Monthly Archives: June, 2013

Cadence

To this rhythm I walk
saunter, sulk,
across canvases that boast bulk
noise, talk ,
strange chatter that throws me off
hinders, halts,
sturdy steps that seldom stall,
stagger, fall,
off a path that to my heart calls
resounds, enthrall,
diverting my meter from the common throng
rights, wrongs-


–  if you don’t dance to your own music
someone else will  make you sway
to theirs. 

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It’s short. It’s simple. It’s Friday, folks. Got a little ‘gotta walk your own path’ vibe going on up there. I like the way the poem flows itself, even though I haven’t pounded it out completely as it really just came to me this morning. Anywho, I hope you enjoy and hold onto that weekend. Grab it with both hands and use it as a shield against the coming week!

Hitting On All Sixes

I’ve got a morning to
get myself together
an hour to refit the glue,
to look at the sun,
take a deep breath in,
and refuel,
because, come nine,
I have to be ready for anything
and anything is exactly
what they’re bound to do,
and amassing less than
hitting on all sixes
simply won’t be enough steam
to carry me on through
this day that’s pacing in
front of me, just dying
to see me lose.
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Mornin’, folks. It’s Monday again, I know. Somethings just can’t take a hint that they’re not wanted. Despite this nasty little reoccurrence, I hope your day still turns out fine and that you’ve gathered enough strength to go out it again.

Patience Lost

Graciously I give my patience
and slowly I swallow my pride
but some days there’s not a god
in all of history that can grant
me the strength I need to abide
by the ignorance I find myself
surrounded by.

________________________________________

It’s simple. It’s to the point. It’s Friday. Here’s to hoping that your weekend is long and Monday seems a world away!

The Royal Judiciary

The Royal Judiciary

The Royal Judiciary

The typewriter sits
sizing me up
leering at what it
has to think is so
young,

With piercing black bleachers
full of conspicuous keys
an alert and sternly
jury convening in on
me,

to see if I’ve got
what it takes to
tap them to the rhythm
of a good solid
yarn,

weighing those against
me who, before me,
have gone.

___________________________________________

So I’ve got this old type writer that sits across from the foot of my bed on a dresser by itself and, well, sometimes I just have this feeling like it is watching me. Gigantic black Royal that used to belong to my great grandmother. It might just be my insatiable urge to personify things, but there’s a sort of has this air about it like it is weighing in on me. Well, enough for me to write this little diddy about it, anyway.

Thanks for reading and I hope your Tuesday speeds by and the rest of the week is quick to pass!

Semper Paratus

Semper Paratus

Semper Paratus

This morning there’s
gin in the orange juice
and rum in my mug,
and, today, the thermos is packin’
a little more love,

cause there’s a jam on main street
and drama in the office,
a nag back home,
and lint in my pockets,

files all a’piling
and a boss hawking my desk,
a co-worker squawking
and making a mess,

and the calendar’s shrieking
rest is a long week away
so I’m saucing up early-
cause it’s just bound to be
that kind of day!

__________________________________________

Welp, it’s Monday again, folks. No matter how hard we fight it, it always rears its ugly head. To deal with this  little fact, I present the poem above with all its suggestions.  In fact, I’ve kind of taken to the idea of creating a group that is dedicated to the fact. I’m thinking of calling it “Alcoholics For-All-Of-Us”- a group that drinks for those who can’t for various reasons. Sort of a civil duty, really. Heck, now that I think of it, I feel like I’ve been dodging some sort of honorable calling for not doing so sooner!

Anywho, I hope you got a little laugh out of this morning’s poem. It’s a bit crude but, well, I thought it might be some fun. Here’s to hoping your Monday passes quickly by!

Anything Less

Anything Less

Anything Less

I’ve got a nasty little
case of wounded pride
and dreams of grandeur
welling up inside of me,
and you can’t see it,
but it’s done gone
to festering,
poisoning my blood
stream and giving
me delusions,

hallucinations
of how I long to
spend my time,
and it’s an infliction that
won’t get better,
sorry friends
there’s just no
cure for it,


I’m heading down
a dark path
towards greatness
and its a crying
shame there’s not
a damned thing that
needs fixed and I’m afraid
I just wont accept
anything less.

______________________________

Happy Friday, folks! Just a quick scrap here that I wanted to toss up before something gets in the way. It’s still a project in the works, but I like the idea behind it. Anywho, hope your weekend is awesome and that Monday takes a while to rear its ugly head.

To Each Their Own

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To Each Their Own

Here,
in the darkness willing,
where dreams grow weak,
and hearts weary,
I am home.

There
is music in this misery
stories to be told,
and adventures to be had
even when alone.

Anywhere
there exists mood there
to you’ll find a muse
only waiting for someone
to call their own.

_______________________________________

It’s true. I mean, take a good look at E. A. Poe and see what I mean? If there is one thing I have learned in life it is that everyone has their own way of life, and to just live under the banner of ‘to each their own’.  Basically I follow under the principle that people can do whatever floats their boat as long as they don’t rock mine.  Simple, right?

Anywho, happy weekend, folks, and I hope you enjoyed this one!

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