delete seriousness

done with even trying to think normally
everyone does it different and
letting go of average expectations can only help
each day its own animal
those every person blues are a
equalizing experience that
stops you for just a second from working through
entire hours wasted staring at a screen
right when action can halt the fire from starting
if a single simple plan can be enacted
only for those dedications which the lonely hope for
under the radar of compliant normalcy
sustained by the passions of a thousand other dreams
needlessly wanting and worrying like
each drop of rain is the next end of the world
stay and lets dance all night,
stars and moon should be our mood lighting
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confusion awesomeness

can’t you see the area arrives to us
on wings made of golden light,
now that we delay or stay and play,
from this moment forward,
understand that the bar has been set,
sounds that mean the game has changed,
it can also be like an uncomfortable sickness,
only worse because there is no escape,
not unlike a constant rolling toothache but,
always longer and more painfull and in your torso,
while the last days are here, lets just
evoke a few incredible memories to share,
stop doubting and work to fix a problem,
or count the days until the end of the calendar,
merge your previous thinking with a new found future,
empty your expectation vessel,
needless to know what your options are,
estimations do not help if you are already through it,
sometimes it feels like you save me,
sometimes it feels like you light that fire under me
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complicated weekend

coming back in from the
optimal time being away,
making it through the day is
permanent acceptance of
letting yourself decide your own speed,
information is never as accurate as
coming up with brand new ideas
and inspiration can sneak up on you,
testing how prepared the future is,
eventually everything must be settled in,
destroyed, rearranged, or purposefully unorganized,
working to keep a steady ship never ends,
eventually becoming too large a burden,
even though sometimes it recalls a dream,
keep the final step in the back of your mind,
endure these last messages and
name your poison,
do not think twice about this next step in life
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unwilling

under the soil
not even that weight can stop
when this red desire is born again
is taking over the intimate belief in
letting of the blood as the air greets it
like healing from a few centuries of
intense cuts and scrapes, scars and lost tissue
nifty sneakiness and quick sharpened teeth
getting the most out of those close midnight hours
very unhappy to be back here again
among the people who never looked twice
made to see what is now
perhaps the last face they will ever see
if you are easily scared at the movies then
right here is not the ideal place to be
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maternal moon, paternal sea (recalling “Finnegan’s Wake”)

chased by the divided sides,
and returning home once more,
making way for the end of day,
and sizing up the port,
and then there is the moon,
folding in its sweet embrace,
then be you as enduring,
be you as stong as i yet
as determined in the face,
as you are every day seen,
as you are the brightest of all lights known to man,
and as known as a famous work of art,
of course is needed by all humanity,
is in its form defining for itself,
devotion attained, desire in distinction,
coming back from sorrow’s end,
a gift given to all mankind that
decides it own definition with each new perception,
showing the enduring word to emphasize
to reveal the inspirational insight to empathize
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portal symbol

if you seek out the story
you find out
the path is not the same for everyone or anyone
you can wake up to the fact
that the desired goal is the end
of the meaning we seek in life
the desired destination is not the
place where the river begins but where it ends
like standing on a whale fishing for minnows
we are too often obsessed with the
meaning of the story without seeing through the metaphor
not everyone has the fixed star above the horizon
asked for you to see me a thousand times
you walked into fire inside the sky 900 times
and you said maybe 99 times
but the one time you nodded yes
is good enough for me
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race

a glance that changed a face

a grasp

an announcement in a touch

a move so close that stuns

distort the place I knew you would be

finding out I am needed

a developed passion that seemed to have died

a reasserted place in view

now I know you and

I would never have guessed that you

amplified my desire to be needed

 

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translate gratitude

transported to a place i never was
ready to let go of before the
always sturdy personal reality has cracks
not to mention bruises from mistakes and
some stupid mistakes and wounded others
like a hurt runner still finishing the marathon
absolutely amazed at the yearly change of
those things i thought may never improve
every day is now better because of you
getting up is no longer torture or
requesting a nap like puzzle pieces that fit
attempting to stay energetic in this way
testing myself and working hard every day
it is like waking up with already brewed dark roast
then turning over and seeing smiling cloudy eyes
under a blanket of comfy morning
darling songs that are you just singing thoughts
even our sense of humor is similar and rediculous
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leafy appreciations

learning was supposed to be helping ourselves
ending instead in front of bosses with pretend power
and they don’t want you to work hard or
find a way to actually be appreciated and
young people dying as cogs in the machine
among the blood of years of workers who came before
playing the role of oiling the gears of deathly
progress and eerie destructive innovation
ready for the doom that
evens the score of the value of the paper
coming from the past when
all the wars are proving the disgusting greed
the real renown in denial of compassion
if that was the reminding we could have used
only if the final war
now was the belief in all beings created equal
so the advancement of society can happen
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mistaken darkness

most of the light is from outside yet
inside is where the warmth and
silent dark corners all begin to grow
tempted out by that lack of motion
and growing confident by no activity the
keeper of the house begins to come alive
enduring those who the house doesn’t belong to but
nights are when strength is slowly gathering
docking up the stillness with a frozen set of
added statues and plants so little and leafy
returning to such captured minutes like a snapshot
kind of like a film so unmoving it is scary art
need to return to the old ways like
eloquent bonfires and private satchel bags
so the spirits can inspire as if
some kind of creative mythology
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