Demands

I want it now
I want it clean, I want it clear, I want it now
now isn’t at a better time
now isn’t in better circumstances
now is right now
at My convenience
and that’s all it will ever be

I deserve it
I’ve earned it
from the blood pouring from My toes
stubbed and swollen from the pacing
from the sweat dripping out of every overheated pore
exhausted from My tirades and tantrums
I am worthy
I am justified
I want the claim I’ve staked
I want what I’m warranted

I don’t speak those words often
because then you wouldn’t like me
but they dwell in the coarse, dried mortar
that holds together my pride brick by brick
they occupy the atoms and the molecules
that when added up
make the bones and the skin and the organs and the muscles
of land my spirit is squatting on

“The spirit is willing, but the body is weak”

My body has control over My every move
It feels the pain
It has the urges
It’s hunger is barely controllable
Which is the weaker one again?

Filed under: Poetry , Body, Demands, Entitlement, Flesh, Pride, Selfish, Spirit, Strength, Struggle, Weakness

Dad

To a man who’s shoes are hard for anyone to fill
and it’s not because they’re size 16
it’s because they’ve walked miles and centuries and galaxies and universes
at least thats what it seemed like it when I was 6 years old
but I’m beginning to believe it again now that I’m older

Because you always tell me never to give up the dream
even though you gave yours up to raise a family
but maybe that was your dream

And you’ve never said anything coarse about my mother
not even a joke around the boys
even though your one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met
the women in your life are sacred and porcelain

A gentle giant to say the least
all six feet seven inches of you
you were made that way because your heart couldn’t possibly fit
inside a bodily infrastructure any smaller

To a man who has had dozens of jobs
and have been good at every one of them
you fix everything
electrical, carpentry, mechanical,
philosophical, societal, communal,
emotional, hopeless, faithless
you fix everything

I wish I could explain you to people who’ve never known you
I wish I could write something about you that flowed coherently
but there are so many things to touch on that it’s hard to put honor to it in writing

Your name mentioned in the county you’ve lived in most of your life
evokes half cantaloupe smiles and warm stories of
life and love and how the two of them are the same to you

I’ve witnessed the darkest of hearts proclaim you wiser than any priest they’ve ever known
I’ve seen ball players and seasoned musicians who have more awards and honors
but don’t even come close to touching the things your accomplished.
I have not met a man I want to be more like than you.

I hope I can give your name honor in the years to come
I hope I can raise the stakes in my life and take a gamble on love like you do every day
I hope I can leave this earth having made it a better place like you have.
I love you, Dad.

Filed under: Life, Poetry , Dad, Life, Love

My legs are an infinite sunrise

I’ve seen some sunsets come and go this week.

some nights they carried down the sounds of laughter and revival with them
as if the the Sun were a young boy jumping off of the park slide
and the noise were helium permeated balloons
I could hear it fade out like in the movies
the picnic table outside my sister’s apartment was a throne
and I got a front row seat to consummation and credibility

other nights they left me without saying goodbye
I found the sky empty when I walked outside
I felt the paranoia of nothing accomplished
of hearing 99 no’s, and the 100th answer still being no
brimming with fear and shame that I wasn’t worth it
that time was wasted
that a life had taken the wrong path

every one of those days I lived a year within a Sun’s journey east to west
I found my path
set course
and came to a conclusion in the realm of my mind
how can I trust my mind?
I’m Superman in there.
I pass through walls
I’m a muscular physical specimen
I fight the daily injustices of those who combat my self-absorption
how can I trust my mind?

the steps I take and the rules I break
the actions perpetrated for good or evil
aren’t erasable
they are my future
my anxious spirit can only take me so far
the will of my heart and my Foundation
the Strengths found outside my own power
are where restoration and progress lead

my legs are an infinite sunrise
the pilgrimage toward change and wholeness
is a weary trek where new beginnings are always possible
my God is an effectuate sunset
the One who sees me
the Wealthy Riverbed where sturdy timber grows
the promise of tomorrow
and peace where the future is unknown

Filed under: Poetry , Failure, Faith, God, Heart, Peace, Promise, Sun, Sunrise, Sunset, Will

This is Rest.

I sit on Boyd and Aaron’s balcony.
I’m couch crashing here for awhile.
There are hornets.
I’m sitting and praying
They’re dancing and sashaying
We can live in this space together.

I see the wart that keeps reappearing on my left ring finger.
I lean over the faded railing and spit.
I think about the jobs I don’t have yet.
I think about the people I’m away from.
I think about the girl I’m away from.
I think about the people who’ve left their mark on my life
Those who’s footprints are still soft and warm inside my heart.
They’ve left my doorstep is all.
We have
memories
future plans
1,000 laughs
wide-spread, arm-length, vice-clamping embraces
and Facebook.

I sit in this plastic chair
Moments ago I just cleaned off what looked like rat poop
And I recline
I’m listening to Followed by Ghosts
And there’s a fountain I can hear
And there’s the sun behind the clouds.
Air conditioning doesn’t have a place to stay today.

Orlando will be in my rear view mirror soon.
I love it so much here.
But I love it so much wherever Stephanie is
And I love it so much when I get to live out my dreams in a career format
And I love new places and new faces and new graces

The community I’ve lived in here has prepared me
To continue creating community wherever I may be.
Being love
Being mercy
Being wise
Wanting to be all these things that I believe in so much

Being like these hornets
Pushed by the wind
Shot down from the sky
Path temporarily diverted
Destination still the same

I dedicate this writing to more and more balcony days.

Filed under: Life, Poetry , Balcony, Balcony Days, Beautiful Day, Contemplation, Grace, Hornets, Knowledge, Life, Love, Mercy, Orlando, Rest, Thoughts, Wisdom

Life is moving fast

I don’t have time to second guess
I don’t have time to hesitate
patience and fear are two different things

It’s time to live
It’s time to drain life to it’s dregs!
down to the sediment in the bowl
a badge of honor for those who fight for it
it’s not filth. it’s celebration confetti.

I believe in will power and the capability I’ve been given
I’m not the strongest, but I’m a dynamo
I’m not the smartest, but I’m qualified to live
whatever else I’m not doesn’t even matter
It doesn’t register!

I will cut down insecurity and realize my potential
it’s been written on my bones like a serial number
like a commemoration stone in the foundation of a building
I have a quantifiable purpose
I have been given a choice

fear is for what isn’t understood
failure was the practice session for the next stage
pain and suffering leave scars
passion and beauty leave marks that are longer lasting

The dragon’s fire
The ogre’s ax
and the witches’ wand
can’t hurt you if you don’t believe in them

Filed under: Life, Poetry , Drained to the Dregs, Hope, Life, Now, Passion, Poetry, Purpose, Shotgun, Strength

Deflated

Do you ever have those moments you wish you could take back?
where the words fell out of your mouth
like playing cards in a magician’s act
where they cut like a switchblade
knowing all the right muscles and tendons to slice through
so that they leave the most damage
and the most pain?

Have you ever turned into something
you’ve only seen before
at the entrance of the deepest, most cavernous
caves of fear and insecurity
that one thing about that one person
that you’ve always
judged
hated
been disgusted with
and sworn you’d never become?

Have you ever broken the trust of those closest to you?
shattered the unwritten code
the golden rule
the basic standards of decency between two human beings
and just stood there
motionless
knowing that you can’t erase the flint slab in your right hand
with the dry cloth in your left hand?

How do you control the ideas and the cravings
of the shadows in the corners of your heart?
They come out and leave you breathless.
They come out and leave you a wasteland.
It requires a change of your insides.
and the older I get the harder the heart transplants become.

Filed under: Poetry , Anger, Ashamed, Broken, Change of Heart, Deflated, Depressing Tag, Embarrassed, Hope for Tomorrow, Poetry, Renewal, Self Destruction, Thoughts

Gran Torino

if I live a life
where I’m very knowledgeable
about handy man type work
and am a decorated war hero
but have failed at creating a
relationship
with my children,
then I’ll have lost my way

I want the walls of small talk
of chit chat
of shooting the bull
to be broken at the mortar wells
and to crumble like a sand castle
in the relationships of my life

Lets throw out the surface level
if the soil is too dry to harvest
lets water the fields of contact
and create a contingency plan
to live together
and to allow one another to be known

Let your daughter know she’s loved.
Let your wife know she’s loved.
Let your father know he’s loved.
Life is over the minute you forget.

Filed under: Movies, Poetry , Clint Eastwood, Family, Gran Torino, Hero, Life, Living, Love, Poetry, Relationships, The Meaning of Life, Time

I don’t want you to feel that way ever again.

I don’t want you to feel that way again
Ever.
May the tires of my bike deflate
and the laptop in my backpack brake
and the money in my bank account dry up
and the food in my kitchen spoil
and the people I know throw me out
and the safety I know be forfeited
and my hands and arms fold up
and my feet and legs curl up
and my breathing be cut short into gasps
and my eyes directed to the sky
If I ever make you feel
unloved
again.

May tragedy be my alarm clock
let me be thrown into catastrophy
and be reminded of what I am.
Let every ignorant ounce of my body
stand up and be counted
and be drained
to be heeded as caution
when I’m walking a path of
selfishness
pride
laziness
dispondency
selfishness
callowness
disregard
selfishness
obliviousness
selfishness
selfishness
selfishness
selfishness.

Let me always be thankful
for the once in a lifetime love you give
and the once in a lifetime hugs you give
and the once in a lifetime laughs you carry
and the once in a lifetime touch you wield
and the once in a lifetime heart you clench
and the once in a lifetime lips I’ve caressed
and the once in a lifetime passion you possess
and the once in a lifetime vulnerability you lay bare

I’ve wasted so much time
and I deserve to pay
let my first payment
be spending my time loving the life you live
and the love you give
and celebrating the person who you are.
and holding you up to those watching and when no one is looking
and breaking the bonds of egomania that tie me tight

Let my repetition stand as a notice
of nervous shame
of desperate pleading
of an honest pursuit
of hope and discovery
of passion and ambition
of a cost counted
of a danger indicated
of a life adventure with you
made known by my infatuation
and commitment
and the life long journey I hereby surrender

Filed under: Poetry , Change, Desire, Forgiveness, Ignorance, Passion, Poetry, Remorse, Repentence

The Priviledge of Waiting

Yesterday Semoran Blvd. was backed up.
It’s always backed up.
Every lane
bumper to bumper
heal to toe
It’s like that feeling when someone
is in your personal space bubble.
People need to move
this line needs to move
it’s too crowded
We’ve got important places to go
We’ve got important people to see
My priorities supersede anything these other people
in the exact same position as me
need to do.
And my priority is to get to point B when I want to.

As we creep forward
the southbound lane has disappeared
a traffic rapture
ghost lanes
lonely road dashes
There’s that Taco Bell/Pizza Hut express.
and flashing lights everywhere
Someone’s SUV has been crushed to pieces
Someone is not so worried about their point B
or anyone elses’s point B

Ripped
Thrashed
Torn
adjectives not meant for metal things
but they describe the state of this vehicle pretty well.

A gray SUV
doorless
windowless
windsheildless
sits mangled at the end of a driveway, out in the street
the accident investigators are holding up traffic for miles
and some Daughter isn’t coming home
or some Brother won’t make it to another Brother’s for the basketball game
or some Wife won’t show up to dinner with her Husband of 13 years
or some Grandson won’t make it to clean his Grandmother’s basement
or some Girlfriend won’t make it back to her Boyfriends’ place after their big fight

And we finally pass through.
the speed picks up
normal driving boundaries are maintained
and our lives go on
The southbound lanes are clogged for miles ahead
and they won’t make it to their destination this route.
a lot of people will probably miss their flights to the airport
probably be late to dinner with friends
maybe not get their groceries as fast as they would have like to have

The traffic police will conduct them towards detours down other roads
and they may never know the privilege they have in still
being able to do so.

Filed under: Life, Poetry , Death, Destinations, Ignorance, Life, Patience, Traffic, Waiting

The Remembering Place

The other night we sat in the corner of a frigid, long walled basement. There could be a drop ceiling there one day, but for now it’s just 1st floor support beams that just kind of stare and take a quadratic shape. I imagine an orangutan could swing from board to board and never get bored.

A couch, a coffee table, two recliner looking chairs that don’t really recline, a folding chair, and an ottoman. Each one filled and supporting a person or three. These inanimate objects might have never served a better purpose, might have never been more important than the way they were tonight. For all we know these seats and this setting could have been hand crafted by some factory owner’s blue print, or by some grandfatherly old guy with bifocals in a hand made furniture store who loved what he did. And all this person wanted was to create a comfortable commode to be used only for the furthering of conversation, the strengthening of friendship, and the revival of life situations that linked seven people in history. The furnisher might have had this all in the plans; to create a warm, suitable remembering place.

It doesn’t matter if this was the actual ground plan or not for this frigid, long walled basement corner. We didn’t spend our evening looking for a place with those specifications and measurements. We lived our lives in a way that wherever we stopped to remember, that would be the place deemed worthy just because we were there.

Together again. 4 friends separated by city and state in the past two years, now only separated by inches and feet. There is no need for reintroductions or recaps. We are complacent in the good definition. No time has ever really passed. 3 others were granted permission and passage to our adventures, now being sealed in time as part of a new one. They are equals with us now, expected to follow the unwritten code that binds them, yet frees them to create the same environment with the people they are closest to in their own lives.

Belly laughs that last all but 7 seconds, but feel like they should be explained as lasting 10 minutes long because of their breadth and magnitude. Hand motions and physical demonstrations to better chronicle the memoirs, a sort of pictionary with air particles and molecules. Explanations, examinations, evaluations, exaggerations, exaltations, and the ramifications. Jeweled crowns, badges of honor, slices of humble pie.

Friends dusting off the sturdy pillars of trust and confidence they’ve built over a life time of experiences. Friends revealing the true vitality of their alliance, and their intentions to continue to carry it out. Friends with brawny and stalwart hearts, able to bear the weight of relationships this strong and true.

Filed under: Poetry, Whatever , Basement, Friendship, Fun, Heart, Home, Laughter, Long Talks, Orangutan, Party, Pictionary, Remember, Reminiscing, Strength, Strong, Trust