I usually have no reason to talk to anyone
always seem to try but it all sounds the same;
All the small talk, all the chit-chat
Can you believe that (politician)
    How about them (sport’s team)
    I’ve been good, just (same ol’ thing)

Seems no different than keeping to myself
so I ask
How’s life?  Tell me about it.

Shock and outrage
everyone stares at me

You’re not supposed to ask that

Back to the generic life, then
Man, that (weather condition)
Nod, smoke, barely listening
then slowly retreat back to my book
…at least I’ll be bored alone

 
af

(written with pen on paper)

Don’t wait till Halloween
to dress up and play outside with your neighbors
walking around creating make-believe
Don’t wait till Christmas
to be with family, feast and share gifts
allowing yourself to be an utter child
Don’t wait till Easter
to reflect on the sacrifices you feel necessary
being immature with treasure hunts and chocolate
Don’t wait till a day, a season, a year, another time
for a reason to be
who you want right now

af

(written with pen on paper)

I learned about enlightenment,
and I lost all desire to write

I learned what the secret to life is
and now I care no more about words

I learned about silence
and now I have nothing else to say

I learned that it is all make-believe
and I became at peace with being a pilgrim

af

(written on computer)

I’m singing in a bar
not in front of people
but as the crazy drunk
in the corner
too happy with my life
that I can’t keep it in me
singing to myself
by myself
smiling
with myself
drinking my beers
looking
listening
writing
and just singing out my joy

 
af

(written in little notebook)

the jukebox wizard

feeding it my money
choice by choice ticking credits away
choice by choice blasting through the bar
strangely feeling satisfied by seeing the people
these random locals digging the vibe of
this random drunk trying what I can
to communicate with them.

when all the tongues are banished
when languages become untranslatable
when we have nothing in common but fear and angst
we got the music to thread it all together

we never talk
but we reach each other through the sounds of the box

 
af

(written in little notebook)

You write everyday?
I try to.
That’s hard.
It’s usually just jibberish, but I try to at least get something down.
This what you tried to get me to do?
Yea.
I don’t know about that.
Do or don’t.
Yea.
I’ll take a beer, though.
Does that help?
Pen to paper.
Meaning?
When I’m stuck, it helps to just get the pen to paper.
Regardless?
Regardless.

af

(written in little notebook with pen on paper)

I ams who I ams
by chance and by choice

It is not any more difficult
then trying to fit into a society

Trying to do my own thing
often forgetting that I am one
of a long lineage of pen & paper drifters

I could talk to these strangers
and not smell like weed
and be open minded
but am always disappointed at every effort;
This city has become a skipping record
an album stuck on repeat

And if this is what life is in this world I am here in,
And I know what is next,
And I know how it ends
then maybe the East is right
was right

that my soul is to become water
flow change through everywhere of life

Everything I have been
is a part
of the experience I am

af

(written in little notebook)