My like older teens, your birthdays I sorted,
The dumb holiday, equaled by poor diets,
Laden tables, a mainstay of pizza,
And to counting spanks, I resorted.
Unnamed people glittered with importance,
In a gilded atmosphere reeking of material impotence,
People/cars ratio-ed near equality,
A fake connectedness in the four way of our splitting tire tracks,
I drove and went to bed and never looked back.
I realized another thoughtless, over-minded day,
And the next entry read only “F… that ****.”
A day in the dark meandered into a glowing radiance,
A bright orb with nothing to say, or to do,
Maybe it was really red hot,
But its flames could not lick out,
It was a teapot filled with stew.
A very long summer, matched only by toddling years,
Faint and slippery, its misty perfume not yet gone,
Over it I learned things about the stock market,
Engines and I-Tunes,
All of it highlighting, the other very important INFORMATION,
That I would be introduced to in college soon.
I know that I don’t know anything important,
Or what I need to do.
So out to college, where first I learned,
That Coca-Cola is best served warm,
With round little ice cubes,
That pyramids are impossible,
So I reverted to printing and editing a story from High School,
And in tatters returned to a do-nothing education shattered.
A Day, Oh so lonely a day of it, spent not knowing,
Whether tomorrow could be better than today,
Not caring about anything but my feelings, I opted quickly out
And resigned to an early start of graying,
Yet I woke up the next morning with a shout!
From dreams old of a soccer field,
And a bus,
past this horror my memory would not anymore yield.
And before night, again, remembering began to sing,
Toujours the sojourn is sweet,
Perhaps that was a warning blessed,
Simply ‘cause a dark mind so distressed,
Can neither hold harmony or discord, with a birds evening tweet.
It was a day to remember, (and maybe to note too)
The day I answered why I couldn’t go to you,
None that made sense was all I replied,
And somewhere inside you cried,
but how do I know that was why?
I chose again to be a loner.
Anon the tomorrow, full of promises for the shy,
Trusting others but not entirely myself I wondered,
And with a heavenly spread of new events I struck up a chord,
It rung out, I have to make my own decisions cut and dry.
Reasons and excuses, none left, I went right into the wee hours,
Devoid of thought or meaningful, visionary dreams,
A mellow daybreak followed a misty drizzle,
Of thoughts, the hours proceeded, filled to the brim with them,
Then the inertial of a black, of a nothingness tranquil,
Broke further into the ionosphere of a pair of days,
Slowing down the passing just wasn’t enough,
To have a time roasted where A for Amanda was my bell,
And hell heated up until passings were at a stall,
Of course, the flames took their fiery toll,
And as the air burned, from within and without,
Nowhere was found a less in the crazy light and amidst the fumes,
And only the scent of your perfume pervaded as torture,
Still my wondering and was as nowhere as a desert of dunes upon another,
So I left these dreaming days in the blazing sand,
Of a million wished mile markers that got out of hand,
Too often was spent (many passes) going from one glittering to the next speck,
The interest difference was loss always not explained,
The missing from tasks too oft switching,
Beloved dreaminess of a love worth hitching,
Is a play of happiness, of a nature that dives into the deep
Loving probes our deepest, and like the magicians casting sparks in fluid motion under seas,
Happiness is sometimes a bioluminescent lure stuck out in a flora breeze,
You don’t need crazed, charged, electrical blue eyes to see what is in plain sight.
For A.- you are so important, that immediately I know,
It can never be,
I can’t even utter your name for distress,
So putting this in ink, this is a little protection of you from me,
See, my merry, go-to friend,
With her, it was so that, I only needed to befriend,
Nay, illusionary thoughts of love lost lead me still astray,
But if the key stone stayed in, the weight would have anyway weighed,
And the rubbing wrong of you, itself, this too would have made it have caved,
But your talons really did hurt when you struck,
After I tried to peel off your fakeness.
A burning so fierce all social creatures must know,
Just even a rejoin, a last standing support could have propped up,
The calamity of breaches of confidence, in the confides of my do-good self,
But that was a problem, never put into action, But then again,
Like, why should I get lucky? Furthermore, why has your attitude frowned.
In the poll of reality, the results of my pit fall are in,
The challenge arrived of finding a challenging place to begin,
Of heart, lost in a copy and paste society, Beliefs trap you from within,
Do you use excel when you go out on Friday night?
Making columns, an index individuals dressed like this, and those not quite right,
To copy and paste culture into your weekend lives,
I did once,
And not the least surprised,
When all the days happenings turned out,
Similar for a whole week,
But still, each and every single day is a little different,
Even if I lost my glasses driving late,
And was blind for all of it.-
Here, my talking, maybe I am out of breath,
Just puffing and shuffling as much as an out of shape,
Guy can do while trying to stand up straight,
But that is as deep as my mind can go here!
Whenever turned keys wanted, intended a drive,
To provide venue for an upward gaze, and into the stars dive,
It was realized that I had no reason for even trying,
To pin up my hopes in such a high and far off way,
No not big garbage hopes, the landfills are already lucubrating,
And no also to the darkness in my eyes, set for truth-less anticipation,
Of a day when blackness will be still,
But eve in the most common stillness, death,
Decomposition- it is so full of life,
And there is a hope, that even destroyed senseless and blinded otherwise,
the senses that keep the boat at bay,
Held docked, can begin to sway it regardless,
And steer with natures sense, a great sense of sheer intuition,
This galley, hoping to be so guided,
(below deck please hide me)
Lock me, stuff me from sight,
The sight of a bustling port making it entirely seem,
That a whole new city between my stowing dreams and my waking,
Further convinces me that I am traveling all around the world seven times a week.
Trying to do what may be done,
Filling a cartridge with blank minutes wanting things to simply explode on their own,
Strapping the full belt of instead making it happen,
Loading up new rounds in a self-fulfilling gun,
Of prophesies of an adjusted type,
Not of all that ending or saving the world hype,
Or of anyone knows that has worked with their hands, the mundane dislike,
Towards the talk and excited buzz that true scientists hate as well,
And with world peace treaties, or times at the buffalo Wild wings to celebrate,
All this talk, spanning decades in scope,
When in all reality, brothers,
The field of play was ever only in a day-Today.
I’ve spent mine mostly dreaming, more than done normally,
Eyes wide, the windows still ceaselessly recording,
Embedding through retina, into body,
What mind quickly forgets,
And robbing the late hours of their usual captivating powers,
Begging and being handed some more light stress,
So with flesh, to remain and retain with some plasticity,
Yet starry vistas, when the canvas is unfolded do often hold,
My own globes in a trance to dance in those radiant rays,
Until the gates open to a new.
That is, tranquility is tough to keep and takes short stays,
But when it is maintained even in sweeps of heavenly motions,
It is enough to make the rocks weep.
Well, words and lyrics ousted from this drowsy head,
Daydreaming paradises gone, and fantasies dead,
Where the does this line,
This brooding, yet becoming tune lead?
To bed, straight…
I was at it long at the uni.
And needed to study more,
So I pulled a combo and read my soc. Book,
As it is a compilation of
Broken life slates and hoarse bedtime stories,
They spill out all the wriggling guts of haves and nots.
But leave out of the pictures,
The mass indigestion, and all the gories,
Which my prof. would surely have then relished,
Or at least embellished with relevant classroom material,
But I preferred this to personal stories of the other objective,
That of the journalist assigned to be a social-happening teller,
Doing anything, like duck taping their sense of right or their mouths,
Or ditching modesty, even getting laid (?)
Just to have their story make headlines and be read,
Anyway, the best part of sleeping,
Is not thinking like a bump on a log,
So I wake up ready to make my own spin,
At the edgings of every morning,
With blank pages, awaiting some filling in,
This is the story of my DNA and it always starts the day
(To be continued)
Which is a little bit presumptuous to read at the table,,,
I agreed to a farce when feigned importance of my involvement with a girl,
And running this way I tried to discuss such engagement with A.
And throughout various schemes, half unconscious and hidden away,
Themes were forgotten, and sentimentality thrown to the wayside,
Accordingly I noted and tried to fill my schedule.
This one I played soccer, the other messed around on keys,
A whole week of such doles went out like such,
But found was a limit, canceled out dem zeroes,
Between the current and the next spinning’s cycle,
Of light-dark repeating, shutters fluttered past in a whirl!
But between the strobe flashes, A twirled with the ferocity of a tiger,
Or that is what was in my eye when waked,
A week of those followed after.
The extraordinaire of youth thought about trying on,
A do-good attitude, and then racing forward like in a marathon,
But man, it left me struggling, that tight spandex uniform,
And I just couldn’t breath, so I dropped back and split.
-I thought schooling contained a script, an encryption key,
To decode what my own thoughts meant to me,
But and form that I tried on for size,
Any interpretations from others, even the very wise,
Of my events in my own eyes,
Left me out cold and mesmerized.
They talked a lot about getting inlays at school,
For the padlocks that kept their minds boxed up,
But this was just jargon meant to smokescreen the code,
And add noise to fire short through a faulty diode,
Pulses through a live wire, surges of faux energetic,
In attempt to boil down the natural circuitry of the mind.
Until it can fuel only one and one type of incandescent,
Which takes a full few days of flickering,
To turn on and illuminate fully,
A cut out that reads
**** Nurture,
And seems to imply, if ever, “go for it” now,
And ow!
We all know how going for gold turns out,,.
Now t settled all weird with Miss A. but that is A-okay,
I’ll gladly bear an unexpected turn of consequence,
The caused effect of any fully embraced action,
I trust myself (to do better)
To work on my letters,
I took essay class on classics philosophy,
And convinced a cutie, who started to sit close by,
That I could spread my,
A-ness with paps. on her,
In the very public school
Library. She agreed and,
Just after arriving after driving
onto campus..!
I got a call, but by then,
We both knew we were cousins,
But, I hardly did care,
I didn’t,
Evidently,
She did (and does)
But oh well, girls and people in general think what they will,
I have to say that still, I am proud of my lil pretty and strong cuz,
(She got a good final grade)
Souls do haunt me, that have never haunted before,
Before I entirely dropped, I
Had a game to play,
Not of the mind twist or a messing with,
That ain’t cool,
But of the type that everything in the world is really a game and if you play it like so you are more intent and focused than if things are taken like work or not fun- type of way,
All this atop a months thinking and tinkering, and equipping,
Left me sure,
That I could make a time machine,
Just by knowing the future,
And realizing how I want to be,
Changing it away from some prediction,
And adjusting the heat on the stove in a relative way,
To start the day with a cute body,
And a side of fried eggs,
With honey or jam for toast,
But she wouldn’t have it,
So I went back in time and short ordered in reverse,
No, wait. Order!!!
Man, do I always have a problem with that.
Certainly in court,
But to make curt of it,
If I had died that day,
My epitaph might be a grey bland,
But my last words would have been,
I am really not crazy how you think,
But now I wish one day to be entirely off of my rocker.
You checked up on me through my brother,
And he gave me his condolences,
To paraphrase: look at history, you’re not alone.
---
To ease the mind, Sport was engaged,
The highlight was watching two people return from field,
Grins over one of them projectile puking,
Or sometimes driving to talk to friends,
Until my talk put the to sleep,
And heading back to try to do the same,
A little less befuddled about friendships I kept,
I had a week of F’s
Where one phrase was a motto,
For twenty-four hours,
Including but not limited to Being a man and smart,
Anxiety and ********- all of it,
It was a productive and exceptionally fun week.
By the time finals rolled in, I liked that P. class,
But the only teaching that stuck,
Was how a certain strain or school of thought was birthed.
Sitting hungry and letting the anxiety turn into light in my gut,
Or, when that worked not, then ditching gingerly,
To educate myself on a new lofty thought
The Philosophy of Making Breakfast,
And that put me with the repetitious sorry doings of a highbrow lot,
That testing time ended with, anti-representing,
Dreams-About-School-and-People-I-Knew
Flew away? No, but I set sail,
Past all I had known,
Like the comfort of living at home,
In the log went,
A day in good moods (no mutiny)
75 degrees F. high and 23 degrees north of the cape of Any Hope At All,
Then, followed by A study in clairvoyance,
But all the sights read was
Stress = stupid,
So the ship was left in another harbor.
Lazing around the boardwalk,
I watched as seagulls this way turned or that,
And shed not a tear for the fate the ship,
May have brought me to,
I thought I knew about not being a puppet any longer,
Or crying wishing I was stronger,
Waiting in the shade with shades on,
For the coming of a grand, bright and glorious light!
But I boarded the boat, with my flying friends above,
And went to foreign lands,
But there are no such things as aliens to reality,
When all is that illogical unexplainable,
Deep down, that is,
None besides those with their heads in the clouds.
Guilty as charged, I went to a psychologist,
Irl and found that they are a money trap,
Educated by docs. That had their own, unresolved,
Childhood crap,
(is this why they know and relate so well)
Sometimes or once, I did find myself counseled when,
I felt like the bottom of my shoe,
But the couch was a chair in a garage with a golly fellow or two,
Who had jobs but weren’t then being paid.
But if I dig into that kind of work,
With each and every look I am convinced to a greater extent,
That as I write this novel (In the medium of what I call myself)
Society neither progresses or ebbs, but tries to hold onto its wealth,
But for certain people in a bent, beyond simple counter movements,
And I dare say they are modicum of power,
But the powerhouse of real change.
Back harbor side, now hoisting limbs made of lead,
The breeze blew in warm, but a gale laden with mercury,
It cast an evil glint high into the air,
The reflection from particulates cast a shadowed silver that hung there,
All the way down to the rudder,
Where the cold, blue-meth plated aqua make it tough to steer,
Breaking the ice with one big, chest bursting breath,
Or perhaps a will willing enough,
Winds thus manufactured slipped,
And smooth sailing, after initial shudder that shook the mast,
with gliding followed, a cutting more precise,
Than the most sensible wit,
But the reality of it made my brain hurt,
So good,
It must have been made stronger.
Landed, I saw caverns about, the same ole earth-mined tablets,
From antiquity, and knock offs of old face paint,
Groups of people numbered in the fifties,
And flexibility that makes me faint,
They, dependent physically and mentally,
It was realized, was just like the lot I lived with back home,
We are in a modern style cave age too.
Only now we have science to tell us,
That when it is really hot out, the earth bakes and rises,
A crisis of an extra two feet of fluffy stuffed crust,
Wake up, head spinning, bodies are soft like ne’er ,
Hopefully, crafted as the current age was hand tossed and thrown,
But also, my train of thought, off-railed by heat expanded warpage,
Into the unmarked forest flew!
And ensuing like the volume of burning asphalt fumes,
The potential grounds for quick-spark anger grew,
Understood it enough to give it the play only,
Of a few moments of showing puff,
And wreckage be wrecked- There seemed little else to say.
- I had found a little hill,
With two grass chairs placed seemingly ready,
But decided to take a nap on the blades of the lark green mat,
Shaded and by a pool as it was.
I dreamt of miss Katelyn, there sitting with,
Chatting about newly released horror flicks,
And before her leaving, she gave a time after which she could text,
And even though there is a biologically based gap,
Between words from a girl, in their seeming, and then the real meaning,
A completed social scene left my feeling, wondering the next,
But that was all the hidden and curtained playwright had wrote,
for the fast and picking-up-speed dream.
When my sense arose, I was glad for the short and sweet,
For, a youth of unnecessary interaction sucks ballz.
Mauling over cause and effect,
Time gives opportunity to find defect,
Or offers a chance to act accordingly and efficiently,
Emotion’s motion moving up gauged ticks, informed by strong and gentle touch and tact,
Sit clutch for finding an appropriate act.
The correlation of feeling leading, or following closely by,
This interplay with action, is more needed followed by no more,
And now, there is greater responsibility for one body of energy.
Anyway, I guess energy is all base the same,
And finding it lovely in diff. forms is natures little game,
When thought drinks empty down to the good stuff at the bottom of the barrel,
Put simply, I don’t want to waste energy,
And all to drink down to this.
To the extent capabilities are developed,
Please don’t (self) keep my mind fruits enveloped,
Even if it is not edible,
You can pack it economically,
And leave it with someone enjoyable,
To have chilled with fresh mint tea,
In a desert,
Like my social life appears to be,
So as work I left written negatives:/
Being a creep,
Lack of coherency,
Crazy person,
Intensely expressive,
Confused, mixed up,
Speech (applicability)
Emotional,
And then yelled an ink dripped shout “They don’t matter!”
My artistic impulses grew ever fatter,
They became so lackadaisical that I dreamed of being in a ship yard,
Of being a shipwright with the doodles I sketched,
Working on planks and ribs made out of this dudes blue shaded hair,
I tried to give to an artsy Anna, but she wouldn’t come near,
Now in this dreamland how will anybody get about?
People will go all over just looking for the right colors,
But few like to open the door to their birth at the sun,
-the problems of safety.
If I could cry one hundred tears,
Walk the plank of life/death for a million-and-one years,
At the end of that line,
That is where I would leave you, dear crafty Anna.
---
Freewill is God granted, in a minimal literal way,
One can get past right or wrong,
And see the ultimate perfection of plan,
In a system that accounts for even cracks,
Are you one?
It is all about real change in your time span,
And doesn’t deal in personality or punishment,
---
Much sought after Anna aside,
( I swear I didn’t mean to see your soul so bare)
I asked Alison E. if I could,
Letter write her.
I.e. I prepped wax,
And soon unleashed a fountain onto paper.
I was happy enough, below the surface,
With all this none of this,
For little is loved,
When one is stuck by looking to prove,
That which can’t be explained,
Which is what high school moves a kid to do,
In all, after the mail had arrived,
Speaking at least for the lass, she never complained.
Ups like that, even they are sand-tapered down,
So of life’s inner juices don’t fade,
And this are the more true emotions,
For the smallest hint of a flutter,
I bought myself a Cowtail,
And luckily the gal at the counter liked ‘em and took the other,
Distraught over living at home like I did,
I went out on my own, on the move,
I was still a pretty young kid,
My ethos relentlessly vented me to up and out,
And no logos could work a staying charm.
Parents did provide some foodstuff,
But were just barely above treacherous financial waters,
I announced for not much longer I would be around,
And in a less depressing economy, that would have sounded better.
---
Met a French get named Charlene J.
We went out for coffee,
After a running into at the computer lab after some days,
This is what friends do, right?
(just like kissing at the drive in movies late at night)
I brought a coffee cake,
And said “I heard that fat kids like cake,
So I bought you this,”
Because, see, she was skinny.
And a little while later, added that I liked,
Her shirt, but even some minutes after that,
I thought, man, I have to be honest here, I couldn‘t lie,
And said I didn’t know much about fashion,
Actually, what was liked was,
That it touched her body.
Some week later, I called the what I drove,
A station wagon,
A bus instead, and dropped this C.J. off at the airport,
After whispering “Toujours, Charlene,” into the side of her head.
The next day, I chuckled, after all,
What happened?
What would a 3rd eye see,
From a not so distant vantage?
---
I finally did from home make the slip,
And dropped 10 lbs over a few months,
Physics required math, so I debated musicianship,
And then went back to napping for the solstice, like a waste…
Near x-mass, I met a,
Cleveland dwelling girl, who was a heroin addict,
And I shot up in my mind with her,
Also: my family is so poor,
They joke about selling their,
Left bodies to science,
But I mused, looking ahead at my rent,
That I would be doing it soon while living.
She was going to visit,
I said I’d hold her,
As her legs cramped,
And death felt so near,
But she never could fix her,
Crappy car and,
Her mom had this strange fear,
About,
Her kiddo staying with a,
Barely adult at his apartment,
House a few hours away,
So we just played on cellphones,
And never became anything to one another,
And haven’t met until this day,
(rectify, my terrible planning please do, this sin needs penance)
Stirred up enough to cook pre-soaked beans at midnight,
But running around like a chicken without a head in a daze,
At the end of that one, I felt extremely thankful.
I walked a lot living at that place,
I ate too plain,
At school, there was a forceful physics aide,
Convinced she,
Was always right with her memorized formulas,
She was…
The care wasn’t about that,
I just wanted, the,
HOW,
And all the non answer driven questions,
Will likely irk her until the grave,
Even when her great memory can’t be excited.
Talked to a young mother, as we hiked,
About relationship rights,
And the number of differs was substantial,
But it wasn’t about the numbers,
And I didn’t hide from her how,
My thoughts went,
But unlike science, that just gets you in trouble,
Doubling back because of a flooded path,
And reroutes took place, and hours were spent,
She summed that I talked through a lot,
Or something like that,
I agreed,
To make candles next time.
House side, my best budgeting was going for broke,
In that little efficiency.
Visited a person from church,
Whose mom died from breast cancer,
We cleaned the home.
Well, I drew on her sketch pad,
That she let me borrow
After hiding possibly painful hospital appointment reminders,
In the black over filled trash bags on the cheap plastic floor quickly.
Somehow, having a doodler kept her from crying.
---
Talked to W. Mcdirt, too often about his sis,
During that apartment stay time,
That was fun, tele talking, she,
Hummed western ditties as a filler so warmly.
The kin meant to me,
She had to be smart,
It worked for a while,
But once discovered, it was all fake,
Which I didn’t mind, but after this,
End of sorts,
The only response ever that came through,
Was not being blocked,
So I still send the occasional message,
Like a little *****,
And its fate is not to be read,
For me, it doesn’t matter,
If they ever click or anything,
The internet reads and does not easily forget,
And if anything,
Remotely like her responding happens,
Okay, but if not, sending them,
Feels good to me.
---
To figure out people, and the stars,
That was the goal, but I always confuse the order,
Especially whenever I am with people,
For all my new adventures, I lacked the good will foundation,
That I didn’t care to build during high school.
F.B. was mostly disappointing,
During the days I could steal it from,
The neighbors.
Once, I tried to illustrate my views on relationships,
But people always jump the gun to sex,
I’m sure my scribbling and arrows were only partly responsible,
For the look on her pale and reddening face to mold so vexed,
She went on to draw over simple structures,
And told me that now my thoughts have a case file.
---
At last, a spirit girl seemed cool, well, still is,
But my brosky thought that I was just,
Trying to get with someone,
That he never could, or some shiz,
But really No,
And x number of pages, torn rambles, are summed up by,
Me saying, even my limited little successes would have made his ego cry,
She and I just hang out, and such is all I have to say about that.
The last old entry reads,
“I am outing from society”
And I must admit, after chatting on the phone a bit,
That I should at least have a goal,
I want only to be alone.

exhausted, i did read the entire thing. i think you could have used a few more periods.........

i get it though, i do and you do hit the mark with some pretty clever lines.
but there also seems to be a few (seemingly) forced sentiments. from the readers perspective, of course. (just being honest here)


over all i did enjoy the piece.

Ahhh, yeah, I gotta start adding those in!
Maybe that is just because I am trying to relate. I actually am not hung up about the past experiences with girls. I was trying to dig up some material to keep some interest in my life, but I am falling back to a 'it happened and nothing more' mentality, which feels smooth and nice, like yeah, not so edgy. But i didn't see that it was false at points, and now I do. Thank you for that!

I am glad you did!

A few lines was all I was hoping for

a good bleeding can be cathartic... (you know what i mean) and we all need it from time to time.

a bloodletting can be a good thing for writer and pen...I too read it through....I enjoyed seeing where it went.

Thanks both for your condolences and empathy!