How to let old habits die?
To let the quiet stillness of the mind be
To be content
To be accepted
To be both the present and the virtue
How do you let old habits die?
The trick is
To let life breathe

Like a far
From a distant star
I wanted you like a childhood wish
So badly that I couldn’t help but shine
And glow in the innocent, youthful, darkness

By green in water
Blue in eye and mind alike
With gentle shimmer
Gleaming is the ray above
This, your autumn crown alive

This poem needed an outstretched hand
To save it from defeat

So I laid me down on broken cliffs
And simply reached

To save these words from quiet worlds

I... will not... delete

So many wait
For another life
To walk into their own
Just to change the self

When really they
Are the only person
Who can pull apart the former fabric
Who can lend a mending hand to help

Beyond the borders of this humble kingdom
You are living live
Breathing deep as the morning dew
And settling into the starry sky

Most beautiful, wonderful, glorious you
In awe are my eyes ever found alive
By the distant singularity which is new
And blinding as your sudden sight

In the land of ForSure
It doesn’t matter who you were
How late you slept, or quietly wept
Midst walking storms
No, in such a place as these and this
The only present matter is willingness
To take the words of a fellow man
To tie your shoe with gentle care
And to RUN with it
Into the glorious dawn of a brand new day
Of a new you who isn’t afraid of sunlit truth
And divine ray
I say, step a little bit closer to your future today

You won’t know either quiet
Or the world
Until you step outside at 3 a.m.
To fill the void of an empty mind
With the deepest drink of sky imaginable

You are no less alive

My Goldberry

My heart runs dark as blue berries
For you and for your inevitable change

With soft and growing orange light
With cool water wandering skies
You are all of me and as much mine

My Goldberry
Would you never stop
And always change though you needn't try

I give to you my conscious though
And you give to me
Your mercurial eyes

The way of seasons past like our memories passing by

Good scrambled eggs can find
More competency in hand
Than that within mind

Recently
And more so than the mountains

I've been blue

I've been tired
And I've been steeped in fog

But most of all

I've been living without coffee every morning
Which is the same as living without you

Like rain
I fall, I rest and evaporate
Over and over again
One and the same
I am like rain

A wise man will say
Such days are an illusion
Such lies are well lived

There’s something majestic about where water meets rains

As body of water seemingly warmer than that of your own

As if the worlds fishbowl had been turned upside-down on a playing card

Where the warm is cold and cold is the air

And all I want to be is in and beneath

The broken, shining surface of this rippling world

Not quiet, not callous, not alone

When one man says
"All the little things"
He is looking into the eyes of her
In love and drunk on summers wine
Before the winters fall
As if the endless summers were yet alive on this earth

When in reality
"All of the little things"
We do, and say, and act to be
Are but seasons we have aligned with time
Are but dusty feelings
Stirring occasionally in a field full of tempered streams

You were a fourth born, snow-born, breeze
Wild as the first sight of a western scene
And I was surprised, by the furious snow
As I didn’t expect you so early that Fall

Waiting for you two
To pass as me by a one
Only then we'll find

I am not a stream
Nor a babbling brook
I am a pond with a passing ripple
A sinking stone, thrown, once shook
With a shake often and aware of it
I am never content
With the soft waters unbroken
As a stream I am not known

And here
Settled like in water
I am going to sink into you like a falling stone
Like a tree half buried in the peat moss slow grown

Into you
I will seep anew

The hollow, empty, fickle words
The accounts and all of the time there spent
Social media is the death of all things good and decent
I say again
Social media is the death of all things good and decent

When I listen to jazz
Hot like seeping tea
As it cools like coffee directly in front of me

All I see is the ocean
All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass
Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm

Unwaking and amiss
Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this
It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip
In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss

My anthem struck me like a chord
When a Willow tree become a whip

As a leaf I'd yet to be truly born
Into the confidence of another tune

It was The Killers first who slew my fear
Who called my snapping hand a whisp

With a firey, crackling, flailing hiss
My anthem, adrenaline, I'm in love with you

Real life is neither the work nor the time spent waiting inbetween. The sacrifice or the freedom perceived. No, there is more to it now than there has ever been. Due to the congruent moments and the minutes passing. Because the real exists, not at the initial signs of belief. But at the time at which you realize that, you began long ago almost instantly.

It's not a show
It's not a club
It's not a desire or a desired outcome
It's nothing really
It's just humanity
Suffering under the effects of this self provoked curse we call time

Everything outside of your universe
Which you cannot SEE because you're already IN
Dictates what you are and have already been
Just a carbon based life form
Just a volley of stars
Stretching out like milky moonlit sea
As you cannot shift what is out of reach
Or find with your eyes that which is out of sight
It is the thought ⁠— the study of that within glass ⁠— which allows you at last
To begin to begin

Dark hole star
Carved without knowing into the corner of my heart
With an appetite for bloom in it's glorious range
For apples, for trees
For meadows, for plains
As it is for the seasons prior desire
It is that which you want
As your taste requires

Trap me not in these
My old memories of mind
They are less than I

And then suddenly
With tremendous presence born
New territories
Open up to your old self
To be shared excitedly

Trapped is not a possible feeling
When you're found in the sound
Of the rain falling out
Of the sky amidst the summers cry

When you're full and brimming as the dawn
With contemplative thought
And your stomach is quenched
Your mind alive with the memory of trees unbent

Quiet as the flooding stream
Noisy as the Red Winged Blackbird
As it pecks and cackles at the Sparrows hence
Until no more can be seen

Such impossible feelings and thoughts as these
Are but a mist in the morning
Are no more disturbing
Than the raindrops rippling on a pond serene

Haikus are like Blue
Berries bursting in my mouth
Always gone too soon

In the crook, in the valley
Find me lost within your bliss
With contented countenance
And satisfactory feeling of infinite rest
Found on me
Find me none the less impressed
Regardless of height or extent
For I am lost in bliss and blissfulness
In you

My feet a mass of broken blisters
My mind quieter than the sleeping trees
A thousand fireflies ignite in front of me
And I dance beneath a joyous clouded sea
Because I have forgotten the old me
I have forgotten the old me

Does every rock in every river
Dictate its place accordingly?
No, it takes centuries and ages
To find it's many moving places
To smooth out all of it's rough edges
And to be accordingly

I'll trade you

The warm breath of this night in June
To be replaced by the warming breath of you
Just below your fine and fearsome eyes
In such a heartbeat I could be satisfied
Instantly

I'll trade you

A world exists beyond the streets
And corners covered by these city lights

Where a gentle patter is beating down to a different kind of rain

And the moonlight falls, burning memories into our wooden hands and arms

Trust me when I say that such a world exists
Where there is only thing left to fall
And that is the whisper of a pindrop as it breaks

For as far away from these blinding bulbs and city squalls, it waits
Forever and always, standing out in the pale moonlight
Just as far away as it takes

Nestled
Within the crackle of a fire

Whispered
In the voices of the wind

Resting
Just beyond the nights first desire

Dawning
Outside the morning and it’s halo ring

Listen to the sky
To her daughter as they run
And play mold the earth
With waters and stirring clay
Do her rivers run alive

Potsu says what cannot be seen
But what can easily be felt by those around
Resting just in pace
Within the same coffee shop as me

A Thought

Is not a word

Is not a will

Is not a sky

But a man

A man is a man

A woman is a woman

A you is you

An I is I

Find answers at the bottom of a cup?
I think not.

Find freedom in the freedom to choose how you will be?
Not me.

Find a lack of self in a deepless sleep, where no answers are present for a moment?
Maybe.

Find yourself on a way, to being OK, with the inevitability of everything?
Now that...

That sounds like something substantial to me.

Curled up like a cat
Atop a spinning world of responsibilities

Don't wake me from this weekend dream
I can bear the nightmare occasionally

Instead, cut the lights and turn the fan over me
Breathing one final breath into this lifeless beast

You can expect me not to hear so much as a single sound
When the new day comes with an irksome, early, alarming scream

Quietly falling
Into the cavernous dark beneath the day...

With a lone ray of light
Dancing a jig to ignite the fly...

As the predator prowls
Through the underground forest, silently...

So also are my prayers answered
With a furious and foaming bite...

And the fight ensues from there
From there...

There is more meaning I find in the Me of You
Than there are words in all of the pages transcribed by man

And no promise, dream or lie will ever suffice
In communicating what I cannot

The importance of your existing to me
Be it only for this short period of time

Just once in a bitter little lifetime

All she ever wanted
Was for me to never stop
Looking up
Into those beautiful eyes with white outlines

And it's with a sigh I say
That no but or excuse can justify
My faith or lack thereof

And now all I can say is that I
Henceforth will aspire higher
Open my eyes wider
And look upwards as I try
And ever longingly reach her sky

Up At Her
Up At Her
In her blue my own eyes come alive

Grass browned and cut with a chawing cud
Fat and round with a sun burnt down

Unlike me

Not a one of them knows a breath of Frost
Or has ever weighed over an ounce of Cummings evenly

No

We are different makers, different means
With different paths to guided completely differently

And thank God for that
And this preferential me

It's not how quick your feet are
Or how fast you can run in an attempt to fly

It's none of THAT and all of THIS
How you fall with the imperfections of each inevitable try

I'll tell you what it is, IT IS, right in front of you
In the face of the breath which has yet to come

It has nothing to do with how many times your feet may falter
When you fail to fly

But how quickly you can defy and overcome
Which defines the true heart inside