A smile, a thoughtful glance,
A meeting of eyes,
The slow emergence
Of a self.

Up all night, I'm in a funk,
Being quite sleepy's like being a bit drunk.
Stumble to a table, get my coffee, begin to write,
But hey, I'm still happy (yeah, who would've thunk?)

A wet machine encased in skin,
Eating, Pooping, Sleeping all day long.
I meant to describe my baby,
But am I any different?

I climbed aboard a train that took me
Further and faster
Than others on horseback.
Yet now I'm desperate:
The map is all wrong,
These stations I pass are those
I wanted most to avoid.
I want to change direction,
But see only miles and miles
Of straight track ahead.
Will there be another junction,
A crossing of tracks,
A way to reroute,
To change course?
Or is the only option
Derailment?

As we drift away, pulled
Apart by the centrifuge,
I wonder why the rope that was meant
To hold is together,
No longer does.
But I know why.
It stretched and twisted
And then, lacking care and
Attention, slowly
Frayed, until the rope was but
A few tenuous threads.
Seeing this we knew not to
Reverse what had happened.
We could have built a new rope,
There was still time;
But we chose to watch mutely
As each thread snapped in turn
And withered away.

You can squeeze yourself
Into a small body
And move around like a particle,
Or be a huge body
And let waves accomplish
The same within you;
Both are valid
Forms of life.

I hate the world,
I protest it,
But I cannot bring myself
To stop living in it.

People think they're talking to me
And getting through
And making sense.
How funny!
Even I can't always talk to me ...

When you stand off base
And let the winter cheer in,
While the trees dance
Their merry dance, and
The wind circles round in glee,
Remember this moment,
When all was wonderful,
Remember it for you and me.

Summer days
Summer haze
Eyes ablaze
With a flickering desire.

Do not be quick to discard
Messy things in favor of more
Elegant, more
Symmetric, more
Ones. After all
(As I have recently learned!)
A baby is more
Beautiful than a
Diamond.
All life is messy, and
Your search for
Perfection might lead only to
Corpses.

All change is
Miraculous, both
Birth, and
Death.

The universe is not without purpose;
There is meaning in every moment.
Reflect on this, and derive from it
Not joy or sadness, but
Right Understanding.

What are you talking about?!
Of course I like to live in the past!
Sure, it's painful at times,
But oh so familiar!
There are signposts everywhere;
You don't get lost in the past.
And it's comfortable too,
And so well-furnished; it has
My favorite books and music,
Though I could lose some of the people.
I keep an eye out constantly for
Wear and tear; I fix up and mend the past.
You would like what I've done with the place,
Come visit me sometime.
No, you're right, I didn't always live there;
Before I moved in, I used to
Live in the future.

Life against death,
Love against life,
The mind against love,
My self against all.

Bam! Bam! Bam!
Open up!
It's for your own good!
Don't you see, you've locked
Yourself up within your own
Mind!

Something there is, that doesn't
Like me writing, that
Pushes back at me, that
Drives me to other distractions, and
When all else fails,
Beats me down with fear.
Seriously, what gives?

He said, I don't know how
To get unstuck.
She said, the only
Wrong thing is to do
Nothing.

Hey man, get a move on,
I gotta leave now, gotta take on
The world and its many
Barbs, and see if there's any
Guards I can put up in time;
I'm committing a crime
Against myself, I'm
Keeping me down,
So who's gonna own
Me when I'm done?

It's too funny. My mind
Is overheated. Hate when
This happens. I'm all
Twitchy, and
Jumpy, and
Unable to focus, which
Is not a bad thing, just
Tedious.

To decide what to do,
It might help to
Focus on what you would
Regret not doing.

How do I wash myself
Clean of the past that still
Clings to me and makes me
Doubt every action,
Censor every thought,
Freezes the flowing river of
Change into a dull,
Crystalline, still image.

The minds need feeding too, with
Food for thought.
Avoid stale thoughts, fast thoughts, sugary thoughts,
Take in only what you'd like to
Become part of you.

I'm so tired
Of sabotaging myself;
Everything I seem like
Getting a break,
I'm there to ***** it up for me.

Judge if you must, but then
Let this much be understood:
All that is good may yet be bad,
And all that is bad, good.

I thought I was
Writing a story
About a lost kid,
But really I'm just
Writing along to
Find out
What he does next.

Lost in the midst of the daily grind,
One of these days, I'm quite sure
That as I write what's on my mind,
I'll write a poem I've written before

I used to think a
Poem was something
Out of reach, unattainable,
Difficult to create; I now
Believe it is a
Drawing out, a
Melding together, a
Composition reflecting what already
Exists, that needs only expression in
Words.

I wanna stop being so
Self-absorbed, but
I keep getting
Stuck, thinking it's
Too late to
Start now. The
Trick is to realize
There's a whole
World out there.

Rage, and Fight, and
Bare your feelings, and
Write.

The cure
Is to remind yourself
That other people exist,
That it is your
View of the
World which is
Warped, and not
Reality itself.

This day, taken in and of itself,
Was a great day!
Maybe yester-day wasn't so great
For my yester-self, but that's ok;
It was a different person.
I got my day and it worked out well,
I end tonight, and hope the
Person who is my tomorrow-self
Has a good day too, and like me,
Doesn't worry about the
Other days of
Other people.

I'm not
Interested in the
People who live their lives
As zombies,
Go to work, go to school, go
Shopping, who live
Without feeling,
Without curiosity.
No, for me, the
Wounded people,
Those who spend their days
In a haze of
Incomprehension, trying to
Come to terms with their
Thoughts, their actions, their
Feelings, which though
Denied, bubble up
Continuously, and sometimes,
Break through.

Unhappy people
Are always the ones
In deep trouble.
One day they might experience
True Happiness, perhaps
For a fleeting moment.
Then, they have to decide between
Letting it pass away, or
Turning their lives upside down.
It's safer being unhappy.

Something stirs within the
Imaginary world, and
Through my mind,
Desires, most strongly,
To be born.

Every breath
Is a new opportunity
It's never too late
To save yourself.

A meandering course,
Accumulating, weathering, eroding,
Depositing, overflowing, separating,
Whose end and journey are
Composed of miracles.

All these blogs and news sites and social networks
Are like a crowded stack of loose, unordered
Books and sheets of papers,
I'll-balanced, towering, quivering,
Ready to bury me under them any moment.

Judging big and small
Is hard to do.
Would you judge by
Fame or fortune? Or by
Their words and deeds?
And what do you really know
Of the latter?

The rain
Washes away the colors.
The bright ones,
The dark ones.
Let it dry, then
Begin again.

Been in bed all day, coz
I've got the flu,
It's no picnic,
Let me tell you.

The only upside
Is to let your thoughts float
With the fever a river,
Your mind a boat.

I am cursed;
My wound is larger.
But therein lies also
My blessing, for I cannot
limp along like everyone else.
I must heal myself or die,
There are no half-measures for me.

Trying very hard
Not to over-think
While the lack of action
Brings me to the brink.

The long stretches
When I thought I acted most freely,
Is when I most lacked passion;
For the instant of liberation
Cannot be repeated.

A great wind, like a sandstorm,
Blows through my life,
And I try my best
To align with it.

A short glimpse of a disembodied smile,
A run through tall grass,
A sheltering under dripping trees,
A long series of furtive glances,
A rising, a tripping, a tumbling,
Quick snatches of non-solitary
Wandering; these are the
Fading contents of my
Mind today morning.

I have not been faithful to reality,
I have been running from it.

Pretending,
That what is true, is not;
That what is not true, is.

This has many reasons, many causes,
All rooted in the past.

To continue means to wait for
Crises of increasing magnitude.
I can either face things
Voluntarily, or be
Shocked, repeatedly, into realization.

Many reasons, many excuses, many
Allegations of unfairness have been
Put forth by my mind, to
Prevent me from taking the
First step out, to
Keep me stuck,
Keep me trapped.

To move forward means
One, and only one thing:
A commitment to reality.

Sometimes a single denial of truth,
A single compromise with your feelings,
Can come to define you, or constrain you,
Until you reach the point where
Your life feels like a lie.

Another day, another loss, another
Waste of useless energy,
Moving horizontally,
Slipping on the upward rope,
Hoping not to slip.

Upwards or downwards;
Does it matter ?

Either way,
We will
Transcend.

I've figured out, perhaps,
The problem of my
Procrastination, which is
Nothing more than a
Denial of
Reality.