

always a soul inside,

seeking your heart.

Oh if you knew how much I do

think about you on any given day,

I think this is love,

when I can feel my heart ache,

when every moment of my day,

holds some piece of your mystique,

waiting and being more patient

with each of my days.

A Case of Beer

It was a Saturday afternoon,

plans for the night

drink and party.

I had the keys

the liquor cabinet,

downstairs a storeroom

under the store.

There was a particular case,

you can still smell the stench

spilled beer and broken bottles,

the case was unique

perfect for tonight’s party.

I loaded it onto the back of my bicycle,

strapped it down,

looked at my buddy returning to the store,

both of us smiling,

didn’t ever see the vagrant.

He sat on the steps and watched us the whole time.

That night my dad called,

said I lost my job,

stole a case of beer.

Never got a chance to explain.

Only knew the store owner slapped a dollar bill

in the vagrant’s hands and told him.

‘be on your way.’