Everest

With sunlight drenching his smile he begins to cry. Waves roll down his cheeks and prayer flags wave in harmony with his emotions – tragically grounded, gaudy signs of ownership, hopeful and symbolic of the heavenly, the holy and hurt. The wind bitterly whips his face reminding him time is precious, pain will build upon itself, and he is more exposed now than ever before. With numb fingers he pulls out a camera and tries to freeze the moment, but the coldness curtly stops him before he is satisfied with his efforts. He sighs as he replaces the camera in his pack. Breaking off his icicle tears he looks around once more – the zenith of his quest and there’s a long way yet. The deadly descent back to the reality he wished to escape still waits for him. With storms on the horizon, he places one foot on the ridge leading away from heaven while praying he will someday return.

Lonely World

Porcelain faced baby doll
Smile with ruby red lips
Artificial eyes blinking with life
A frozen face can’t uplift
And plastic arms can’t hug

Are you lonely little girl?
Are you spinning like a lonely world?
Can I be your satellite tonight?
Can I make anything alright?

Caged bird can you fly?
Hop behind bars and sing
Stare with lonely intensity
A trapped animal can’t be
The inspiration I need

I am lonely tonight, girl.
I’m spinning like a lonely world.
Can you be my satellite tonight?
Can you make anything alright?

A caged bird can lift you up
If your porcelain face can smile
When my song reaches beyond these bars
Will your plastic limbs soften in an embrace?
I can be the satellite for a lonely world
If that world will be a satellite for me

Dusty Desk

In the drawer of a dusty desk,
A letter sits.
Unopened.

In the drawer of a dusty desk,
a photograph fades
And I lose my face.

Will you remember beneath the dust
I’ll lay beyond time’s grasp?

When you do spring cleaning,
Will you release my words?

Let thoughts flower
And face the phantoms of memory.

In a Garden

I stood in a garden and saw things through cynical lens. Pathetic attempts to be independent! Food for a family? Too much labor and not enough produce to produce a meal! Six foot fences to keep the deer out are proof that we humans are pitiful as we cannot work with nature, we must work independently of nature. I walked in the straight lines carved out of jagged mountain. Pathetic! These non-native plants invading with aid of water pumped from hillside, a helping hand, a securely fenced off location and for what? I stood and marveled at the impulse which had flowered into the scene I stood before.

But as I mocked those foolish enough to not enjoy my misery, I heard the innocent laughter of an enthusiastic child. Explaining the difference between the types of peppers and cutting tomatoes for us to try. My taste buds told me I was wrong. Her joy made me envious of the appreciation I seem to have lost. And as I walked between sunflower stalks and corn husks I found myself dwarfed. Lost in luscious greens with glorious scents, sweet flavors still dancing in my mouth, I closed my eyes and inhaled the hint of pine over the pungent spices. Wind made the motion of leaves rustle in my ears as they danced to their own slow waltz. I waited for a long time savoring the garden. And when the sun left, I followed. Later that night I stood before a mirror and saw my cynical lens through freshly opened eyes, finally ripe enough to enjoy.

Diamond in the rough

Diamond in the rough,
You’ll get cut up before they see the beauty you can be.

Diamond in the rough,
Prepare
to be broken,
to be made into a token of affection,
to be his hope when he’s on bended knee.

And soon you will see,
Only you’re powerful enough to break yourself.

The dust of identity becomes a tool of technology.
You’re clear cut and costly

Pave over the hostilities
Leaving casualties in your wake
For a love he can’t forsake.

And in the evening shade
Memories will fade
Rough edges
Worn down to the norm
Packaged and sold
Wrapped in gold

Another broken token of affection

Champions of the little screen

Champions of the little screen and reality
Larger than life by the smallest of margins
Anthems and exhausted answers to an awed audience
Five rings and a crowd’s ringing cheers
Olympic sized achievement battles Olympic sized fear
Flags rise and dreams set
But the best has yet to come.

like a poem

He thought:

Life should be like a poem,
Short and sweet.

So he wore a tie of rope and his favorite suit,
Dressed it up with the innocence of youth,
And rested his feet on the clouds.

Unspoken

Sargent Pepper’s lonely hearts at a mixer
Fixer up homes require million dollar loans
California cuisine is just our identities fused on a plate
It makes me queezy. I’m alone in company.
I walked into a room of familiar faces I’ve never met.
Monet could make my first impressions beautiful
But I’m full of doubt and details complicate the picture
I’m just a social fixture and my voice blends with the radio
Just white noise to fill the awkward silences, almost violent
They send smoke signals and enjoy short term memory loss
I’m at a loss of what to do,
I don’t smoke and my signal won’t reach you
So I smile and enjoy not knowing anyone in my company

Yet I wonder,
Do they know? Could they read my mind?
Can they hear your name?
Unspoken.

Clean Slate

Laundry lists and hiss-y fits, we need to clean this crap up
Left overs and do overs, they make me want to throw up
Marker stains and monkey brains, you need to grow up
Conversations filled with accusations, can we please shut up?

It’s time for a clean slate, new date
For the white board to be wiped clean
It’s time for an escape, new fate
And some free time for just me

I’ve got a side project on hold for your fool’s gold fantasy
We can’t edit-undo so can we just let this be?
Drunk dialed mistakes, and designer fakes, please don’t mock me
We’re stringing this along, replaying fights, time to end this tragedy

It’s time for a clean slate, new date
For the white board to be wiped clean
It’s time for an escape, new fate
And some free time for just me

I don’t want to lose you, or make you think I don’t care
We’ve flat tired this ride, and I won’t waste the spare
I’m not blaming you, the fault is mine too, I won’t be unfair
It’s just time to move on, we’re going nowhere

It’s time for a clean slate, new date
For the white board to be wiped clean
It’s time for an escape, new fate
And some free time for just me

I need some free time
To rewind
And just be
me

Summer Flings

Orange peels and Lemon zest
Citrus got the best of me
Summer smoothies and summer cuties
It’s the season to be
a flirt

Summer sunshine and smokey skies
California air tainted with grass fires
Seasonal friendships and frustrating flings
It just makes me want to sing
a cliche song

Another party song
about love gone wrong
And by love we mean
another summer fling

So sing sing sing and dance
Fall into a summer trance
Lose your mind and inhibitions
Fall into a citrus vision

And admit:
You’re no better than the people you judge
You can never let go of a grudge
You’ll let loose the moment you can
And that’s why you’re another fan
of summer flings

Temporary morality
You’ll let go when out of sight
Wishing for a higher salary
To take you farther every night
Another bottle of booze
Another stranger who’s been used

And you wake up and want to sing

Another party song
about love gone wrong
And by love we mean
another summer fling

So sing sing sing and dance
Fall into a summer trance
Lose your mind and inhibitions
Fall into a citrus vision

And admit:
You’re no better than the people you judge
You can never let go of a grudge
You’ll let loose the moment you can
And that’s why you’re another fan
of summer flings

Wake Me

Starlight and battles beyond imagination
Dreamland wars and international relations
Is this all a sick game we’re playing?
Are we laying in our graves and praying?
WHY

Please wake me up
I’m having another nightmare
Please wake me up
I won’t care about being groggy
Save me from my madness
Or else I’ll wake up still dreaming

Hot air balloons carried friends away
Hindenburg explosions stayed in my mind
And I’m standing on the shore powerless again
I float with my ashes and stare at the sky asking
WHY

Please wake me up
I’m having another nightmare
Please wake me up
I won’t care about being groggy
Save me from my madness
Or else I’ll wake up still dreaming

My best friend strangled me and became a white tiger
My parents became dishonest and I found them liars
Ripped to shreds and with salted wounds bleeding
I had no clue where the road was leading
WHY

Please wake me up
I’m having another nightmare
Please wake me up
I won’t care about being groggy
Save me from my madness
Or else I’ll wake up still dreaming

I tried to fly and tripped midair on a tree
Broke my arms, lost my wings and gravity got me
Backyard broken bones and barely there
Surrounded by people who wouldn’t care
WHY

Please wake me up
I’m having another nightmare
Please wake me up
I won’t care about being groggy
Save me from my madness
Or else I’ll wake up still dreaming

Please wake me up
I won’t care about being groggy
Save me from my madness
I’m awake and dreaming
another nightmare
So please wake me.

249

Two forty nine in the morning and I’m mourning the loss of my motivation. I can barely be dragged from my bed. I can barely be forced to bed. My routine drags like a child’s teddy bear. Dirt stained and loved with indifferent adoration. Beat up and falling apart, but still held close for comfort every night. With the strike of a match dry smoke fills the air and I inhale deeply savoring the scent before lighting a candle before cultural idols. Blowing out the match to avoid burning my fingers, I try to think a thought or two that could add some profound meaning to this day. Nothing comes to mind and I strike a bell to announce my presence to any god who might listen: I’m here! I’m too tired of thinking to maintain consciousness, but the exhaustion that usually pushes me through my day has slacked off. Why is it without exhaustion I can’t sleep through the entire night? Why is it the lack of exhaustion is equally exhausting? And why do this useless thoughts run on repeat as if they held some meaningful answers to an oracle’s questions? My motivation has been buried and exhumed. It was lit in a funeral pyre and after two weeks of reflection set free in the running water. And still it’s ghost troubles me as I wander away from it, meandering without its purpose I find myself passively falling into routines that drag, and I hope my child-god will still love me when I am dirt stained and scarred.