Things I Fought For

I found myself smaller and smaller against the blue.
Alone at the bottom of the world,
Nothing else in the raft but faith and fate.
So I took a risk and broke out the oars, saying,
"Honestly there's gotta be more to see than this endless sea."

So carelessly and irrevocably I started to save me
But not once did I imagine a design so grand and fearfully made.
This raft a patchwork of measured words, reverent deeds,
And whispered prayers of "Hope this works",
Carried me further than I could imagine.

Did not love the hardships,
Nor question the validity of the difficulty,
But appreciated the current that dragged me to where I ought to be.
If this is all just a metaphor for growing up,
Why did it have to be tested by such a rough sea?

Saw angels and demons in the waves,
Found the fire in my throat,
Took open risks on open seas,
Coped with salt written into open memories,
And pulled in the wind with the possibilities.

I fought for myself.
I fought for myself.
I fight for myself.

Our Chorus

Oh how you burst, old friend.
Catch an eye, caught a spark,
Outside, in the dark.
I swear I can hear our laughter,
Further ahead, further on up.
I promise I can do my best,
To let you know you're being cared for.
This story has had quite the cast of characters,
So I step back to see the whole tapestry.

Now I am struck by these moments passing on.
Fall trees, falling leaves, golden on the ground.
Lines of magnificent adults forging words for one another.
Lonely intersections full of past and present possibility.
A man offering a chestful of support for lover's tired head.
Wordless, breathless airport reunions sequel anxious longing looks.
Snow falls on this silent night, holy night, a world at rest.

So be at peace; be still when you sleep.
Find the right words for each person
And guard your heart from a bitter erosion.
Share but not steal, be honest to heal.
Rise each day, place determination in your steps,
Boldness in word and deed, and over all of these,
Hope.

Brother Moon

I may have come first,
Content to go nowhere fast.

Holding this orbit,
Meant to last.

Sun stands still,
All else moves.

Time may ebb and flow,
Depending where you stand.

Different paces,
Occupying different spaces.

So I as Brother Moon, will give my best,
Lighting the dark along with the stars.

Sometimes I may be half here,
Quarter, sliver, gone, not for long.

Wait out my dark and I'll wholly shine.

So even when I'm not 'round,
You can still seek me out,
And don't wait to make myself known:
But wherever you roam
I won't be far from home.

Familiarity

All is lost and found,
I hope.
I miss the places I used to find myself;
Sights and sounds and smells still pull me back.
A lightning strike, a wave of Déjà vu,
Clap your hands it's gone. 

Momentum

Never has movement been so slow;
A glacial act of growth;
I have been swept along with so much to show.
Empty fields amounted to empty space.
Watch the mile markers and milestones recede,
Stored alongside everything I think I need.
That's the thing about momentum.
You're stuck when you're still in place
But once you start moving it's quite hard to still the wheels.

Alone on the open road.
Stop. Caution. Storms ahead.
Slow. Merge. Lane change.
I guess we should press on.

Loaded down with the luggage I deemed essential,
I think I packed too much.
A suitcase here,
Traveling bag there,
Laid to rest along the way.
Now I begin to swing out,
For miles

miles

miles.

Beast

A city is a strange beast.
Feed it and it will sprawl,
Groaning as it stretches towards the next horizon.

A concrete earth.
A gridlocked forest. 
Sights and sounds and fury

Among the hardness there remains mystery.
Unexpected gestures.
Uplifting spots of graffiti.

I like the way nature can break the gray.
Luminous billowing pillars beautifully hurt the eye
Over parks built for respite.

I wish you could see the lights,
The creature's neon restless eyes,
Keeping me from sleep at night.

Have you ever watched a city beast sleep,
As it huddles near the mountains' feet,
Speaking huddled roars in dreams of distant shores.

See the cells in the veins,
Moving in vain thorough fare and thoroughly worn,
Perpetual motion and infinite breaths.

Humans are humans and here's the beast we made,
Bricks and concrete and tired, bleary eyed scenes.
The beast, the machine, man and his dreams.

Who has been tamed,
We or the beast?

A Point Against the Sea

Swept over or swept up,
Same thing and same results.
How can you stand among the waves
Without bowing out and under.
How do you even begin to push back
Against the rising tides.

Turn and lean in, my friend, turn and lean.

If we're out to sea might as well try swimming.

Rhythm

Maybe we're suburban kids with backyard swings
Who never grew up during their college scene
So this is what I know,
Why we act so brave to save face,
Because we're breaking, breaking, breaking
Down.
Further and further and further down.

We have to do something about this don't we, darling?

Adults always look like they're living a magnificent life
But like A Sunday Afternoon it's all small dots up close
And we all live moment to moment, dot to dot.
Sometimes we all get to be a study in deconstruction,
Circling around the weight of our own gravity,
Landing between joy and despair,
But at least you land on your feet.

I may be walking in widening circles but at least I'm moving.

Phoenix

Do you remember how to even scream?
You entered this world doing as much,
Sometimes you have to roar to remember your lungs.

So slip the words past the lips
Dismiss the feeling that something's amiss
For we all wish for those we miss.

Stars and moon, grey rocks support my shoes;
Hold me down and through, all that I fear I knew
Might catch me and keep me from what I should do.

So much of me wishes you could hear how elegantly
I can deliver a soliloquy about the state of being me;
Maybe that'll be when you can see the irony.

All my carefully crafted care that I had created
Caved and collapsed consequently, last time I checked.
It's kinda hard to keep recreating myself amid my own chaos.

Feel the fire placed in your throat, don't choke
Just say all the words to keep yourself afloat,
The scars you hold shouldn't matter if they show.

I let the fire burn deep and low,
Spread the ashes and feel their glow,
Sometimes you gotta burn yourself down just to grow.

Falling Out

I think I'll let myself go.
I think I'll just pack up and leave.
These bones are wearing thin,
Hurting when I think aloud,
I think it's time to start again.

Every now and then I see bits of me passing by
After I handed them out like tricks on Halloween.
I always thought they would return,
Like cheap gifts on Christmas,
Like unrequited love on Valentines;
But they were always ignored like Boxing Day.

I just want to lean on God's ear for a while,
In the mountains or maybe just away from here.
I fear the desperation so like all my fears I will carry it along,
Place it in front of Him and ask Him about the closed doors,
Of minor characters and final chords.

I placed those I loved where I could not reach,
In the heavens, among the stars,
And that's my fault and only mine.
So this one's for me.

Sleeping Worry

Nightly worries always come out at the darkest hour;

Sad, small things that scurry beneath the bed.

Neither truly evil nor unavoidable;

They slip unnoticed into our bedroom sanctuaries,
Leaving doubts,

Fears,

Worries,

Longings,

Remembered mistakes,

In the dark,
In their wake.

So stay awake and hear their songs lingering on towards the dawn,
When these things retreat leaving their bad seeds behind for you to keep.

Add caption

Off the Floor, In the Yard

It's an odd beast, isn't it?
This thing called hope;
Always coming back after it's been kicked down,
Discarded and disbelieved,
Tucked away in some desk drawer for the night.

It's not always a brighter tomorrow.
It might be a head above water, off the floor,
A resignation to try again.
Surprising lungs full of air, sudden silences in the yard,
At the very least it's making it through the day.
It's not always pretty, picking yourself up again,
But it is enough.

Three Scenes

A Scene

I wanted to write you a letter,

Hoping the waves would hold their course.

Knowing someone could get drunk off of you

But I wound up with an empty cup.

Be Seen

Some days the world holds sunlight;

Alive and dancing in halls of hospitals, schools, and cities.

So bathed in sunlight we are washed away.

See, Seeing, Saw

There are doors and halls

Leading to more halls and doors.

We're all so well dressed, our best.

Different clogs, different clicks, here's your exit.

Time makes strangers of us all.

Girl

She shook,
Afraid to be simply a supporting soul
In someone else's story,
So she simply breathed.
Out
And in.
Out
And in.
And started again, constructing her citadel.

Her walls were monolithic against the sky,
Even birds soared below their spires.
The walls kept the winter winds away
And gave shade from the summer heat.
But most importantly, it kept the city at bay.

The city was a surge from a sea of people;
A million ants swarming in the colony
All moving as an indomitable glacier.
She was right to build herself into a fortress.

She is safe behind the walls
And that's all that matters.
No shadows were left,
She shone into all the corners of her kingdom,
Sweeping away the encroaching darkness.

She is finally free to be who she needs.

Boy

Some days you just don't see coming.

Born from quiet desperation,
He attached his devotion
To any person willing to look his way.
Loss of blood, lack of heart
Let someone hold it, they stole it, tore it apart.

Remember the boy at the end of the street.
Bright eyed and light hearted,
Speaking with words honest and earnest,
All to his fault.
Best intentions fell aground on malicious inventions
Born from self-preservation of innocence.

He embodied an apology,
The way some men are forever stuck downtown,
Always wishing the grass was greener at home.
So the boy split himself up and let parts of him go,
Home with those he thought who needed him most.
A boy apart, on shelves and beds, just some abstract art.

Now he's taking himself back,
A tendon, a muscle, a bone, a sinew at a time;
Everything coming together in its right place.
He was terrified at how whole he could be.
Starting again the process of being,
By learning to walk and learning breathe,

The boy came alive and the boy became fine,
Recovered himself and restarted his journey.
A little bit hurt, a little bit new,
The boy was himself and that was enough.

Nightly Window

It's impossible to sleep with a hurting heart

So perhaps that's why I feel like a ghost here

Falling in love with shadows and ruins

And my vintage, water-colored childhood.

Green came streaking through the trees and grass

With blue hues cascading from the heavens

And red leaked from your young yearning heart

As innocence earnestly ran in the streets.

What's the point of time when minutes are hours and hours minutes;

Everything stopped making sense as soon as head met pillow.

You became legend and myth
As my sleep deprived thoughts
Shaped my waking perceptions.
You can be such a spectre,
Shattering at first sunlight.
You were the thunder,
The lightning,
The rain.
You were a storm and I all could do was stand there and wait.
I wanted to waltz across the deserts and oceans with you.
Afraid that I would trip and wake with fright,
I let you lead and I drowned in your seas of sand and foam
And I was bathed in salt and heat.

Bloody nose on bloody pillows,

Stayed awake all night, had nightmares to fight.

I dreamed of spiders stalking over my bed,

So I lurched from sleep, afraid I was followed into waking.

Storms never had me worried before, taking comfort from ferocity,

But now I woke with fear as rain met my window;
A pane of glass was all that was between me and the cold and dark.
It all sounded like the world was ending that night.

Hit the bed and fell awake

Before sleep walking beneath the sun.

Once I dreamed of golden shores, now far away and hard to find.

Sometimes I still feel comfort in trying to sleep.

I let the cold air of the room drive me below the covers.

It's not that I mind the cave that I've created,

I just think I've fallen a little too far down;

Sleep would be nice by now.

To Build A Home

A home is a good thing to want.

Four walls to keep the world from seeping in;
A harbor, a fortress, a place to sleep away Saturdays.

Let's make it all sacred, let's make it all safe;
We'll have enough wear and tear when we return from out there.

A house is made of wood and brick and by design
But a home is light and love grown on hallowed ground.

Remember a home is not built all in one night
It will take time but you must do it right.

So gather your patience and gather your wit
Raise up your walls and build them thick.

After all, you're building not just for yourself,
To raise a real home you must not remain alone

Friends and family and some that blur the lines,
Or maybe you'll have just the One but all can lend a hand.

If you build it right then the laughter and stories will echo on,
Long after you're gone.

Wonders We Lost

Every moment I held dear, left in slow motion.

Fireworks rose above the trees as we children laughed and dreamed.
Fall fell and we all grew a little bit older, a little bit colder, as the trees slept.
Snow blew horizontal, a pure curtain parted as I passed through the drifts.
Puddles soon swelled up from impacts of bare feet dancing in the street.

Hellos are lost and goodbyes linger.
Tall trees are laid low in the wake of storms,
While others grow up after death takes what it wants.
Some days you came home from school
Just to find out that the dog had been put to sleep.
Distance grew between between friends up the street,
Inch by broken concrete inch.

Some days have been easier to remember than others.

I found my breath that Sunday afternoon,

In my lungs hidden beneath skin and bones and sunlight.

The rain that splashed my lips

Was the closest I've had to a pure kiss.

We walked the town with the future over our heads

Where years before I spoke the words Tuesday wrote.

Talks between friends that lasted late into summer nights,

Lying innocently to ourselves that we would change the world.

Wasted hours were never wasted with friends,

On couches and floors, in front of screens or outdoors.

I wish I had breathed a little slower, a little surer;
Made every breath a "Hallelujah"

I think it is no ill thing to visit the past
As long as you don't linger and listlessly lean on it for support.

Sometimes we all need to relive our stories.

Care

One day I woke up
And fell out of love.
There was no warning.
There was no confusion.
It just happened
With such clarity too;
It was alarming
How easy it was,
As easy as say...
Pulling off the sheets,
Rubbing sleep from eyes,
Stretching with sinews singing
Towards the ceiling.
I don't think it's you,
I don't know if it's just me,
Nothings hurts,
Nothing is wrong,
So maybe it'll be best
To wait and see.
It's easy to be
Comfortably complacent;
No catalyst
No motivation
No loss,
At first.
It takes hard work
To start a new fire
Once the heart goes dark.

Sea Through Rain

Run your fingers through the rain
I'll twist my ankle, just a sprain
So I lay awake after the thunder has tucked me in
Beneath the covers that cover my feet.
I am graceless but I am steady
I know by now we might never be ready.
Maybe it's how I wish I could set the pace
Of running the halls, dancing on tables,
All before it's too late.

A downpour creates something more
And now we must move on.

Let's laugh as the sea crashes in;
Listen now and you can hear it.
Through windows, through doors,
Through the halls, and where we once stood.
Let the past drown, leave it down and out and behind,
You shouldn't have to carry the weight of what is now done.
The best parts will float after you anyway.

Champagne Novocaine

This taste was different as it lingered on the tip of my tongue.

Sure the shame still stood out with its crimson hues,

Bleeding through and rising over my face.

The regret rolled across the roof of my mouth,

Curling and churning ghosts, busy haunting the back of my mind.

The sorrow I had swallowed several times before,

Bitter and black and heavy as it sank down.

I can catch lingering lines of novocaine that I had self-prescribed, 

Now my tongue's too numb to raise for the right words.

And underneath it all I finally taste the free air. 

Hollow Body

I wish I could sing with urgency
But currently I only hum under my breath.
I used be to so sincere
Sincerely believing in so many things
Like I could change the world
And have love handed to me on a silver platter
All the while believing in an inherit innocence in creation.
Now I'm not so sure about all those beliefs.

I still want to believe that there's light in the storm
And that music can still be heard above the static.
I think the bravest souls are those who venture out among masses
To play their songs, tell their stories, and share their hope.
Words have weight so weigh them carefully before sculpting
You could build world from words and songs and laughter.
On the days where I fear that the words I write are empty,
The days where I just don't feel anything,
I just remind myself that violins are hollow.

In Pockets

Haikus are like spare
Change, I always have some that are
Rattling around me.

Twenty-One Times You'll Say Goodbye

If you love life you will learn to say goodbye
For this journey will be full of them.
Learn to say them well, they matter just as much as hellos.

You will learn to say goodbye to loved ones,
Bedded down in pine and embraced by the earth.
You will learn to say goodbye for the night
After your lover drops you off at home.
You will learn to say goodbye as you wave to your parents
After they moved you to your new life.
You will learn to say goodbye when you come home
And learn that your pet was gently given over to sleep.
You will learn to say goodbye and then forget your social cues
As you two awkwardly walk in the same general direction.
You will learn to say goodbye as to save your life
From the poisons you might be holding dear.
You will learn to say goodbye to homes and harbors you've known
As you head out towards the unknown, alone or in good company.
You will learn to say goodbye to all your friends
Maybe for education, for choices, for changing of names.
You will learn to say goodbye to dreams, maybe not all,
As you grow older and hopefully dream a little bolder.
You will learn to say goodbye to petty quarrels
So bite the bullet, admit you were wrong, save yourself some pain.
You will learn to say goodbye when you're least aware
A bad day, quiet day, a day late; just be prepared.
You will learn to say goodbye in advance
As you prepare for the inevitable uprooting of life.
You will learn to say goodbye quietly or even not at all
Sometimes just slipping away silently is all you should do.
You will learn to say goodbye to pieces of your heart
Either violently broken and stolen or simply handed out.
You will learn to say goodbye to days given to the past
Childhood day dreams or darker things long gone now.
You will learn to say goodbye to simpler things
A favorite song, a favorite dish, things you might not miss.
You will learn to say goodbye to many families and homes
That have all adopted you as their own.
You will say goodbye to the safety that you thought you had
When your shields are torn down and thrown away.
You will learn to say goodbye to your childhood
As you hide away your toys like closeted time capsules
You will learn to say goodbye to all the bad days you've weathered
More are coming you know but don't let them linger on after they're done.
You will learn to say goodbye
And all will simply be.

Sucker's Luck

I think I would trade being loved by most people
For being remembered by those I love most.
But despite my desire to be memorable,
I worry that I'll stay and linger when I know I should go.
I'll always steal moments as I play witness
To some written honesty,
Some couple's kiss.
Moments like secrets I shouldn't have seen
And I feel guilty, just for being there.
So I will stand here and be quietly magnificent
In suit and tie and impossible contradictions
And what's funny is that the most thought out part of me happens to be anxiety.
In regards to silent goodbyes, to awkward accidental reunions;
I've taught myself to fear all of life's surprises that catch me off guard.
I promise you won't find me brave upon initial meeting.
Maybe I just like my self-loathing self
In order to pay penance for all the innocence I've pocketed.
The only way to live this is life is to dance through it all
But I've never been able to keep a beat.
Yes I'm what lurks beneath my own bed;
A strange beast that breathes and sleeps and regrets things it's seen.
Maybe all our monsters deserve to be pitied as they dream their own dreams
Of being redeemed.

Thimble Full of Fire

I watched as you dropped your bouquet to the forest floor
And hid among the tall grass.
I chased the dream of you among the trees,
Weaving a lonely little path here and there.
I know I'll never catch up,
With my hands always grasping through the mist.
But your notes continue to resound through out the woods
As I try to follow your symphony.

I never noticed the weight of continuing this chase,
Too heavy to hold to the course.
You all told me so
The only way to go and I know,
So I let go, let go, let go
So here I end this race,
Never did I match my pace that I had when I entered this place.
I have burned myself out,
Worn myself down,
So I must go, I must go, I must go.

As I take one last look back through the woods,
I see you carrying on and upwards, upon new paths not known to me.
Now we are free.
Now we are free.

Mimic

A crowd says everything and nothing at once
And I am lost.
There is no substance in this white noise,
No solid ground to stand on.
All drums and no rhythm.
Going faster makes no difference
When losing sight of the road.
And so the drone passes on
And on
And on
And on
And on.
Now the original note has been lost,
Pitch by pitch the old tone is shifted,
All that I shout to be heard is now buried.
I never wanted discord,
Disharmony,
And disbelief.
Just as I thought I was never part of the noise,
Surely I only added to it, perfectly in tune
With the songs I didn't want to sing.

Mountain Laid Low

A man spent his whole life
Tearing down a mountain,
A stone at a time.

He did it all for his ailing wife,
A deconstructed monument
To the testament of stubborn love.

I'd like to see his hands,
The hands that tore down a mountain,
Just so his love didn't have to walk around.

I'd like to see his feet
And the miles that they've climbed,
Covered in the dust of the mountain.

I'd like to see his dreams.
Does he remember the mountain
Before he laid it low?

Did he apologize to each stone as he toiled alone,
Did he carry them down like broken children
Or wept as he swept them over the dwindling precipice.

Because of love a colossus was irrevocably eroded.
So do you think he feels sad for sacrificing the mountain
Now that he's left himself with an empty horizon.

Minor Characters

There can be such thunder in our hearts,
Echoing in the distance or up close shaking our window panes
But sometimes I choose to go quietly.

You were a fortress with chin resting on knees,
Silhouetted in the hall,
Back perfectly aligned against the wall.

Your voice gave shape to worlds.
You conducted a symphony as your finger met parchment
And every word a crescendo.

I read your story well and bookmarked my favorite pages.
Honored that you shared it with me,
I'm at peace being a footnote on the pages where I lingered.

You were a kindness,
A story that I would prefer to keep reading, now or later,
But all good stories deserve good endings.

Let me down gently so I may be lost in that slow current
Of well-worn remembrance,
Because nothing ever reads as good as when read in nostalgia.

Bruising My Palms

I appreciate your honesty,
Inlaid with steel and swung with great force.

The years have not been the kindest
But still you've kept your defenses up against the odds.

But while I would have you endure my friend,
It's time to lay down your weapons.

After all, steel never shines on its own,
Only reflecting a little light from yourself and that's dim enough.

I am tired of dancing through these dodges
And patching up these wounds when the blows land.

By now you're just swinging at shadows
Even if the only shadows are cast from friends.

So you pour yourself out like holy water,
Hoping your faults will wash out better through long suffering.

You never feel more useless then when the people you love most
Have no way for you to hold them up.

Maybe you're supposed to be this all encompassing mystery,
A knot to untangle as I try to sleep away these bruises.

Soul - Act V

All Circles

The war is over,
The war continues,
With ashes still crowning your head.
No one has won, no one has lost,
But you still can't call this a draw.

Beneath the roar of the river, rubble silently rolls on.
You watch from the ashen shores, unsure of what to feel.
Your monuments laid low, your vaults laid bare.
All you once were swept out to sea.

And I know this hurts like you're the only one here,
Isolated by these walls of fear and numbed from the cold
And afraid of fire for what once happened.
You scorched yourself black and the flame that once was dear
Charred your dreams and burned itself out.
Now the land has been left to the fog,
You no longer tend to the fire but only to the ruins.

This land doesn't have to be a cold, dead place.
Things could grow if only you would care again.
It will hurt you and you will become afraid,
But a soul need only agree to a 'tomorrow'
In order to start again.

Soul - Act IV

Miasma

Soon comes fire,
Sparked from my own hands.
This center cannot hold and the ship is lost.
All I know will be consumed in the roar and heat.
I will run from the trees, pursued by fire and flame
As my world burns and my tongue turns black from the ash.
The rivers all run dark with debris, buildings, and dead trees.
No larger a dark night of the soul but a night that must be survived,
With fear and doubt and loss and mistakes billowing with the flames.
If this is not the end then it must be close.

Soul - Act III

Haiku

All that I've wanted
Is someplace that's still and quiet,
Maybe that is peace.

Soul - Act II

Retreat

So I run,
Deeper into these woods.
Through thickets with thorns,
Too focused to turn east or west,
As I chase a myth long ways north.
I will never be whole with this hole
That I've knowingly burned through my soul.
I should have stayed on the path
Should have stayed silent,
Should have slowed my pace,
Maybe stayed home
Now I've stumbled down and earth fills my mouth and hands.
The longer I rest here
The harder I find it to leave.
Maybe I will join this floor of soil and roots and leaves
And remain here as a silent part of this old forest.

Soul - Act I

Stagnation

Maybe I have been chosen for this Pontious Pilate role
So I can keep washing my hands before making the right decision
With innocence not always intact.
So I will appreciate these acts of doubt
That I have raised up to place alongside all my other works of art.
Maybe I'm tired of being self-depreciating
And self-defeating when handed what I want
And the subsequent stumbling has haunted me ever since.
Like a record I'm skipping
Skipping
Skipping
Stuck in this rut.

Above the Bed

Early mornings alone feel like a thousand miles above home
And you look down on your sleeping friends,
Hoping they're safe and happy in their beds
As you burned yourself awake in your pyre of a bed.
Now rising and gaining speed, the world continues below
With all your slumbering friends, leaving and at peace.
So speak now or hold a piece of what you remember
As the world passes on.

Skin

I'm sure you know those kinds of days
Where you feel like any cut in your skin
Will make all that you are come unraveled,
That your insides will loosen and spill and bones crack and break.
When you're alone it is after all only you skin keeping you together.
All that makes us up is kept in place by the thin of our skin
Because so much of who we are are is skin deep but that is no bad thing.
Maybe thick skin is overrated, callouses unneeded.
A sense of vulnerability could let us feel the world anew.
Callouses block another's hands and mountain streams,
Thick skin numbing us when we ought to hear.
No one talks about the electricity found in skin,
Of raised hair along the curve of the head during embrace,
Skin chilling along the forearm in anticipation of some great symphony.
I appreciate the brick and mortar architecture of the skin of those I love.
Sunlight caught in the arches around the pools of eyes.
Veins below the surface but above the bones in your hands
And your dirty fingerprints hold your journey in their creases.
Bruises are the parchment charting your stories and mistakes.
Think about how skin can be pushed, pulled, creased, and soon cracked.
Be gentle to all, you never know how thin their skin can be.

Diamond Past the Pines

I love walking beneath this cathedral of creaking pines,

Down the aisles of overgrown forest-born pews
With the holy ferns all humming hymns of nature

As I emerge onto the edge of a sea of faded glory.

You can find ghosts here, haunting the lonely stretches of the field,

Between the bases and open expanses of the outfield.

You need to marvel at the wonder of this place

As children perform this ballet of bat and ball and bases.

There is a sweet science found in the perfect swing

And satisfaction in the sound of that lightning strike.

There is innocence and wonder in these things,

Tied so deeply to the past and this land.

I like this marriage of beauty and melancholy, 

Like when something innocent is the last of its kind

Or a moment holding precious fleeting perfection.

So I blinked and the kids were long gone and grown.

Silence sweeps back onto the field in waves with the wind
And this place becomes a monument to those who came before.
The birds of the air and insects of the ground rule here instead
So now where children should be laughing and running
We have this hallowed sacred silent ground.

The sun is setting now beyond the pine steeples

And the amber light turns all the rust back to gold.

Long stretching shadows hold long echoing voices

And for a brief moment this world has been restored.

Now I must leave this place, among the last of its kind,

Night has come down for this old diamond past the pines.

Would I Run

No one ever expects to have to worry about friends
Or rely on electronic messages to signal their safety.

People may talk about how there's no hope
And that this world is lost.

The people running to help never seem to think so.

Summer in the Suburbs

Being out of breath never felt better
After sprinting through the sprinkler
At our age when most other people question why we do such an act.

I appreciate the stillness of the street
Outside now, in the quiet summer heat
The rumbling in the concrete and clouds hint larger things to come.

I always appreciate these perfect lawns
And cookie cutter houses housing us all
This place is not as bad as it looks when you look past the cracks.

All of these sun-bleached roofs over our heads
With perfectly cubed nostalgia hued bedrooms
And kids sweating out dreams with guitars in the garage's heat.

I will run all these streets late into this night,
Wake my friends so we'll stay awake till light
Summer is finally here so let us dare each other to get outside.

Let's not act our age now, we could be older
Let's dress up and wander some art museums
Paying more attention to the people than the relics on the walls.

Let's just bike around till we find an empty lot
Let's daydream here underneath the sun or stars
Scheming of seeing the world but admitting our fears of leaving home.

Let's find some place that has been abandoned
Let's claim it, what's leftover from those before
We'll build a monument so someone will know that we were once here. 

Maybe leaving home is needed for some of us
Maybe staying home is needed for some of us
All I want is friendship to survive the distance of what's after here.

You could be such a perfect accomplice with me
Parking your car, charging the sprinkler together
I hope all friendships can be forged anew in the long summer heat.

Last Door on Your Right

And before you cross through that door
You will see all that the others left behind,
Fears and shame and mistakes and those small flaws
That always contributed to our hesitations.
Now we may leave our burdens at the door
And be reunited with those who we knew before,

This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it?

For when good-byes are useless and hellos are old news.
All the best reunions are like this,
Of equal parts melancholy from long leaves of absence
And joy grown out of restoration,
As water is always better after the desert.
You may come home now, slow down into this shelter,
And find the dawn you've long deserved.

Parts of A Whole

Once God took apart man to make something more
And Plato theorized that we all are just halves of a whole;
Either way we've been lonely since the beginning.
So when alone we're less than the sum of what fills that hole,
I guess this means it's okay to feel that something's lacking
Like when you walk into the next room and feel someone missing.

Have you ever held a stranger's gaze, accidental or deliberately decided,
In hopes of eventual conversation or should a smile suffice?
You're a brave one, breaking yourself over one of our unspoken barriers,
The one where silence rules in public places of desired minimalist interaction,
Hopefully you've been adequately rewarded by some decent human moments.

Go into the world and challenge yourself to catch a person unaware,
We are all tired of being alone and we all start as strangers anyways,
So might as well risk a little to gain what once was lost.

Worth of A Story

The best kind of stories have you longing for their friendships,

The kind of stories that make you weep at their ending,

The kind of stories involving sacrifice and fights and love and long talks at night.

These are the stories where you long to be there with the characters,

At their happiest or their dark nights of the soul,

Maybe just to bring them a cup of coffee or a word of reassurance. 

You always wish that you could bring these friends home,

So they could share in your story with all of its arcs,

You always grow sad when reality breaks your innocence and wonder.

So scuff your feet at the ground and grow alone in your bed,

Fondly remembering old friends and journeys,

But no one ever said you have to stay away forever from your well traveled tales.

These characters matter and these stories have meaning.

They have happened before and can happen again.

We tell love these characters and know these stories are worth repeating.

Stories have worth that should never be taken for granted,

Never let anyone attempt to tell you otherwise.

The dragon can be slain, friendships can last, and the princess can be rescued.

A good story is not an easy journey as each reader comes to it in their own way,

That should not dissuade you from sharing the story,

Rather it'll let you know that you have your own story and it's one worth writing well.

A Brief Evening With Hemingway

I found myself at a cocktail party once,
Hugging myself close to the wall
As Hemingway occupied everything else in the room.
He won himself quite the audience that evening,
Wetting his whistle with whiskey
And spouting terse terms
Of what Spain had been like
And of Africa before that,
All to underline some broad stroke of masculinity.

A rule that I always seem to break
Is to never make eye contact
With someone you don't want in your life,
No matter how brief that may be.
So when I committed that personal sin,
With the man at the center of attention,
He slopped and sipped his gin towards me
And said

"Write drunk."
And all the men and women laughed and cheered
As he was swallowed up once again by his worshipers.

I just stood there and shifted my weight around.
After all that's what I'm good at, maybe even good for.
So I said "Good night." to the wall,
Thanked it for some good conversation,
And found my way out the door.

Write drunk and you'll prolong the inevitable act of remembering.
Writing sober will hurt but the pain will paint for you your words.

Concrete Canyons

We were not made for this grey desert,
This blistering wasteland of towering concrete coffins.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream, as this place takes hold of me.
No one grows in a cage, we cannot stay and we should not stop.
Let me out,

Let me out,

Let me out from behind these built up walls.

I have been pent up long enough thank you very much.

I don't want to pass away here, among only what man has made.

Let me down to sleep on the silent fields of this last golden summer,

Beneath the stars that have been hidden too long from me.

Concrete Canyons

Weight of Light

The sun intruded on the rain today,
I was never a fan of that.
It's like the sun decided to rain
On my rainy day parade;
An unwelcomed guest at someone else's party.
But I grew to admire the sun in its tenacious parting of the clouds;
A fierce force of fire through the storm.

I believe that light bears weight
As it presses against the lids of our eyes.
Strong enough to burn our breath away,
That molten eye above us all.

So if you go outside some day,
And you find the sun hanging loud in the sky,
Stop and think about the scope of it all.

Just a Handful of Words

Do these words have meaning
Just because I wrote some down, conceiving
Some ideas, some thoughts of fear, love, and trepidation.
So do you think what my words bare are worth believing
While I speak and shake and ponder how quickly I can be leaving
So that I may go and hide behind my friendship as I tremble with hesitation.

They say write about what you do know
And I'm supposed to know me personally
But personally I find it hard to know me
As my emotions and thoughts drag me away from where I should be.

You can see my disdain plain on my face, as I wrestle and cope

Pondering if I've ever even said anything of any significance.

My math is one word plus an idea times direction divided by doubt
And I end up with a sum of less than what I had hoped to amount to.

All my words have rebelled up at me, at one time or another.
All I can do is apologize for using them like that.

A Dangerous Habit

Have hope,
Be it for a day or a better tomorrow,
But have hope all the same.

You may feel alone and you may be ashamed,
You will feel silly and more than a little insane,
But have hope all the same.

Look for it in wordless music
As all the best things in life are found in unsaid contentment.
Look for it in strangers
Who'll save a stranger or simply pay for the guy behind in line.
Look for it in nature
When everything thaws and trees dress nice for evenings once again.

So you will always find hope
As long as you have eyes to see.

The Year of Being 18

Is this supposed to be the apex?

Do you really consider this the epicenter?

Some two-thousand years of human progress,

And we’ve hardly left the arena.

It’s the same every year,

Repeating the Tiananmen Square of the America teenager.

Seek knowledge! Chase achievement! Pursue popularity!

But don’t think beyond the walls and why aren’t you in line?

Two dumb kids fall onto the bed in love,

Only to fall through the floor into the maternity ward.

Why did we even consider ourselves wise.

How did we ever consider ourselves invincible.

Arise! Oh those born with bright eyes and questions in mouth,

Make noise out loud and make it glorious,

Wield your innocence and clutch it like a sword

For yourself and your fellow warrior poets.

Alarm us all with how disarmingly easy it is

To have identity in the age of stressed anonymity,

With everyone wanting you to do or be something,

It’s your inaction that shines the brightest.

Friends for the Finale

Some of you I've forgotten how you walked into my life
While others I'll never forget your graceful entrance.
I am humbled in this home, hallowed by your presence.

How long a friendship lasts is not what makes it important
But rather the ability to endure such tests.
Some of us have been forced apart by time, distance and mortality;
Others just as grand, but never quite the same as any one of you,
Have come alongside to shine in this grand and vast Milky Way.

If I could I would have us all build a permanent home together,
I would raise it up as a shelter; never a place of want or need.
We would shelter this storm and others that would come and pass.

But we can't, this story was not meant to unfold this way.

So arm your promises and practice your "Good-byes"
But let's walk together, please, over one, last, final hill.

No Man

Remember, no man is stronger than the one who asks questions,
Because asking questions leads to answers and these will strengthen you.
They will pull you out of the dirt and sand where you have been for so long.

No man is really made of iron or steel or stone but of heavier things.
You are flesh and blood and dreams and failures and strengths.
Remember this, build your home on these, but don't let it pull you down to the deep.

No man is less than the sum of his whole,
But does that really just mean that no man is more than an island?
That we're designed to be defined by the globe and not the sand and trees?

So what are we supposed to be?
We can spend our whole lives chasing one mystery after another
But are we ever content with the man behind the curtain once it's drawn back?

Now hear this, ahead of you are ravines and cliffs and mountains and caverns.
Charge on and be clever bout it; living well and dying well are two sides of the coin
Map your journey and share it with those behind; accept from those ahead.

Remember dear soul,
Travel well but never alone, for your light will shine brightest among other bearers.

No Man

Somewhere to Long For

I long for a summer of beauty.
The heat may scorch my lungs and the wind may blister my skin,
But I have been without the sun for far too long.

I woke up to find myself here,
bathing in this summer night.
These woods open up and dance,
the trees creaking in unison.

Nothing is truly beautiful,
Without some measure of challenge,
So love will be our end ascent.

I have slept through the dark of winter,
Arisen into the beginnings of spring,
And walked into the halls of summer.

I am adrift and at peace.

A Difference Between Doubt and Despair

Let's be honest, it's easier to be cynical,
To take things as literal and strip of their meaning.
But don't you find it demeaning, to not believe in love?
That above all that there is, that there's no story behind the scenes?
Sometimes it's just hard to see, between you and me.

So why is hope something a little bit more than we stand?
We act with grand designs but then we create our own suffering.
Look, we all want to be something, that's all fine and great,
But we must move at a faster rate if we are ever to escape gravity
Or we'll all wake up with a cavity where our soul once lived.

We are all looking for that one special "experience"
So when we finally cross that distance we're tempted to trivialize it
Commercialize it so we aren't alone with the discovered truth about ourselves.
Ring all the bells, wave all the white flags, and hear your swan song of selling out.
If your devout faith is to doubt then you will find every way out of believing.

Alone at Night