Interlude- Body

Body of yours,
This life of poise,
This world of noise.
This place I cover,
This place I hover,
Anger you stored up,
Wrath for the hungry,
Treasures for the lonely,
Are you telling me to stop,
Or are you telling me to stay?

Body of yours,
White and pale,
Snow and hail,
Rain and reign,
Are you still king?
Are you still the rearrange?

Cause we never had furniture,
Cause we worried about future,
Cause we needed new furniture,
Cause we can’t change future.

Seated on us,
Seated within us,
This life is poise,
This world of noise,
I am crying out and loud,
Time is going by,
Time is flying by,
Are you still as loud as you used to be?

Is noise what we need,
Or are you louder than you should be,
Is noise what you reign on in the rain,
Is this the last time I talk about things
I don’t do.

Tell me,
Body,
Body expand,
Body of land,
Don’t let this body fall apart.

Why are you?

I have had this blog for over 11 to 12ish years> Jan. 2007 to January 2020..isn’t that 13 years?

Time is flying by. Time is crunched with family tributes and pain and all things in between. Goodness just comes and goes, but so does reflection and so does what I call remembering.

Why are you never around?

When I walk up, and make a loud sound.

I parked it in reverse,

For a quick traverse down your

Regret,

I had the Phil Collins in Fort Collins,

I had the hockey in the grind,

And in the sign called stop,

And the days of IHOP,

Not the food, but the mood,

Dampened with darkness,

Called the harness of the end,

Called be a messenger,

Be the harbinger,

Be the loudest of the voices,

I called it Ruckus from a young age,

When I had to share a home with you,

When you were in the purview,

I had the best view,

I had the mountain view.

When we were just young,

When we weren’t to strong.

You fled away,

Out of L.A.

Grabbed a spot by the Venice,

By the beach,

By the places that were out of reach.

I had high school,

Some girl named Rachel,

Some fan club friends,

Some midnight dead ends,

Some laughter that turned to

Rage,

Rage that crafted another page,

Another story,

Another glory we would chase!

When I was called,

You didn’t answer,

Why are you never around?

Why are you making me still,

Make this loud sound,

Am I not enough for this walk?

Are you parked in reverse,

Just like me?

Or you slowly, and steady,

Are you riding out the last days

Like they aren’t coming soon enough?

I, too, have been called,

Was taught to closely

About the end things,

And closing times,

And battle cries we call

Revelation! We call horses

And pale and white colors!

We call seals, and trumpets

And bowls!

You were called to

When noise was never turned down,

When all you wanted

Was reverse,

Was backwards,

Was the rapture,

And the final password.

Why are you around?

Why are You still a loud

Sound?

Bullet Points

  • Coming off the high of making a Podcast and making progress.
  • Living by this quote, “It is time to do the things you should be doing..” ( from UNFUCK YOURSELF by Gary John Bishop)
  • Using change to pay for coffee.
  • Facing facts that are facts.
  • Googling which diseases I might have.
  • Upon watching 6 seasons of ARROW, I conclude that everyone who is as heroic and self-loathing as Oliver Queen needs the wisdom of John Diggle. That is real friendship. #balance #brotherhood
  • I told myself I would stay up late tonight working on things that matter and those things are deep and personal and have to do with mental health.
  • This list should be longer

Sit With

I need someone too,
Someone to sit with.
It used to be you,
It used to be the clue.
You were less than blue,
And a little new,
A little younger,
A little shape of
Beautiful, and what was
I supposed to do?
All of life became about watching you,
And learning, too.
I had some also, and some And,
And some Because,
Because of us, too.
I needed someone,
Now I am waking up with someone
Else’s arms,
Friday nights,
Hotel fights,
Lyft rides on the curb,
Downtown to disturb,
Later on the on,
For the later on.
I needed someone to sit with.
I needed you to stop sitting, too.
You were afraid, and scared,
And more scared, too.
I woke up in your arms,
By choice, by choosing,
By wanting more.

Saga/ West/ Wild

Saga….

Crave adventure, don’t you?

Moved away, didn’t you?

Palo Alto, is that so?

Left in the snow, is that truth?

Are you cold, are you solo,

Are you a no go?

Dear, someone,

Is what I needed to say,

Are you the one that got away,

Are you the saga we were starting,

And the steady sound of beginning.

Am I hidden, hidden in Christ, with words

You call thrice,

And three days it took for You to raise up!

Crave adventure..

I thought so..

Left for Palo Alto,

Now I really know.

You were the one on the long list,

The long list of those I met in the West.

It was here, it was wind, it was like you

Were blown away from the end.

Crave tomorrow…

Yes, I thought so, how did you know?

This had to be wild or not true,

Because now you got a mountain view,

And lions to catch and chase, and sun that you won’t miss…

I blow you a kiss,

And keep it on that beach,

Where you were in some reach,

And far from the breach.

It was wild, it was the west that you won,

And north is fun and further from the truth.

You need this saga as proof.

Are in the middle of a longer story,

Or are you the one that ends with it here?

There is trembling, there is fear, this is something

Waiting for next time…

DISconnect

Why is your world so full of empty connections? Or, none whatsoever.  If I lead off this thought assuming no one is connecting with you most would read and agree, then possibly stop reading because what’s so new about that thought? Is this a day before Valentine’s Day post? No, it isn’t.

Full and wholesome talk that starts with and ends with being human. The longer life continues the less and less you care about what you call ‘ petty’ things, and the more you crave real relationship and connection with people. I have had this obsession at the beginning of each year to finish all the books that I started reading the year before. I have had this goal at the start of the year for the past 10 years( at least), and now I have a long list of books that have gone unfinished. I have a pile of unread books, and a larger pile of guilt that sounds like regret for not finishing things I start.

However, when I get down and think about it I discover something I have known for a while..what is more important..the goal itself or the actual information you take with you into the next thing.

I connect with books. I connect with a level of knowledge but it fades away. I don’t repeat lessons learned when I read Wild At Heart in 2004. I find myself trying to remember current books and information.

Is this about books, or about something else? Life is full of unread books and unfinished goals. It is also full of shallow relationships of disconnect. Yet, year after year it piles up. Who knows you( is that a long list), and who doesn’t( a pile of unfinished books).

It can’t all be about everyone knowing you just like it can’t all be about finishing every book you pick up, but finishing something and sticking with it can be the most helpful way to stay healthy.

This is not a sad post on what Valentine’s Day should be about. Really, that is for tomorrow if I decide to write something on love, or the lack thereof. This life is meant for a connection. Raw and real and time to heal, but don’t let it pile up. Don’t let your disconnect pile up. Books can be thrown away and burned and bought again. Books are movies made now like Farenheit 411( and you still get the message) knowledge is power and so is freedom. People are not a pile to hide in the corner, people are asking for some real love, and a real connection.

Flow with me here..is this the start of a lot of thoughts?

I, too, am Saturday

Part 2. #SeriesPoetry

I am here to focus,
I am here to live.
I got caught in your rain,
We had that talk,
In one Accord,
Black and dented like
The one we rented,
All of life has been on hold,
On credit, on charge,
On still stuck in your rut.
I am here to focus,
I am the onus,
The one in control,
Not of you, but of me.
I celebrate,
I celebrate recovery.
That was once a Friday night thing,
A dull sound of trying to sing,
Free coffee and dessert for those
That could stay,
Now, I am here,
I am Saturday,
I am drifting,
I am drifting away.