Necessary

NECESSARY

I think I’ll write a poem that speaks epic truth, tonight
It doesn’t matter if you tend to lean left or lean right
Politics aren’t helping us, the gap is greater in-between
We need to stop fixating on whose King or who is Queen

We need to shift the focus to what matters, that’s for real
We need to stop the spinning and start breaking culture’s wheel
Martin wasn’t joking when he wrote that brilliant line
The story’s great, sure, but a grander message lies behind

Nothing’s stronger than a thread that’s woven one and all
But if you try to weave it on your own you’ll sadly fall
History has proven this, it’s not news to anyone
The ink in this here pen I wield weighs more than your big gun

Every life we live is shaped by minds that can run free
And if we came together just imagine what could be
Forgiveness, empathy, this is what we need
And we ever grasp these things our whole planet will be freed

Fire doesn’t put out fire, its ego you should bury
Someone had to say it, right? These words are necessary.

These Things Matter

In his right hand sat a rifle, pointing at his kin

In the other there was powder, and it was meant for him

Turn the clock back and these two brothers who had played

Never would have seen this coming as they grew and aged

 

What is it that we need? Why must we always fight?

When instead we could be ironing our differences at night?

You know that it’s a feeling, and you know I feel it too

I can’t explain the things I see or things that people do

 

What is it that you’re thinking?

What is it that you’ve seen?

My brother, please don’t let the world get

Caught up in between

 

Every struggle, I have seen it

Every loss, I shall regret

But you and I are here now

And our cause we can’t forget

 

Listen to the violin, its strings are being played

Freedom wasn’t given, there was blood when it was paid

Do not forget the ones who wept to make this sacrifice

Because today we need a way to get back what is right

 

In my right hand sits a pencil, I point it at my kin

If I could write that things are right, you know I would give in

It hurts to know that I can’t though, this world is split in two

And I shall fight until it’s right…because she’d want me to

You Might Be A Writer If…

“All real writers are published”

Hang on a second, that statement’s wrong!

What say you of bloggers, huh?

Can poets not come tag along?

“Ha! We scoff with tilted heads”

“Real writers do those on the side”

“We know that true art lies in sales”

“For money validates our stride”

“So please, a blogger? Some stupid poem?”

“You think that these can pay the bills?”

“Don’t make me laugh, you amateur”

“Just the thought gives me the chills”

Bite your tongue, pretentious fool!

It’s not for funds, why true arts made

Passion, love guides pen and brush

‘Tis by-product, when we get paid

And cut! Fake convo ends as Matt chimes in

On wars of words, “label” affairs

I cannot help but ask them this:

WHO THE FLY’D FUCK EVEN CARES?

 

Just shut up and write, you dweebs.

 

Top 10 (Word) Plays

We all know that athletes get highlight reels every week so we can see the coolest plays in a given sport in case we missed them. Well, I thought I’d show some love to the sportsmen/women of word-smithery. Anyone who’s read my work before is fully aware that I’m consumed (and possibly obsessive) over the craft, so I thought this would be a fun little exercise.

What I’ve done is combed through my playlists and such to try and listen for the cleverest uses of language. Basically the most creative puns, double entendres, rarely used words, etc. You know, stuff that makes you think “damn that was a sick line” as you rewind to hear it again.

I never paid attention to this stuff before I got into writing myself, so maybe some of you will appreciate the closer look. And obviously there are like a trillion examples I could list here, so feel free to comment if you have some of your own you like. So without further adieu (in no particular order)!

1. Post Malone – Congratulations

Everything custom like I’m at the border
If you fuck with winning put your lighters to the sky
How can I make cents when I got millions on my mind?  

I really like this dude, because he has an amazing story and worked ridiculously hard to make it. The line when he spins “how can I make sense” by using cents in reference to the money that motivated him is brilliant. It stuck out to me the very first time I heard it, and still does. Oh, and the border line (no pun intended) is a good one too.

2. NF – Real

That nurse came into my room, she told me I’m sick in the head
I’m in hip-hop’s hospital bed with a pad and a pen and a brace on my neck
They told me that I’m never leaving. Why? I am as ill as it gets

Man, NF. What do I even say about this kid? He’s just now (finally) exploding into the rap scene with his recent track Let You Down going triple platinum. The quality and nuance of his writing, coupled with his completely fresh perspective (he’s a Christian rapper who doesn’t curse, rapping about the difficult issues we all face) has placed him in my top 3 all time artists. Plus, he has the darkest backstory ever and the death of his mother is one of his most significant driving forces – precisely the situation I find myself in. This particular line, however, stood out to me because of the clever usage of “ill” as both an ailment and it’s slang interpretation. Quick note, I might actually do one of these Top 10 lists for him alone because his writing is truly on a level that very, very few people can compete with. Expect to see a lot of him in the foreseeable future.

3. Eminem – Killshot

How the fuck can him and I battle?
He’ll have to fuck Kim in my flannel
I’ll give him my sandals
‘Cause he knows, long as I’m Shady he’s gon’ have to live in my shadow

I mean come on. The feud between now-blowing-up (mainstream) newcomer  Machine Gun Kelly and Eminem is one of the most entertaining back and forth’s since Biggie and 2Pac. It’s breathed life back into hip hop, and was a much-needed non-political headline dominating news feeds just weeks ago. While MGK’s Rap Devil was a more than just a solid punch, Em’s Killshot…well, killed it. The track is jam packed with some of his best writing since the old days of Slim Shady. This reference to his original identity literally casting a shadow is simply an incredible bar. Truly great wordplay.

4. Rachel Platten – Fight Song

Like how a single word
Can make a heart open
I might only have one match
But I can make an explosion

Yeah, I know. No homo, alright? Its a good song! Anyway, Rachel’s writing in this song (which is about battling depression) is just amazing. Her meaningful lyrics probably explain why Fight Song peaked at #6 on the Billboard Top 100, doing precisely what the line here says she would do – make an explosion. What a beautiful story she can now tell, as the impact she achieved inspiring women with this song is huge.

5. Witt Lowry – Let Me Know

I guess that’s what we were taught
We open up depending on how many drinks we have bought
He wants your head and its ironic, he doesn’t care ’bout your thoughts
You’re one more drink away from drowning, feeling empty and lost

I often wonder what really it is that I offer you
At least you feel my touch, even if it’s just when I walk on you
Alone but together, we always make it less than it seems

It’s funny how if you have feelings, you’re weak, so we say less than we mean
Your hands on my chest, you whisper, “What do you want to do next?”
Our generation’s taken love out of sex, and so the question is left      

You probably haven’t heard of Witt before (if you have I applaud you for finding good music). At the moment he’s still more of an emerging YouTuber, but recently has been gaining a lot of traction; starting his first tour just last year. His writing is similar to NF’s in terms of relating to everyday struggles, but he’s a bit more brash with his language. Let Me Know is perhaps one of his hardest-hitting accounts regarding dating as it is today. Witt’s lyrics here pour out his soul’s dark, depressing, yet so bone-chillingly real reflection of how many relationships in today’s world are shallow and superficial. The title and chorus is a reference to his plea for people to share their deepest, genuine feelings with one another – rather than projecting the fake facades we’re all so familiar with. The title & chorus make this evident: if you love me, Let Me Know.

As for these verses, the first line I highlighted probably shouldn’t need much explanation as to the double meaning he achieves; one which I think will particularly resonate with women who can relate to such men. The included the second because its such a concise statement that conveys so, so much. This track hits so hard that you should check it out like, now.

Let’s call it our halftime break: YouTube: Let Me Know by Witt Lowry

6. Hailee Steinfeld & Grey (feat. Zedd) – Starving

I didn’t know that I was starving ’till I tasted you
Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo
By the way, right away, you do things to my body
I didn’t know that I was starving ’till I tasted you

This is just a really fun song. While the lyrics weren’t written by the artists, they’re still meaningful. Short and simple, that first line takes a creative spin on the concept of our appetite for love. Good writing!

7. Elle King –  Ex’s & Oh’s

I had a summer love down in New Orleans
Kept him warm in the winter, left him frozen in the spring
My, my, how the seasons go by

This is another fun one. The tune is so catchy, in fact, that its easy to overlook the nuance and depth to the writing (also not by the artist). Even the title itself is clever; playing on exes and the XXOO hug/kiss acronym. This verse here I liked because of the juxtaposition between the two seasons and relating them to her treatment of the ex. Very smart scribbling in this track.

8. Julia Michaels – Heaven

Love’s my religion but he was my faith
Something so sacred, so hard to replace
Falling for him was like falling from grace

All wrapped in one, he was so many sins
Would have done anything, everything for him
And if you ask me, I would do it again

It makes sense that Julia’s songs are full of great writing; she began her career in 2010 as a songwriter for major headliners such as Selena Gomez, Demi Lovato, Shawn Mendes, Justin Beiber, and countless other pop stars. Her growth in the industry has been a heartwarming tale, as in 2017 she finally released her very own single for the first time. The smash hit Issues peaked at #11 on the Top 100, launching her from songwriter in the shadows to singer in the spotlight. Her 2018 single Heaven, featured in (the basically soft-core porn) Fifty Shades Freed, is about the love/hate effect that “bad boys” tend to have on women. The lines I pointed out showcase Julia’s amazing ability of using imagery to convey her feelings and messages. One critic even praised her skills saying that “Michaels manages to summarize the entire Fifty Shades franchise in just two lines: ‘They say all good boys go to heaven / but bad boys bring heaven to you‘”. She’s definitely one to keep an eye on moving forward.

9. The Revivalists – Wish I Knew You

I wish I knew you when I was young
We could’ve got so high
Now we’re here it’s been so long
Two strangers in the bright light

Oh, and I hope you don’t mind
We can share my mood, yeah
Two strangers in the bright light
I wish I knew you, I wish I knew you
Oh, I wish I knew you when I was young

Ugh. This is such a beautiful, yet so freakin’ sad, song. As the music video illustrates, its about two emotionally-hurting elderly people finally chance meeting at the end of their lives; immediately connecting on a visceral level. Written by a team of songwriters, the lyrics capture the full spectrum of feelings during their encounter: inexplicable elation as they spend the whole night dancing under the stars, to tear-jerking sadness felt wishing they had more time to spend together now that they’ve found the person they’ve been searching for their entire lives. Oh, and the “share my mood” line is a really cool one.

If you haven’t heard this one, definitely check it out.

10. Andrew Lloyd Webber – Damned for All Time/Blood Money

I came because I had to, I’m the one who saw
Jesus can’t control it like he did before
And furthermore, I know that Jesus thinks so, too
Jesus wouldn’t mind that I was here with you

I have no thought at all about my own reward
I really didn’t come here on my own accord
Just don’t say I’m
Damned for all time

I couldn’t write a top 10 lyric list without including Andrew. Not only because of the obvious (his use of language is incredible), but this musical has a very special place in my heart because the 1970 original was my mother’s favorite film ever. The nostalgia and memories that sweep over me when I listen to the soundtrack almost always bring a tear or two to my eye. As far as the lines I highlighted, I could just have easily pulled them from any song on the entire album, as they all have powerful wording. This one I liked because it really casts a light on Judas’s perspective, and how he genuinely wanted to do the right thing by turning in the man he idolized. What’s more, the wording reflects that Judas knew exactly how much Jesus loved and understood him, even going as far as to say he knows he will be forgiven for betraying him. Such a very strong portrayal of the depth in their relationship.

So there you have it, peeps. That’s my take on the Top 10 Plays on Words taken from my limited peek into some playlists. There’s so much more I could say, but for brevity I’ll save that for another time.

Thanks for listening, and happy writing!

The Answer: 2

Thought.

It is such a curious concept. It exists behind everything. Every single action, every single behavior, every single thing we do is motivated by thought, whether conscious or not. Breathing, for example. Do you think every time you take a breath? I think not. And yet you do it.

I am having difficulty compartmentalizing the minutia of human behavior. What things do I file as instinctual behavior, and what things do I classify as conscious behavior? It is a task my superiors have asked of me, and quite frankly, I do not yet know where to draw the line. What things were under these humans’ control? What things were manifested simply because of the circumstances at a given time? What could be helped, and what couldn’t?

The more answers I seek, the more questions I seem to face. This shall be a most difficult undertaking, if I am to speak openly. There are so many pressures I feel falling upon me to fully create an analysis of such behavior. This question of why may be my undoing.

I’ve yet to determine an answer.

Hide & Seek

Sweaty brow, aching back, home packed lunch and the sleepless nights

That’s how things were done when people worked, reaching up for higher heights

Dirt and grit, skin and bone, not a moment thrown into the waste

Men would own up to the challenge, no obstacle they wouldn’t face

Things got done, cities built, on the shoulders of their work

They didn’t need a safe space, they built these things from grit and dirt

Now, today, we watch as our children have their feelings hurt

Instead of saying “toughen up”, we tell them “get revenge and throw some dirt”

Paint the people disagreeing as bigots and misogynists

As they yell and cry aloud, raising pickets and their fists

Its sad to me, watching as we become so weak

Many years from now, the stronger will destroy the meek

Its not immoral, its not unjust, to teach your children to be strong

Look out at this harsh, cruel world and tell me that you know I’m wrong

And if you do, then friend, this is the only thing I’ll say to you

I hope you taught them hide and seek, cause hiding’s all they’ll know to do

The Perfect Evening

It’s a fabulous night for a moon dance

That’s what the stars shall say

Twirl to my arms, they’re before you

Awaiting to sweep you away

Spinning in circles, directions unknown

Its just you and just me on this floor

Forget all the things on your conscience

As tonight we both dance on the shore

The waves gliding over our bare toes

The sand finds its place on our feet

Its fate that has brought us together

It was written that you and I meet

Tell me this night is unending

That never will it cease to be

Holding you here, in this moment

It makes me feel so fond and free

My Lake Chateau

American-Revolution-Hero-H

Come my friend, its you, I know, that stands outside my Lake Chateau. I took a walk, just hours ago, and now I sit by this window. Please, my friend, I’ve something to show; come join me through the portico. Open the door – its unlocked, you know, and come share this fine, old, red Bordeaux.

There’s something that you need to see, to understand this sad world’s plea. There’s things outside that I foresee, things He’ll, sadly, guarantee. Do you see that burning tree? The wars, the death, black in the sea? The children who were slain by the melancholy and the man who was murdered for saying “I disagree?” Tell me, my friend, if this is what we should put up with without lifting our hands that are free.

I ask that again, you take a look at this place. Look out and observe all the hatred we face. Let your eyes fall upon things outside your safe space and truly grasp all the things that this world should replace. And let me say this, because just in case; its understood that people will always displace what’s right and what’s wrong but that’s no excuse – just disgrace.

A disgrace it is, that we’ve let this become a Hell for the most and a Haven for some. So few can parade, scraping up every crumb, as the patrons they need are left treated like scum. They measure one’s worth based on things, or income, and their vanity echoes like the beat of a drum. Come closer, my friend, you’ll hear irony strum, for history’s song is that the end always comes.

It comes at a time when they’ve all had enough, a time when they realize they’re not all that tough, the people will gather, strip away the handcuff and step forward with honor as they call their God’s bluff.

So let these words warn you, the ones of occult. Do the right thing, or face a revolt.

The Ward & the Bone: 2

Grr Barker

“Grr Barker! You have forgotten your vest-piece!”

As the gigantic crowd gathering around the fairgrounds sits in anticipation of the Games, the magic-wielding mentor of Grr Barker, heir to the Bone, chases after the daring Prince holding a Leash of Armor in his hand.

“Fear not, Squirrelin!” Grr Barker shouts back as he charges ahead, valiantly guiding his faithful steed Lambrei toward the jousting arena. “I shall have no need for such protection! Grr Sleepsalot may be a Bite of the Round Bowl, but he poses no challenge to the likes of me!”

The crowd, seeing the handsome Grr Barker ride out so daringly with no concern for his own protection, roars in support of their future King.

“ALL HAIL GRR BARKER!!!” The chant echoes across the land, reaching even the chipmunks who occupy the outskirts of Spamalot, the Kaynine’s Kingdom and Castle.

“’Tis a beautiful day for the games, no?” Grr Bitesalot says to his fellow Knights as he peers up into the bright, blue sky; anxiously awaiting the joust ahead.

“Aye, it surely is, “ barks Lady Playpenuivere, Grr Barker’s faithful betrothed. “I only hope he doesn’t hurt himself again,” the beautiful bitch adds. “The last time he jousted without a vest-piece, the Royal Vet had to attend to him for days. He worries me with such careless antics.”

“Bow-wow, fear not m’Lady,” Grr GoodGalihad says. “Barker always maintains his composure in the ‘Pens. He will come out without a scratch, I assure you.”

“I hope you are right, GoodGalihad,” the bitch says. “He so loves his theatrics. It pleases the common-folk, but I worry every time he sets paw in that arena. I pray to the Dogs that they bestow their blessings upon him. I know not what I would do if I were to made a widow.”

Interrupting the barkalogue, the Games’ trumpets are blasted, echoing across the entire Realm.

“KAYNINES!” The announcer barks, straddling a brown bear as he struggles to maintain his grip on its reigns, “LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!”

As the announcer manages to steer the brown bear away from the fields into the Cage for Commentators, Grr Barker and Grr Sleepsalot take their positions opposite each other on the long, green field.

“JOUST!!” The announcer woofs, aggressively waving his paw.

Both riding their favorite foxes, the two contestants charge at each other with bone-lances in hand. After several suspenseful seconds of fox-trotting, the two clash together as Grr Barker’s bone-lance strikes the heart of Grr Sleepsalot’s fluffy vest-piece, de-foxing him.

“HUZZAH!!!!” The crowd barks, drooling in excitement as they witness their Prince circle the Fields in victory.

“AWOOOOOO!!!!!!!” Grr Barker howls, holding his lance toward the sky in triumph.

“I told you!!” Grr GoodGalihad bow-wows to Lady Playpenuivere. “Ha! Let’s join the celebration, shall we?!” He adds, launching himself over the short, hallway-sized divider meant to keep the Kaynines from entering places they shouldn’t enter.

Beaming at her betrothed, the bitch bats her eyes several times before letting her indifferent gaze fade into a wide grin.

“Fine,” she reluctantly says through her smile. “Time to celebrate…again.” She adds with a playful eyeroll.

As the crowd celebrates their victor, a raspy voice stirs far to the East.

“Fffffffftttt.” The voice fits, observing the celebration from afar in digust. “These Kaynines’ days are numbered, mark my words. Mark them, as they unwittingly mark their territory which shall soon be MINE!!!”

To be continued…..

Coping Mechanisms

How often do I lift my eyes, shake my head, sigh and realize that its all a pit of lows and occasional highs, an endless board that’s gamed by the wise. The ones who see it, so full of their lies, often sit back and laugh at the pitiful cries. The cries of the pure who don’t don the disguise, fooled by a dusk masked as delusional sunrise. The mask which covers a world we so strongly despise. We believe that the ship won’t inevitably capsize, and pretend not to grasp what our behavior implies; that despite our attempts to understand and surmise, we’re just animals that honestly, Earth should ostracize. No better than the beasts we pretentiously analyze, convincing ourselves that we’re so civilized despite the unparalleled evil we all authorize through the so-called society we’ve created which serves to patronize.

Yes, I suppose it is better to follow the rule, for if we woke up we’d all feel like a fool. Its easy to walk on the straight path to school, to do what they say like the oxen and mule, to keep the wheel turning as the Engine of Civilization uses us as its fuel. We go with the flow to avoid ridicule, distracted from truth by an empty, false jewel.

I question the things I’m told to believe. I refuse to be ignorant, fake, or naïve. I’m guided by reality, not by things we conceive; not money, not fame, not things that deceive. The Tunic of Truth is the clothing I weave; respect forms its fabric and love hems its sleeve. I have no concern for false things we perceive, instead I look forward at the goals I’ll achieve.

Silently sitting, stillness in scope, I gaze at this road with a semblance of hope. So many around see the slippery slope, and join the campaign, hold these reigns made of rope. This rope isn’t normal, it holds divine horoscope; it represents action to those who sit back and cope.

Alone

So many things in life I see, they’re happening all around me. The love, the kids, the joy I see; they sooth my heart and set me free. The warmth I feel when I emcee is cherished oh so fervently, and even when they disagree I only smile, lovingly. Under this Umbrella Tree sits my past and my own memory, and as I watch the fun and glee I can’t help but to think of me. The child that I used to be, when in all the world, importantly, the only thing that mattered was how to climb that big, tall tree.

So quickly do we rush to grow. I need not say it, for you all know. This life that He thought to bestow flies by so fast like that photo taken by the best of show that all the others want to know. They need to know because they lie, as they get mighty and so high, and as the time comes when they die, they suddenly now say goodbye.

Remember me for all my deeds, the feigned actions and false decrees, for all that flows in this here breeze is reputation; legacies. The things I did when I was young, they matter not; they’re all unstrung. That song I sang, I never sung; I hung it on this lying rung. No lies escape misleading tongue, just look upon us, who among? Who among us can be tried? Who knows, who’s now identified? If logic, here, shall be applied then think and please come to decide that all who feign, and all who lied will one day cleanse and purify.

And now I sit here, though unknown, looking down at pad and phone. I think of all the time that’s flown, the love I’ve lost and past I own. I am no King that holds a throne, I am no skeleton or bone, I’m only who I’ve always known, the same thread that my life has sewn, what once was hidden, now is shown. The man I am was forged in stone, my spirit; glass that She had blown, awaiting this new brighter tone, I cherish that I’m all…alone.

My Biography

Alone in darkness, thoughts embark, and though this page displays my mark, nameless I shall now remain as embers’ heat begin to wane.

Uncertainty is close behind, forever shrouding this dark mind. I fear I may have intertwined the light that shines so bright behind the madness in this room upstairs with other shapes; those unfit squares. These pieces, see, they don’t belong, yet when I try to right the wrong I’m greeted by the same old song who’s tune just drags me right along, its lyrics say to “just stay strong”.

This is my life, these things you read, I’ve told the world that I concede. I give my every waking breath to live without the fear of death and make each day the best I can, to help and heal my fellow man, to be the one who gives their life to try and pull the piercing knife that penetrates hearts of men, that dagger of our constant sin.

The judgement that so rules this land, I cast away, its purpose banned. All it serves, its only stand, is harm or hurt, please understand.

Every second, every day I chase a dream that’s far away but every single moment spent I’ve sacrificed for my ascent. Its all been planned, accounted for, and let me guess; by thirty-four I’ll look back as those toasts are poured for changing locks to open doors. These poems I write, they aren’t for me, they aren’t to show the world I’m free; they’re nothing more than thoughts and things I’d write in my own diary. There is one thing that’s different, see, between the world and folks like me; that every single thing we think is shared for all the world for free. Our thoughts and all our passions flow, just like the light through this window, and when the doubt begins to grow we cut them down, like throwing salt on frosted snow.

So many say they write in vain, but please allow me to explain that none who know the strife and strain will know until they feel grit or grain. I’m cheating on my healing; I want to stop the hurt that’s seeps through every vein and yet I can’t stop sleeping with my pain. Pain of memories lost, that now I know I’ll never gain, acts that now I must abstain, and things from which I force refrain.

Now’s the time to stock the ship as unknown warriors crack their whip. The time is now for fellowship, so load the gun and soothe the grip, and forge unlikely partnerships for once its out you can’t acquit. This room has now grown pale, moonlit, and all the thoughts that I transmit are meant to peel the fake from real, to call out what is counterfeit.

And as I end this plead and plea, I’ll pilfer from philosophy the bits and pieces I agree and cast away the false debris. The lesson that we all should see is that we’re of the same old tree whose branches bare uniqueness, yes, but become the same as we undress. While we’re different, nonetheless, there are qualities we all possess: the need to love, the need to feel, the need to shape our own ideal, these are things that we all need, a hunger which we need to feed. We’re all connected, its true you see, regardless of geography, no mind for color, biology, we all are here and share this tree. If one thing I can leave for me, the purpose for my reality, it’s to show the world community.

This, nothing more, is what I want in my biography.

Writing, as it Relates to Me

I want to share something with you.

I want to share my perception of the thing that saved me from the dark halls through which, until recently, I was being forced to traverse. See, for the longest time I felt as if I’d been carrying a curse, as I walked through things as mundane as the local mall I’d occasionally pass a mother and child and, with something as simple as a short glance at a purse, I’d need a moment to sit down and stare at the ground  and just get lost in thought as my eyes locked in on my shoes seeing the eight little letters that make up the word “converse”. And as in thought, I was immersed, I’d notice the Mom and child fade away from my peripheral vision as the scene in my head was dispersed as instead I looked up and recognized how diverse this whole room was. Something which made me wonder why, despite my attempts to be rid of my curse, was my focus still so combative and stubbornly perverse? Why had my eyes, as if by some magnetism, drifted toward this mother and child, as images of the nurse from the fourth floor of the ICU and of the hearse I never wanted to follow behind began darting through my brain as if I’m now being coerced into this seat where I could at last allow my burdening thoughts to intersperse?

Yes, I would like to share my perception of this most wonderful of creations.

I wish there was a more intimate way to share these times where I just, simply, sit down. Times, whether it’s on the ground at the dog park, or in a seat on a patio bar downtown, or a high table at Jonathan’s, where I can usually be found after a long day of work as I diligently add to my writing background. I wish there was a way for more people to be around when these beautiful moments, which are so rarely found, sweep over us as the most profound thoughts come at us; endlessly inbound as we take the simple and start to expound. It is these moments that instill awe and confound, metaphorically providing the sensation of living a whole life afflicted by deafness as we now, at last, hear our very first sound.

Its something that I wish we all would do more often.

And by that, I mean share. Because the life that I lived before words were my ware was one for which, now, I just really don’t care. I was shallow, I was selfish, I was fake and unfair, and I now, here in hindsight, even hate my old hair. See, there’s one thing I promise; I emphatically swear. So much weight can be lifted, when you open and share. And while yes, the things I write are written with intentional flair, this sentiment I’m typing is as real as a prayer. Get the weight off of your shoulders, and you no longer care for stares, as everyone around you knows precisely the wonderfully flawed thing that so courageously stands there. There are no more secrets, no more lies, no more burdens that you bare, and the only thing you’re donned with is that gown of truth that you wear.

Its like that feeling you get when you’ve been walking through a scorching hot zoo all day long and everyone’s been like “let’s look at this, and this, and that, and this,” when all you really want is a freaking sip of water as you finally finish walking through the African safari exhibit and at last arrive at the centrally located walkway of mist, which leads into the food court and you now can finally order the largest water of your life.

In other words, you feel refreshed.

And that’s the feeling I want to share, which I mentioned before. I don’t think its necessary to explain what I was like before I began to write because not only was I a bore, but I’ve actually already covered it so instead let’s look forward and consider the things that the future has in store. Because the one thing I want to make abundantly clear, as my depressingly sad thoughts turn to into long awaited cheer, is that the very thing I’m doing has quite literally saved my life from what would have undoubtedly veered in the worst direction I could steer had I not, through my tears, come to the realization that I feared which I had been so afraid was awaiting, unavoidably near. So yes, I should pay homage to that which put my life back in gear and that is this: writing.

Words. Words have saved me.

Words have saved me, you see, because despite all the pain and the malice which have coursed through me for so long, a certain sense of liberty has manifested recently that, honestly, I can’t explain as I sit here with her picture, with my dog, and with my thoughts; which, inexplicably, seem to finally be set free. And while I don’t fully understand why my brain has allowed me to take this unfamiliar, seemingly carefree approach as of late, I don’t want to do anything that might cause it to flee, because it’s a sensation for which I’ve been waiting every hour, every week; a feeling that could be described as the long-awaited blossoming of green leaves which at last expose themselves after patiently waiting through a brutal winter that for so long tormented their sad, barren tree.

I want this feeling to last forever.

Yet I know that this, sadly, is an impossibility. But that won’t keep me from constantly, aggressively grasping my life as I force it forward; as I refuse to let anything slow my pace. There is not a thing in this world that will keep me from storming the castle that I see before me. No, I will recruit each and every fiber within me, arming with fire whatever soldiers I need to ascertain that I have an adequately sized force and undefeatable army through which I can destroy with impunity anything that dares stand in defiance of me and the alliance that I have created which now stands beside me.

Arm me with words, and I will destroy anything that gets in my way.

Because words, you see, are the infinite expanse on which we can set sail; for they make up this deep, endless sea of possibility that, in all actuality, contains the only vessel that boasts the capability and the necessary degree of sheer diversity upon which I can pen things such as Continuity, or my poetry, or anything else that I might hear or see that I think needs to be recorded, holding full culpability for the thoughts that I think, the sounds that I hear, or the sights that I see. It is only through words that I can fully express myself.

And that, my friends, is writing; as it relates to me.

Make Drinks, Not Promises

You want to hear something funny that happened to me today? I hope you don’t say no, since I’m on the patio of my local town saloon, roughly six hours past high noon, aimlessly thinking as I stare up at the moon and writing these very words that I now recite for you. So if I may, I shall politely presume that your answer is yes. And if it isn’t…well, I apologize because at the moment it’s the only tune that’s playing. So please respect this small commune as we share our feels in this cozy little room, collectively wrapping our individual feelings together like an awkwardly intimate heart and soul cocoon.
Glad that’s out of the way.
Back to today. I think most of you know that several years ago I was dealt a blow of immeasurable magnitude, causing me to throw an entire career to the road as I diverted my entire existence toward destroying as much hate and woe as I possibly could. I did this as I was gripped by an influence that the mother I lost would always bestow with a hold so tight that, unequivocally, I know will never lighten up or come even remotely close to ever letting go.
So yeah.
I think as far as that whole part of the story, I can digress. Because if you read literally anything else I’ve written, it won’t take long to learn more than you probably want to know about her, the impact her death had on me, and how confusingly, oxy-moronically, luminously dark I’ve become as a result.
But you see, I had no other choice but to tee this part of the read up by sharing, at the very least, a brief, abbreviated version of the history which led to this very moment. Now, I commit (admittedly with glee) that for the remainder of this poem, I will agree that you have no cause to fret, as you are all now set free; relieved from the pain which I’m fully aware that I far too often share through sad recounts and melancholy pleas.
Don’t say I never did anything for you.
But seriously…I wish I could articulate the enormous degree of sheer appreciation that I should more often decree for each and every beautiful person who’s taken the time to read the things that I’ve written. I don’t say this enough, but the sensation one experiences when they’re told that someone relates to their writing, or that their work resonates is so powerful it can bring one to their knees. So let me express my gratitude. No pain tonight. Fair?
Man. I should do this more often.
So today I was caught in typical deep thought about pretty much everything I just brought to attention with my aforementioned words which, for you, have carefully been brought. I realized, looking at all the past things that I’ve jot, that the vast majority of themes which I spot are plagued and distraught by the same sad and depressingly dark plot. A realization which, amidst my reflection, suddenly struck me with a thought. A thought (I’ve now since been taught) that I’ve subconsciously sought since that most impacting of days; when the straight life I was used to was tied into a most impossible knot.
For the first time in thirty months, eighteen days, and roughly two hours and forty-seven minutes…I felt relief.
To be honest, I have no idea whatsoever that caused this spark which had finally caused my consistently low mood start to climb, or why it happened to occur at this particular time, or what forces were working to make it so abruptly ignite; liberating my mind from its pitch black paradigm. The only thing I can be sure of is that I was compelled to adjust the tones of this metaphorical rhyme that has incessantly been my life since she the day that I lost her; the day that she died.
It was one of those fabled, fleeting moments in life that we dream of; a moment that most spend time wondering if they actually exist or whether our culture deceitfully represents them through fiction to keep us from succumbing to the harsh reality that, sadly, most are forced to share. I would almost go as far as to say that this moment was “indescribable”. Although I won’t go quite that far. No, I know better than that.
Want to know why?
Because “indescribable” is a fucking oxy-moron, that’s why. Like, who the hell allowed it to even become an actual word? Webster? Who even is Webster? He sounds like a huge bitch, to be honest. I mean come on. One cannot claim an inability to describe something while simultaneously using the very word asserting their claim to describe it. Like what the fuck, you guys?
Whatever.
So, here we are. Finally released from the negativity which for so long I’ve been scarred. Oh, and by the way, I know at the start I said I was sky-gazing on a patio, but I’ve since moved to the inside corner of an adjacent bar. See, I really enjoy posting up from afar, observing the people as I smoke a cigar, on occasion intentionally making awkward eye contact with folks as if their eyes were that very same star from stanza one. Well technically, I should have said moon, because that’s what I said I was looking at earlier in this poem; but moon doesn’t rhyme with cigar. So for anyone that may have picked up on that hopefully subtle difference; please, be silent. Like the lamb.
Or I will feed your inanimate corpse to those creepy Hannibal pigs after providing my inordinately sophisticated dog Mr. Baxter a once-in-a-lifetime feast of your human brains. Brains, obviously, which lacked any semblance of intelligence; a candid truth made obvious by the simple fact that their recently deceased owner failed to abide by a very simple instruction.
So yeah. If you picked up on that…shh.
As I continue writing with this long-awaited perspective that now abounds, I suppose its high time we arrive at the underlying theme which (for these 1,031 words) could be found lurking about these pages in a sort of subtle, poetic background. A point I’ve been waiting to make that for this entire time has been handcuffed; its wrists tightly bound in anticipation of the most profound moment to come around and confound, astound, and surround each and every person who experiences this prose with a most relatable, common ground.
By the way, there are a shit ton of words that rhyme with ground. Like Italian greyhound, burial mound, merry-go-round, circle around, and etcetera. Well not that last one but you get my point. Wait. Circle around. As in, let me now circle around back to the point I was just making before this particular stanza of rhyme distracted me from the message I’ve been waiting to expound. A message that, despite how long it’s taken to arrive, is actually quite simple.
Drinks.
Yes, you heard me right. Drinks. And I’m going to refrain from guessing whether or not that is making any sense whatsoever at the moment. It probably shouldn’t, because a word such as “drinks” doesn’t even loosely relate to anything I’ve mentioned so far. So technically, if you found some kind of connection between the two, you either don’t understand what words mean on a fundamental level, or you’re some kind of savant that can read between the lines so deeply its scary. In fact, now that I say that, if its the latter – please keep it to yourself. Because that would kind of creep me out.
So yes, back to my message: drinks. The reason I thought of that particular word as it applies to the motif I could relay with this 0.7 Pilot G2 filled with black ink was this: its time I end my tendency to over analyze and overthink. Its time that all of the black that I’m used to turns into something vibrant, like pink. Ok, maybe not pink. Pink reminds me of this traumatizing moment I had in 5th grade at the old skating rink. And no, I will not elaborate. The point is, I’m tired of all the promises I feel pressured to keep. Not the ones I’ve made in regard to my life and what I intend to do with it. No, those promises define me; they’re the sole influence that keeps my values and actions in sync. The promises I refer to, ones of which I now announce I’ve severed the link, are the ones made to society. The ones which serve only to degrade my self-perception, sadistically watching my dwindling confidence as it plummets and sinks with an expressionless smile and emotionless wink.
And that, my friends, brings us to the one point in this poem where I very clearly explain what I mean with all of this disorganized, scattered banter.
There is one thing I realized today as I took a hard look at life. A thing that almost always rings true. A thing which, I imagine, applies to us all. From the tallest of tall to the smallest of small. From the one’s sleeping in gutters to those waltzing at balls. From the center stage dancer to flowers on the wall. The philosophical pacifist to the meathead who brawls. That goofy croquet club to Tom Brady’s football. From the Qui Gon of Jinns to the Darthest of Mauls.
I realized, quite simply, that drinking alcohol from a crisp, cold flagon is SO much more fun than being lame and pondering existentialism.
Anticlimactic?
Well, I hate to say this since its so out of character…but too bad. Because that’s the earth-shattering, refreshingly shallow reality that I discovered this evening as I gazed so deeply into the moon. Or star. Whichever the fuck it was. So I’m going to make one final, meaningful statement. A statement of which I hope I can maintain an intimate awareness of for the remainder of my years on this Earth.
And despite the whimsical tone that’s accompanied this piece so far, you should probably take the following statement to heart. So please…I respectfully ask that you remember these words, for they’re spoken genuinely from the most doubting of Thomas’s.
Always make the strongest of drinks. For drinks are indescribably more fun than life’s impossible promises.

Concept

Today a message came to me

From one who reads my poetry

The sender asked just how I write

And how my ideas come to light

He wanted help for what Block had caused

Asked “How come your content’s never paused?”

Tonight, my friend, I’ll heed your call

And tell you how I break that wall

But know we’re all unique, its true

What works for me may not for you

So if for topics, I feel strife

My first step is to think of life

I ask myself for what I care

What fills my mind when no one’s there?

And almost always, this one step

It works without more need for prep

But for the times when more, I need

I’ll read what past things I have keyed

Sometimes I’ll use them as a base

Elaborate, a past embrace

The most important thing, to me

Is just to let your mind go free

Take all the things we’re taught to think

Forget them all, your mind unlink

Then rip the ceiling from your thought box

Let them escape, take outside walks

When your thoughts, you liberate

The block becomes an open gate

And so, to all who struggle, too

The simplest answer I have for you

Is during times your brain has slept

Pick just one word: that’s your concept

So often, friends, we complicate

When simple’s the approach to take

Working this way helps, I know

Just pick one thought, and make it grow

And as I look back at my own

Some things I’ll share, examples shown

Purpose, Fear, my Mother, Blurred

My concepts start with just one word

And when you start to write this way

The Block, it seems to fade away

The ideas flow, the concepts rife

So take these words, and change a life

The Tour

Psst, hey you! Come here, my friend

To you, my hand, I shall extend

Don’t be shy, come quietly

This is for you, just follow me

 

A tour this is, with me, your guide

So let us gently step inside

Now take a seat, get strapped right in

Prepare the mind to twirl and spin

 

First stop, its here, a bright red light

We look around, no soul in sight

And so we drive, but wait! Just stop

A ticket written from this cop?

 

“You ran a red light.” So, my friend?

There was no one around the bend

What purpose do you serve, you see?

Protect and serve, for my safety?

 

Then why, dear sir, must you oppress?

I looked each way, both right and left

‘Twas obvious, no danger here

And so I went, but still you’re here?

 

Truth is, my friend, that light you see

Is simply there for trafficking

A ticket now is petty, no?

Written only ‘cause “I told you so”

 

But hey,  you there, let’s move along

Let’s not get caught up in this “wrong”

The point of using it, you see

Was to make you sit and think

 

So come on now, next stop ‘n still

Is at my cousin’s funer-ill

But don’t feel bad, no please don’t cry

He had it coming, stupid guy

 

Just look around, observe and see

All these tears and cries we grieve

Tell me, is your faith in God?

‘Cause if it is, he’s just a bod

 

That’s right, he’s nothing now, down here

So wipe and dry that tumbling tear

If believe, you truly do

You’d be happy for the news!

 

He’s up there in your heaven, right?

And as you lay down, every night

You tell yourself “we’ll meet again”

But will you really, my old friend?

 

Okay let’s pause, and take a break

I know it’s hard to be awake

This tour is tough, it’s hard for me

To drive folks through reality

 

The truth is harsh, it doesn’t care

What color, skin, or crown you wear

These words offend you? Sacrilege?

Buy “ignorance is bliss” package

 

This tour, I say. it must go on

And money man, it pays the bondS

So let’s move on to our stop three

And talk about our friend, money

 

Here we have, right in our hands

The instrument, that rules our lands

Every single thing you do

Is to make more, more accrue

 

More and more until its thought

We can afford the life we want

Well what if way back, way back when

‘Fore money was invented, friend

 

They’d thought of something else, instead

Like I build houses, you bake bread

Existence without currency

I know its weird, this tour with me

 

Its in a world, where things are not

The status quo, these thing’s we’re thought

Hey, you know, I’m just your guide

That’s how it is, just let it slide

 

Pretend its normal, this new world

Cause every curl we have uncurled

Is hard to think of, yeah that’s right

Because you’ve learned one way, alright?

 

Conditioning, please don’t feel bad

But when you wake up, don’t be mad

These things we’ve taught you to believe

Are all an act, a just reprieve

 

Created rules, and laws you see

To contain the thought that’s free

But now my friends, you have a guide

I need support, this scheduled ride

 

We must end it, I decree

And bring back our humanity

There is a game, you know it’s true

And trust me, world, I need you

Leadership

True intentions lie within

But as you play the game of sin

The dirty secrets start to out

Revealing what you’re all about

It’s happened since

The dawn of time

And as I write

This lovely line

There’s folks that think

They dodge the fray

But we all know

They’re in the play

Act 2, act 3

It matters not

For curtains draw

When you get caught

Now its time

To take a bow

So write that speech

You’ll need it now

I hope its good

This talk you give

This crowd is harsh

They don’t forgive

But hey, you wanted

To play the game

The power, prestige

The empty fame

Now its time

To own right up

And pass the torch

Give back the cup

Let this remind

To those who play

That leadership

Is not a game

Pyramid

Pain

It fills my veins

Evades the remedies

Reaches all my extremities

A life of love so temporary, I allude

I opt instead for darkness, and solitude

Pen and pad are all I want, they’re all I need

Though I try to hide the pain, each day I grieve

Search for calm and peace of mind, a still reprieve

It will not matter now or then, the things that I achieve

The only thing that matters is creation, look and see what I did

Read and read and keep on reading, at the end you’ll see – my Pyramid

What We Are

At night, I know, my mind has proved

For that’s when all the mask’s removed

We work and play, and yet we think

Of all the things we want, a link

 

A link to all we want to be

So instead we make a fantasy

We dream and wish and wish and dream

And then when morning comes, we scream

 

We live the lives we’re taught to live

And bottle up the love we’d give

The sense it makes, you know its true

And yet we still uphold the glue

 

We’re holding on, to something that

Is natural, don’t fear it, Matt

But lies, deceit, it rules in fonts

Because we can’t admit our wants

 

This self deception, shining clear

Is why we’ve dug this hole right here

One day we’ll know, just what we are

Just animals, we’ve not gone far

Don’t Wait

Oftentimes, I’ll look to see

The person looking back at me

Watching through a hazy lens

At who that strange reflection is

 

Staring forward, several blinks

Is he the person that he thinks?

Does he do the things he speaks?

Is practice coming from the preach?

 

My eyes still glare, this man ahead

I’ll wonder what, that day, is said

Right now I live, and yet I dread

What memory, of me when dead

 

What mark have I bestowed upon

The family that I belong

I hope they say, when I’m a thought

That happiness is what he brought

 

Improved the lives, of all the men

The girls and kids, the children

For life is but a journey, yes

We walk and run, we talk and dress

 

We do the things we love to do

To make ourselves enjoy the dew

Every day, a precious gift

So smile wide, and heart uplift

 

This path is short, don’t waste your time

Just search and search until you find

The purpose you’ve been looking for

Unlock and open passion’s door