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Christian Jun 2011
"Life's not fair" you used to say.
I told you that life isn't fair for anyone which is what makes it fair for everyone.
I wondered if my words had reached you, if you saw anything past the horizon, why you read so many books.
I wanted you to go outside and play, to cause some trouble, to kiss a boy or two. Instead you locked yourself inside a world of solitude where your only friends were the characters of the tales you weaved in your head as you read.
You had tossed away many of my expectations, my hopes, of fathering a girl. You gave me no boys to intimidate, possibly to scare away. I never once had to wait for you past midnight, after hearing you sneak away. How I yearned to help you pick out your dress for each or one of your school dances. I would see you draped in a black scarlet silk, shoulders and back exposed enough to tease any young mans heart, yet only slightly. Mid back would suffice. The dress would hover inches away from your ankles, and this is where my influence may have been involved for I never once saw you wear high heels, anywhere, to my joy. I wouldn't have apposed ***, but I'd let you know just what your mother went through having you. I'd tell you how she smiled before she died, exhausted, saying without speaking a word, it was worth it. But only when you're ready. I wanted to explain condoms, embarrass you with a banana, but these things somehow you already knew.
I don't blame you for being you, my dear, no. I just always had an image in my head, that you erased and redrew. I've grown up believing every experience is a lesson, every person a teacher, and every star another reason to love. How I loved watching you grow, even though I always wished for you to experience, something, more. I'm sorry I wasn't the father I had imagined I'd be. I just, had never experienced such loss. Your mother, without realizing it until she was gone, was my life. I adored her beyond reason. You look just like your mother as you read. When I would pass your room, seeing you in the crook of your window reading whatever book you were reading, it was as if I were looking back in time. Another gift you gave me without ever knowing it.
I hadn't meant to be so silent, so distant. Is that how you learned to keep to yourself, was it so easy not to laugh? You were always quiet as a baby. I can't remember what your cries sounded like, they were few to never in between. Perhaps we taught each other, yet your eyes were always filled with age. How you knew without knowing, scarred me. You frightened me child. I felt but a boy in your presence.
A worthless father, I know, intimidated by his own child.
But how I have always loved you, how I love you still.
How I wish I could tell you, just once, before you left me like your mother.
Do the dead listen when the living speak?
Is it worth hearing the cries of an old man broken once too many times?
Darling, tell your mother hi for me, tell your mother, I'm sorry.
Christian Jun 2011

simply is,
she said, sighing.

raking toes
on grass

the world, spins,
there's you

I haven't forgotten
it's just, it isn't
Christian Jun 2011
I said I walk on floorboards made of dust,
whispering, every breath, you've touched
pushing tear drops down tear ducts
hoping for sin to fall off

crying stories of sacrifice
the children listen
far too much
your stories have grown bitter old man
the children deserve better

I said I've known shadows make better fillers
pleading, I don't want to feel, no, not that much
taping shut my eyes, I remember
this fading light the children know so well

burying legs in dirt, forts are castles
they know airplanes are really
seats that fly
building houses in the sky

I said I was a child once
You said,
why the rush jack, it ain't always time to grow up
Christian Jun 2011
comes with glimpses
distant viewings of

a clarity, unfolding
neatly on the ground

crumpled paper
rests untouched


small reminders
to keep on going

each letter
is every step taken

an expression
of experience

born from seeds
said to be created
out the palms of
wisdom, showered
gently with hope

it comes in glimpses


it just goes
Christian May 2011
I would like to believe
we are all connected, a
mobile massive
pile of flesh mixed
in some bone juice
& ash, contributing
as something larger
then self, living with
each other, as one another,
firing pistons of thought
engines cooling by our
own single breath into
infinity of some end
never having to realize
what's right with wrong
just living as this

But I remember I
operate in this separate
body walking on two
feet swimming through
turbulent sea's of me's
myself and greed,
this lust of more
powered by this ever-
going combustion of
competition one upping
to succeed with money
running through veins
clogged in violence,
forgetting the you
within all this
misery, we swallow
to be our anti-
depressants because
we sweat **** to
feed children we
teach to fight is
to attain, something,
search for something
I remember how I
search, how I search
how I seek, fueled
by this insatiable
hunger for this some-
thing more I can't
seem to find with this
need to feel complete,
this urge to fill this
"void gnawing at my
left lung" telling me,
reminding me I am
separate & will always
be, until I noticed

Invisible, heavy on
my weighed down
shoulders, colored
clear like wind, I
saw the element we
all breath in fire
that pulsates
as though I were
turned on, I was
turned on
to this liquid fire
rushing into the void
'nom nomming
on my left lung', as
I began to understand
the magnetic connection
of my beating lifeline,
reminding me what
was always known
was always believed,
somewhere in marrow
next to white blood
cells & hope, that
cliche one word

that connects us
to god to the
whatever's & what if's
to the me to the
you, with dust
in my right eye
the gap between your
tooth where eternal
wisdom is stored
because non judge-
ment wiggles through
toes like mud oozing
in the cracks of clenched
fists, that I am you
that I am, that it
is & will be & has
& continues on & on
& on & on


einstein or dinosaurs
there was an atom, made
of tiny parts composed
of smaller pieces held
together by space, found
bounding stars as we
squint attempting our
attempts to stare at
the sun because what
we forgot is the
I am & the I can,
the we are change
so we choose which
way our lips point
which way our sight
see's, by releasing the
old never were me's
& embracing this
new philosophy who
watched grains become
planets & god's born
into children who
work together as
one to become one

with words like
love, compassion &
kindness, with words
like love, compassion
& kindness with words
like love, compassion
& kindness with words
like thoughts becoming
our realities, no matter
what we believe or
think or thought, that
we hold the power of
god, the fist of judge-
ment we release to
grab on to words
like love, compassion
& kindness because
today I choose to
love, to be compassionate,
to spread kindness
with action of this
space that holds together
our veins, which were
only taught to pump
money, to encourage
greed & this lust of
violence where we
fight wars on oil
wars on drugs
wars on poverty
on hunger on
depression, ADHD
bipolarism economy,
we fight wars for

We **** in
the name of justice
the name of god
of love

The stars
shine bright the non-
physical of hope
for something more, that
something more we're
searching for, look up
to realize what we are
taught, were taught
may not all be right,
that maybe my ribcage
wants to explode with
empathy for my fellow
man & follow him to
this promised land where
we can grow in the sorrows
of our joys because "even
the clouds weep in cele-
bration" 'when the answer
to everything right is
is you,
is us,
if we choose


we choose, maybe there was
no void, maybe it was all a
story created by our minds

the pulse in my wrist controls
my world, now I ask you
does yours?
rough and tough not edited just a rumble jumble of thought.
some of my words are plagiarized
the gnawing on my left lung bit (KPB)
and nom (OR)
and clouds weep in celebration (I Am).
credit goes where credit is due.
It's been over a month has it?

Tear it apart or love it, whatever feels best.
(written a week before post date)
Christian Mar 2011
an attitude of gratitude shares a projection of a true self that holds the image of god within its aura as the reincarnation of christ
Buddha lives within us all,
we are all divine

Let yourself wonder to the depths of what you are
not through definitions of words
there's more

Know there is always more to you,
We are beautiful and deserve all that is good
choose happiness,
Its a simple process of our psyche to be,
be what we are, one

One, is everything,
God, is everything,
Love is God,
in my belief,
you are dear to me

Live life alive

experience that which knows no bounds
for the moment is always happening


its always been now
Christian Mar 2011
Its a city I've never seen
as I ride waves painted on steel tracks
looking through worn out glass
to see the setting sun cast behind refineries,

I got off on McArthur, not really sure
but the voice said southbound
and I think I heard
San Francisco too,
These are good times to be aware and maybe
not wear what plays music in my ears
but I heard
cause I listened
and I found myself there,

"Man I know You!"
homeless men have diamond voices
when they sing me as I walk,
homeless times since 1982,
I'm sure you've all bought
one paper at one time for one dollar for someone before,

That night was my first night,
but I never read mine just got high on city lights
as I got lost on stockton and found myself on top of Sacramento,
and I'll tell ya I was looking for Jones street which is next to ofarrely.

12 pack PBR is a better deal then a six,
Apples make for better pipes
then glass on glass with sticks to light our way home,
home, where was I but old friends making new friends
reading old words hearing new,

"Im the Honeycomb baby
Yea baby
the Honeybomb",

Walking finding not so lonely bus's
Come out and Play yayyyyyy,
people know of warriors too
when you shout for no one in particular to hear
the public transport people know we all got somewhere far to go,

Welcome to the city streets
where leaking gutters
is one man peeing on the streets
I swear his stream was strong,

Welcome to the city view,
the tallest building,
that hill,
a university,
You can see the stars tonight
not always,
your lucky,
be ready for the cloudy nights,

Welcome to the city voice
where everyone sings their little tune
and everyone sings along,
you pick up one guitar,
two more might follow
with a bass and djembe too

Welcome to the city boy.
Its your new home for now,
and now is all that really matters.

And don't forget a bicycle
cause taxicabs ain't fun
when your broke
living life rich on something more then paper bills,


You might work from 10 to 12
but your here and your living
and I hear everyone still goes out to play
cause you work for fun
and your fun is what you make it,

I might never leave
yet I might find myself coming back
its San Francisco
and I'm living near
to find out what the city means
to those who have lived suburban dreams
can only venture out to guess
what a city holds
for those little boys
finding out what it means to make a man.

So I'm welcomed to the city
and its only just begun,
cause now its my turn for another job
for more fun
made of all fun
in times to high to care,
cause it don't matter what you wear
or how you act,
as long as your discovering you
for what might be true,
Cant tell you that I know
But I'll tell you,

Welcome to the city,
cause you might already live here,
but listen to this Kansas Colorado Oregon kid speak,
everyday holds something new
no matter how long you've lived,
or plan to.
Thinking about reading this one out loud this thursday. So critique and input welcome.
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