The world's not
what they told me it was

It's much uglier
than I could have imagined

Submerged in violence
Darkness
Despair
Crushing blind ambition

The world's not
what they told me it was

It's much more beautiful
than I could have imagined

People everywhere embracing life
Love
Happiness
Enlightened spirits ablaze

The world's not
what they told me it was

The light and the dark

The world gives us both
The world makes us both

The world's not
what they told me it was

Let's try to craft one poem a day
A month of our thoughts conveyed
Just give it a shot
Why the hell not?
Let our words find their own way

she's not here
she went away
she'll be back soon
i hope
i pray

i think
i knowbutdontknow
****
that hurts to think
it doesn't hurt to drink
so i'll just drink that thought away

More words have been spilled
Over staying up too late
Than any other **** subject
That ever comes to this tired mind

When the nights drag on to mornings
And I wonder
Why the hell I'm still awake
There's nothing left to do
But turn that angst into words
And slap them down on a page
And pray that at my age
That lyrical Ambien
Knocks me right out

I've written more poems and dissertations about my bedtime
Than minutes
I sleep each night
Than pillows and sheets
I've owned in my life
Than times
I've ever made the bed
Than bedside books
I've ever read
Than midnight snacks
I've tried to sneak
Than my family's cumulative
REM cycles per week
Than my lifetime
Running count of sheep
Than strategies
I've tried to go to sleep

But when the clock strikes
oh-my-god-is-that-the-actual-time
Before I lay down my head
In the end
I won't go to bed
I'll give in again
And let the words flow
Cause staying up late
Is all that I know

**** the old year!
**** the old you!

****** it
Slaughter it
Toss it to the wolves
Watch it die slowly

Your pains and failures and sorrows and mistakes and regrets from the past year
Whimpering
Wheezing
Gasping for their last breath

Stand in triumph over your ****
And seize the new day
The new year
The new opportunities
That now stand before you

So when you look back
A year from now
You will know

You absolutely killed it

"Quibbling over the minutiae of form
Is indicative of failure to grasp the spirit"
Or so my grandpa always warned
So if you're here to argue, I don't want to hear it

If our debates are merely petty
If our disagreements are trite
Let's work to keep our egos steady
And not just simply fight to be right

Playing with words is one of my gifts
Poetry, prose, through pen or the lips

Let me show you what happens
What goes on in this brain
As I introduce you to the art of Wordplay

They march in - then beat, tortured, stretched, and broken
Completely dissected before they're respoken
All meaning pulled out, fully extracted
Give a word no mercy - just straight up attack it
Roll it over, spin it around, toss it up, smash it down
Play with it - make it move, hold it still
Like a cat with its mouse just before the ****
And when the word no longer resembles itself
When it's suffered, collapsed, gone through hell
Give it love, offer grace
Let the word have some space
Place it back on the tongue and see how it tastes
Then the word, encouraged, will offer something new
Will compel your lips and your jaw, your whole mouth to move

Something fresh will come out, unexpected perhaps
Spurred by the word and the knocks and the taps
at the door to your mind -
Same word.
Redefined.

It still fits
But now it tells a new story
Try it again - it never gets boring!

What once was unseen, unknown, and unheard
Has now been revealed by this old-but-new word

"What should I make of this?" many inquire
My advice?
Play with words, not fire!

Clock says 3:34, Friday afternoon
Waiting for the bell, but it rings too soon
My throat's too parched, butterflies in my stomach
I walk out of class, then I take off running
I hear my voice squeaking, I'm sweating bullets
My heartbeat's racing, I tell myself to cool it
Gotta get myself ready, I'm a nervous wreck
As I put myself out there, stick out my neck
I stroll to her locker, think I'm smooth as butter
Catch her bright gaze, involuntarily I shudder
Never done this before, ****'s scared outta me
So I open my mouth
What's it gonna be?
I squeak out the words
"Will you go out with me?"

No response as she turns back to the metal door
Spins the combination, flicks it back once more
The green rectangle swings open toward me
Now I start to wonder, do I have to repeat?
I quickly say her name, catch her nod from behind
I stare dumbfounded, wish I had a better line
Door slams shut, which way's this gonna go?
She spins then replies...
"Maybe. I don't know."

...Uh, wait, huh? What's that supposed to mean?
I just stare in shock, I feel like I'm turning green
I prepared for the yes, I prepared for the no
But after that answer what the hell do I know?
With a flippant little shrug she brushes right past
Says "I'll catch ya later", disappears into the mass
I'm standing alone, fingers nervously tapping
With a singular thought - What the hell just happened?
I didn't get the yes that I hoped for and expected
And she didn't say no, but I feel pretty **** dejected
Did I get rejected? Well, my ego got bruised
I'm bewildered and perplexed, downright confused
I'm frozen, mystified, as my buddies breeze by
One stops on a dime, spins and looks me in the eye
His expectant look asks a silent yes or no
I just give a little shrug...
"Maybe. I don't know."

They pester me with questions on our long walk home
But I'm totally distracted and I let my mind roam
What does Monday hold in store, will I get an answer?
I feel the panic rising so I join the friendly banter
The weekend creeps by, I'm consumed by my thoughts
Exhausted by the wondering, stomach still in knots
Early Monday morning, confidently stroll to school
But before I reach the door I feel like a **** fool
My eyes scan the grounds and I see where she stands
I spot her...
Another guy...
And their interlocked hands

My jaw drops a foot and I suddenly feel sick
Is she ruthlessly cruel or this a mean trick?
Internally I'm fuming nonstop all day
Externally I'm sweating and the world fades away
It feels like each class is progressively hotter
I ask my last teacher to leave to get some water
The class hears her reply and loses all control
Through the laughter comes her answer...

"Maybe. I don't know."

the words will come
just let them

the words will pour forth
without prior consideration of the meaning they'll produce

sometimes words have a tendency to do that
those fickle little things

little grunts and clicks and hisses and waaahs
that somehow collaborate
better than any set of politicians the world has seen

or sometimes create more chaos
more confusion
more discord

than if they'd never been uttered

so be careful with those words
those fickle little things

Life as poetry
Poetry as life:

A slow steady grind
Working stubbornly
Against monotony
And seizing
Those fleeting
Sparks of inspiration
Taking their wild ride
Wherever they lead
As the momentum
Carries us through
When we're back to the grind

In the past
My muse has been
Some external
Inspiration

But as of now
My muse has made
An internal
Relocation

It's always come
In bursts and spurts
Bit here, bit there
Drought then flood

But finally
The other day
It pierced my heart
Merged into blood

It's part of me
It's head and heart
Crafting wonder
From life's disarray

This muse won't leave
Won't sputter, stumble
It's deep within
It's here to stay

You can't say
What you wanna say
She said

But I just said what I wanted to say
(Or so I said in my head)

Again she said, no
You're saying
What you don't want to say
To say
What you really want to say

Say then
Whaddya say I go ahead and say
What I want to say
Though it's already been said
(Albeit in a way I didn't say)

And I daresay,
It will be said again one day
Perhaps when I learn to say

What I want to say