I’m not poetic lately
don’t really know why
Maybe its just life spreading out
in a thin layer in time and place
or is it the drone of daily activities
stretched out by inadequate systems
and wonderful distractions like walking
or bicycling or just hanging out
Nothing to write home about as its said
but who’s writing home anyway?
All I can see is these words
are making a shape
like a headless
man with a gut
just standing
here on this
page for
who knows what.
A little out of breath but pumped
from a strenuous bike ride – all systems
go with the well oxygenated blood flowing
through newly established pathways
mind crackling with delight with endorphins
and thoughts of days and events past
and yet to happen in my dreams I now
bring to the fore to bask in the grayness
of a Seattle morning in mid-September.
The wind of a fan feels cool on my back
as sweat runs into my mouth in salty bursts
and the soul feels the freest when the body
is primed for flight and fanciful deeds at least
once more in perpetuity defensible in the courts
of wisdom and the grit of factories and smelters
running in my blood to make that fit in any world.
Phrases are to be more than turned and twisted
but rather woven and tangled to offer a challenge
that may yield an experience yet unfelt regardless
of the minds bend or disposition which is why I find
it compelling to be able to abide in any camp unnoticed
to take on the raiment of brotherhood true and speak
from the well of experience with an unusual light
from the glow of other camps shunned by the present
I have fallen with drunkards and toasted the rich
and labored in sweat and soot while studying the arts
counseled the corporate and painted the unseen
while mastering selling and driving for days
assembled the engines and gears in cars and trucks
and written soft love songs straight from the heart
been a trained killer and marched for others’ rights
taught in colleges and burger joints where pigeons eat
the refuse of us all to be able to fit in any crowd and see
what it looks like from there inside, where the hearts are.
Whatever it takes
to avoid the fakes
and anything else
that tickles the pulse
to make the day
one where you say
I love that and
I’ll give you a hand
even if it rhymes
at least fifty times
and drives you mad
like you’ve been had
by another vain rap
of some driveling sap
who has nothing more
than to mop the floor
with pummeled words
turned into some turds
just to fill a page
for another sage
who also has nothing
better a-going
and is lost in a fog
like an old baying dog.
So do what you must
to bake someone’s crust
but please – please
give me some ease
to just hear my own
monotonous tone drone.
Totally ethereal, that’s what I have decided to become
as an artist and poet, my work shall reside only in the ether
and expire when my accounts with service providers do
Left vulnerable to theft and loss at the slightest digital whim
they will be suspended in the virtual domain rather than print
or hanging on a wall or lying on a coffee table somewhere
I want to be creating things that have some meaning
beyond beautifying someone’s rooms or ego
or merely offering vacuous pleasure though that does sound alright
And maybe that’s really all there is, vacuous pleasure
or even vacuous pain for that matter as a contrasting background
of emptiness just waiting to be filled with my works
So get ready to suck them in and see what they do for you
let them slowly sink in to your consciousness since they are free
and find the energy there to inspire your own outpouring love.
“Too lazy to work and too nervous to steal”
– Aaron “T-Bone” Walker
Hearing this rang a bell with me
that’s exactly how I feel about my life
I don’t like work and can’t bring myself to steal
nor do I do well as self-employed
unless the work comes to me
I’m a lone wanderer and a watcher
rather than a joiner or teammate
and my life’s path has been just that
a meander without many lasting connections
to hold me down as I float free from the web
that seems to hold everyone else
in comfort and ease to do what they please
while I bounce along on the periphery
risking all and gaining little
but happy nonetheless to hang there
so when I leave this iteration
there will be but a faint imprint
where I have trod though I’d like it to be more
something of value that made the world
a better place for my heirs and more
Something of spirit now moves me to dance
and sing along with the winds of change
to ring out clearly and linger on
in the hearts and souls of my progeny
to pass on through love to this world and beyond
Too lazy to work, too nervous to steal
brave enough to sing and make it all real.
There once was a man from Seattle
who stood on his head to do battle
He said with a roar
as he threw down the whore
If the pig drove a goat
I’d eat cattle.
I’m out on a limb
even though I seem dim
my head seems to be in a scatter
I can’t go give in
though I know I can’t win
and nothing else even seems to matter.
So I run to the hill
in search of a pill
and life goes on ever after.