Do your friends make you paranoid?
Mine used to.
Drama, rumours and gossip were new to
me and made me grow old.

My new friends and I,
we act child like.

Have you ever experimented with different friends?
Do you dare act
Different around
Different crowds
Different ones,
Different twos
Different combinations?

But when you’re friends aren’t around
Sadly it does happen
Do you pass the time?
With self-exploration and
meditation?

The good friends
No matter how you are acting
Always know its really you.
And they will always be there
Through bad and good
Through lows and highs.

The good friends know who you are.
The new friends are always there.

That’s what new means,
and i guess that's what friendship
means too.

You see, I’m in this
“relationship”
lets call her
“Kelowna”
for the sake of this story.

I go to visit Kelowna quite often.
Obviously, she is
Tall
Blonde
Skinny
and Stereotypical.
Do you have I type?
Because I sure do,
and Kelowna fits
the mold
I’ve molded
through
past loves
& thoroughbred
narcissism.

Kelowna’s personality?
Well, you see I can’t completely
indulge in that topic
for I only know what I choose
to believe, and what
Kelowna chooses not to tell me.  

I know she owns a cell phone
But, I don’t know her number.
But if I ever snuck my way in
to her address book - file me
under: Weird, *******, Dude.

For Kelowna - this girl is a starry eyed wild child
and my wild is too deeply rooted in weird
to perform the necessary High-speed boat maneuvers,
I’m assuming she is a fan of due to
my ruthless profiling of her.

Kelowna
is my great white buffalo
my blue French horn
my infinite fraction
the heartbreaker soul shaker
my mended heart
has been looking for…

all over Kelowna.



Luckily, there is this other woman.
For the sake of the story
lets call her
“Christina”
Actually Christina is her name.

Christina is that girl,
Who has always been there for me
When the going gets rough
When the money gets tight
When the heart first breaks.

Christina is a small town girl,
with Night Black hair that you can see stars in.
She has capturing lake blue eyes. She smiles
And always says hello
to strangers she doesn’t recognize.
She is pure, clean, and a
personal treasure of mine,
who will always be her own .  

I couldn’t tell you if Kelowna and Christina are friends,
because I have lost complete control of this metaphor.
But for the sake of the story, they are,
and although they live in different places
they remain courteous to each other
and curious of each others lives.

Christina has always loved me for who I am.
Embracing my flaws as though they are achievements
Worthy of being song lyrics, screamed on long roadtrips
for the mountains and the sky to nod in agreement.
Christina is so **** cool,
that I can even ask her to say kind words
About me to Kelowna.
And though she might not, she is always cool
And supportive with me asking.

I can see myself visiting Kelowna soon in the future.
And with what spare change I have I will make
Every attempt to wine and dine, and impress her
Every need.
For she is only what I want.

The funny thing is, that I don’t need the change.
I don’t need the dinner or the wine.
I need clear skies and the transitional period
from day to nighttime.
I need the sun, and the stars.
I need shallow water and a deep breath.
But for the sake of this story,
I expect everything to stay exactly the same.

And when I sing my song
with windows down
as I leave Kelowna
for my home town,
Christina will be there to comfort me.

**With starry nights and silent statements.

Drunk

Without regret
I pound on her
The keyboard
The typewriter
The idea
The lady
The liquor
The order
In which I
Pronounce them,
In order
Of completion
In reverse

I got it wrong
For the last time
I got it wrong
**** isn’t bliss
But ignorance is
Fueled by jesus
& volunteer service
I only hope that people will read
Long enough
and allow  
Enough time
To write something
Better then this

Early poems and early love
Life is a story that none of us can think of
When it goes wrong
We never figured out turn right
We just keep driving straight

A blur of words slurred!
Of times I’ve wasted of times I’ve swore
Times of drunkenly swerved
That I’ve been good but I have been better
Breathalyzer trend setter
I’m going to go ride my bike
And look at the sky

don’t drink and drive.
Trust me, it makes mothers go mad

The helpless homosapien
creature of habit, and routine
A simple life of complex things
provide highs lows and lives completely  fluctuating
Continuity that continually
Empties its energy in search
Of equilibrium

My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it

Resolves all problems with questions
Curiosity is questionable
Contemplate  curiosity and questions some other time
Before you revolve and resolve
And your mind reminds you
Of something….
You

completely forgot


what it means


to have a ramblin’ mind

My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it

Unrefined gem
how I feel
Rereading old work
That has no
Feel

Let it all blur together
Some days you work
Some days you don’t
And maybe, just maybe
Go with the flow
Boats float for a reason?
Whatever you are trying
To show off or
Find
Or understand

It just might be a case of
replaying the same song
Don’t do that
Press shuffle,
Or even better
download a new idea

Rethink possibilities
Rebirth, simplicity and sacredness,
Drop the labels
And ramble on
For a
Man without a fave band
Is flavorless
And has no feel.

You will learn to enjoy them
Without even hearing them
Earphones or stereos.

And long road trips are for everyone
Including old ladies and kids
And elderly ladies and little
Brothers
And his friends
And Girlfriends
And lovers
And dogs

To the one who first  said life is waiting
That guy!
That guy wasn’t a ******* fool
God even gave even the fools tools
But that guy!
That guy was speaking the truth
Without even knowing he believed in
God.

Odds are not the first man quoted or first said
But odds on favorite first person to put the thought in your head

A definition will always demote, derive and diminish
The truth.

Whatever glorious future you have earned
You deserve it

And you remember it clearly you will not be the first or last
To succeed
And to write
Or to write
Or to live
Or to ponder

Or to wander.

The nerve endings are          near
The body is poised
not posed
The mind is clear
The selfless are rare
As consciousness rose

Time evaded the masses
space sprung                         up!
The sky fell down
And the religions were ******

The blood marched on
Through valves and veins like military
Universal empty open spaces
Are the beds of capillaries

When sleeping
Particles
Particularly atoms
Take off their work clothes
Lay down with their lady
And make sweet, sweet,
                             Energy.

Falling in love
Is falling from the sky
Its noble & above
Anything else we’ve tried

The difference between work & play Is not that much.
It’s the difference between getting’ ***** & doin’ ***** deeds
Ramblin’ on long old roadtrips, old oaks,
And whatever happens in between
We tell odes

The difference between work & play is not that much
It’s the difference between broke bank accounts,
And boring accountants
Scrapin’ a little off the top here and there
To splash into Bitcoins
You’re still broke
But no longer boring

The difference between work and play
Lies in what makes ones days
And different amounts of up and downs
And days gone unmade,

Its not how its played
Its how one has lived

Remember you are living when you work
So  button up plaid shirt,
and go chop wood
in the dirt,

And let writing this poem go
And Let there be a sequel waiting tomorrow

heal the pain of having no money to play with in the working world
Only words.