The parking lot’s full
But it’s empty inside
While teams duked it out
Culture slowly died
Composed 3/25/18
art
Hiatus
Composed 3/18/18
Headaches
Staying up late
Persistent vegetative states
Pay the bills
Netflix and chill
Eat fast food for every meal
Watch the news
Sing the blues
Familiar drives all done in cruise
Do some chores
Tests to study for
But mostly just wanting more
The oft repeated, historical find
That life takes up all your time
And thus leaves the martyrs three —
Spirituality, beauty, creativity
Opening Windows
Composed 1/20/18
Description: Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: Horizon. For inspiration I searched for horizon pictures and got a new desktop in addition to the inspiration I was looking for…
Perhaps I am rooted to this place
To these walls to these people
To my duties to this life
Destined to watch the same sunrise
Pretty and calm over the same country skies
But I am not rooted to this place
Others capture beauty and adventure
And play as eager historians
Recording their wonder in images and words
A new horizon I could find
Every night every morning every hour
And plaster each one over my window
To catch a new perspective
And someday I hope you will take joy in my discoveries
Find enlightenment in these simple, small town words
For it’s my love to see the world through your eyes
So perhaps there is value to mine
The Problem with Pirating
Composed 12/28/16
Description: Inspired by life and today’s Daily Prompt: Pillage.
It arrives in the arms of loved ones
They present their Gift and offer its joys
Indeed, I snatch it and hold it dear
Uphold it
And try to make their Gift my own
Eyes bright and brain chock-full with lofty daydreams and
Good intentions
I seek to become a Master
Researching, I say but really
Cheating
Looking over their shoulder
And the guilt sets in
I struggle for footing
In the end finding a poor copy
It turns out
Wanting to be is not the same
As being honest
So I take a break from being a Jack
Of all trades
And come back to the one
Thing that I think is me
A Letter to Humans in 2016
Composed 8/24/16
Description: Long overdue, this is for all of you.
it’s
easy
to get bogged down
by the blood and the lies
and the heart tearing pain
how could we ever escape it?
it is everywhere though
we try to avoid it
in our hands in our eyes in
every conversation
like an epidemic that
bleeds us dry
but this
this is why
we must make time for beauty
on days when darkness permeates
into our very soul we must
make an effort to make our hearts
erupt in song, in light
we must shine out from the inside
to make something
even if it’s just a smile
even if it’s only yours
can’t you see that we will die
if we hide beauty behind the lies
if we stop and never smile?
beauty is what renews the soul when
it’s been poisoned
beauty is what gives us hope
and not the false beauty that drags us down but
the art of a sincere soul
let your soul breathe
in beauty
it’s not an option it’s not
a silly hobby it’s
essential to life
don’t be tempted to
stifle it
don’t think it’s a poor use of time
to embrace it
we need it
make it
savor it
you might just
save us
Blunt Brush
Composed 4/4/16
Description: For day four of NaPoWriMo.
I’ve tried to describe it in
A few light coats but
It’s not covering
So I’ll just
Glob it on there nice and thick
Maybe then it will stick
Aesthetic
Composed 3/28/16
Description: I (tried to) paint my nails today. For the Daily Prompt: Frivolous.
Hours pass by in focused activity
In an activity that should pass in minutes
Intensity about aesthetic and quality demands
Experimentation then
Objective horror
Swift eraser proceeds though
Stubbornness is by definition unyielding
Thus
A compromising course of action is reached
Brief victory achieved despite
Intermittent frustration and exasperation
Hours again pass in caution to not undo the deed
Indeed, this very piece is constructed with tedious care and restraint
For the mission of productivity?
Alas no
Simply beauty
Magic in the Night
Composed 12/17/15
Description: For today’s Daily Prompt, which asked us when we do our best work.
When the moon hovers near
And the silence grows thick
When the dust is settled and the clock tick
Tick ticks you hear
Your own heart beating
Peace descends on the mind
Stretching out before you an endless time
Of ghosts and fairies, sweet and fleeting
It is the time of magic and honest thoughts
You are one with yourself and the earth
The heavens soothe, and stories are birthed
In the night, such beauty is wrought
The Audience Effect
Composed 4/1/14
Description: After the ashamedly long hiatus I’ve taken, I’m taking the plunge. That’s right, I’m signing up for NaPoWriMo, in which I will attempt to write and post a poem for every day in April. I know this will be good for me; I have a lot of ideas, but I can’t seem to sit down and write them out. Thusly, this is a perfect way to force myself to get into the habit of writing with consistency. In addition, I just want to get better! It seems today good poems and poets have been thrust into my face, and, admittedly, I’ve been jealous. I want to improve myself. I want to be more observant and write more deeply. I want to feel like I am a poet. And while thinking these thoughts, NaPoWriMo fell into my lap. So I’m going to try.
I admit; the first verse of this piece I had written before today. In fact, it’s been sitting in my phone for months, probably. But, yes, I finally am finishing it (very last minute, I’ll admit). I felt that it was only appropriate to talk about one of the trials of poets for this day one….
The art’s forgotten
For the sake of the praise
The performance suffers
With the audience gaze
We write about buzz
That’s trending today
Worried no one will read
If our words dare sway
It’s hard to promote
My personal trials
While controversy
Heaps attention in piles
And we edit to keep
Our secrets inside
Or we conceal pieces
From subjects’ eyes
For if it was
Our soul exposed
A quick read though
And they’d all know
The character
Of my deepest being
And judge me for the
Things they’re seeing
But if it’s changed
Just enough
I can face judgment
With easy rebuff
Because that’s not me
It’s just a shadow
So the poem’s safe
It’s just hollow
Scraps of Paper 