My world became an unknown hue
color beyond percept
I wondered 'bout its unknown truth
and secrets that it kept

Like sun from under rolling waves,
reality was blurred
my brain, it forced emotion brave
but my emotion had not heard

My feet, they stood their ground
or maybe petrified
these colors started making sounds
stimulus amplified

I could not gain my voice to speak
If I had, it would crack
finally, I began to squeak
to give this moment some feedback

"I don't belong, why am I here?
I can't possibly know"
and then I questioned, quite sincere
"why does your body glow?"

I half-expected some answer
but color cannot hear
solely action from this dancer
it could not give me ear

My eyes were wide, my body shook
for what had I been picked?
I waited for some sort of look
suddenly something clicked

This was the beauty of the world
shapeless, soulless, timeless
I was surrounded as it whirled
It left next stanzas rhymeless

Explain beauty to me,
give it some constraints
because the brightest fireworks decimate cities
and biggest waves destroy communities
mountains divide, rivers flood
ugly paintings made with sweat and blood
heartfelt songs become catchphrases
or sound worse than algorithmic, catch-all choruses
This all is bottled up
'caus beauty can't be stopped
place it all in some Merlo
and allow the sea to take it where it may
probably to some garbage patch
with all of the other sea-turtle killers

the lack of hands raised
to experiencing kisses in the pouring rain
reminds me that Netflix separates the real and ideal
but they've gotta be emulating someone's love story
turns out it's mine

no amount of rice will revive my short-circuited phone
too much electricity between us, the volts must've blown the wires to pieces

Kisses are better watered down
chills from a torrential downpour mean nothing
when the arms of another wrap tight
emotions like lightning lighting the dull canvas of a 2am wood
Our minds knew heavy rains were coming
Our hearts knew the water would seep into our memories
your presence gluing me to the moment
the hammock our tortilla
myself and her the contents of a delicious burrito

Trees always have to go out with a bang, don't they
explosions of bursting color
freeze-framed fireworks of fall
bursting and cascading,
leaving ashes and hot coals to cool in soft grass

...I used bursting twice, didn't I?
alright, let me go open up my thesaurus...
blast? pop? rupture?
just replace it with one of those and call it good.
Back to the poem:

my popped-collar peacoat straightens my back
gotta match my posture to the pompous portrait
black wool on an over-scratched scratch paper
might as well just pick it all off
allow the color some room to expand
(I don't even own a peacoat, I just like the metaphor and imagery)

you could set the sentinel alight for the same effect
a more smokey atmosphere, sure,
but the color would be a little brighter
and I'd have the mushroom of smoke to match my coat

I've substituted my earbuds with the crunch crunch crunch
of leaves
crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch ––––
shoot that one looked good but it just flattened
crunch crunch crunch
invariable sound
back to my Beats by Dr. Dre

The arrow of geese points south
...
that's really all I have to say about that
some sort of metaphor about flapping my arms and following them?
I like jacket weather though
better stay grounded
hands in pockets; arms in long sleeves

insert some connection to death to match nature's descent into winter

Gosh, this season is too good to stand for something so sad
let's go jump off the roof into a pile of leaves
drink hot soup and get cuffed
watch steam and frost paint picturesque mornings
read in a dogpile of blankets
Winter may be coming
but so is spring ya goof
get off your melancholic horsey

I catch echoes from a forgotten muse
the gentle whisper from a world left behind
A memory of a man whose shoulders became platforms
whose fusion of mischief and wisdom became my model
whose actions defined the word "legacy" for me
but it's only a muttering
and like any good sandcastle, time and tides has returned it to dust

Wit and charm are no defense against the freak accidents of life
unconditional joy can't wake you up from a coma
When a giant falls, the ground shakes
Those nearby cannot help but stand with mouths agape
Bridges intertwining souls
Are washed out by an end to life
To forget him would be to forget myself

As a disheveled Warren Harding once said:
“Because we’re insane!
There can’t be any other reason.”

Definitely to escape the cutthroat competition the contemporary circuit of born-for-the-role contenders creates on the court (or field, or stadium) –– ‘cause I can’t keep up

Definitely was seduced
By the ideas of hanging from cliffs with only tips
By the infinite approach, but ever distant mastery
By the hipster-esque go-with-the-flow-as-long-as-it’s-against-the-current lifestyle

Like a good song
The joy of the end
     is the memory of the journey
Every movement, every stressed cord
The notes together form something unique
       A landscape that only complete concentration can uncover
Also some of them are not as good
       Which gives you a standard for excellence

Or maybe the endorphin high just makes me think these things
Maybe it’s slowly driving me insane

Evicting ideas must be done in earnest
For the vultures of radio-static thought will feast on anything
So purge! Purge your consciousness!
The tempest nears! brace yourselves
or be thrown into a sea of cognitive confusion!

vacuum up those pesky anxious fears
the dust-mites of uncertainty, crumbs of confusion
but never, ever open up that "Pandora's box" of a vacuum bag
the dust gets everywhere
–– I'm allergic

shove them in a bulletproof aquarium
maybe fog up the glass a little
obfuscating them behind a breath or two
they'll slither around in there
you can just make out their silhouettes if you tap the glass
careful
it makes them angry
trapped within their own misfortune

With or without them, time ticks to a new era
our darkness shall not cover laughter. hope.
overlap? possibly
like a kaleidoscope
simply deconstructing beautiful into a tsunami of color
making monotonous moments unique

a peculiar blend of all this world has to offer

You were a time change
four-four transformed to three-four
hard rock to soft waltz