Just a Note; October 19, 2014

Wind blows through the trees
Orange and green
Past silk dresses
Into the city
Crowded and crazy
Popularized by drunk men falling over
With trains and ritz
Shamans and piss
Nice lookouts
Old navy ships
It might be dear to me
Or maybe this weather’s just dear to me
But the thought of flying through anything dangerous
Gets my blood going

All hopped up and nowhere to go

All hopped up and nowhere to go

East Coast Bred

In a town
Where you are your clothes
Your car
Where you are what everyone else is doing
And nothing else
Where politics can only be seen through a bolded newspaper headline
Where news are stories of what someone thinks they might of heard running past a television
Where people freeze like dry ice
Suspended is seasonal cycle
Where screaming’s an art
Art an excuse
Excuses flattering
Where people forget about the rest of the world
But somehow still think they got it figured out
Where you count on mom and dad
From your first car
To your first inheritance
To your last breath
In a town
By the seashore
I hear the sports channel in the background
While drool beats the floor like a Tom drum

Friends 2014

Come and go
With whispers
With wind
With time
Rolling steady like hills into the skyline
Where have you gone
I can smell you in my blankets
Taste you in my sweat
I can feel you miles away
Across the country
I can feel you
And for friendship’s sake
Hope you’re confused as I am
Running through the woods at night
Slowly straying away in the darkness
You’re breaking my heart
I hope I didn’t break yours
At this point it’s hard to tell
I’m not too sure who you are
Are your friends these days just the people your physically close to?
Are they held close across vast distances, testing the limits of time?
Or maybe somewhere in between?
I love(d) you
We grew together
Alongside each other
Through the sunsets
The fields
Through the drunken rampages at four in the morning
The laughs
The adventures
Through the screaming sidewalks
The blood curdling screams
We grew together
Alongside one another
When I want none
I have too many
When I want some
I never have enough
If I knew who you were
I’d tell you how much I appreciate you

The more relaxed you are, the better you are at everything: the better you are with your loved ones, the better you are with your enemies, the better you are at your job, the better you are with yourself.
Bill Murray (via thatlitsite)

Someone just kill me already

All These Hypocrites

Who go to church on Sunday
Curse everyone Monday
Who do it for the kids
Before divorce settlements
Who fall in love
Get married
While in the back of their head knowing they’ll be free again in twenty years
Who call for change
But not the kind of change that will take too much effort
Who put down government
Who hate congress
But won’t actually go out and vote for anyone except a president, if that
All these hypocrites
Who know the answers
Who want to believe what’s easiest
Who drool for hype
Only so they can continue drooling
A generation of youth who preaches freedom and liberty and fairness
Who forgets what they’re fighting for mid-fight
Who thinks that something’s wrong
And will go as far to say some half ass sentence on social media before wiping their hands clean of guilt
Who want it all so bad
But don’t know why
Who looks at China and Russia with awe and contempt
Without looking at America in the same light
A generation of loud voices
A generation of selective listening
Where everyone wants to be right
But only for the person they’re arguing against

Baby bird

In the trees
Baby bird
Fall to me
From the sky
Up way high
Fall to me
Fall to me
Gentle weep
Chirping cry
Baby bird
Blue and white
Sleep away
Bitter night
Fall to me
Fall to me
Past buzzing
Bumble bee
Baby bird
Fall asleep
Chirp away



Bad night

Bad bones
Bad boy
Bad moan
Bad life
Bad words
Bad religion
Bad drugs
Bad friction
Bad puns
Bad rep
Bad fun
Bad sex
Bad friends
Bad point
Bad man
Bad joints
Bad kids
Bad love
Bad wish
Forgive again

Modern Love

Why am I always falling in love?
With every black dress
With every bust
With every tight ass walking down the street 
Is it nature?
Is it obsession?
Is it the lonely man inside of me looking for a companion?
Is it boredom?
Is it real?
It could be real
It definitely feels real
These three second glances
These feelings inside my gut
These sensations bringing me to my knees
Am I too sensitive?
Am getting myself too worked up?
Am I confusing love with infatuation?
Maybe not
But one things for sure
Falling in love every ten minutes is wearing me down
Into a pile of impulsiveness
Into a pile of objected madness
Am I a lover?
Am I mad?
Is there a difference?

A Simple Man

With a simple dance
Walks slow over hilltops
Tip-toes past parties
Sits pretzel-style reading
With no rush
With no plans
The others
Spiral in and out of doors
In and out of thoughts
Watching dramatically enticing T.V. shows at night
Following mechanical routine in the morning
With a gift card to the mall in one hand
A finely tuned resume in the other
With a drink on the table
They float
I think to myself,
‘They must dream of leaving
They have to know one day we all die’
A simple man
Roams soft country
Armed with poetry and a bottle of water
Armed with a foolish love for the masses
Kindness for whomever
A simple man spreading simple wishes
Sends a simple message
Representing quiet creeks, creaking trees, windy nights, gentle rain, distant stars, open fields, rocking chairs, and unspoken poetry world wide

'You are having good luck right now,' Chan said. 'Good luck is good. But that's all it is, you dig? Not any kind of substitute for doing what you have to do.'
Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue


What Was That Dream You Spoke Of Once

Surrounded by spilled alcohol too expensive for you to buy
Lost in loud music
Crowded rooms
Jumbled sensation
You spoke so dearly of it
Like chemicals could save you
Like losing yourself was romantic
As long as Ma and Pa found you afterwards
I can almost remember it
The way you spoke of quaint New England cottages after sucking dick
The way you talked of traveling after sucking smoke
The way you lied to yourself through perfect teeth
The way you drooled over designer shoes and anorexic boys
The way you genuinely couldn’t recognize fault of your own
I can almost remember that dream you spoke of once
But it wasn’t real
It was a child pointing out shiny things in a catalog
Squealing, ‘gimme gimme’
Stomping feet
It was a child in children’s clothing
Searching for anything or anyone to speak of dreams
And I can almost remember it