Quasi-Daily Sonnets

17 September 2012, Monday
Ah! Time to spend a moment to forget
The things I've left behind me in the past
The ways in which I've wronged or simply let
The wrongs of others fade at last.
I left behind the one I used to be
And started up again, anew this time
And though the most surpriséd one is me
I also find the transform quite sublime
A selfish, twisted asshole of a jerk
A wreck who could not tell the right from wrong
A child without direction, plans, or work
A person that tried harder to belong
    Turn back the clock, the wish of men my age
    While I would choose to stay, bereft of rage.


06 September 2012, Thursday

Momentous rising from the stage of fire
And gliding on the edge of cheering crowds
Fulfills the rotten, holed heart's frank desire
Without patching the cracks with which endowed.
The seething masses can impart the strength
Adrenaline can fuel , and then perform
But leaving all, to settle back, so drained
As to not behave unlike the norm.
And sweating bricks and breathing fire again
Is all the world is going to provide
To keep the mind from tripping off, insane
To settle down, and be what once deride.
    And sitting back, away from limelight's fire
    You are still you, no matter what's desired.


04 September 2012, Tuesday

Of getting older, getting softer, sad
A day will come when bodies offer none
And all the time spend pining, keeping tabs,
Is time that wasted life down to the bone.
A time, a time, of growing, getting old
And seeing life as travels once again
And therein lies the strength, so young and bod
Of seeing life as unlike sorts of pain
Now old, now soft as spreading jam on bread
And partings of an evening tinged in tears
Since every last scene comes with hints of death
And having friends lost, rem'brence over beers.
    You see the coming time as one of loss
    Be stoic, now, and face it like a boss.


30 August 2012, Thursday

A busy week, a busy day, as well
Inordinately trying times behind
I've reached a time for quiet rest, a lull
And hope that of my cares, I'll not remind.
A piece of earth to call my home, a wish
The fantasy of silk, so swiftly parted steel
And yet the dulling dreamers still persist
On bringing all together, faith to feel.
The shadow of a time when all was lost
And civil discourse held no sway to pain
Is waiting on the rage and savage lust
To rip it all, and drag us down again
    To see the end, you must open your eyes
    And understand the dreams, and civilize.

21 August 2012, Tuesday
The flowing pieces wrought of time's inert
A way of feeling what was once beside
A dying body, living brain akin to flirt
With trying times and darkness long to ride
A brimming vat of rainbow powered song
And streaming stars from backlit wonder found
Has feelings looking leaning that belong
And bring about the fortress founders' found
A ray of light belonging part of day
As one could see apart from stunning loss
And speechless speaking part and past the way
A streaming, brimming, feeling, speechless lost.
    The feeling, sitting seething with a though
    And wondering how the life was lost, begot.

20 August 2012, Monday

A splitting headache makes itself the king
Of all the cares you have today.
Your nose may bleed, your loving ears may ring,
But in the end, the temples will hold sway.
A stuffy nose, it could be said, has caused
This pounding in my brain, this thudding throb
Or perhaps the way I slept (I tossed)
Or maybe when I hit my forehead knob.
To treat the caffeine (crack) I medicate
With tea, as hot and fresh as coffee black
And still the efforts don't alleviate
The templar pain that travels front and back.
    I think perhaps it could be work as cause
    And hammer out in front of screens, I pause.

19 August 2012, Sunday

A problem with the house I did decry
And set about to make it right with zeal
And though all on my own was forced to try
And with that all my faults I did reveal.
Too brash, too bold, to move ahead with glee
And unknowing overreach my strengths
But pushing forth, with no ability
Was able, fin'lly, to complete the lengths.
The tools and parts I purchased quick enough
And tearing all apart was nought but fun
And though the final part was friggin' tough
I would recommend to everyone:
Though you feel you do not have the chops
Go ahead as if you owned your own workshop.

16 August 2012, Thursday
They say you've got to pick a side or else
The world and all that's in it won't make sense.
To left or right, be cast under the spell
Of not existing in the present tense.
So then some rights, from here or there, are lost,
Are sacrificed to get us feeling safe
And while we cower, arms o'rhead locked, crossed,
The rich and strong have raped this holy place.
Where once was free and bravest citizens
Is now a group of nasty, biting flies
Who snipe and gripe and watch television
And eat the shit that spewed out by their side.
    So anyone with some intelligence
    Should understand my markéd hesitance.


15 August 2012, Wednesday
I thought a thought to share with all the world
And shouted shouts to make sure I was heard
And though the whisping threads of sound unfurled
Upon the world, there landed not a word.
A stepping, sprawling forfeiture of thought
That happens on the quick release of air
Will denigrate the meaning being brought
And fill the world with failing without dare.
The long ideals, the short impassioned pleas,
The efforts of my long, involving brain
I held as close as offspring, then set free,
And hearing not the echo, granting pain.
    I fought and fought again just to be heard
    But what comes through is noise, and never words.

14 August 2012, Tuesday

I thought for just a while that yesterday,
While though of for that hour was gone and past
Was indeed the day I know today
And made my workweek just much more to last.
A second earned through hard-fought effort shines
And lets you know your success is achieved
But losing ground toward weekend's boundary lines
Is something else entirely to believe.
I thought, for instance, that the coming pay
Was nearly here, and had formed up a plan
And now I know it's put off by a day
I have to wait for yet more time to spend.
    A project looms its head for me to do
    And having extra time creates its loom.

13 August 2012, Monday

I spent a while discussing what I thought
And trying hard to push my high ideals
When what I should have done was listen, taught
And learning why the other had appeal.
An argument of two concludes with naught
But feelings hurt and vindication failed
And change the world, the answer that was sought
Is left behind, the world flat on has sailed.
Beliefs are one and many, all the same
What's mine is mine and yours is yours, 'tis true
And what is true is what I have to claim
And all I know, the same is said by you
    Convincing one more person I am right
    Is not a victory for all but spite.

10 August 2012, Friday

Two days, two days, the only time I'm free
Of swelt'ring heat, oppressive sun and sweat.
Inside, escaping from humidity
In conditioned air, as dry as death.
A little work, in times of heat becomes
A drenching wet parade that I perspire
And jeans, so laden, slide down off my bum
Revealing crack a plumber would aspire.
But lo! the air is clean and clear of rain
And fluffy clouds will herald in the cool
For two days, outside long without the pain
Of chafing, sweathing thighs beside the pool.
    The summer's almost gone, it seems to me
    And nothing's been less welcome than this heat.

09 August 2012, Thursday

A daunting task I lay before you, go.
Foreseen are hardships, trials, and rewards
You own a house, you lucky, lucky fool
No see what can go wrong behind its doors.
Foundations shift, yes, long this we have know
And doorways stick, and plaster falls from walls
And not there's no one else to fix your home
You must perform the labor, herewhithall
So with your mighty hammer, Thor of house
Go forth to face the challenge of the day
And lo to those who fill your ears with grouse
With your sweat, you will wash them away
    And striving hard to build up from the ground
    Your legacy is etched where tools are found.

08 August 2012, Wednesday

A Roil, bubble, former way of life
A belly full of hate and spite and pain
A body fighting self, creating strife
A fight that is repeated, yet again
Is fat? Is sweet? What is the thing that hurts?
Could be combination of the two
As part of life, for long, it felt inert
As much a part of me as wearing shoes.
And then one day to try to lose some weight
I gave up sugar, sweets and pastry goods
And that roiling, bubbling pain I hate
Had abated, rescues my good mood
    So now when pain hits hard, I lose my cool
    This roiling, now exception, once was rule.


07 August 2012, Tuesday
I found the task a bit too hard, it's true
And ev'ry day that passes makes it worse
I try a sonnet, here and there, but through
It all I see is just another verse.
I've taught myself to think and speak iambs
And even once composed one on the fly
While rowing a canoe while off at camp;
A cabin on a Vermont lake thereby.
Astounding feats, I should have learned by now,
Are not the sort of thing that I'm made for.
I'm much more apt to help butcher a cow
Or build a bench or help unstick a door.
    In keeping up a goal I set myself
    I find I'm less than able to give help.


31 July 2012, Tuesday
Since time will pass without a single word
To grace the page, or blurp the page or lie
A stillness greets my hands on dark keyboard
And all my best ideas seem to die.
A love I had, with heart as pure as snow
And real as statues standing in the park
And true as flies the ever darting crow
But dies when'er I bring it from the dark.
A story told upon my lips is joy
But putting to the page, it finds its death
My love will fade, as child's for a toy
Once spoken, lasts as long as uttered breath.
And though my endless need is yet to write
I will dismiss my every word as trite.

July 2012, Thursday
A house I have, a home that waits for me
And all the time it sits there growing old
It's patience helps it hold its place to be
The thing that's there when I am feeling bold.
A falling wall, a drain that doesn't drain
A fence across the lawn that we don't need
Are all the things that poke and prod my brain
The seed of action, here will find the seed.
Though money's tight, I do respect my will
And need to find a way to make a change
I cannot leave this house sitting so still
Another way to make a change, arranged.
    And through it all I know what I must do
    To start a project, and to see it through.


25 July 2012, Wednesday
A morning walk to quiet the burning need to run
And hide from all the forcefeeds of the day
A quiet time, connecting with the one
I’ve chosen to accompany my way.
A house we pass, though grand and large and all
Is not what I would have, had I the cash
The fifteen rooms, ten bathrooms, concert hall
Are ostentatious, way too bold and brash.
A house I need, three bedrooms are the thing
The one within, my wife and I will spend
And one to house the guests we hope to bring
And one to play with; office, bed, or den.
    I see the trappings of the upper class
    I’ll keep my own, and they can kiss my ass.


24 July 2012, Tuesday
Collective cash be damned, I want what's mine
And curse the lot of you who block my way
My footsteps' heavy tread to crush your spines
And all the bulwarks of your life will sway.
The china shop is set to house my hooves
And like a bowling ball pulled through a hose
Destruction in my wake, in its way proves
That I will get my way, that hist'ry shows.
In my estate the walls grow ever high
I stole society's foundation stones
Despite I know it all will fin'ly break
It's mine, and mine is mine, what's fair and whole.
    And though I crush you all beneath my heel
    If you complain, "I am oppressed!" I'll squeal.


19 July 2012, Thursday
A broken nest of bees that buzzes loud
Sits within a stones throw of my ear
And though I am affected by the crown
It's my own light by which I steer.
A seed that grew askance, askew of light
To reach its own source, hopefully not fall
Perhaps can reap the benefits outright
And not suffer the setback, growing tall
A tree that twist and turns to find the sun
When growing through a forest's canopy
Will look a strange thing, until it's begun
To weave its way up to the sun, to see.
    And by my soft attempts to find my way
    My one request: your doubts, please do not say.


17 July 2012, Tuesday
As children we who gather darkly once
Were seen as soft and weakened prey by some
And those who beat the knowledge to the punch
Could make unwary innocents succumb.
But one or two, as lambs had gone to fall
So that the rest of us could learn our fate
And learning, so abandoned, one and all,
The innocence our youth had helped create.
And standing tall with shoulders touching soft
And facing toward the world with stiffer backs
We strike at those who would have swept us off
And fight as fighters, rather than react.
     And with the knowledge comes the greater life
     Though more concernéd, still can handle strife


16 July 2012, Monday
The life was one of merry dancing charms
And all the while we raced for puberty
And leaving childhood in ever younger arms
We sought the calm of cool maturity
The information sought was gained in fits
In starts we learned, well, not a lot, it's true
And though we said we did not give two shits
Our hearts were open, bleeding, through and through
The hours and years are just a label sham
Created by the powers o'er our heads
Too keep the truth of life from out our hands
And keep us stifled, children in their stead.
     And though they fear a childhood lost's a shame
     We're those for whom the ignorance is pain.

Vacation

05 July 2012, Thursday
The day had dawned a bright and shiny mess
And all the previous day shone on my legs
My arms and shoulders shined just like the rest
A painful group of deeper pinks and reds
To water-ski and float about at ease
Has rendered flesh a pink and painful tone
And cause the aching burning will not cease
With all conviction I can say “I’m done.”
No more to float and flounce in warmish pond
And flop into the water without care
I’ll stick to shadows, ‘feared to feel the sun
And stripping down to shorts, I do not dare.
    For all the time I spent swimming so bold
    The next week’s showers all have to be cold.


28 June 2012, Thursday
I had a trite idea, wrote it down
Then stood up on my head and looked at it
And pacing back and forth I start to frown
And realize it’s just a piece of shit.
The drafts at first are arbitrary things
That scream and whine like tiny swaddling babes
But knowing that still can’t lessen the sting
Of thinking all I write should fade away.
The thing is, even that is not the same
As tightly woven crap I sometimes pen
That make me cringe and find some way to blame
My education, failing me the win
    And stronger words will work best cut in half
    Please excuse this poem; it’s a draft.


27 June 2012, Wednesday
An empty line, a call to arms to some
Who seek a quicker way to what they need
And more direct routes still to come
They keep an eye out, different breeds
Than those who stay in line and wait their turn
Polite and upstanding though they may be
Their line leads to a room in which they’ll burn
And at the very front, they still can’t see
The empty line moves fast to a room
Whose contents are and unknown quantity
And thought the pressures to conform still loom
The fearless leap the gap with certainty
    And though it seems we all are doomed to die
    Tis better to embrace the choice than lie


26 June 2012, Monday
I read a deadly thing online today
That threatens all of us, from young to old
And fills me up with dread and peaked dismay
And leaves my heart in pain, and feelings cold.
The news has told me time and time again
That leaving myself open is a crime
That paranoia is a type of ken
An understanding growing with the time.
I fear to walk, or look you in the eye
My children, safe, are locked up in my home
And every time I leave I say goodbye
Because I’m sure I’ll die out here, alone.
    The politicians rub their hands, ecstatic bliss
    O’er fear that comes right from ignorance.


22 June 2012, Friday
As time is dragging on and on I find
The light that lifts me up has faded dark
And inspiration flees, escapes my mind
And every keystroke fails to leave a mark
Exhaustion rears its ugly head and roars
A deaf’ning sound that pushes me toward sleep
And chained to desk, I can’t help but be bored
While internets, all read, yet boring me.
Exciting people find their own designs
Are better and more fun than other things
And though my voice, electrically defined,
Is loud, the words are short and bittersweet.
    And just more thing to throw into the mix:
    I’ve done so well, there’s nothing left to fix.


20 June 2012, Wednesday

I brought a thing that wasn’t seen to bear
A fruitful though from rank stupidity
I sought to understand the why and where
And break the course of stark rigidity
As part of what makes up the spark of life
A difference, not deference, is good
But everywhere you turn you’re boxed alike
And left not knowing what it is you should
A braver thought with braver sight besides
Will leave behind those cowards, call them sheep
That cower in amongst the other guys
Whose terror at the thought of wake from sleep.
    And even though it does you wrong to care
    You long to give release from their nightmare.


18 June 2012, Monday
A hovel inset on the mountainside
Our hero almost passed up in the night
And though his impetus was still to ride
He reigned the stag up, giving locals fright
A maiden, once, had said his face was grim
And that his countenance could inspire fear
And though she had professed that she loved him
Her actions marked her truthful words no smear.
He waited, mounted until dawn brought day
Then summoned forth the denizens within
Their faces, gaunt, were showing sickness’ shade
And hunger warred with fear beneath their skin
    Their numbers were not something to behold
    But our hero wrapped them in his fold.


14 June 2012, Thursday 
And in the wilderness, thick hunger struck
Our hero once a city boy, ‘tis true
And all the food he’d come upon with luck
Was, though he rationed all of it, consumed.
A trap he laid, a few snares set to snag
The unsuspecting varmints, rodents, too
Did trap the leg of a foul-tempered stag
Which, bit enough to ride, was tangled cruel.
Our hero, wearied, walking on his feet
And sensing food was not the only thing
Did have the present thought of mind to free
The stag, and tame it, brought to bring
    And through the wilderness he rode
    And onto plains of ruinous they strode


13 June 2012, Wednesday
The congregation stands as though from stone
High priestess fans the flames around the stake
As she would sacrifice one of their own
The people, muted, spells they cannot break
Our hero wanders in to storm’s center
And wonders what the hell is going on
The priestess doesn’t stop for glib banter
But hurls a spell of fiery hot iron
The hero, ducking, dodges dips and ducks
Evading all the hellish thunderbolts
And, lastly, leaning on uncommon luck
He slices off her head with sudden jolt.
    The people, wakened from their spell of stone
    Then fled the scene, our hero left alone.


12 June 2012, Tuesday
A rotted building falling in the night
Reduced to ashen smoke, metallic cloud
Erupts in silence left by city’s blight
Encases blocks within cementish clouds.
The hero sees the writing writ in dust
That cities have become the tombs of man
And taking out his sword, cleans off the rust
And gath’ring all his things, he takes a stand.
The nightfall at his back, the day to face
He strides along the broken, bleached sidewalk
And searches for survivors of his race
To use his sword to protect their lives and stock.
    And rising from the dawn, commits anew
    To keeping promises for man’s renewal.


11 June 2012, Monday
A line upon the sand I dig with sticks
I held together to construct a spade
Another line, then deeper both, restrick
The flow of water, if, by chance, it rain.
A tarp is hung, bright blue against the green
A backdrop high above, next to the fire,
The lines are tied off, wrapped from tree to tree
Giving all the shade and space desired
The hammocks hung where best to catch a nap
And rocks are piles round to pit the fire
And food is hoisted up as though a trap.
    In just two hours, the camping prep is through
    And I despair; I have nothing to do.


08 June 2012, Friday
A home’s a house that houses halls you love
And sets your mind at ease when you get there.
It feels as thought you’ve wasted, toiled and strove
To get right puts you here instead of there.
To walk the rooms and halls and streets and parks
And get the feeling that you’d never leave
Will then create a smoothness in your heart,
A time when you embrace what you believe.
The settling that is bemoaned abroad
On TV and the internet’s Hulu
Has less to do with really growing up
Than making money off of all of you.
    Dissatisfaction breed a baser need
    That advertisers tap to feed their greed.


07 June 2012, Thursday 
A feeling fought for fleeing fame undone
A seeing sought a song for sweet sunshine
A nose, knowing naught but needs of none
A listen learned and ling’ring on the line
A tasty trinket tossed to taken tree
A sense of singing, signs of silent screens
To gather gladly, goading girls to glee
And being born, of boredom being been.
A whisper wildly willing wisdom wild
A touch, a tickle tapped on tapered tome
A brain the bends and bears the bearing by
And calls the callous capers cause to come
    And with the senses of the mind go I
    To reach the farthest breaking point, to fly.


06 June 2012, Wednesday
A vast amount of sugar clogs my veins
And shakes my arms and legs with energy
And slows responses from my sweetened brain
While all the empty cals keep me hungry.
The waist expands if left to own device
And muscles soften and yet tighten more
And old age sneaks up on feet of mice
And slowly turns this body weak and sore.
The injuries of youthful confidence
Resurface once defenses are worn down
And now my knee aches daily, no defense
From packing on the points in Lubbock town
    So early morning, the gym you will find me
    So the mirror doesn’t ask me, “who is he?”


05 June 2012, Tuesday
A broken battered truck beside the road
A shipwreck, hulking, rusting red and blue
The broken windows, faded bricks, an old
Forgotten building, once an institute
‘neath waist high weeds of empty city lots
The gilded domes of ancient cars are hid
And gap-toothed barns have faded red to brown
While trees find purchase in an old child’s bed
The rutted road, once flat, has broken down.
Amidst sunlight, forgotten relic looms
To shade and protect rodents, bug and plants
And now its silent heart becomes a tomb
Imprisoning the faded hopes of man.
    And stepping light to not disrupt the dust
    Photograph a thing beautied by rust.


04 June 2012, Monday
The Monday Blues are something from a myth
That tells you you don’t like your current life
And keeps you wrapped up, boxed up like a stiff,
A corpse that that never will arise to see the light.
A weekend is a time for warriors
To break away from doing what they’re told
And seek a way to get up off all fours
For once to face the day as young and bold.
This time it flies away so fleeting fast
Because of sitting, watching the TV.
Despite six thousand channels, just one act
Is all that take your time that once was free.
    To feel the weekend time is one well done
    Forget the entertainment, help someone.


31 May 2012, Thursday
A moonlit rise of planetside delight
While masks and helmets feed us healthy air
Something flits through thick, still air of night
And drags off ensign Roberts by her hair.
The three of us then huddled, back to back
And talked of ways to make it through alive
But the Lieutenant ordered we attack
And it was only me who would survive.
I hid amongst the rocks I thought were safe
Until the ooze upon them ate my suit
And gaping holes let in the pois’nous fate
That changed me into those who me pursued.
    And as the misty airs of Offland rise
    I seek more men to eat, myself despise.


29 May 2012, Tuesday
Insane to see the sweetest source of red
Beyond the reach of tiny, mortal man
To bring about the rising of the dead
And singing the sweetest hymn of all the damned,
And, rising, feasting on the living souls
Who run and, screaming cause the world to fall,
The tide of those whose hunger is control
And turns their moaning faces on us all.
The folly rising from our aptitude
For altering the world as we see fit
For throught the universe’s solitude
Lies endless ways, we bury us in shit.
    The forces of undead begin to rise
    Foretelling all the world of Man’s demise.


25 May 2012, Friday
In breaking left and breaking right I’ve found
That nothing but the straight and narrow works
And being open without being bound
Can keep you on the path thought the road forks.
Adventure calls and tries to pull us all
Though strong we stay to keep our lives in check
We see the possibilities, they call
To pull us strongly toward the rocks, to wreck.
The status quo has been called a death
By those whose choices painted corner traps
And with their every living, straining breath,
Will keep on with their outraged attack.
    Seeing through the rage and temptation,
    The world reveals its ordered self, to some.


24 May 2012, Thursday
There was a word, more perfect than the rest
That flowed from out my hands onto the screen
And, laying there, I knew it was the best
That ever man or woman then would see.
The word a Beaut, perfection in its form
Was different from all those that did surround
And in its letters soft and kind and warm,
The perfect word was set to do me proud.
But context is the king of those who right the word
And in its way, it did not fit beside
The other words, that flowed til Beaut deferred
Convinced me that the word must be excised.
    To truly find the best in all I write
    I must not be afraid to kill the light.


23 May 2012, Wednesday
The internet awaits with bated breath
And without patience taps collective watch
And slow content creates the kiss of death
I cannot bring myself with words to launch.
I see the tiny people sitting there
Waiting for my words to come to them
And wish of me to photograph that chair
I painted and present them to condemn.
Another thing I’ve done in recent past,
Abandoned pallets as material source
Since using them is a pain in the ass
And I have money to buy brand new boards.
    Although I know I need to write it out
    There’s something in me ‘feared to start -


22 May 2012, Tuesday
Areebo saw the blinding light surround
And pick up all his prostrate, waiting kin
And toss them, flinging bodies to the ground
The broken bones protruding through their skin.
Areebo looked and saw the light did dance
Along the waving grooves along his blade
And he would rise up, proud, and take the chance
To sacrifice his life, though not in vain.
Areebo’s strength was just his will to fight,
As he slashed and hewed the enemy,
And turned their wretched brightness into night
And then laid down for all eternity.
    And even though hour hero died at last
    He etched his name upon the stone of time.


21 May 2012, Monday
I brought a piece of briney wine to bear
And could bring brought a blinkten-see
And could be then be brought with omny-stare
To bring the briney winey soft to me.
Again eleven brings the elven draught
That sings the singsong son of earth delight
And swings the whistling whiles we wrought
But wanted winey brines of sweetness bright.
A flitter to and fritter fro anon
To bring the wine brought brunken who to drunk
A-singing sagging softness setting son
Who could forbear to bear his barest trunk.
    And flipping to and fro amidst the wine
    Aswinging droplet singing past the time


14 May 2012, Monday
I see the problems of the world too much
Which always overshadows joyous times
And though I love to laugh, and sing, and touch
The pall I cast is tantamount to crime.
This instinct, overgrown as time has passed,
Has darkened many doorways once were light
And then the smiling faces all collapse
And think I’m spoiling all their fun with spite.
The truth be told I cannot see the light
But understand the goodness that is there
And seek to hold at bay encroaching night
By traveling to its edge, and there to stare.
    You think to talk of things with me’s a bother
    You should have a conversation with my mother.


11 May 2012, Friday 
A renter’s life is one that’s full of moves
And shakes while trying to upset the norm
While nothing holds the renter to his rooms
The freedom is a hidden, thrusting sword.
And to the bosom doth he take the strike
That debt and darkness leave upon his head
And paying out for roof for all of life
When he could bank that cash for him, instead.
And moving on to growing up his fam
And needing more than just a single room
And dealing with rising prices can
O’rshade the walls he knows he cannot move.
    And though I thought the day would never show
    I’ll soon be buying land, with house in tow.


08 May 2012, Tuesday
A Gibb’ring demon stands beside your ear
And whispers, rants and jibes with unknown tongue
And though you cannot make out what you hear
Your consciousness revolts to make you glum.
You snip, you bite, you lash at those around
Who happen to be all of those you love
No consequential act will have you bound
To easing up your language and your tone.
The Gibb’ring demon speaks a tiny voice
That makes you bristly at all normal things
That even you’re not one to rejoice
Your every word contains a violent sting.
    When it’s brought up, you’d scream at everyone;
    The demon’s name is Thing You Should Have Done


07 May 2012, Monday
A busy boy, a busy bee am I
Who, loaded with the weight of everything,
Who tries to walk and fly at the same time,
Could slip and fall and drop on my own sting.
The honey gotten, broughten from the work
I put my winged shoulder to the stone
And pheromones could then drive me berserk
And have me make a beeline straight for home.
And there you will await, I won’t say queen,
You see the nectar I’ve put in our stores
But holding out some food for me to eat
Will bring me back again through this hive’s door.
    And flying, droning on through endless days
    I always find you there, despite this maze.


04 May 2012, Friday 
Nothing

03 May 2012, Thursday
Excitement unrestrained is for the young
Though I admit I had it very little then.
I seem unable to express the joyous song
Of squealing with delight at what I’m giv’n.
It’s not that I don’t truly like the thing
- Whatever trinket falls into my hands -
But my reaction stays a calm serene
As though it’s something I can’t understand.
Unless, of course, I’m really not amused
As I, in duress, cannot hold my tongue
Although the giver needs not my abuse
I cannot stop myself once I’ve begin.
    So if you will present me with something
    The best response you’re like to get: nothing.


02 May 2012, Wednesday
I feel a weight of gold upon my chest
That only gains in mass as I do try
And seek to find a way to fight for breath
Despite the mounting pressures my life.
The pockets lighter, heavy still to me
Weighing on my worried, tangled mind,
Are greater cares, while my family
Still seeks to pull ahead, but falls behind.
And even though I still can pay the bills
And even save a little, by and by,
The weight of all this gold can kill
The thrill of starting, once, to thrive.
    And once crushed underneath of all this gold
    I see my future can’t be mine to hold.


01 May 2012, Tuesday
If happiness is finding what you love
To do amongst the varied points of life
I seem to have the satisfaction drove
Upon the rocky shoals of phys’cal strife.
To lift, to haul, to crank, to pound and heft
Are simple pleasures I enjoy, fulfilled,
And even though they are not play or rest,
To me they are the things that cause me thrill.
Might be my age has brought me to this place
Where building up has o’ercome tearing down,
But I don’t mind, I look back in disgrace,
To all the actions my youth brought around.
    And though my hands have not wrought works of art
    To seek creation, I’d call it a start.


30 April 2012, Monday
I’ve seen the mighty works of peeps long gone
And thought of ways to make my presence known
While seeking methods strong to sing my song
And through the endless space of time, echo.
And with my hands I build a thing or two
Fulfilling many functions, large and small
That tables, end and coffee (living room)
And even building closets, shelves and all.
I feel connected, one with now and past
When cutting lumber, fixing broken things
And putting parts together, holding fast
With screw and nails and glue, Attachment brings.
    Until you build you cannot understand
    The operatic bliss of making things by hand.

 
27 April 2012, Friday
A busy day at work is no excuse
To throw off duties I assign myself
I could go home and make myself of use
And conquer failure that I did foretell.
But waking early, fighting all the cars
That form a slow train, dark and sad, despair;
It causes me to lose my line of thought
And seek distraction, choosing not to care.
And in the end it’s not like much is lost
The next day I jump right back on that horse
And though the stress is not worth all the cost
I feel as though this poem’s getting worse
    I try to fill the void that writing left
    For when my pen is silent, I’m bereft.


25 April 2012, Wednesday
The bread was less than fresh, it must be said;
I had to cut a little off the crust.
It was some sort of white and fungal spread
That’s not to eat, so remove it, I must.
Upon the bread went mayo and mustard
And onto them what’s left of our roast beef
One slice of turkey tops it off thus far,
Until I pile on provolone, the cheese.
The spinach piled up high was truly grand,
A green mountain, a pile of superfood.
I topped it with the break and helped it stand
While I got the knife to chop it right in two.
    To write a sonnet every day’s a bitch.
    So today I wrote for my sandwich.

24 April 2012, Tuesday
I spent the time persuading you to go
And see the world through rich untainted eyes
I opened up your thoughts and even though
I left you there, you know you can’t despise.
It’s more or less the same thing every time
To fix what’s broke is sometimes easy, too
But once again it is all on your dime
And feeling low is just something you do.
The wildness calls, and once again I go
To take what gives and what presents itself
As ease and laziness and greed and sloth
Are paving my long, sordid path to hell.
    My youth, I fought the battle of the sexes
    And on that ground, I found I slew my exes.
 

23 April 2012, Monday
I spent the morning working out myself
And with me went my wife of many days
And though Past Me did call my gym time hell
I feel as though it takes some pain away.
It’s true that aches increase as I get old
And ligaments, they tighten ever more
And sagging manboobs perk up in the cold
I seek to banish those thoughts from my world.
I stretch and stretch and time it slows to die
And all the while my legs are in such pain
I roll around, seeking a place to lie
And breathe the breath of the insane.
    My body falls apart as time does pass
    And to prevent that, working off my ass.

20 April 2012, Friday
I see the sun is shining out of doors
And all the green of spring has come at last
And still sit and stare at screen, and bored
I try to visualize away the past.
When youth and time stretched out and far away
The spec of death did loom, but never close
I journeyed cross a land’s historic stay
And slept in craggy mount’s outpost.
And Paradiso shone in times of day
The outermost limits of human roams
We walked of miles of switching sways
And dodged the potholes caused by falling stones.
    Upon descent, we reached the other side
    Where campers and French people did reside.


19 April 2012, Thursday
I had a while to pick about ideas
A strongly see what I could understand
And swimming through the foggy riven sea
Did fight to get to the clear thought of land.
And muddled stomach leads to cloudy thought
My body’s underestimated pain;
I cannot eat, though loaves of bread begot
And spending time on leaves of rocks insane.
The bubbling, brewing batch of belly’s bane,
A strident time of wond’ring what to do
Who eating just a morsel causes sprain
Within the gut, and makes water of poo.
    I try to seriously speak of it
    But in the end, this poem’s just plain shit.


18 April 2012, Wednesday
Distracted, unfortunately


17 April 2012, Tuesday 
A pain within my chest is strong indeed
And drives my need to stand up at my job
Distraction works to to keep the pain at ease
And exercise, I think, will quell the throb.
Uneasy tension grips my living world
And stress I feel cannot be measured small
Though gas, it is, or mucus from my cold,
Or equally an issue, not at all.
My health, I think, sits on a razor’s edge
Though, truth be told I think it’s same for all
I can’t but think, or get it through my head
That pain and death within me yet forestalls.
    You know you’re old when just the smallest pain
    Will cause you to examine life again.


16 April 2012, Monday
Today was a good day, but I still totally forgot to write

15 April 2012, Sunday
Built an end table, or at least started it

14 April 2012, Saturday
Babysitting, too terrified to write

13 April 2012, Friday
Weekend!


12 April 2012, Thursday
A broken barnyard building’s gone to rot
And all the grasses rise to hips and eyes
And peeking from the grownup, wooded lot
Are heads of beasts and spiders, rats and flies.
A host of holes will herald time to come
When lonely building falls into decay
And nature takes away the life of some
Transforming into life in light of day
To grow too green and rich in summer’s light
And grow to flaxen gold and then to brown
And deep and black and cold in winter’s night
And, fecund rains to wear the building down
    Above it all and all about the same
    A statue cannot stand before the rain.


11 April 2012, Wednesday
The waves are driven windily before
But all is calm along the bay behind
The breaks that break the breakers’ backs offshore
And set but little waves, that cause no mind.
From lofty perch I scan to far horize
And take in buildings, smog, and sunny day
And wintry cold that blankets fair springtime
With snow that limits field of view, as haze.
And on and on roll hills of short, squat shape
A short river of silted waste wanders
Down through the stinking, hard industrial wastes
That form the border of this downtown squander.
    I know I sound myself as quite the judge
    To tell the truth, I find this town, I love.


10 April 2012, Tuesday 
The inspiration is elusive beasts
That haunt my moods and trip me through my days
Most times I find them briefly, then they flee
And nothing that I do can make them stay.
I seek the word through sifting inner thoughts
And bring my hopes to bare on ‘lectric screens
End though my time is empty, I am frought
With tiny doubts, distractions, and daydreams.
It seems that ADD has added me
To its list of those it can affect
But I’m just bored and trying not to be
A listless person I could not respect.
    And though I’m trying hard to push it through
    Oft times the weekends spell my writings’ doom.



09 April 2012, Monday
I wanted once to be the kind of slob
That Charles Bukowski wrote his books about.
I lived a life that would avoid a job
And drank the drink I could not do without.
Success, I thought was put together C
Plus B plus A, and all the while I sunk
Into a morass, deep indebted me,
But wanted to be more than just a drunk.
I really wasn’t worthy of the task
Of self destruction or abandonment
Of all my hopes and dreams, I had to ask:
Will all this sadness bring enlightenment?
    The questions that I asked myself provide
    The reason, now, I work a nine-to-five.


08 April 2012, Sunday 
Went to a baseball game. Root, root rooted for the home team.
It was not a shame.

07 April 2012, Saturday

Parents came to visit.

06 April 2012, Friday
 

The office life abounds with quiet decay
From low-pile rugs to kitchen flooring tile
And all that grinds to dust and blows away
With pressboard desks and air so still
And wait and wait and wait and wait and wait
Until you feel the time stretch on
a movie scene where images stretches back
Away from

I’m tense from waiting, my legs ache from it

[unfinished]
 


05 April 2012, Thursday
My office sits on higher ground, I sit
Above the teeming masses at their play.
The balls are hit, the runs are scored, and yet
The overtime will keep too many late.
The normal time for getting home is but one hour
And that includes me walking to the car
But now I fear the rushing of the crowd
And realize I won’t get very far.
An hour or two, and maybe more to wait;
To sit and listen to an iPod book,
A man could have a worse, unearnéd fate
An have his reading all stored on his Nook.
    Though getting home I’m sure will be a chore
    At least I’ll not spend time, while waiting, bored.


04 April 2012, Wednesday
 The price of Boston housing is obscene
And travel there, a challenge. Nonetheless,
A deep and great part of my life it’s been.
But honestly, I know it’s not the best.
Seattle has the ways of old kung fu,
And markets far and wide for freshest stuff,
And though I loved the games and all the food,
I really have to say, I’d had enough.
Though Pittsburgh, Lubbock, Texas, and Rhode’s Isle
Have been a few where I have hung my hat,
They’re all the same; I’ve given each a trial,
And not a one has really been all that.
    It seems as though I’ve finally found a home:
    Cleveland! Akron! No more shall I roam.


03 April 2012, Tuesday
While thinking hard of center, left, and right,
When trying to describe my deep beliefs,
I find descriptors lacking in insight
And denying what I think we need.
The politicians have the right of way,
And seek redress for wrongs the country’s seen;
Too far into oppression they have swayed
The brutal cost is shared by the people, we.
The fear, the shouts of danger far and wide
Have seen us shutter windows in the day
And all the threats that are there, magnified
To keep we people out of false harm’s way.
    I never thought it would be false to say
    I live within the land of free man, and of brave.


02 April 2012, Monday 
In dreaming soft, enlightened stills of sense
That swirl and dance upon the deadened mind,
A change, thus warped and changéd tense,
The energetic thoughts congeal to find.
A vaulted room, and climbing stair to which
A giant spider is found without its web
And swords swung hard and brightly magic pitched
To strike the beast upon the earth, lies dead.
Again we find ourselves upon the stair
In vaulted room with no walls to tell
That leads to dire arachnid’s airy lair
To send the beast once more to rotting hell.
    And though the dream did make, remake the kill
    I was impressed by my own bo-staff skill.


01 April 2012, Sunday 
No joke, just didn’t get to it.

31 March 2012, Saturday 
Out of town.



30 March 2012, Friday 
Skipped it. Busy day.

 
29 March 2012, Thursday
Just watched Jurassic Park another time
Can’t tell the exact number, but it’s big
It ages well, I really have to say
For 20 years, Sam Jackson’s rocked the cigs.
The SFX, I do agree, best all
Their counterparts, the green screen always kills
The mood and tension, casts a pall,
and just like art, I would display the stills.
The acting, good enough I know, but then
The Grant was in Event Horizon’s cast
So when I saw his big, wide toothy grin
A chill throughout my body always passed.
    And for all the nonbelievers haven’t heard
    Don’t forget to say the fucking magic word


28 March 2012, Wednesday
I’d tell my son, if one exists about
Mistakes I’ve made, of trusting every word
That’s said by lots of people, oft portrayed
As foolish, noting nothing so absurd.
I’d tell my daughter, newly born, of life’s
Most endless game, of victims, prey to men
Who, dressed as pleasant as a girl could like,
Will tear her down for want of strong defense.
I’d tell my kids to gird their loins for war
Without the house is stranger world of hurt
And they must fight to level off the score
And damage all of those who’d hurt them first.
    And though the world might think it oddly crass,
    I’d teach them kids to kick some mighty ass.


27 March 2012, Tuesday
To tell a story deep and rich and true -
And still leave out the bitter, boring parts -
To quest to pull the reader up and through
The writer’s mind to end from very start
It’s these that are the building blocks of tale
Of fiction, lifelike writing or the verse
That brings it up from spoken stale
And horrid cliché writing at its worst.
The word and sentence structure is all right;
To focus on just that is much the same
As trying to bring something new to light
And seeking in that innovation fame.
    I long to tell that story, rich and true;
    I beg that you would come along. Won’t you?

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