I don’t think

I can keep my mind straight

freight train

ride along blast through cities

all rear no holding on tight.

Can’t remember the last time

you stayed over for a past night

last life- won’t miss it for a past crime.

Tied to the tracks with a foul mouth

won’t die quiet or count time

speed demon- never cash out

call it quits when I turn grey

here tomorrow till I stand out.

Challenge the sun won’t rise

break a promise and four ties

swing lemons and two lies.

on flat feet

waiting on challenged feat

true challenge, self care.

Just me myself and you

can’t des-cribe it

that’s the challenge.

Move on

out the way

my baby is calling meee.

Travel real far

backpack across- it’s a real challenge

but not for you.

Not a damsal with one life line

real comfort

just real bonus.

A real deal

new deal

and it’s the new balance

we found.

a pool of crickets and lily pads

trinkets tossed if a rush and uturn

updraft and smacking lads

frisky and drunk-

drunk enough to see the subtitles backwards

call in the morning and seeing the message tomorrow

afterwards- couldn’t watch the sunset.

it wasn’t the same one

fire rounds

you said you’d be the one

and you’re not around-

it isn’t fair

the day we went to the fair

dimples so sweet

can see it from a booth afar

and now I’m alone at this lake-

craving a day at the fair

no farewells just the day

fade in sipping wine in May

fade out the lake is in the way

just need you to stay

Best behavior-

the camera is tilted to the right

side of the bed

catch the morning sickness

sick to thee knees and I’ll be here all week.

Weak but I’ll be here

striving to reach those heights we set-

setting and striving up the sloped keys

the lock at the secret hills

secret tropes

ropes and ropes

stalling in the middle of winter

summer laughs on our behind

behind a velvet vip.

climbing and a wait

and a wait

with a sock on the door

I stare at it.

The last thing that was said in a script

torn in half-

ending at a time where the folded

paper fell end-less-ly.

The scenes wrote themselves

interactions, development,

romantic – entanglement

down the middle

breaking ties with visions of a big screen debut-

down for the count

stout and a pint

words of salvage

picked back up

tape and elbow grease

and work.

The script is worth it-

never seen a work of art

this real and authentic

with connection that you wouldn’t

understand unless you stood under

the sun questioning

why.

What’s going on?

nothing right now-

silence and absence

questioning why

in an abandon warehouse watching the stars hoping for a flicker of communication.

balance is the key-

the text on the fortune cookie

a scale in one and a blade in another

nothing right now-

only to repair the same story

with the ending it deserves.

I challenge

all of you tonight-

to not settle for something less than perfect.

the food you eat

the gas you pump

the perfect catch on a cold river day with your son’s gentle eyes holding you in the highest regard.

Try it. It might click-

we should shoot for the five out of five

the dream

the top restaurant in the city

the trillest party

the perfect kiss.

We live these dreams

through our media

tell ourselves its scripted

real life flips channels faster.

Go out-

find the perfect tacos

paint-

tell the person that you can’t get out of your head that your sick of them running through your head

where are you

what are you doing.

 

I plead- try.

It won’t work all the time-

you’ll miss the train

lose your wallet

fall into a puddle.

You know, the scene where the girl dumps the guy and his life is over?

that’s that moment.

but take that moment

to appreciate that you tried to achieve

and try again soon.

it’s out there- I know it is-

I want to share it with you

the perfect pancakes

the sun rising with crimson red and orange orange behind a photo lens

the night that person calls you back.

It’ll be worth it-

accept my challenge

and I can’t wait to hear about your perfect day.

I use lines and metaphors to hide

something real-

it’s hidden in the words

deep between the pages

and everyone finds something different.

Love, death-life, or a stress free image to carry them off to sleep-

sleeping in the comfort of my tree house hiding

from what is real-

keeping in what made me who I was-

the lines and the metaphors convert

the troubles and the texture of daily wear

into something

tolerable.

I could tell you my day was shit

or that the Nile came past my knees and swept me away before being rescued by a somber of breath.

It’s safe in this tree house-

built with pages of forgotten poems and fiction ideas

characters that crawl in my dreams

turning them into nightmares.

I want to stay here-

they don’t deserve this life-

freedom is what my children need

I’ll swim the Nile for them-

break down these trees that supported my fears

and housed my heart.

It grew in the matter of days.

Out of control vines

a strangle hold

a choke hold

autopilot.

Flight with turbulence-

dips and dives into ground

lost over the Atlantic

found in the Winter.

chasing-

not a hard chase-

but I won’t let you go

even as the plane passes by overhead and I’m crashing down below.

 

maybe you’re crashing too-

maybe the sea will break my fall.

 

we don’t have to eat at Chicks

we can meet at Cane’s down the street

don’t give up the chase

lets meet up and get something to eat.

but I’ll go alone-

it’s not the end of the world my friends

I’ll shake it off and bury it-

but here I won’t pretend.

Make believe on the eve I’ve seen your eyes

on my wrist

and they’ll tell it all

that this world is ours.

Buried-

the shovel won’t go to far

the Earth won’t let it

just rest quietly in a grave for one.

the morning is coming-.

and that’s not good enough.

The magic hides on a hill North from here

and it waits.

The porridge and eggs in the morning

it’s fine for those looking to stay sheltered from the storm

but why.

Hiding from the extra beauty and adventure

is lying to yourself.

Feeding yourself

triumph these mountains yourself-

wasting time on the comfort of knowing

what will happen tomorrow

that is enough for some

the window watchers

and the bench riders.

Don’t play their game.

Explore, live- try

to see the colors on the other side and experience

truth.

For him it’s North- for you

maybe closer.

Yet, will applaud those with the safe option-

not everyone has that on the menu-

but when it’s there, promise me,

you’ll chase that magic-

it doesn’t reveal itself

to everyone.

a charade funeral

just to see if anyone would

show.

validation that time well spent was

well-

well enough to leave timed marking on the Earth

and few cheap roses.

he’ll stand in the back-

in zero eyes

and he’ll watch.

some close-

some making appearances to say they came to clear an unclear conscious-

only to go home and finish the bottle they’ve been working on

since the sun rose.

a couple of lovers- a few that brought their new children

a few that remember the good times

a few that wish they never stopped.

a brother who couldn’t keep it together

he still carries around the toy guitar key chain he got on Christmas-

tight in a clutch today.

he’ll make note of those that didn’t show

those that couldn’t say goodbye

those strong enough too-

a ghost with a pen.

the service was garbage-

but no one cared-

they cried with a memory in their mind

and words they never spoke in their heart.