Trippin off the true lies I’m always running from I slid as slow as sizrup until I stopped in front of the canal.
I was trapped by the very things created to set me free. Hating the headaches. Rationing out the regrets.
Water slapped the sides of the brick bridge, where green moss floated patiently awaiting an opportunity to drift down stream.
I stuck my toe inside catching a chill from the cool calm water. The chill seized my body and everything was alright in the world.
Laying back on the grass with my hands clasped around the nape of my neck I was able to let go of the intangible.
Wind whirled around me stirring up the grass and memories in my mind. I could smell the approaching rain and prepared myself for the mental cleansing showers seem to provide.
I laughed at Mother Nature and her strange acknowledgments of my sentiments and yelled at the clouds, “don’t stop get it, get it.”
I can hear you.
Know that if you get louder I’ll ignore you.
I was almost asleep.
Drifting between being awake and being lost in thought-like-dreams.
I couldn’t wake up and recover or quite establish where I was while I was dreaming
But I could hear you.
Your whisper is as loud as your yell and it hisses with the wind.
I opened my eyes and saw Saul. The cold couldn’t keep me away.
You were nowhere to be found,
but Saul stood in the snow too hot to be cool.
A statue of eagerness.
The wind rustled with leaves while Saul watched an old lady shovel her snow.
It was as if he was waiting for her to finish.
I couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t ask if she needed help.
However, I wasn’t in a hurry to help either. I was shivering.
I looked down to find myself not adequately covered for the cold.
I ran over to take shelter under the awning of a bus stop.
I longed to see something amazing and there it was,
right before my eyes a white summer.
Snow covered what was once the passionate heat of the season,
but the cold couldn’t keep me away.
I felt a sphere soar past my head barely missing my hair.
It was quickly followed by a choir of laughter by a bunch of little boys.
The soccer ball sailed out into the street.
Saul ran out to kick it back at them.
None of them noticed me.
The boys ran past, too young to care.
Surrounded and still alone, I was just another soul in the snow.
The old lady finished as the bus approached.
I checked my pockets. Three dollars and six dimes.
The door opened and the driver acknowledged me with a nod.
I handed him all the money. He gave me back a dollar and a dime.
I am the new New Yorker.
Still excited by all of the lights.
Never upset about being lost.
Rarely in a hurry.
I try to blend in.
I try not to look up.
I try not to let on that I’m new.
I am the new New Yorker.
Still maintaining my impeccable drive.
Never afraid of strangers.
Rarely passing up an opportunity to go out in the city.
I try to take my time.
I try not to shop.
I try not to use google maps.
I am the new New Yorker.
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Too Worn Out
Incessantly insisting ‘keep the peace’
and dry my useless tears,
forgetting that I bear
a pain beyond my years.
‘Wake up and smell the weeds’
tomorrow isn’t promised
nor is later,
to be honest.
Holding hope in my hand
until it escapes through these fingers
Simply a shell lingers.
Cardinals chirp atop trees.
without leaves sway
in a dry rainforest.
I’d rather be blind
than watch a leman break,
coming away a lifeless
grey soul to take.
Regardless of the glory,
despite the sweet taste of the sun,
Another victim of the system.
Simply a lesson learned.
For Paul Lawrence Dunbar
Only right now matters. Time is an illusion that floats by undetected. A long and a short hand spoiled by thoughts and wants for the future.
If we’re pleased by the present why are we plagued and distracted by tomorrow? After all, here we are.
Tonight and today.
Near and far. Don’t judge.
I’m still trying to make time a friend of mine. Minutes run together month after month, week after week, and day after day.
Why watch at all?
Is it necessary to weigh down ones wrist when the present is such a worthy gift?
It’ll be gone soon. It floats by. That is time’s only guarantee.
Now as we leap from year to year may this season’s hopes shatter any seconds of fear. Until the hour when all that should be is I will not acquiesce to the wondering.
It’s more about the moment. While the dark of the night turns to day before all is lost every minute I’ll hope and pray the green envy of tomorrow fades today.
On or overtime I truly believe we all will receive exactly what we need.
Should it never arrive, even after a triennium; It’ll become evident indeed that now is all we need.
CALL ME CRaZY
I’ve been called crazy more than I’ve been called my name. The latinos call me loco!
I don’t mind being mental.
If my name was Crazy what would be my middle name? It’s questions like this that cause people to think I’m crazy in the first place. But that’s just the way crazy people like me think. Is this what crazy looks like to you? You can’t keep up with crazy. Is this what crazy talks like?
I’m cool with crazy.
There are worse things to be than crazy. I would rather be crazy than ignorant. I would rather be crazy than loud. I rather be crazy than evil. I would rather be crazy than ugly – on the inside and/or out. Believe it or not I would rather be crazy than regular because then I would be the person calling other people crazy when I know nothing about the origins of their distinction.
I might be nuts you know?
For a while I thought crazy was my name. I never took offense to crazy or cray-cray. I never knew crazy was a issue until the world made me feel that way. I never realized the negative connotations with crazy till I heard an old lady talkin about me in the street. She whispered with her friends, “Momma should be shamed. Out here lookin crazy!” I kept swangin up the street and stopped in front of a store gazing into the window looking for the crazy. I cocked my head to the side where was the crazy, was it my hair, my teeth, my skin? I peered into my own eyes and searched for crazy from within.
I couldn’t find the crazy.
So I stopped searchin.
Here goes nothing.
I sojourn until I discover a worthy reason to stop.
In the heat and in the cold.
I was on my way in a hurry no where
when she stopped me and we sat,
on a bench by the beach. The sea was still.
The world just the same rotates,
leaves continue to fall as prices rise.
I told her the truth about heaven and
I told her at the end of the day I’m me.
What’s left when the truth is free?
You won’t know till it happens to you.
I sat and searched for a message in the bottom of the bottle,
until it was time to fallback.
It’s November again and I aim higher.
“What are you worried about?”
She asked over and over.
I still had no answer.
“Your guess is as good as mine”
Unsatisfied with the statement she stared into responding.
I stuttered “It’s the world.”
Excuses, excuses, EXCUSES!
“Spare me the hurt,” she insisted.
I tried to look out my dirty glasses.
Secretive, strange, and salty.
“Don’t worry, it’s a waste of time” she hissed as she walked on by.
Regrets are hard to forget.
Time will tell and pass, as time does.
Don’t expect anyone to save you.
All alone at the end of the day I’m me!
They sky was red.
She practiced her violin by the water’s edge.
I wish someone would have told me it’d be like this.
You learn, you’ll learn, you will learn.
Wondering and wandering.
I tried to open my eyes but I realized I didn’t know me very well.
Fred. Fred! You there? Tell Susan I’m fine just a little banged up. A few bits of red fur but that’s just a sign that I’m alive! Tell her not to be cross with Alex. We all have nipples. And tell her to share the sugar, for goodness sake at least he’s not asking for the plunger. You still there Fred? I can’t tell if I’m awake. I’m stuck in that place between dreams and everyday. I try not to get caught up in the differences but the reminders are indignant, the signs blink in bright highlighter colors and I can’t cut all the power cords. I can’t even find the plug. Fred for the life of me I can’t understand where they get the power! I’m thirsty enough to drink the ocean. All four or five. Strange thing is I’ve been fed. I’m even full sometimes. Fred, I’ve been satisfied! So we have to keep going Fred. I wouldn’t feel this way if we were meant to meet our demise. Grab Susan by her shoulders and say ‘Susan I’m not the one who is crazy you are!’ If she cries leave her. If she asks where we’re going tell her no where and we’ll get there quicker without the questions.