pieces of Reeses

How many pieces of Reeses

Does it take to release this

Sense of impending doom that never ceases?

The best plan I ever heard was the Word

And doing whatever He says or She says

Or whatever it is that We says, when what

We get is a life of regrets, you and I mets, and

Feelings that you may have been defeated.

So long as our needs met,

And my feetses can rest in the peace that’s on the earth,

That another may have had the misfortune to have bleeded.

And now I know that feetses is against the rules,

That we had agreed upon way back in recess,

But I’m gonna sing and swoon to a different tune,

And do whatever it is that completes it.

So long as the message registers uptstairs,

By anyone who reads it or needs this,

That or the other thing or perhaps even

Believes it.

How many peace blitzed cheese heads,

Does it take to install and instill a window sill of still,

And cut down in every possible way that is exceeded,

Unless it is absolutely for surely needed,

Or somehow helps Cleveland or Drew Carrey,

In the episode that is most repeated.

Okay, that last bit may have cheated just a bit,

For the sake of it seemingly extemporaneously

Continuing in the same rhythm that we’ve set,

From the moment that we met….

This night here now as we set a stage

Upon which we ship ideas in this Caribbean

Cheap set to each other in different forms

That we may or may not normally warm to

Or even see it.

Or get it.

Or let it bounce around in our mind

Until it freed it.

time I’m done

By the time I’m done tongue wagging you son,

You’re gonna wish you hung up by a tree in full sun,

One day at least maybe more, some say that we keesed,

And a baby was born. But it wasn’t was it? It seems

That these dreams are being held off a bit for greater

Ones in the not too distant future. And, I don’t know if

When this hits if its gonna hurt her or hurt him, but on

A whim I wrote it, and I hope that it comes across

As a bit of a toss and a plan.

Some may not see the planning in the initial stages,

Some may see the planning at the beginning but not the end,

Some may befriend at the beginning and act seven ages,

Neither winning or losing but simply being as a friend.

Mend this time to see the plan,

Whether you live in New York or Afghanistan,

You are a woman or a man, child or aged.

This mild and meek tempest will not be caged,

But can perhaps at least not get enraged,

With the simple idea that I stood,

Though I could have ran.

I chose not to.

This high and tight is low and loose,

And I don’t want to have a plan.

Though I climb up in my tree house,

And stand on my tip-toes to see the stars,

Sadly, choices can change, plans can get loused,

And even dreams can have their bars.

But I don’t need the time at the very start,

I will keep to myself and be the only one to hear my own words,

They twist, they turn, they tease in part,

And fly across the page like almost, but not quite, angry birds.

Be the dog you were born to be

None of the cafes with computers are open yet.  As such, I must first write this by hand, and this brings me comfort like no other rest can, save one.  Nestled into a corner alcove, on the rooftop terrace restaurant, at the Sun and Moon Restaurant (not open yet), I see the sunrise.  My new friend Muna has brought me some fresh brewed chai tea, just sweet and hot enough to take the chill from the morning air, as I watch the sunrise.  Up whilst it was still dark, here at the Hotel Udai Niwas, near the beautiful Jagdish Temple, I can watch the artificial lights of the Lake Palace be replaced, slowly but surely, by the natural sunshine.

I can see at least eight Rajasthani Monkeys already playing in the giant banyan tree that is only a stone’s throw.  I can see protected cows of all shades roaming the streets.  I can see dogs without homes flicker their ears at various sounds, wishing simply to be.  I can see the City Palace safely keeping watch over a nearby hill.  I can see the shimmer across the lake from all the ambient light.

The overnight train ride to Jaipur that is scheduled for late this evening is blissfully far away, and the anger I have harbored for so long now seems to be magically melting away.  I hear the footsteps of your whispers approaching.  I close my eyes for an instant, and you are here with me.  God has given me this view, on this day, at this time, in this place, and I am forever grateful.  I hear them whispering to me as well that all will be unfolding as it should; in due course.

So many bright colors; such a richness in the, albeit, hazy air.  By whatever name this presence be called, I am thankful and in awe.  I can feel my skin start to absorb the boyhood dreams I once had, that I thought were lost.  I am reminded of quotes on walls, and murals across buildings depicting various facets and slices of inspiration.  Soaking through my skin is that presence, that warmth, which starts to knead the layers beneath like a deep tissue healing massage.  And, with the slow but steady course of an ancient river, it works its way into my heart.

Green, orange, red, and blue bulbous glass adornments cover the ceiling lights, though the walls are open air.   Marble staircases lead, floor by floor, to the streets below where winding streets can lead to conversations and further inspiration.  Humility bares a smile like no other.  Awe is unmistakable in the eyes of its bearer.  The horizon is ours.  I love you.

brief spelling quandry

Verbal equivalent of oat meal, making it hard for your throat to seal, and your outermost coat to reveal anything daring beneath.  Jaw is agape at first, with the base of your skull, at the nape of your neck ready to burst, steady to curse, longsuffering or worse.  Lumpy in the morning, grumpy without warning, not adhering to it being the thought that counts.  Gift giving has lost the lift that its given to the living we do behind closed doors anyway.  Sticks, stones, the Ramones, and future cloans can break my bones, but words are worse, they can dissert you.  Spin your head right around on its neck, twisting up your conscience, until you’ve gotten what you want and its not what you wanted or thought it would be.  Its a good thing that things can be returned promptly with a proof of purchase.

a show worth showing

Sitting on the floor with more layers on than before when I ran outside and played football at a middle school.  Not against the students.  That might be rude and lets remember that a group of seven means a permanent Q, and you get tired faster when it is colder out.  Its harder to breathe.  Sometimes in those ‘thin places’ where the distance between somehow feels closer or more prevalent than it ever has before.  The connection is greater, and deeper somehow.  I become NOW for the sake of not dwelling on the past or becoming unbecomingly stressed about the future.  This day is enough to suit your needs and wants.  Even if you are wearing muddy sweats while you type like I am.  Dried out.  The mud that is.  Really more like dust at this point, that is fadedly embedded into the cotton fibers.  I am a wanton cypress tree that bends to accomodate the light it receives through the window of begin though in mind and finish with physical.  Say this in a certain way and the curtain may draw to reveal this as lyrical.  Its not a big deal dot com, that my team may or not be the bomb or repeal the title of the last years’ champions as if it hadn’t happened in the first place.  I’m kicking the can and rappin about damp means to ends that both satisfy and gratify those means and make them nices.  Nieces at least that remember releases from swings to jump into leaves that have come to rest at the foot of the school yard.  Though the fool falls hard, the true renaissance man finds a way to win.  The war if not the battle, only war is bad, so you pick the word you like and put it in, in its place. 

Fingers hit the pulse of the rhythm and follow it to the source at its core even if you can’t know what’s in store in this rant.  Arcs, peaks, and troughs with occasional time in the land of milk and honey.  Only the milk is the cream of this crop, and the honey is as sweet as a honey badger’s drip drop.  You’ve had your chance to take the stage, so sit back and listen, gleaming from the gloaming, while I might cut fast or relax and glisten as I’m teaming up with whoever’s roaming. Knowing is such a bold word when you think of coming to knowing, but growing up and going through pain is one of the main shows that is worth showing.   

Search the screen for what it all means and be disappointed, disjointed perhaps, but at least flustered.  You’ve mustered up enough courage to trust your instinct even if it has brought you to the brink of disaster.  When you’ve out lasted your friends and strangers become enemies, the memories when we freeze them and bury them in the back don’t lack their potency when thawed out.  I got out of my own way and now its hot out in opposite world.  Boys and girls rise up and dream of a land in which there was no stress, no traffic, no war, and virtually no mess.  After you think of it smile and sit back and hold on to nothing less than striving for perfection.  I seem to favor the mess a fair bit, unknowing if its this or their hit to release into the air in the hopes that someone hears it.  Not just hears it but feels it.  Not just feels it but understands to it.  Not just understands it but can relate to it.  Not just relate to it but appreciate it.  Not just appreciate it, but just plain love it.  Cause above it is nothing and below it isn’t enough yet.  Which riddle do you want to unravel as the gavel comes down on if and when you travel?  How did I get here now?  My claim isn’t unique.  My talent is not extraordinary.  I just need to rant a little and lay down text to store in many places and times, with many faces on many climbs.  My body aches, but my eyes feel free, and I have past mistakes that I can still see. 

However, that isn’t the summation of me or you, or anybody for that matter.  The chatter can be overcome within those thin places that beckon to us, and that we desperately need.  Had her and him or she and he done differently then they might be doing a different thing, but is ever so important to hear your heart sing.  Cling to that now on the rooftops, wherever your hoof stops, or pauses in awe.  Remember the applause that you saw behind the sparkles across the horizon, knowing in your heart in the dark they will wisen.  Three tries then you are locked out.  Knocked out, reviewing what just happened.  The math didn’t add up and it seemed that the chap would end, something came in and said hold on.  It won’t be cold long, and the seasons will change.  This too shall pass seemed altogether strange when it was said, but it was meant in love, from heart and head to toe.  Going with the flow has just blown up the low, but I keep not knowing when I will be grown up enough to know.  Maybe never, maybe ever so soon.  Sitting back keeping pacts with a rhythm that swoons.

Gazing at the Gate

Waiting in line for a plane ride.  Careful not to make direct eye contact with a single individual, as this alone time is more crucial than convo at the mo. No stores or stands are open as I do not know what I would buy anyway.  Jelly Bellies for my girl? My socks smell badly enough that I am aware of their presence from the mere exposure between the cuff of my pants and the tongue of my shoe.  Vacant wheel chairs say to me that they want to be taken for a ride down the vegasesque carpet to gate A2.  However, my legs are still sore from ice skating at the Galleria, and the quiet that comes from NOT being chased by forlorn security is nice at 11:18.  Is that palm tree even real?  How many gallons of water are used daily by that drinking fountain on the left? Why is there an oscillating fan near the preboard counter in the middle of winter? Will my socks be worth a salvaging wash or the dumpster at work?  These questions and more plague my mind.  Too many questions lead down holes, through tunnels, and out to unfamiliar grounds.  My new carhartt vest comforts me even if it is more of a charcoal than a bluish gray.  Perhaps my breakfast in Houston will make up for the enema that will soon pour through the entire city.  Did I pack my insulated rubber boots?  Are they tall enough to keep me dry amidst the high water mark?  If the flight doesn’t make it I hope for three things. A) I am listening to a good song when it happens. B) I get a chance to see what all the answers are, and C) that children, if not women and friends, were better off because I lived once before boarding at gate A14. 

Small screen figuratives

Sitting here.  Right here amidst the aura of a tattered self who still dares to love.  Laying here playing dear notes above a whisper and below a hum that resonate with one but touch upon many.  Simply and not so purely enduring.  Fan is silent and motionless with a devotionless forecast for the evening.  How many trances are warded off by music and red wine. These things I dream of feel ever so far removed, but aren’t.  Creating inspiration and inspiring creativity with a proclivity for madness and a taste for anything that cures the hiccups.  Curtains and blinds folded back reveal the temptations to be hollow and the lies to be transparent.  Am I?  Can the driver be reached before it is too late?  These things and more construct the ramblings of a bearded man who longs to make a mark without maker’s mark, or at least not because of it.  My surprise is that there aren’t more people talking to themselves in parks, and swooning by darkened windows. Its a life, and it happens to be beautiful whether I choose to accept it or not.