It All Goes South From Here

Organization,
is there such a thing?

I am complete chaos –
 from inside my mind –
to inside my house –
 to trying to keep
 myself hinged
 in public places.

I remember once-
 hearing someone say,
“I hope I don’t die in my house,
it’s a mess.”

 Well,
 I feel your pain.

 I’d have the coroner believing
I was a complete slob…

 Luckily –
I don’t plan on
 dying anytime soon.

Not that you can really
PLAN that sort of thing.

Sure you can prepare –
by your plot,
plan your will-
 just know that your family
will probably screw up
your plans in the
inevitable event of
your ending…

In other words –
don’t expect your remains
to be shot into space
if no one you know can afford it.

Eh.

Cling to Your Chains

The technology to save the world started with one word- written, spoken and expressed. . . Language… A barrier most of us obtain, and are able to break with better communication. We cry trying to be reborn, to be free, but fail trying to understand.

Out of the Cage

I open the cage door
and out fly a million doves.

I peak in to find
 a pigeon in the corner.
How could I have known he would
be beneath their tread?
I step over to him –
he gives shivering stare.
A broken winged
pigeon cries
as I cradle him
under my arm.

Settled between
 my elbow and waist,
he nestles himself.
The fear starts to leave
his eyes. Trust.

It’s like setting
 the animals free
 at the zoo,
but all the animals
are cripples.

They couldn’t leave
 if they tried.

I’ll be your wings today. . .

But pigeon-
 I’m sorry
 I can’t take you today,
 the height your wings
took you yesterday.

Maybe our flight
 can be a different type.

I don’t care as long
as you get.

But Who Said it Would?

Remind yourself of who used to be.
Think back to the circumstance
that made or broke your well-being.

Was it worth the threat
conjured up in your mind?

What if it’s even worse
than you remember,
and in a moment everything
could’ve been over?

Complete chaos.

When you couldn’t quite explain
what was going on with you –
the pressure quickly grew.

One spin of the head later
you find yourself dizzy,
stumbling to see the room,
and the moment pass you by.

You closed your eyes
to avoid getting nauseated –
opened them and it was gone.

Where did it go?
Why am I here?

Will I ever be the same again?

I don’t know, I can only try to be.

But broken is such an easy way to be –
dropped, dinged, cracked, crumbled
and eventually tossed away.

This life is now crashing after driving 150.
What you’re going to see will not be pretty.

Unless You Give it the Chance To

Think of space.

The blank ones waiting to fill this page.

Mystery- what’s going to write itself?
The misery of living what’s placed
in the path that leads to these words.

A mix of misery with a silver lining.

 A knack for knowing the loyalty
of those who surround you.

Naivety, a blind love for those
who disappoint you again and again.

The scenery sucks you in for a minute,
spits you out into a crowded city full
of scary strangers who surprise you.

Kindness in calamity, chaotic street traffic
becomes music to your ears.

Breathe, fill your lungs with the smoggy air,
be ready to get sucked in again.

It’s lonely in the clean scenic air.

No voice to listen but the sound
of your own thought.

What do you do if you’re ready
to drown that out too?

Take a walk, bask in what's to be.

One day you’ll get tired of even yourself.
Are you too tired to earn a new view of you?

Too old to learn it isn't overdue?

Start again with a smile on your face,
drop the old right in the grave again.

Accept that the world
won’t accept you.

Too Bad It's Impossible

I miss the days when innocence
was unintentional.

Morality wasn't a question
of wrong or right,
but one of oriented detail
and tedium. A question
of intentions, integrity and honesty.

Now, we're down to
the ones who know better;
The ones in a place of social power
playing your emotions
like a death toll drum.

Using our innocent (children)
to present a personal vendetta
against our world. It's laughably-
one that's out of their control.

So I felt the threat again. Of being
the only one in my powerless position
that feels the way I do.

Leaving me so sick, I wanted to slip
out of my skin like a snake,
and leave the old behind.

When You Try Again

Welcome back into the world of reality.

The place your dreams are exclusive to sleep –
a quick addiction you must repeat.

So hit the snooze on life every morning
until they’ve been achieved.

It's the luck you stumble on
 to meet your goal –
born into the right family,
tumbling into wealth.

Although being smart
helps your draw…

Having the people in your life
to effectively communicate
that type of intelligence to you –

isn't at all your choice.

It limits the road of occupation
to a narrow, no turning lane.

Guidance is important –

number one
ahead of education
ever meeting you.

Can we quit falling over how life could have been
if better choices could be in our past?

Can we say the clean slate stopped mattering?

Break the chalkboard
and everything it ever stood for?

It’s like we write our ideas in the air
and they blow away
if a gust of wind comes to play.

I don’t want anything in life to be
as simple as the use of an eraser.
Pretending nothing happened,
it's memory – lost.

Carve in stone, make a concrete,
walk away if it doesn't work out.

Don't forget to revisit to know
what went wrong
and what not to do.

Sound familiar?

Pull time like silly putty,
slow to make it stretch
as long as possible.

From one hand to another.
Grab a friend to extend
it longer if you can.

When the line runs thin,
before it breaks,
ball it up,
do it again.

Hold it close to your chest,
give it a quick tug,
and break it in half.

Share it with others,
buy more if you will.

Listen Up

"So long!" I say, as you turn
and rear your head to others.

As if, in some way, I'm malicious.

It's a judgment I'm willing to take,
as long as the floor's planted
beneath my feet. As long as the grass grows
below the sun. As long as I'm alive
to feel the same sun switch over to the moon.

I don't bend to fit your will.
I say what I mean, I mean what I say.
You can't twist my words to actions,
that I, by no means, ever agreed to enact.

That's the act of the snake.
He left you repressed,
waiting, sly, and strikes
with a venom you least expect.

Especially if the venom
never fell from my mouth:
Don't assume.
Don't spread the word.

Anytime I offer help,
take what help I offer.
Don't offer anyone the work they
are unwilling and unable to do.

That will leave you with
a junky job done,
by anyone.

An incomplete picture of
what the world should be.
Don't tear your view of the canvas
if you know the paint hasn't even
had the chance to speak.

I suggest you don't
squander what you're given.
Be grateful for what you've got.

Open your mind,
and open your eyes.
In an instant, you'll find
the helping hand you need.

To Leave the Ego Aside

Disparity is relentless,
the short end of the stick.
The wood shovel handle
that has you digging
your own grave.

It doesn't need
to be this way.

You can let go of your spade,
leave it fall to the ground,
pull yourself out of the hole
fore it's too deep to climb out.

Take a breath,
look within your sight.

Think- past ambitions,
have you reached them?
Do you need a break?

Don't let someone convince you
you aren't cut for this.

Do you need time?