Do you think you hide in that book?  Hide in your words?

“I think I do what I need to do to survive, keep sane.”

Don’t you think it prevents you from trying something different?

“Look around you.  What could be different?”

Talking to people, interacting, learning something new about life.

“I prefer not to learn this cyber-world.”

You think that is the only way?

“If the ground is my focus, I would rather be in this book than my phone.”

So we all hide?  Is that what you judge?

“I have no right to place judgement.  I only say what I see.”

You observe from the outside.  You observe in safety.

“I observe from inside the circle, I just do not participate.”

And that is noble?

“And that is cowardice?”

We are all part of the same hypocrisy.

“I choose to embrace watching how it unfolds.”

You might be able to contribute to changing it…positively.

“My narcissism has no need to manipulate.”

Are you then the soldier or the student?

“The student, fighting the good fight for balance.”

And you are not hiding?

“I am simply trying to be.”

af

(written with pen on paper as my last entry in a notebook that has served me well)

Whenever I open the cover of a new notebook,
hear the crackle of the cardboard as it peels
away from the virgin pages, helping them all
tear slightly from each other, listen to the binding
break peacefully, hissing in anticipation of the stories and
truths and confessions to soon fill its pages, rubbing the remnants
of tree powder flaking from this beautiful destruction in my fingers,
I always think of the first day of school
excited as a chubby little boy to become immersed in
storytelling, knowledge, petty assignments and accomplishments
of intelligence I knew I was capable of.
Never many friends, never much belief in the world of my eyes,
I would stare into those pages for years finding my one compatriot
who would always be faithful, who always loved me back
equal to the love I would pour into it;
these books would serve as wombs for
what decades later would be a purpose in my brief
blip here in this endless universe; would be that blankie I wrap myself in
when I cannot breathe and life seems too lost, the only friend
and family that has is will always trust be there love every
moment of every second of every minute of every day of
my life.
Neither of us will be the same two hundred pages from now.
Both be a bit battered, worn and a bit bloated from the various
elements of this world, intentionally and not, but will have grown
in ways unimaginable to what we both felt was our purpose at the
beginning of this little journey of ours.
My safe-haven of memories and hopes, thank you for your patience,
for your humility, for your faith, thank you for believing in
me even when I do not and thank you for always saying Yes
regardless of what insane or absurd journey I ask you
to take with me.

 
af

(written on the first page of a new marble notebook)

We fade into darkness
obsessed with games
of wit, of strength
winning each other with lust
hunt the desire
animal or female

Shortcomings should sharpen the mind

The cunning linguist knows words
are delicate
are intentional

amber fermentation

head to wall resolutions

caring less

insanity is pure and true
in whispers and shadows
before the hologram of the night

af

(written in little notebook)

Wondering if I am capable of being myself;
i know who he is
know exactly what path to walk
exactly how to travel

I am here
no more significant than the heat in the summer
than the wind or the rain

Wondering if I will ever know
if her path
or my own path
if either
are the right paths?

af

(written on computer)

Rockin’ a chair on the balcony
of my dreams in real time:
cast iron rest for my feet
chipped dark green shutters in an old struggling
marriage with antique floor to ceiling windows;
both faithful to each other, dilapidatedly drafty
peering through the leaves of trees, honeysuckled
showing glimpses of old world french colonial mansions;
right here close now as my neighbor
indulging in food fresh from the earth
gazing at oil lamps on front porches
listening to the illustrious ol’ miss carried on the brunch breeze

alongside the woman even a dream could not imagine

all gently tossed as god’s ingredients for purpose
baked by the warm february sun…
this fine, fine southern saturday!

af

(written with pen on paper, feeling exactly how it sounds)

How is it possible I can sit here
here
encouraging her to pour her heart out
trust me with all of her emotions
uncomfortably exposed to a stranger
to draw out her soul
and I barely am able to dance
let alone sit next to her

Is it really so good that I am aware of this
even though I still am guilty of preaching from the pulpit
while the pope kneels in front of a common priest
humble
in front of the world

I am close and nothing on this journey happened
and is happening
by accident

I may refuse to acknowledge this omen
but I should not

I should be aware

I’ve been searching for that one piece of my life
that is missing
and maybe the writer is right
I create my own distrust and distaste
to try and play the part of the suffering Write…

Maybe I ask too much of and give too little
and that is why I must walk across continents

She is next to me
trying
to trust
to only exist in this moment with me
to create something that is important
that goes beyond the comforts of human relationship
and I must do the same

I know what the omens have said
I know what they meant
I understand that everything is exactly correct
and the artist was correct,
“I trust in myself.  And I trust in the journey I am on.”

af

(written on computer next to her)

Hammer is in my hand
patience patience patience
“I need another kiss” she climbs on top of me
falls asleep in my arms on my chest
breathe…
The weight of body weighed against the weight of passion
“i love you” (did she just whisper that?)
Wanted to say that to you since I met you
say it a lot?
Thoughts and words are very different
fantastic vs. reality, battle of humanity
Ain’t yet convinced that what’s in my mind is -
- “please kiss me…i need you”
or maybe just someone?
When the thought arrives..
…what does it matter if that someone is you?
tap tap tap
Inhaling in a futile attempt to explode
can’t get my hand down my throat to scratch my lungs
what I wanted
everything in every moment all at once
potatoes nine ways, tenth for god
binge personality
but buddha replaced booze and bud
“kiss me…”
scrape steel on my teeth
ready to swing
muscles clenching…habitually retractng
music louder
strings across Stradivarius’
“Ain’t the way…”  stubborn stubborn “…plans made…”
answers predetermined in anywhere
but here
God bless America?
why should he give a fuck?
raising arm..hammer heavy…cannot…
how long you been staring at that wall
replies the confusion of her nymphness
“Never knew anything but it”
Time calcifies sheetrock, wood beams
new hardened fossils of frustration
Preach not…
walk swing walk
need want desire
Can’t love if you don’t let go
My words, not mine…remember that
There Was A Time When We Were Simple
crawl into the cave, fly
loathe hypocrisy?
then do it…do it…do it…do it
swing first…hammer ready now
“…I’m here to help you fuck that wall up…”

af

(written with pen on paper, feeling the chaos of my mind returning…finally)