Don’t you know, young one
That you can’t have both
The odyssey of sailing a raging sea
And the tranquil rest of silent waves

Don’t you know, passionate adventurer
That a hard-fought journey — the one they sing about in songs and tales
Is only because of pain endured and loss
You can't just throw the One Ring in any volcano

Don't you know, wandering genius
that eradicating a single problem
leads to more "success" than being well rounded
The names you know did one thing and one thing only
often costing them everything else

Don't you know, people-pleaser
that anyone can tell them what they want to hear
and garner applause
****** was loved by the Germans
MLK, hated by his country
yet history does not point and say
look at that fearless leader!
The one who committed genocide and freed his people from debt!

Don't you know, Byronic Hero
that your flaws define you
but do not make you a hero
It's the actions despite your flaws
It's tales of overcoming, circumnavigating the things that inhibit you

Don't you know, reader
that the words on a screen
even though you use them to fly
do not allow you to escape forever
control your descent
learn from your flight
Don't you know that your thoughts become your actions?

Don't you know, writer
that your medium is language
and like any good painter, it's about splashing color
where color needs to be
don't water down your words by speaking every time the opportunity comes a'knockin

Time is both my vessel and constraint
my abstract concept and physics-entangled
my ship to sail,
and the currents that impede
The lovely adventures, moments that never end
the patience for journeys to come, the rest needed to recover

nanoseconds change the course of a falcons claws
a delicate balance of erratic prey and calculated talons
each heartbeat lasting lifetimes, because this –– this, is the moment
the finite rebellion of life
evolution has played its cards
Time to play mine

The mid-life crisis of a gentleman in mid-life
as man marvels at mysteries familiar
unaware of tears and laughter that await
because plans change and hopes dangle
as hopes are supposed to

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