I have always been one to take shortcuts -
This might/must explain my love/hate relationship
With run on sentences.

A Clear and concise statement is best
And concise.
                And clear
                                  And also a statement.

The mighty must love.

My writing seems to have reoccurring things,
One of which is not the truth

That’s a true statement.

What am I hiding
In my (my mothers) hide-a-bed?
Insecurity?
Defeat?
Dreams?

I guess writing is an
Honest
Place for me to
Start.

“Walk the walk, talk the talk”
state another cliché and commemorate
the poem with the
reoccurring theme
of acknowledging
one,
That you are
writing a poem
and as per usual
two,
it’s about me.

Shimmering narcissism.
Golden aura of a fading golden era
Classified as a mental disease -
If writing can help keep my distance from
Facebook
And taking selfies….

Then I will risk being honest.

Living by the lake sure is great
And a full fridge is a ******* privilege
And moms aren’t half bad
Especially when they have
Never given up on their
Sputtering child.

Sputtering narcissism.
At the convoluted writing convention
I’m over in the self loathing self help section.

I want to tell one last lie
Before I start
Shooting straight , kick the habit and
Become an honesty “truther”

Its important what people think of my writing, and what they think of me.


Practicing self love is the key to surviving
Living @ home w/ your mom
Because I have always been one to take
Short cuts,
And drive long windy roads
Instead of sleeping,
Always reading/speaking –
working out words in my head
That I can soon write down  –forcing
More honesty out to the surface before its
Too late
To tell
What ends first – this poem or
This sentence.



Living @ home w/ my mom
Will play a vital role
in becoming a great writer.

"Small towns are fun simple living man",*
I’ve always preferred a guitar riff to a beat drop
Girls in long sweaters and nothing else
Waterfalls to shopping malls
If you watch too many movies it
Becomes obvious not all endings are optional
but,
Anything can happen around a campfire
Anything can happen on an ice cream date
Anything that ever mattered
Becomes less important than
Something that mattered
To a family on vacation, waterski enthusiasts
cyclists of mountain or road, a children with ice-cream,
Playing in safe streets An Ice-cream parlour older than your parents
Iconic
A Small diving board
a Big diving board
And    the   cliffs.
Cliffs with edges that Hunter would jump from
I would always jump in love
Rather than fall

I’m starting to prefer pony tails to job interviews
Fast speeds to failures
Motorhomes to Mazda trucks
Homemade salads to Starbucks
For as much heart the barista’s have
The salad is homemade and heartmade
Home is where the heart is and
They rarely come home with ya
where my home is not where  I always am
Its always where you can find me.
it is not my house,
but my heart
That is my home.

And boy oh boy does my heart have a big **motor!

“Little Lover”* by AC/DC blasts over crackling speakers.
Cracks in the road assist my flat tire
in softly, yet steadily
pulling me off course to the left.

Rocks roll down dirt banks into clean spring rivers,
motorhomes full of smiling faces go the opposite direction
in no rush
until they slingshot past as we pass.

I nod at humble well-kept country abodes as my prototypical
small-town family dream fades with the sun behind the Kootaney mountains - I bid Farewell.

I bid farewell,
to my home & motorhomes
to similes & metaphors
to rocks that roll
and to the little love
I’ve shared with only
who I want when I want to.

“She shook me all night long” begins to play as my nighttime drive finishes.

One day baby, my life will play out intense as any AC/DC ****** innuendo…

*but it’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock n’ roll.

Type it out you *******, this could be
The last one
For a little while.

I made a promise with myself
Or whoever that shady character is,
Outside
On the deck with me
The one who
Makes fun of me
Delete words as I puke this
Poem?
Out.  

Its best that me and this keyboard become friends
My anger towards, understand and accepting
What is proper type,
Or am I the proper type
Of guy who wants Vegas
And EDM
And MDMA
in My life

So writing
Or typing
Whatever
Which one
Of me

Wants to deem it
for only when I dream
It, cheap rhyme,
I want my style to be my own
And I want my intoxicated
Meaningful
Ramblings to be a
Part of it
A part of the
Bigger picture.

I will only type **** like this when i am not sober.

Sober sure is funny
And not just a funny word
Smiley face emoticon

Emoticon is not
a typo
....

Dear lord, oh god oh mighty,
Blasphemy that I would
Even start
Talkin' about
galaxies and universes
outside of this one

Puke some more
As I delete and pull
Words
From
One
Line
To the
Next
Without
Giving a
****
That my
Microsoft word
Capitalizes
Every text

My little brother text (texted?)
Me tonight and said
"Get more ink
For the typewriter"
.

Aside for my desire to ramble on about
Getting more ink
The 16 year ol’ champ
Is right

My biggest dreams at this moment
Are childlike

If that’s a good thing…
Then my 6 year game plan
From this day is in jeopardy.

Autocorrect me more
Higher intelligence
And answer me question’s
The one’s that Christan’s
Don’t need answerin’

Have you ever been introduced to a
16 year old ****?
A 16 year ol’ ****?!

Honestly, I had my eyes locked
On – one
Tonight
And I don’t know so much if
I was looking
But maybe I was recognizing
Recognizing a certain
Level of respect that I had
For her
That she didn’t have for herself

She ****** off my best friends brother to get her backpack back tonight
In front of car headlights
And I have always wanted to type
Backpack back
My entire life.
Put your backpack on buddy,
And walk away from this
Poem?

"I got them old bones man"*
There shakin’
And there rattlin’
These demons
I’m battlin’
Time
Is unraveled in
Sin, desperation, disbelief
Misconduct and mischief

Stretching
Feels like a prison camp
For old men
Where all those old men do
Is stretch
My body is a concern as my mind
wanders,
And ponders,
And potentially acts, on
large acts of
greatness
and I bear witness
to future bewilderment
that has already past
but lingers,
and fingers,
the ******* blame
on my ***.

I wanna live a life of positive affirmations
That’s what I feel is happenin’ you know what im’ sayin
And I keep playin
Games I love and things that I believe
Goals not yet not accomplished
And new one’s I wanna achieve

And a New year brings new things
Don’t break your dreams
Don’t undervalue and don’t leave
Places you don’t want to be
Don’t be a double negative
Take advantages of openings and opportunities
Don’t be a hypocrite and you will completely agree

All those good things
Your gonna do more of in a new year

No matter how niave, egocentric  or misadvised…

… in someone else’s eyes  

Have no fear
share your gifts
and create your gifts
don’t buy them,
and if you buy them
don’t buy them at walmart
or in malls or in big cities

Everything I ever wish to write
Is an anthem to change the world
And the revolution starts
As soon as I change
As soon as I arrange my priorities

**** the majority

Start a brother/sister sorority,
And I will put down this beer,
Quit a job that doesn’t matter
And put my energy
Into passions and emergencies
And change the world
By meditating
Saying some kind words about myself
With my eyes closed
While deeply breathing
And exploring galaxies with ease
The entire universe…

… I think I Am going back to university

Give in, let loose and
Let it bleed
Out and drain the
Pain into the gutters
That you have never
Slept in
Before

Ease the pain.
2 days from
A new year
Without a
New Years
Celebration

All these
Celebrations
And all their
Pain

I admire the greats
And deem my
Self doomed

Those who
Smile now
Hold the keys
To their own
Personal
*******
Happiness

That does not sit behind locked doors

While the hungover hate themselves
And wait out the end to a miserable
year

There is no rehab for being addicted to you
And because I was never a **** to you
Instead of flicking through old pics of you
I decided I would trick you
Into
Never seeing
or talking
to me again

The line between
Success and failure
Blurs