locked up

Please stop your mastery over my mind
I'm driving me crazy.

Give it up; Live it up!

Gone are the days when I expect the unexpected
Long is the way outside my front door
Forever is my freedom more than ever before

Confusion beats Illusion
There was never a need to pretend.
Because you know what they say is true,
It all comes back again.

So let go of that notion
Cease the lackluster attempts to be king
There is no excuse for this motion
That keeps robbing me from my dreams.

Light Headed

You still make my heart race
Only failed once
To put a smile on my face
Just want you to know
You'll always have my love.

I can't help but be a compassionate person. It is my practice. It is what I know.
I do believe Allen Ginsberg put it best in his poem:

Song

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

A favorite memory of mine:

Ok folks, this an attempt to make a real post for once, besides all that poetry nonsense. To be honest this is probably cheating considering I wrote this over a period of a few days and it was for a class but I thought I would share.

And away we go.

As I rode across town in a cold rain, making the long journey home after work, I found myself wondering why. Sure it may be due to certain circumstances such as not having a car but there has to be more to it than that.

My first bike was a black and green Huffy that was just my size. I rode it constantly up and down Hollywood Avenue – my huge world in Lincoln, NE at the time. I loved riding as fast as I could down the neighboring hill. Jumping my bike off of every curb was one of my favorite ways of passing the time. Any reason to get out and ride was good enough for me. One of my favorite memories is when I first learned how to ride a bike.

I was three years old when I first learned how to ride without training wheels. As we all are at that age, I was determined to be as cool as the older kids and the training wheels were no help in that matter. I wanted to be able to go riding with my friends; pedaling around the driveway wasn’t exactly thrilling anymore. I was born to roam free so the training wheels had to go.

My father was extremely excited when I asked him if he would remove my training wheels. No sooner than I had asked the question Dad was getting out his tools. The eagerness at which he worked made it easy to tell that he wanted to teach his son how to ride. Accepting his help was hard for me; after all I was three and could do anything on my own. But I obliged and let him do the “dad” thing.

Although he made a valiant effort of running, pushing, and yelling – as all dads do – I just wasn’t going to cooperate. Each time he let go of my noble steed I fell over immediately. I wanted to learn how to ride a bike on my own so badly I would fall on purpose. After a few more tries and a couple self-inflicted bruises, my dad conceded. Today was not going to be the day.

My father seemed as though he knew what I was up to but, being a dad, still wanted to be apart of the magic moment. “We should try again tomorrow” is what he spoke as he took my bike to the shed. He seemed bummed that I didn’t succeed today. I almost felt bad for the old man but I would make him proud.

The next day before leaving for dinner at my uncle’s house, I asked my mom if I could bring my bike. She looked astonished as she had heard about yesterday’s unsuccessful attempts. She stood silently for a moment; purposefully tormenting me I had no doubt. My mother then dared to ask “Do you even know how to ride it yet?” I thought to myself ‘of course I do’; it was just a secret. She then offered up a challenge; “If you show me you can ride it, we can bring it along.”

Without saying a word I darted out back to the rusty old shed and removed my bike from its prison. I knew that the time had come to prove not only myself, but my parents that I could do it. I nervously walked my bike from behind my house to the sidewalk out front. I waited as patiently as I could for Mom to come outside and watch. I was ready to ride.

My mother came outside eager for the show as I slowly mounted my bike. I sat for a few seconds, bruises still stinging, hoping that I wouldn’t fall. I took a deep breath and started pedaling. I went slowly at first but I was doing it! I was riding a bike and I had taught myself how! I rode to the neighbor’s house and back several times.

After my last victory lap, arriving back at my house, my mom was clapping and congratulating me. “Where did you learn how to do that?” she asked in excitement. “I learned myself” was my reply. I pedaled off just to show her again.

I genuinely enjoy riding my bike everywhere I go. I enjoy the sights and sounds not everyone gets to experience strapped into their cars. I like the fact that it keeps me healthy and hopefully forever young. While some may think I’m a little crazy for riding ten miles just to go work, I couldn’t ask for anything better. The freedom and independence are just too good to pass up.

On those long cold rides home I relish in the joy of just being able to ride. This memory always reminds me to just keep going. If I can teach myself to ride a bike, I can do anything. Sure I may be riding due to certain circumstances but there is more to it than that. Because when push comes to shove, sometimes you just have to get on and ride.

Maybe?

I'm considering the idea of writing an actual blog post.

Once again, considering.

Spare Some Change?

How nice would it be
To be able to talk to the world?
To pick up a rusty can
And send vibrations through it?
Messages of peace.
Love.
Life.
Vibrations to shake loose the dirt
Laying thickly on the soul.
Talk is cheap
And I am all but broke.

Delusion No More

This world is full.
The fears.
Useless.
My mind is full.
The delusion.
Nonsense.
I sense it in my everything.
I am everything.
I am nothing.

There is no sense in trying to be someone
You are someone.
After all if you let go of the fears
The necessity for bravery
Vanishes.
Eager actions cannot exist.

If you make the whole world a foreign country
All you can do.
All you should do.
Is drink it in.
Then let it go once more.
To be foreign again.

Clean and clear.
Delusion no more.

Highway Robbery

Riding through a world of rainwater
But my bottle contains none.
The moon is out; the wind I find cool
But refreshing
Jumping through shadows of white
The rains have disappeared .
My legs smell of metal
As I pedal through the night.
My thoughts roaming as I wander.
The clouds turn down the volume
And I forget being here.
Ride into my home
To find a thief in my dreams.

Monkey Socks

My feet barely fit in these
Monkey socks of sin
Give a wiggle of my toes
And my profane humor
Shines yet again.
Another wiggle more
Walking freedom begins.

Just another something on the brain.....

One moment it's a thought of grief,
And the very next the same is humor.
Like an appetite that is being fed.
Just don't stuff yourself 'till you're dead.

Wondering...

If I told you I knew
The secret to life
And it's meaning,
Would you believe me?
And if I were to tell you,
How would you react?
Because I do.
And it is so
Simply complicated.
If given another thought
I might paint the whole world
Black.

Muddy Shoes

To give meaning
To the words I'm screaming
Is asking to much of a simple mind.
For this I'm sure
I will never find the cure
So I'll do my best to be kind.

Love.
Hate.
The first I try to demonstrate
While the later is knocking on my front door.

Nothing matters in this thing
Called Reality
It isn't real
But only for the time being.
So lets pretend
That we are all pretend
And you'll understand
My view and life's appeal.

Next step
Two steps later
My feet are swollen
My head is light
Lost thoughts
Is where they all end up

So tell me baby
Why am I so crazy
When the things I think
I know
I trust
Mean as much
As the mud on my shoes.

Ceiling Talks

My eyes strain as I follow
The shadow spots of lights
Energetic and daring
As they dance across the ceiling
I realize
My eyes are doing the leading
Deceiving
The hum-drum of the fan
I find to be quite calming
The scratch of the pen to paper
Connects us all
Scan through the white
And there you will find the secret
Flash into the vast universe

Gone, Gone, Gone

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with your crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh

Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Baby won't you get them if i did?
No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part

- John Mayer

Metacognition

Sitting Alone
Thinking.
Thinking about nothing.
Thinking about everything.
About you, me, no one.
Everyone thinking.
Thinking thinks thoughts of
Thoughtful things.
But it's too deep to swim
In the thoughts of others.
Though,
We do think alike.

New Again

Well, I've decided to continue sharing my thoughts on this blog, though they are entirely different from the previous posts. But I shall leave them as they are poetic in their entirety. I was actually presently surprised when I revisited my little corner of the web and found them. Good times.

Anyways there are some writings of mine I'd like to share.

Furthermore

Taken to the extreme,
All thoughts are evil.
And it's the tea that has
Me playing
Devils advocate.

I have
No answers.
I don't
Ask questions.
There is no secret formula to
Being wise.
Bullshit is inevitable.

So I look at the clock
Do my best to ignore the
Click, Click, Click...
And like the oracle knows,
There is no need to predict
Whats next.

I've come leaps and bounds
Doing my best to evade.
The Adventure's always better
When I lose track of time.
Itself is made. -

Untitled

As the morning birds and midnight crickets
come together in one perfect chorus,
I watch the trees stand awkwardly
In gated communities happy
To be right there.
I become lost in thought
And all the boundaries
Disappear.
My blank mind never fails
To Remind me that there are
No real problems and therefore
I should have
No fear.
Every step henceforth is
New and unpredictable,
Old, comfortable and familiar.
For everything is the same
Yet different in its own respect.
Just as the lost and found at
Any old place can Attest.
A box of joy
A table of sorrows
That I'd rather soon forget.
Small talk with dad
Brings me back from Nebula.
It's in the Nature of all things
And life carries on again. -

Laughing, Winking, Blooming

Stepped out into the night
Backdoor whispers speak
Loud, Truthful, Beautiful.
We drink in the words
That flow just as free
As the alcohol that enticed them
For friends
There can be nothing better

A sense of urgency to spill our souls.

The stars wink at the laughing trees
And the flowers bloom to see
Whats keeping them from slumber.
There we sit,
No shame to be found;
Laughing, Winking, Blooming.

As the night goes on
We continue to offer up our bounty
We continue to share our treasures.
We know tomorrow will come
Bringing us the snapshots of
Tonights main event.
But to us tomorrow doesn't matter

It's not what is said that we
Find most important
But the bond.
Being forged by the
Laughing
Winking
Blooming
-