Tuesday, September 02, 2014

Gazebo (first draft) 9/2/14

This is a first draft, no edits.  Typed directly into my iPhone as the words shot through my brain within 5 minutes and was gone...

Gazebo   9/2/14

And if we were a couple
A couple of what I don't know
We could sit in the gazebo
And imagine sgt pepper
Teaching the band to play.

But that was more than 20 years ago
And god knows where all that time did go
But we lost it forever and can
Never get it back.

And the moon is proudly shining
Over the water on the harbor
And I'm sitting in the gazebo
Waiting for my song to play.

And I don't know if I believe
In love or fate or destiny
Or if everything is entropy
Just spinning out towards the sun.

I just know I can't sit here forever
Forgetting about my passions
Silently waiting for my life
To just someday reappear 
on the event horizon 
Like this imaginary band

In the gazebo of the mind.

Sunday, January 19, 2014


So, I've been pre-meditating a poetry/essay chapbook for a few months now (the original target date was my 40th birthday, which has now come and gone), and I'm closing in on finishing up.  Obviously, I should keep some of the contents off the internet, so that there is a reason for folks to bring home a copy of the physical object.  Conversely, I should post something on the internet to drum up interest.  I'm going to try and post a few things to drum up interest, and this is the first of those things.  Try not to read too much into it.

Bottle 5/29/13

You looked for inspiration in a bottle
because it's hard to look inside yourself.
All you can see are the mistakes and failures
because it's hard to see much else.

You settled for mediocrity and comfort
because it's hard to reach for the stars
when all you can see are the mistakes and failures
from looking inside yourself so hard.

So you looked for salvation in a bottle,
because it's hard to take all the blame
for all the mistakes and the failures
that you can't seem to or want to transcend...

How much was the bottle and how much was you,
that got yourself stuck in the town you once fled
with no short-term plans for escape
from your newfound uncomfortable mediocrity?

And when the dust settled after the crash
all you could hear was shattering glass,
crystallizing your mistakes and failures
into a single moment you can't undo.

Maybe you shouldn't have texted the words
"BTW, I am awesome at life..."
from underneath an empty bottle.