This square nicely hidden
five blocks away
from the rolling sea in Barcelona
is busy with such quiet motion.

Many people on their way
to places with such anticipation
or maybe from somewhere
with renewed hope
or without any at all.

Some just sitting on a park bench resting
perhaps just preparing themslves
for the hours to come
what secrets do those hours hold?

Right now is over
in just an instant.

This will be the only time
we all meet here in this square
tomorrow will be an absolute different place
for each and every one of us.

Never again will we all be here

We've all changed
maybe ever so slightly
but changed just the same
for having seen each other
here in this square.

Tantrums Of Genius

Stay away from The - Mart

and it’s shopping cart

with a bad wheel,

Write on paper with

disbanded,forgotten

outlawed cursive,

not staring into

a computer with pop up adds

and trivial social media,

Have Tantrums Of Genius

Sip on a beer

or some wine

and close your eyes

in silence,

listen to the thoughts

twirl in your mind

like a Van Gogh painting,

paying attention to detail

as the thick blue colors

swirl into each other

creating a vibrant sky.

Listen to Mozart

softly inducing stimulation,

master’s calling through

space and time

telling you

of their frustration

in finding anyone

to listen to their message.

Read Ezra Pound

and all the others

the poet’s

who had the knowledge

the insight

to warn you of

a place with no creation,

filled with people

without imagination,

those who never had

Tantrum's Of Genius

Feel the emotion

as you start to pace

the floor,and look

out of a window,

and for the first time

realize that you

are surrounded by beauty

and you have ignored

every flower

and all of the color

that has not been recognized.

Maybe with anger

or with regret

have a

Tantrum Of Genius

As the truth

softly show’s itself

like gazing into

a Dali painting

slowly discovering

what it is you are looking at.

promise yourself

to often have

Tantrums Of Genius.

Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art.Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want.She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.But
just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there.As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.