Day 56 - Alone (poem)

ALONE

We have the instincts
of pack animals,
huddled for safety.
Our fight or flight
response makes any conflict
seem life or death.  To face

that potent cocktail
of evolution and chemistry
to see if the message
it sends is true takes iron
will and a willful disregard
for our enchanting

hubris.  The strongest alpha
still relies on its pack.  The weakest
loner can never be
drawn back to it.

Day 55 - Summer Olympics (poem)

SUMMER OLYMPICS

I'm a sucker
for all the chlorine spitting,
chalk dusting, sand
tripping, false starting, and
even the crazy ping
pong serving of it all.

Day 54 - Aurora (poem)

AURORA

It sickens me.
All this post-tragedy
posturing for political points.
It's not about guns.
A highly motivated madman
is what killed those people, not
guns.  And a theater full of untrained,
unregulated gun ownership
wouldn't have prevented
a highly motivated, wanna be
Joker.  It would have left dead
scores more in the confusion,
darkness and chaos.  It's not about God
either.  God didn't save anyone.  God didn't
punish anyone.  If He had any hand in it at all
then He's an asshole.  And so are we
if we spend a moment thinking
of anything but those poor victims
of a senseless crime.

Day 53 - Vacation (poem)

VACATION

Family time
in a house built on 40 years
of love.  Nearby

a pond so green it nearly matches
the beauty of my wife's eyes.
Kids beside themselves
with the joy of so much
special.  A breath

of fresh air
that takes so many
of the world's small ills
away.

Day 52 - Reincarnation (poem)

REINCARNATION

I'm going
to put today behind
me and hope
it stays there.

Perhaps the new
morning will bring
gentle smiles and the murmur
of peaceful waking.

I hope it doesn't
still feel like I got punched
in the heart.

Day 51 - How 'Bout Them Apples (poem)

HOW 'BOUT THEM APPLES

I have a nearly unhealthy
love of those big, delicious
red orbs of sweet juicy goodness.

A new bag of giant Red
Delicious makes me happy
on a deep, personal level.

It can be crushing
when the bruises run
all the way through, or
that slight tinge of sickly
green remains inside
indicating a dry sourness.

But the potential
disappointment is totally worth it
when you get that perfect bag.

Day 50 - Hugs (poem)

HUGS

It was 6th grade
the first time a hug
was more than a hug.

She had blonde hair,
and smelled like strawberries.
My whole body lit up
and I would have

donned knight's armor and slayed
dragons for the reward of that feeling.
I know much more
now, but still

I find little that I love
more than a simple, heartfelt
embrace.

Day 49 - Old Married Sex (poem)

OLD MARRIED SEX

She tastes like sugar
and sin
on the tongue.  Each crevice

mapped with the excitement
of Columbus or Magellan.
Valleys, caves and untold
secret passages await

the adventurer stout enough to commit
to this journey.  There is no need to travel
afar when the homeland is lush

with succulent fruits
and warm shelter.

Day 48 - D&D Online (poem)

D&D Online

This game is so new,
and shiny,
and looks sooo good.  I used
to love it
as a young man, and now

I'm fascinated again.  I know
this obsession won't last,
that ignoring my family
for time with this new love
will lead to disaster, but

it draws me in.  Like
the Millennium Falcon
trapped by the Death Star's tractor
beam, I don't know
if I can resist.

Day 47 - Rage Coaster (poem)

RAGE COASTER

I know this feeling
is as unhealthy as cigs, whiskey shots
and funnel cake fries dipped in chocolate, but I don't know
what to do with it.  This desire

to sink my digits into your flesh
and rend you in two, then stitch you back
together as a person who gets it.  Bludgeon
you bloody until you state, "Oh wait,
I see
you are right and have been all along."

I don't know how not to hate you
when you don't do your job
because you think you're too pretty
to carry your own load,
or too vindictive and lazy
to do anything other than look
like a knock-off reality
TV star.

I can't seem to shed
the want to break your face
bones with a heavy object, a sledgehammer
or a medium-ish statue of cowboy on horseback
when you only value
those you've knocked
back a drink or a fuck with.  This rage

that tears from my toes
to my split ends, but mostly rests
in my shoulders and chest, wants me to explode.
It doesn't want me to look
in the mirror.  It doesn't want to hear about
hypocrisy, personal flaws, or God
forbid the idea of a kinder path.
I struggle

like a child
because I don't yet know
how not to hate you for being you,
and myself for feeling
this way.

Day 46 - Blitzkrieg (poem)

BLITZKRIEG

What a kaleidoscope of suck
beats on my brain
watching late night TV.  Magic

Slushies, a gecko hawking
his protection racket, and Kiva.com
which is... I don't really know.
Fortunately I'm too tired
to care about what my droopy brain
is being programmed to love

by this point
in the evening.

Day 45 - Losing Weight (poem)

Wrote this yesterday, but technical difficulties prevented me from posting it til today.

LOSING WEIGHT

Losing weight can
be as difficult as trying
to cut off your shadow.
With the proper

lighting
and poses everything
can look great, but you know
it’s just waiting for a chance
to show up
again.

Day 44 - Kindness (poem)

KINDNESS

Kindness is a muscle.
Just like a bicep, if you want yours
to perform
better you've gotta work it out.

It's gonna leave you sore,
and tired, you're gonna want to cheat,
skip your exercises, see small changes
and think that's enough.  It's not

something you achieve over the course
of weeks, months or years.  It's the work
of a lifetime.

Day 43 - Self Improvement (poem)

SELF IMPROVEMENT

I'm always spinning'
new cocoons,
trying to metamorphasize
into a better butterfly.

Calmer, kinder, more
at peace.  But
as I watch the reruns
of my iniquities it can feel
like one of those days

when I'm watching my fourth Sports Center.  Sure
the show is different; new anchors, new patter,
fresh packaging.  It doesn't change
the fact that it's still the same
old clips
repeating endlessly.

Day 42 - Thunderstruck (poem)

THUNDERSTRUCK

You're wearing
that shirt.  You know
the one.  A thin white,
nearly see through treatise
on how to keep a man
interested.  All those silly little girls

with their booty
shorts, and faux inexperience
may get drinks at bars from
neanderthals in Starter shorts
with their Lids backwards,
but they don't

understand how
a woman works,
or how helpless
she renders a man,
comfortably reclined on a tan couch,
casual attire begging
to be sent
akimbo.

Day 41 - Sunrise (poem)

SUNRISE

Sometimes when I meditate,
thoughts banging about
my head
with the unstructured intensity
of Battle Bots,

I wonder why
I am so talented
at cruelty.   It's a razor tipped whip
I try to keep coiled
even though
the temptation to use it is ever present,
seducing me with joy

at the thought of a skill
well displayed.

Still,
after my sharp words
flay the ego
or confidence of another
human being, shame
takes over.

I hate it, yet
crave it more than
the cigarettes I no longer smoke,
and in hopeless moments
wonder if I can ever
win.  Until I see

my son, emanating kindness
like a goodwill savant.  He is precocious
and imperfect, mouthy as a TV preacher,
but he plays the sun to everyone
in his orbit, casting warmth
and sharing gravity with all
those around him.

I see my son.  I see
his kindness isn't a philosophical choice
like me,
it is a part of his DNA.
And in my darkest moments, the reflection
of his inner light on my face
soothes
and inspires me.

Day 40 - High School (poem)

HIGH SCHOOL

This dusty old
house is haunted.  I rarely visit,
but when I do, terror
always rears its head.  Like a hydra
ready to strike
it is

overwhelming.

These poltergeists
are quiet most of the time.
But when they have their Breakfast
Club it is in my hallways
and I cannot escape
the pain of it.

In time
a truce is drawn again
between strength and memory,
but those goddamned ghosts
will not be
exorcised.

Day 39 - Blank (poem)

BLANK

Feeling nothing
but disparate strands
of thought...

A boy with a passing resemblance to Ralphie
in A CHRISTMAS STORY standing strong
in the face of bus stop bullies...

Trying to get the chewed up
apple strand caught between two back teeth
to evacuate...

Tracing a woman's back
like a Maserati wrestling switchbacks
in Tuscany...

They all flirt
with my attention,

but fall
like the frayed ends
of an abandoned quilt.

Day 38 - Tired (poem)

TIRED

Feeling like that tube of toothpaste
with a bit left, spread
out thin, needing to be pushed
hard to get anything useful
out of it.

Day 37 - We Are Not Wild Things (poem)

WE ARE NOT WILD THINGS

"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself,"
said Lawrence.

It's inspiring, especially
when coming
from the rapey charisma of Viggo
in GI JANE.  What

a pleasant repurposing that poem
was given.  It made the celluloid
it emanated from that much brighter, unlike
say Van Sant's PSYCHO, or Haley's Freddy Krueger.  Offenses
that left our hearts and brains duller,

less astute.  Pulled in by a pack instinct
as though we are, well,
wild things.

Which in the desperate grasping way
of things we have evolved past.  Sure we retain
the dumb fear and misguided adrenaline
rush of an animal alone, struggling
to survive.

But our gift is choice, the ability
to look instinct in it's panicked eye
and say no, there is a better way.  A wild
thing is what it is, we are what we
choose. To revert

doesn't make us Asland.  It makes us
a lion more suited to Oz.

Day 36 - Phoning It In (poem)

PHONING IT IN

There are
a couple
things worth missing

the self
-
imposed

deadlines
in life.

A woman is most of them.

Day 35 - The Other Guy (poem)

THE OTHER GUY

Oh how we hate
the bald-faced liar
unless

he's our guy,
winking at us like
a predator in a bar,
just
before he sets
his sights on the conquest

of the night.

Then that
blue dressed girl
is a roundish slut,
or the electorate too
unwashed to be touched.
Perhaps

the problem is us.

Our moral fiber twisted
like a DNA strand,
adaptable to the demands
of our opinion.

Day 34 - Truth (poem)

TRUTH

No food
is
perfect.  Sometimes

I want
donuts, or burgers, or a hot dog
improperly cooked
on a roaring campfire.
Sometimes I want

an apple,
or yogurt, or a goddamned
granola bar.

It all depends

on so many factors, but
I know
if you have to choke it
down

it's been poorly prepared.

Day 33 - The Good Ole Days (poem)

THE GOOD OLE DAYS

Today my son
cracked the spine
of a new book
like a chiropractic student
eager

for knowledge.  Encyclopedia
Brown, a favorite I remember from humid
summers when my skin became sweat,
but my brain stayed thristier than
my throat.  I had to explain

what

an encyclopedia was, because now
Dad can look up anything on the computer,
grimy though it may be from children's fingers
stabbing at keys while exploring Starfall
or Cool Math Games.

It made me
wonder
what happened
to all the encyclopedia salesman
since they became

obsolete.

Perhaps to the detriment of us all.
Because humans rarely value
what is free.  Just ask
the woman with a suitor
too eager
with his gifts.  Or the suitor
who finds a woman
too eager in her response.
No matter

what

we desire,
availability slakes the thirst.
So
now we embrace
what we don't know
like a crest, waving the banner
of our ignorance with
pride.  Leaving

those forgotten
salesmen truly

dead.

Day 32 - Sucking (poem)

SUCKING

Never be afraid
to suck.  They say you can't
make an omelet without
breaking a few eggs.
Can't

find true love
without
breaking a few hearts.
Must

drop many balls
to better your reflexes.
Take

a punch to learn
how to fight.
Write

endless streams
of substandard prose
to find your

masterpiece.

Day 31 - Doldrums (poem)

DOLDRUMS

I can see
the sun, but not
feel its warmth. Touch
a blossom,
but not catch its scent.
Today

beauty feels
like clouds, and joy
seems barren.

Day 30 - Righteousness (poem)

RIGHTEOUSNESS

My knuckles are battered
and bruised
after tackling the heavy
bag with no gloves.
It seems the hang
of it I thought
I had,

I didn't.

Skin flayed off surprisingly
weak joints. Tweaked
wrists turned on
occasion, what should be
ramrod straight
and firm as steel
instead buckles like a toddler's knees
taking those first
few steps.  Pain

will remind me
this simple task
isn't.

Day 29 - Hypocrisy (poem)

HYPOCRISY

A mirror
faces
a mirror
and reflects itself
endlessly.  The cascade,
beautiful,
rejects anything
other than
the other.

Day 28 - Libraries (poem)

LIBRARIES

I love 'em.
The musty, smellifluous
hug they proffer.
Like a big bosomed Earth mother.
She wants you

in the comfort
of her rows, spread
to birth the proud prose
of my Rock Gods -
Barker, Achebe, Blake.
Sinewy, seductive tales
wrapped skin tight
under covers

pulled across
a tender spine.

Day 27 - Debate (poem)

DEBATE

The crowd loves
this dance
of red cape,
gleaming sword, teeth
bared, horns
in search of purchase.
But

for one opponent
in the false honor
of this bloody
arena
there is no end but
death.

Day 26 - Love (poem)

LOVE

If you must
sing to me
of love, don't
sing to me
of puppies.  Their silky
coats.  Their wet,
pink noses.  No

if you must
sing to me
of love, sing to me
of porcupine quills,
struck deep
in the arm
because you won't
let go
despite the pain.  Leaving you

scarred.
Wounded.