R – Walking To Ralphs, 1/7/18

Sweater stains and this hazy brain have seen better days

frozen hands in pockets thumbing the hole near the zipper

should I move quicker towards frozen treats

I know I shouldn’t have but my sweet teeth get the best of me

sleep is what I need but my mind feels the need to stay awake

and pick itself apart as the hours grow late and the thoughts

more deranged till there’s no sense involved a walking monologue

of speaking foreign tongues to logical results of caffeinated days

living in the same box of home and work no play no rest for the wicked

or the dead but I exaggerate I’m just tired from a fairly long day

drawn out deliberations over what form I want my sugar to take

wandering the store down the same aisle as before patterns and repeating

the way my life seems to be always playing safe no new choices for me

draw the line around my world till it’s a noose around my neck

and I’m choking on my limits but unwilling to loosen the rope

and let myself go in spite of my fears I see it clear but I can’t turn

the next page to find out how this adventure carries on as I’m carrying

my ice cream back through the California chill I can’t sit still

trying to unwind and relax I could use the Force to wipe my mind

never look back on the past I continually bring back and back

questioning who I was why’d I do that all the what ifs I’ll never find out about

so I should let go but that’d be too easy life isn’t a quick and simple fix

it’s far too busy for that

R – Highlight Coffee, 12/6/2017

flashing neon signs scream

for my eyes the lure of steaming

food or a needle tattoo

the bar is owned by

a man named dave

generic white male name

it looks like a dive

maybe next time

I’ll show my id

to a man on a stool

squinting at a photo

that doesn’t look quite like

me I cut my hair I always say

they always look down and up

and down again

a bit more hair

and a bit more weight

physical they see

but I feel so much heavier

in my mind and soul

experiences of three years

can really tear and pull

who you are and who you thought

you would be at 24

living in the city of dreams

a bit more broke and poor

than would be liked

but so is everyone else

slumming along as they

try to act like it’s alright

lights going by and by

shuffling feet and weary eyes

trying to determine the time

if their bus will arrive

when they need it to

maybe it’s time for new shoes

ratty torn but comfortable

something familiar

small corner front

once unknown but now

the mystery is undone

sweet drink all done

soon to go home

and wonder what’s next

and how I’ll get

to the place I desire

writer of wonder

poet of pride

the rhymes don’t feel

like a struggle anymore

once scorning the very pace

and form of the verse

now a secure way to

take my thoughts

and break them apart

shake them down

till all the coins have

rolled out and make

such a pretty picture

of despair and agony

yet I’m so easily distracted

from the screen I sit before

my posture is lacking

as I hunch over the keys

orchestrating a symphony

of words and ideas

in lines and rhymes

am I repeating myself?

that happens quite often

cycles of the same thoughts

I know I don’t need

keep me up when I want

to sleep the night away

but I play more games online

entertainment at its best

nearly breaking my controller

spewing profanities under

my breath and over it

but wanting another round

get better and better

till my eyes begin to dry

and I lay in the warmth of sheets

wired mind now trying to lie

still as I turn my thoughts

from killstreaks and gore

to how I’ll pay for food from

the store or my cat getting fixed

dirty dishes in the sink

and the spirals finally collide

as I drift to the nether of dreams

where broken rules and past figures

somehow make sense.

R-LeStats, 11/22/2017

Sitting near under the crystal chandelier

better stand clear before it crashes down

but it seems I don’t fear the idea of wealth and fortune falling in my lap

so I take another lap on this track in my head running over thoughts again and again

repeating myself and repeating myself and repeating myself

until I get it right the conversation from last night or last week

a jumbled mess in this mind that used to be so neat and orderly

until the focus went away and I can’t bring myself to concentrate

on the things in front of me like the coffee stains and chips

on the table worn from laptops and textbooks and feet resting

from running around all day and the places left to go and the places that they’ll stay

is it too late for this drink caffeine sipping till I’m sick but the warmth keeps me

coming back for more and I’ll lose some sleep but that’s no anomaly

with all the tosses and the turns that my body seems to yearn for

each and every night as I battle with the darkness and the light

as it comes in through the blinds and I can’t make up my mind

about how to spend my time when I’m not at my 9-5

or 1-10 it’s always changing maybe that’s why I’m going crazy

stability is hard to find when you’re up late and early

they say sleep is so important but we have to finish our lists

of everything that needs to be done groceries bills and a little fun

keep us medicated and sedated from the hell thats going on

in wars and crimes and guns people kill and hurt one another

friends and strangers family and lovers we should all just love each other

but I still honk my horn at the woman in the slow car gripping the wheel

like it’s a lifeline I feel like I’m running out of time for my moment

to shine or fade away into a never ending daze of what ifs

and rainy days thinking wouldn’t it be nice to have made it in the light

 

I’ve found that writing poetry is a bit like journaling for me. It allows me to take that which is troubling me or on my mind and work it out in the form of words and rhymes (that was an unintentional rhyme). This was written while at my favorite coffee shop in San Diego; I let my mind wander and wrote whatever seemed right, letting things flow. 

C-It’s in you

There’s a beauty in the gut
of your mind, underneath
rugged barriers
fear discovers
atoms more than alive
dart through your waterfall
breath, dripping sunshine
down your spine

Paradise ascends
past the vines
of your ribs feathered in
gold, where broken wings
dance
in the dark spotlight
and there exists
a Light
that never stops
you.

 

Writing has become a refuge more than a daily practice for me during this season of my life right now, and then there’s other seasons when I can’t stop writing every day. This poem was created in reflection of some of my lowest moments , where I let the moment burn, down my barriers so I could find my self again.

M-Revival

The font of life was in a stale water glass on a nightstand.

When the sun came up and piled in through broken blinds,

it bounced prisms onto closed eyelids and forced them alive.

Ribbons of light poured through the dust in the air.

We chased it off the bookshelves and the bedframe,

so some spines were weathered more often,

and others curled in c-shapes towards each other.

Details emerged once again and storms became

distinguishable by droplets.

Life had seeped out the seams and dripped down fingers,

off the edges of beds and into smug puddles on floors.

But frail bare bones, once reduced to a pile,

propped themselves up and resembled people again.

Lungs regained intention. Not how it felt to breathe before-

like dragging someone else’s linens across your own washboard.

Now we are stretching in the direction of the sunlight,

yanking the strings on the windows down

and inviting it in.

I usually take big breaks in between writing pieces that I’m really satisfied with. I hope those gaps will get much smaller this year. This poem is about welcoming life back in after a period of darkness.