The Truth

Never have I ever wondered what things lay in front of me, the futures not a question, I know exactly what’s in store for me. I don’t live for today, I live for forever; looking ahead with a clever grip on the trip that I’m about to take with whoever has the ability to sever the ties with the lies that they live while we endeavor to become whoever the fuck we wanna be. And whichever lever we decide to pull is a a tool that we can use to spool and weave whatever reality we want to achieve because this world is ours to perceive. We can talk real or deceive, either way you’ll believe what we create and conceive ‘cause the passion we grieve is sewn so deep in our sleeve that while we want to relieve we just inform the naive that we don’t want a reprieve we’re just soldiers away without leave.

That’s right, we’re AWOL.

AWOL like the kindred spirits we enthrall as we relate to the masquerade ball that we call life where all we do is don a shawl so we can hide behind the wide hall of sins we commit. We try to stand tall and paint over the writing on the wall that unapologetically tells the real story, breaking protocol as it tells the truth we only see when we look in the mirror and ask ourselves “is this me?”

The real you is the one you see when you’re all alone, so don’t lie to yourself and think you’re the person everyone else thinks you are.

I may have turned my back on Him, but as a man thinks in his heart, so is he. That’s right, I might feel abandoned by God but that don’t mean I can’t live my life based on a Proverb that reverberates through me, one you’ll find in Chapter twenty three. And as I fall onto my knees, begging for my mind’s release as it slowly capsizes

in these treacherous seas, I can’t help but ask why this has happened to me. Why have I been plagued by a mind that’s so inclined to constantly remind itself how unaligned it is with the rest of the world. The torment I find in this unconfined, sadly maligned existence does nothing but blind me from the things I so passionately grind for.

My drive is relentless. I don’t care if you think I’m arrogant. I’m real, and I believe that I can do anything I put my mind to. And you know what? You should feel the same, because this life is what you make it.

People will always, always rise to the level they believe they can, and no further. No human is better or more capable than the other. It is a simple question of how much faith one has in themselves.

It’s so simple. You feel your limit on the inside, which is precisely why you’ve tried as hard as you have to get wherever you are. But the ones who know no limits, who know that every great person in history started as no one are the ones who rise to the top. Do you want to know why? Because they don’t stop, ever. They never quit, and forever apply themselves until they sever the ties from their old life and welcome themselves to their new whatever.

Excuses are for the weak. And if that stirs frustration within you, then you have proven my point.

Life is a constant examination of priority. There is no authority dictating our behavior other than our own; and whatever desires take up the majority of our thoughts, we act upon. And yet we still try to complicate things when we act in hate, attempting to justify our behavior so we can lift the weight of guilt we should feel when we aggravate others. We do this so we can advocate how virtuous we are, when the truth is we simply can’t admit that selfishness is our defining trait, lying to ourselves so we can close the gate of self-awareness as we misstate the kind of person we truly are, caught by the same hook that we always bait.

I envy those who can clear their conscience at the flick of a switch.

Sadly, as I write this I know that some will condemn this statement as a cynical rant that I just had to vent, when the truth is that they’re just projecting their own malcontent as a result of the subconscious recognition that the truth hurts.

Therein lies the irony.

The irony that those who misunderstand me are the very ones who need to examine the person they imagine they are. The ones who think this was written by someone who thinks they’re above them.

I don’t.

No one is above anyone. Every human is graced with the same potential as others.

The only difference is how you use that potential.

My New World

The other day I went out and bought this big ass terrarium. At first I wanted something else, like a ferret, or salt aquarium. But I ended up changing my mind. Something about that enormous, transparent habitat just appealed to me. Not sure why. Anyway, I took it home, set it down, walked away and spent the rest of the day doing various chores around the house. Later, as the day wound down and I finished getting ready to set sail to Slumbertown, I stood beside my bed and stared at this empty tank in front of me, and thought: “Now what?” Well, I stared for awhile longer, pondering all the things I could put inside. Like lizards, or turtles, or the disembodied limbs of my enemies, ya know? But then, for some reason, I figured I’d try to think bigger, like a sugar glide or boa snake or some awesome theme park hamster slide, but then I internally heard a voice say “Hey Matt! Can you kindly shut up, and actually decide?” (Sometimes I forget that my brain actually speaks and isn’t just along for the ride).

Okay maybe that last part, I confide, didn’t really happen. I lied. So what? This is MY story, dammit, and I’m the guide; you’re just here for me to preside as YOU sit there along for the ride. Like my bitch ass brain should be. And you know what el – okay I’m just playin. I apologize.

Lets get back to the empty tank, shall we?

There I was. A literal micro-world of possibilities sitting there before me when all of a sudden, it came to me. Oh my God! I can populate this thing with like, an entire cornucopia of different organisms and let them all co-exist. Just like Earth! It’ll be my own little universe to create; with myself, of course, ruling over the entire domain in control of its fate.

So I thought about that for a moment.

As I stood there, so many things started coursing through my head. Things like how the tank sits next to my bed, and what if I moved it to the corner instead? My brain considered that but eventually said “Just leave it there Matt. Heavy lifting? We know that’s a thing that you hate and you dread. Because to be candid, you’re kind of a pussy.” And before I could reply to my ever-annoying mind, something happened. I, at last, realized something of grave importance which would directly affect the internal debate currently transpiring in my skull.

I realized l had bolted the damn tank to the table earlier that day, and that I couldn’t move the stupid thing even if I wanted to. So that took care of that.

Then things started to get a bit more serious. The above realization had freed up my thought, and I started to jot what kinds of things could be bought to populate this little glass plot. I wondered how much time I’d allot to spend in this spot, as the truth that I fought is that there’s only so much time that I’ve got.

That’s when I decided.

I’ll put whatever the hell I want in this thing! Let’s Noah’s Ark the Hell out of it. After all, I own this dominion, no? Of course I do. This tiny world was mine to create. So again, that took care of that.

I would run the place my way. Or ways, I should say, because hey – why limit myself to one set of rules or pathway? Wouldn’t it be more fun to rule one way on weekends and another on workdays?

So that was my decision.

Ironically, I decided that deciding didn’t warrant my abiding by the expectations usually presiding over the world WE live in that, admittedly, could use much, much better guiding. Would I mimic this world of constant dividing forcing families into hiding with a fear that’s never subsiding as their dreams are ever sliding down a hopeless, empty chasm? Or would I opt to be providing? The latter, if I’m confiding, that I wish was more closely coinciding with the regimes currently overriding any form of free thought or challenge to their authority as they quell dissent with brutal chiding. Perhaps I could create both environments, depending on my mood. Sky is the limit I suppose.

Yes, this will be Matt’s world.

This would be a world for me, alone, to create. A world where Matt can dictate who they’ll love and who they’ll hate, and whether one lives in an estate or whether they instead await a much less privileged, unfair, sadly hopeless fate. A world I own; my own private city-state where I can close the real world’s gate, retreating as the night is late to the creatures I rule, as I mandate that they worship me as “Matt, The All-Knowing; The Loved, The Feared…but Mostly The Great.” I imagine that would very much elate, as my animal instinctual desire to dominate can be an appetite that finally, I can satiate.

That’d be cool, right?

Then my Brain did that thing again. That thing I keep telling it not to. It dug. Deeper and deeper.

And I had an epiphany.

All of these creatures that I dreamt to control might actually have their own aspiration or goal. Who was I to keep them tied to this pole that my mind had created; after all, they all have a soul, don’t they? And, if we’re being candid, for one to feel whole they shouldn’t have to hide in some hole that they dug to avoid paying a toll to some hovering, judgmental ruler who more closely resembles a troll than the benevolent creator that some poor schmuck described millennia ago on a crusty, crumbling scroll.

So I changed my mind yet again.

And I bought a fucking turtle. Because truthfully, my brain was annoying the hell out of me. I installed this little mini-swimming pool for it and everything. Hell, I even got the little shit a floating lily pad for those times it desired extra, extra laziness. Oh, turtles. How uneventful their lives are. This turtle’s existence, however, would be eventful as shit. ‘Cause this turtle, unlike any before in the history of Turtledom, lived in Matt’s World. It would be treated as a King. Actually wait; let’s say prince. It’d be treated like a prince. I’m the King. Duh.

Lucky turtle.

Oh, and I call the thing an “it” because I have absolutely no idea how to identify the gender of a turtle without using means that are entirely too…intimate. So how do I name it, I wondered? Well, I decided on the path of least resistance, and just named it Pat. Sure, there are dozens of gender neutral names, but hey. Pat rhymes with Matt. Now we’re two peas on a lily pad, god dammit. And to anyone making fun…you’re obviously just jealous you don’t have a Pat of your own. Haters gon’ hate.

Anyway, a curious thing happened after I (and Pat) got settled to go to Sleepburg.

I thought back to that thing which, before, I would laud. All that power I wanted, which to me now just seems odd. I pictured an image of the creator I so recently imagined I’d be, and suddenly I was swept by an eerie sense of awe. Awe by that place where my mind’s steps had just trod. The thing I fear most; that power is a thing I desire and applaud. A thing, to be frank, that’s just a corrupted facade. The empty, false confidence of believing my own fraud. A dream that I now realize exposes a harsh truth; which is the fact that I’m enormously flawed.

Because why, so recently, had I thought to maraud an entire universe of creatures as if they were just inmates, helplessly at the mercy of my personal firing squad? This question, which sawed at my brain as my frozen thoughts were all thawed as I started to prod, questioning my own moral fibers with a psychological measuring rod – I was suddenly, overwhelmingly consumed by the most profound of considerations.

See, this world I had imagined just hours ago wouldn’t be far removed from the world that WE know. Had I thrown those poor creatures in that tank all alone, sitting back as I watch them all fight, die, or grow, knowing that I could intervene at any point down below – shouldn’t I? I mean if with all of that power I could use and bestow, what reason would I have to let my own creatures woe? As peace, I forego; what kind of monster would that make me, watching them suffer when at the snap of my finger, away it’d all go? What kind of creator could do that to the very things he put there to begin with? They didn’t ask to be put there! They owe me nothing, right? Why would I do that?

Then I recalled my old thoughts yet again. I recalled all that darkness which my own brain had thankfully outlawed just hours before, as I was confronted by a question that was narrowing my beliefs that were once far too broad.

I asked, though I silently feared the truth; were those the same thoughts that were considered…by God?

Afraid to Feel

Vulnerability.

It seems like something most despise

So let me be frank; I’ll tell no lies

Truth is, I’m quite conflicted

About something often on my mind

I suppose I’ll just be candid

Bluntly share this struggle of mine

Relationships.

Yes that’s right. Which may come as a surprise

After all, I love to socialize, whether with a girl or with the guys

But every time, without fail

When it seems like things are getting real

I tuck my tail, turn, and fold the hand my feelings deal

You see, its not commitment that deters me

No, one love’s enough for me

Rather, the fear of failing

Is what keeps me cowered, on my knees

You all know what I’m planning

What I’m doing with my time

I’ve poured out my intentions

On so many poems and lines

I know myself, my actions

That if I gave myself to one

This path I’ve laid before me

Will fade; get overrun

And this, quite simply, explains

Why I shut myself off; reserve

I hate the thought of dating

If I can’t give what they deserve

At times, I envy others

Who can date without concern

Selfishly quenching that emotional need

To feel wanted, loved, and yearned

But as I look at my own past

(Details, for now I won’t share)

I witnessed, intimately, a woman spend her life

More than earning something that just simply…wasn’t there

These words, right now, I am writing

Aren’t inscribed in hope that you’ll read

I mean this with absolute sincerity

It’s this act of writing that I need

It’s my outlet of expression

To be vulnerable, as said before

It helms the ship I’m sailing

Behind my jaded, lonely door

So I hope this answers that question

I get so often – these words are real

There’s one, very simple, explanation

It’s that I’m just sadly…afraid to feel

Fueled by Doubt

The greatest writers, artists, and bards, we’re threads all cut from a cloth

One and the same, we’ve all been through pain, to our craft we commit and betroth

Just like our fathers who preceded and left, we all have a start; Chapter One

Unknown and belittled, our bodies are none, but destined to be bodies of some

The journey is long, our paths are unknown, only our goals lie ahead

And as we lay down the first stone of our paths, the same things, always, are said

“Impossible”, “Never”, “It’s all just a dream”, “You’re no one and going nowhere”

“Why can’t you be normal and work like the rest, you’re chasing something that’s not there”

Then, for the strong, first progress is made, confirming what we always knew

Shocking the others who judged us before, as winds of surprise now sweep through

That’s when you feel it, vindication has come, igniting the brightest of sparks

Energy intoxicates, the drug of success, our ironclad mind, it embarks

And then the first test of our passion arrives, as those who observe pull you down

For reasons unknown, jealousy’s abound, they hate this attention we’ve found

But legends aren’t like them, they thrive on their words, driven by skeptics who hate

With smiles and nods we say “just watch what I do”, as the life of a book we create

As many respond and cry “grandeur, conceit”, but the truth is they just don’t understand

We don’t think that we’re better or above any else, we just know our true selves, this small band

See we simply won’t quit, it’s just how we were cut, we keep going, don’t stop till we’re there

“Failure’s no option” is no common cliché, to us it’s a life, it’s our prayer

So I say to the haters: my words, don’t forget. Each verse, every line, you remember

If my drive was a year, it would start on day one, stay full throttle till end of December

Relentlessly paving roads few have before with stones made of passion, this route

So to any who read this with skeptical eyes, let me thank you – I’m fueled by your doubt.

Alliterate

Every thought I think of, every theory I throw down is tight

Never needing nothing now, no noose around my neck at night

Put out paper pad and pen, place em and pull down the light

 

That’s when it starts

That’s when it begins

I think about my life in parts and think about all of my sins

 

Tear the words through tightened throat, these tears I think they titillate

Streaming south they start to stop, but some still stay and stimulate

Help me heal and help my heart, help me love and help me hate

 

Then it all stops

And I pause for a breath

I see the puddled teardrops, then I think about her death

 

Fueling all this fire and the fucking fear I feel from Him

Wonder whether we all rise or whether there’s no soul within

Answers are all that I ask, answer I won’t ask again

 

I want it to end

These words, they’re all real

They’re not to make another friend, I care not how they make you feel

 

These thoughts they tear me thread from thread, but help me think things through and straight

Writing wraps my wounds with words when whiskey won’t and wine won’t wait

Owning every ounce of me, an outlet I obliterate

 

This craft is all I have in life. I play with words; alliterate.

Picture This

Picture this, a long hallway all lined with words

There’s writing on walls

Perched atop the banister are ravens, the blackest birds

As you softly tiptoe through these dark, sadistic halls

Picture this, an unmarked door confronts you

You know not what’s within

A frightening cry, it pierces through

Compels you to come in

Picture this, scratched on the paint as you step inside

Letters on the wall

Spelling names you recognize

Your friends and family, one and all

Picture this, the afterlife, this dimmed out room; it’s dark reveal

Their fates, when death they sow

Now tell me, if this God is real

Would you really want to know?

Never Satisfied

My biggest fear isn’t what I thought it’d be

It’s not the day of final rest, not the day I cease to be

It’s that my time alive isn’t spent the way it needs to be

That all I did was sit back and react to what’s been done to me

That’s not the path she laid before, not the path she paved, you see

Her lessons still resound within, under the umbrella tree

But sometimes when I sit here thinking what all lies ahead, I grieve

And wish instead I’d grew up, obtained what I used to believe

The life they taught me I should have, picket fences painted white

Ph.D, tenure and the other things they say are “right”

Then my thoughts drift back to her, and the talks we shared at night

As my focus fades into the place that it belongs, to write

Do the things in life that as a kid I’d always dreamt I’d do

Even though my father told me “go to school, just think it through”

There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t give to have just one more day

To spend with her, to do the things we talked about, the things we’d say

All I am, all I’ll be, everything that I create

They’re all because of her and things she’d teach me when the night was late

As I look into this mirror, I know she’s here and hasn’t died

She lives through me and fuels my work – it’s why I’m never satisfied

Separate

Slowly open up the door, see the clock; its five fifteen

Loosen up the shirt, look in the mirror; a familiar scene

Now the long days over, let’s decide what all we’re gonna do

Whole day spent at work just thinking ‘bout the things I’d do with you

So much time is wasted at these places we don’t wanna be

Feeling like a slave to this whole system and economy

Forty hours every week, that’s what they expect from you

If you don’t follow their rules, everyone looks down at you

I want to know what it was like when no one cared for money, see

The times when people got along and only cared for family

All the things they throw at us, somehow making us believe

Self worth is dictated by the wealth and fortune we achieve

When did people lose themselves? How did people let this be?

Corruption gets rewarded while the good just sit there silently

 

The problem isn’t at the place or where our dirty fingers point

The problem is that we’re all cool with these sins because we’ll just anoint

Save the evil thoughts or dreams and all that for confessional

Please take a minute, read these words inscribed by a professional

You know the weird things that you do when no one’s looking, all alone?

That’s the real you yeah that’s right your only audience is that cell phone

You hide behind a screen just texting saying all the things

You think will make you look like what you aren’t and all the fake it brings

 

Take a moment for a breath. Passion pours out on this page

I think we’re uninformed in what we call an Information Age

But who am I to say, right? I’m just a nobody

I try to just ignore it but you know I can’t you know I see

So many people who are good getting dealt shit hands it seems

All these folks who cast a wish and just end up with shattered dreams

Its sad

It really is

But I’ll just keep on writing knowing one day I’ll get through to kids

Hoping some day I’ll catch on and get a platform to unscrew the lids

But for now

I’ll just bide my time

Ripping out my heart and soul and paste ‘em on each line

Cause one day

I know I’ll be great

Legends aren’t made overnight, no, they take years to create

And that’s just it, see

To make it in a world, filled with vice and hate

You’ve gotta check yourself out of the system and just

Separate

Nether Plane

The Nether Plane

At times, we others seem to feel

That things are different, things aren’t real

Our jaded eyes begin to tire

And sink into a darkened spire

Ideas meander, as dream creates

Strange beasts our mind imagine-ates

Our thoughts are anchored, ball and chain

And dragged into this nether plane

Amidst the silence, amidst the black

So few there are, for most turn back

Intoxicate, it does, this realm

A sea-less captain, without a helm

No fate to fall on those who come

No prodigy, with deeds undone

No solace for a desperate mire

No ember breathes, among this fire

Evil strikes, into the heart

To all who stay, as most depart

This shaded black, it rests within

The ones who preach, and yet live sin

Awaken, now, to you at rest

Do not forget this mindful test

The largest grow from smallest grain

And all return, to nether plane

Priorities

Hello my friend, please dim the light

A tale I have for you tonight

About a man, who long ago

Was hanging up the mistletoe

For ‘twas December, and time for he

To decorate the Christmas tree

This man; a husband, a father, too

His family should come first, it’s true

And yet ‘twas something, about this man

He always tried, hard as he can

To make sure all his neighbors, friends

Thought of him highly, through rosy lens

Even when his family’d thirst

His image always would come first

When the world would look, they’d see

This sad and false reality

And on that day, as he hung the tree

A decision forced to make, was he

The ornaments were not enough

To fill all of the branches up

‘Twas just enough, in this small crate

For half the tree to decorate

One side, beauty; one side, bare

And as he finished, the man stood there

As they shifted, his eyes looked slow

Between the room and bay window

Who would see the lights? Decide

His family? Or the world outside

He did not want them all to see

He can’t afford to dress this tree

Frowning, as his thoughts collide

He chose to face the lights outside

When he was done, he turned to bear

His five year old son standing there

“Hello Daddy,” he said to Dad

“What’s wrong? The tree, it looks so sad.”

Looking at the boy, he said

“Don’t fret my son, it’s time for bed.”

He tucked him in, and with a blink

For one brief moment, began to think

But just as always, his thoughts would steer

To justifying; his conscience, clear

Then, as he laid down with his wife

He smiled, proud of his false life

So now, my friend, some thoughts have I

To share with you, about his lie

For far too often, our story here

Rings true to others, both far and near

And is, I ask, it really fair?

For any true “friend” wouldn’t care

How rich, how poor, our quirks and plights

Truth is that we all have these nights

I wonder why it caused him strife

Those folks weren’t even in his life

Remember friend this story, please

And consider your priorities

The Real You

The real inside you wants to out

Because you know what you’re about

It’s scratching, teething, ripping in

Creating so much real tension

The world is wasted, the time is ours

To fix these fucking scrapes and scars

These people all have gone to hell

It’s time we step up, fix the shell

Well do it right, not what they did

Well take this place and fix it, kid

The time has come, let’s get it done

Let’s own this world with endless fun

Let’s make religions, get along

The red and blue will sing their song

It isn’t hard, for all it takes

Is you and me, to be awake

My Black Inkwell

This is a story, of that I’ll tell

As I fill my black inkwell

A pen and pad, it works you see

Yet naught compares to quill, and ink

To sit within this room of black

And think of all the world shall lack

The pain I feel, I think it so

The same as Edgar Allen Poe

A Telltale Heart, a seedless plum

A tortured Pit and Pendulum

F. Scott Fitzgerald knew it too

Society is just a ruse

A dance, a game, a twist, a turn

We writers ask “when will they learn”

The answer lies so far within

A world of malice, hate, and sin

The times have changed, the people, not

For money’s always paid and bought

It’s ruined folks, brought out the worst

The evil, bad, their power thirst

The ones who see it, smart they are

The stronger intellect goes far

The ones who don’t, who lie and cheat

Shall have their shame drug on the street

No, B!

Why does he just stare at me

As I’m driving, silently

Watching oh so creepily

Licking chops so hungrily

Does he think of eating me?

Does he want his bowl to be

Filled with water, does he see

How his gaze drives me crazy?

I must breathe, I think I’m free

Surely he is not hungry

For my flesh and bones, I think

He just likes to look at me

Phew I’m calm, finally

I’ll just turn and drive, as we

Wait…whats this you’re doing, B?

NO! Oh my God, someone help me!!

It’s Cruel, You See

Gazing in this mind of black

At all the things that I’d take back

If only it was kind to me

But time, regret, its cruel, you see

The things I wish I hadn’t done

They never fade, they never run

They occupy my mind at night

And fill my heart with doubt and spite

Oh, to have it back, now lost

I’d pay the toll, at any cost

To right the wrongs, that I transgress

To heal the pain, as I regress

Alas, its time that’s cruel, you see

And as I look back, woefully

The past, it grows so rapidly

To haunt my wounded memory

Together

In my chamber, losing sleep

Rocking, thinking, silently

Watching broadcasts quietly

Observe this world, so violently

I wonder if the day will be

When people live, peacefully

Shedding war, with treaty

No longer loving fearfully

It all could change, if only we

Would be the change we want to see

We must admit, reluctantly

To fix the “us”, it starts with “me”

Don’t take offense, the truth, you see

Is no one lives life perfectly

We’re all together, I decree

To live, one human family

Doubt

Some folks believe me

Yet others still doubt

It’s funny to me, really

When I say what I’m about

I’m climbing this here ladder

Right in front of their blind eye

Yet they still keep on hatin’

As if the fucks I give could fly

So let me put this plainly

These words, do not mince

We’re righting world wrongs

We’re not trying to convince

We’re not trying anything

“Try” means we could fail

Sorry, that ain’t an option

This ships already set sail

So be on board, or don’t

That choice ain’t up to me

I’ll just keep on writing

Making minds more bold and free

And when this ladders finally scaled

When at last we’ve reached the top

I hope you brought your sailor shoes

Cause this ship ain’t ever gonna stop

When Finally, It’s Built

The last years of your life

So confined and constrained

Arthritis was rife

It hurt, and it pained

No solace you had

But to lay in your bed

Retreat to your books

Build a world in your head

I’ll never forget, Mom

All the stories and shows

We’d read and watch together

To forget this life’s woes

CSI, Nora Roberts

Your favorites, I know

You’d gleefully immerse

In her books, or that show

Oh Mom, how it hurts

To think of these times

It rips me apart

But keeps me alive

All that’s ahead

Everything I achieve

Is all due to you, Mom

And your love for me

You deserved so much more

How so badly I yearn

To turn back the clock

Give the life that you earned

The impossible, I want

The impossible, I need

Yet I’m forced to move forward

And to carry this grief

Your love for those stories

They’ve inspired me, Mom

And I promised you one day

That’d I’d carry that love on

One day, Mom, I swear it

No more tears will be spilt

When I cut that bright ribbon

When finally, it’s built

What If They Died

What if they died?

What if that artist

Who painted their works

So great, yet shunned

For personality quirks

What if that singer

Who hit impossible notes

Wasn’t caught up in drama

Or the brunt of your jokes

What if you focused

On content they write

Instead of the bullshit

The cheap and contrite

Why is it, so often

An artist, who yearned

Must die to achieve

The recognition they’ve earned

It isn’t the painter

Whose genius, they leave

It’s ego that chains us

A jealous reprieve

For when you are dead

You’re no threat to us

So sure, we can like you

Just stay off of my bus

Some day, I do hope

The people will see

That passion is living

And envy is greed

The Grammar Nazi

The Grammar Nazi

Dot your “I’s” and cross your “T’s”

For fear of err, or wrong

Well look right here, oh can’t you see?

That comma don’t belong

Hey, you listen here!

So get this through your head

Stop focusing on the stupid rules

And hear the POINT, instead

A colin, a comma, it matters not

The message is on the stage

So stop the dumb, annoying tweaks

And learn to READ the page

Wrap your head around the point

Forget formalities

Writings an art, forget this not

And we’ll do it as we please

You

What things go through your head

When you lay down and no one is there?

When you know that no one is listening

Is it a dream, or perhaps a nightmare?

Do you think of the rest of the world

And how we’re all stuck in a cell?

Or maybe those shoes you’ve been wanting

Or if there’s a heaven or hell?

Think hard, for I say this

Not to judge; no fingers I point, I can say

But your thoughts? They truly define you

Not facades, nor roles you portray

Live. Love. Be honest

Please, be true to the core

For when you find the real you

Your reason to search – it’s no more