Phil - Hello Poetry

Phil Mar 2013

Can't believe I missed it,
you think it hurts, what about me.
I'm writing this, but haven't figured out for whose benefit.
Not talking hurts immensely.
that goes both ways, I always will think about you lovingly.
Thankfully, both of us are more than half crazed.
Life is running around in a maze,
stop trying to count the delays.
All the words I speak of you are praise,
also you can be proud of the son you raised.
I try to be like you,
seems an impossible thing to do,
probably cause my skull is as think as roux.
One thing both of us like to do is poo.

You may never fully understand.
I love you, happy birthday Dad.

In ten years,
will you tell me all my wrong turns.
Crack open a couple of beers,
and tell me all the things I should have learned.
Tell me the times you cheered,
and the times you sat back are leered.
its okay, whatever you say can burn,
HOME, of how I yearn.
That of so strange of place.
With so many memories,
some with high anxiety,
and others as delightful as lace,
where life ran at a nicer pace.
It didn't feel like I was in a chase.
not sure if I'm chasing something or the one doing the running away.

You may never fully understand,
but I love you, happy birthday dad

Phil Mar 2013

Such a nice day

Remember when we used to sit out back,
laugh about the past
talk about the present,
and think about the future?

Sitting in that tiny shack,
now just thinking that I'm a hack,
wish we could go on back.
Take all the wrongs back.

Not coming back till I'm proud,
So I can say I'm sorry,
in one sum that built interest daily.
Take this ****** up life and live it amazingly,
then all live as neighbors,
and see,
the doors,
that were and are opened to you and me.

I miss you dudes,
especially that ******* Jew.
Not really sure what to do,
missing my homies and old school crew.
Hoping we can kick back and drink,
some brews,
and loose,
ourselves to our memories,
all those former seeds,
of trees that we planted or wanted too.
We only have what's true, and that's true.

Wrote this on a beautiful day,
snow on the ground, 65 degrees, and the sun in the sky.
Never ever be shy,
just go ahead and say it,
"Please dude, just go to the river and strap some lead on your feet,
then admit defeat."
SHEET!

Phil Mar 2013

These four walls

Spent my New Year's eve
staring at my walls.
They have not always been these four,
should have been walking out the door.
Leave without making sure I'm missed.

Dressed warmly,
with some solid shoes,
and a smile as wide as the rust belt.
Feeling like I can't loose,
hoping to find something to make the pain melt.

It didn't melt, it froze,
In the Colorado cold.
I did it to people that were old bros.
Makes me really ill.
How did I make it this low?
My soul is as smelly as some fermenting sourdough.

Wish we were between our four walls.
Twelve ***** and a cement goose,
48 beers feeling like we can't loose.
Probably put someone in a noose.
Leave the facade at that tree,
or else you cannot talk to me.
Golly ******* gee,
lets go to the mailbox to ***.
Give us all a good laugh like hehe.

those were the walls I wish I stared at,
covered in Tyvex home wrap,
and all kinds of other crap.
With more memories than we can all remember,
until we meet after we go to the big slumber,
and hang out together with Hoone, Buffet, Slug, and all the others that were with us,
at our highest of highs,
and lowest of lows.
for now life doesn't blow.
it's all about the food,
and not the show.
Hope that wasn't rude,
yet it seems I need to go.

Where... not sure but out that door is all I know.
new job, city, state, country, career...
where to go, not ******* sure,
but hopefully to fix all the wrongs I have ever done,
can't even think of a funny pun,
thinking that I am shunned, and on the run.
Feeling like I should give up and be done,
but I don't want to get rid of the two things that make me feel whole,
my memories and my love.
all I got left to get me to the
new place to be at,
maybe get a cut,
and a new Oakland raiders hat,
possibly a new Louisville bat.

Phil Mar 2013

A short poem

Everyone needs a tiny shanty,
ours is green,
and smells really smokey

Phil Mar 2013

How it feels sometimes

I went on a bike ride today, or at least I tried
I got a flat,
can you believe that.
Now I have to walk on back.
Which is west, which is best.
It was going to be downhill,
just like a roller coaster.
A picture that should be on a poster,
that says "Life is a Thrill!"

Not sure how many miles out I am, but the wind is picking up.
this bike ride turned out to be a sham.
Don't think I got any luck.
Maybe I'm just a shmuck
better hurry up,
cause I need to make up those miles I missed,
the girls I did not kiss, but wish I did.

No regrets is the mantra,
but is it followed,
or made hallowed?
Life can be an evil senorita.

Does this all make sense,
not sure if I know how to repent.
I never gave anything up for lent.
Instead of getting angry I get bent.
Just trying to make enough money to play rent.

**** that wind, it really picked up.
Guess I'll put on a hoodie,
cause I wouldn't want anyone to worry,
about me getting chilly.
Stop me if I begin to sound silly.

What a fail,
can't even ride a bike on a trail.
Still a fail
glad haven't been to jail.
not a fail.
No one has ever had to post bail.
Except I have definitely have bailed a couple of times,
maybe the reason I am trying to write intriguing rhymes.
Any chance you could forgive me of all my crimes.

I'll have on last smoke,
while I laugh at my life, which is a joke.
One thing is constant, giving you strife.
One day we can sit down and ****.
Then I'll cut some vegetables with a knife,
and cook it with some egg yolks.

Phil Nov 2012

Apology

It's hard,
and I know none of you deserve it
I should probably send a card
its not that I am pilled up in a ton of ****

Life is fine,
my only problem are parents that I don't deserve.
Hopefully, the sun will shine,
and maybe there is some love between us I can preserve.
The greatest parents on Earth are mine,
they are just trying to show me the best was to traverse.
To bad I've been taking wrong turns since two thousand and nine.

Unfortunately, I do not feel bad,
it has given me time to think...
all about what I have had,
the strong loving link
between me, ma, and dad.
Beginning to believe I belong in a room walled with pads.

I do love you,
that is true.
Who knows if we will ever work out issues,
if I cried about it I would waste a box of tissues.
Problem is when we talk all of our lines are reused.

We fight all the time,
not sure if it is a crime.
I don't need someone's two sense, I need advice worth at least a dime.
Not sure if I can think of any more rhymes.

I didn't want to talk just yet because I was not sure what to say. I decided to try and put some of what I wanted to say into words before we spoke. After a month I know it will be we are worried sick then yelling for not working on contacting you, then for all the **** I have not done. I did not mean to not talk to you for so long, but it happened. I though about a lot of stuff during this month of being cut off from any real technology besides an Ipod. I found that writing is helping. I love reading and I thought if I read I should be able to write. It lets me think about what I will put down before I actually say it...because when I talk I just say the first thing that comes to mind. I realized that I am going to be working 60+ hours a week for at least 15 years. I realized that I am probably not the lawyer or doctor you wanted me to be. I am more like Anthony Bordain, easiest way to show who I am...minus the coke and dope (please believe me on that, I have seen what those two things have done to really good friends of mine and their family, i.e. Russell, as much as I love him and now he is finally getting better. The worst I will do it not call for a while.) It is hard because my friends out here at not like my friends back home in Jersey (now spread across mostly the east coast, some farther in land) and my "family" from Providence. They knew when I wouldn't talk to you and make me call you. Here, no one cares, people like to keep things bottled up, and I am not really sure who to talk to. because unfortunately I know you may just criticize me in a "nice" way and I don't want that. This is my first Thanksgiving I am missing, and it is a weird feeling to not eat a lot in my house then go drink in the shed. I am thankful for my parents that love my too much, a family that I never remember how much they care, a place that at some point I know I can return and be loved even after all the mistakes I have made and will make. I am thankful for finding the things that make me happy food, friends, family, reading, writing,, and music. It is what makes me me, and that is also what you made me, for 18 years, and it shows but people don't see because they do not know you. Dad, we look exactly a like, right down to where a rock hit us on the top of the head and making us go bald. I think about everything I left behind when I raced out to Denver for something that was awful. I am thankful for my opportunity in KM Concessions. I am thankful for being on my own and figuring out who the **** I am. I found out I am a bad son, brother, grandson, and friend. I probably seem self absorbed because I never call, and never write. I do truly miss you, and think about what I do to you emotionally every day I do not call. I apologize to you and every one that is close to us, but I am not sure when I will change. I am a stubborn *******. One thing that will never change, not matter what is that I do love you, more then I can tell you for some reason. You are in my thoughts every single day. I will never forget all the love , help, and everything you ever gave me. All of it undeserved because I am not the perfect son. I am a mess up and that is why I cook. When I look back I will wish I could do it over, but I will do it the same because I hope when I do finally grow up I hope to be at least half the person either of you are. Your warmth, love, and care. Things that I always took for granted.

Please don't think this a cheesy **** up, it is a scatter brain of thoughts that are true. Things that I have trouble saying but think them everyday. I wrote them, I love you, Happy Thanksgiving. You should allow Doug, Sean, John, Dave, and Mike drink in the Shed it would mean a lot to them. It is our yearly therapy sessions, maybe why I have so much floating up in my brain. I love you, not sure how to make that sound more powerful then those three little words.

Phil Nov 2011

A Poem for the Homies

This is for the homies,
For the ones that have been through it all.
for the ones that have been here for so long.
For the ones that will share their ball.
The ones that will hit the ****.
For the ones that I can call,
any day and any time.
For the ones that are tall
and the ones that are small.
And for the ones that one day will be king.
For the ones that can't sing, and the ones that can.

For all the memories we had,
not a single one of them bad.
Our friendship was hopefully not a fad,
cause then I would be sad.

Good-byes are hard,
Good-byes do ****.
They can leave you scarred,
but won't with any luck.

I will miss all of you,
and cannot say it enough.
On the day I leave the only sound will be a sad bird's coo.
if only there was time to drink some Duff.

That is all I can think of, and it is all true. I will miss you all and hope to see you all again. Don't forget to keep funkin' for fun. Until we meet again homies, remember that I love you all and hope you will always be happy. That there will be no more problems and no more regrets. Keep a smile on your face and don't let anything keep you down. Good-bye Homies, hopefully not forever.