people do not want paper trails
yet distrust computers
what is the solution?
it is always easier to know what you do not want

what if we eliminated credit,
monetary credit, as an option
from here on, the debt’s accumulated
must be paid
but the cards are deemed illegal:
pay in barter or pay in cash.

Still need that bag?  Those shoes?
That truck?

af

(written drifting)

I am happy in the corner;
a part of it all
but still contently alone

sleeping in a bus cubby
under a downpour in a tent for one
alone in the kitchen
under a blanket

it always felt safe;
never felt protected out in the open
and never trusted myself to protect

…this is why I must force
to push on, to journey on, to explore on

it is all about attempting to put myself in harm
so that I may learn to survive

 
af

(written with pen on paper)

I’ve ridden the trains all my life
getting off the last stop
lone city boy in the spotlights of the side streets

new york
my training ground for whatever is to come next
teaching me people will always come and go
and we will always intersect in this city of too few

af

(written with pen on paper)

Today
slept with my certain tension
to understand why young people stress
and older don’t give a shit

I appreciate proving myself
to be perfect about something I am not

found myself home again

next challenge
spiritual physical revolts pulled in one direction
that life
the energy
disconnecting the physical

I set the standard
fully lived
friends
bed
traveling
instantly manifested

omens
reading them now
hearing
right now
keep on going

chip jibberish
there is a point
create
all day any way

 
af

(choice pickings from a free-write)

“If you write poetry, dare to change the world.”

:

Stop what you are doing.

Think about what you are doing.

Decide if that is exactly what you wish to be doing.

Speak out what you truly wish.

Take only one step towards that.

Acknowledge that step.

Force yourself to smile.

Think about what you are doing.

Keep repeating.

af

(written with pen on paper)

No No No…I can’t go down that road
I’m a poet, man.
Life’s got all tripped out on money
but I can’t get busy with that.
I got poems to write.
There’s a reason I’m itinerant
can’t get drabbed down weighed down

white folk being all serious and cliche with their conversation
on this train
black folk laughing
yea…I see you looking…gotta write this poem

I’m telling ya
these commitments
locked up career
locked up love
locked up goals
i gotta fly
I’m making poetry spreading my arms
spinning around my room.
Got my bag of bud in a box in my pocket
gotta glide along the nightline high

I live on a road unseen by anybody
it’s on the other side of here
I live on a tuning fork

af

(written with pen on paper)

Perhaps it all does mean something
that although the acts in and among themselves
might not be right
the observation of the existence of them
is important for self
that it is necessary not to change anything
but to find reason to only
let anything change itself
to accept simply
that they are all still there none-the-less
that I should find nothing in them, beauty or judgement,
only acknowledge the existence of them as a part of my life

Perhaps I would be more apt to understanding myself
if I didn’t allow myself to be judged
by allowing myself to not judge

Perhaps life really is about
not worrying about life
and not fearing my own.

af

9written with pen on paper)