the pinnacle of childhood
comes with the symphony of adolescence.
the realization that life is evanescent,
the breaking of cyclical routine,
catalyzing the bittersweet epiphany
of long-awaited nirvana.
no longer blithe and naïve,
quaff from the chalice of clemency
until intoxicated with the notion
of no longer being in limbo.
the mendacious oblivion of childhood evaporates,
lifting the veil of soporific innocence,
all traces of puerility gone.
come,
enter the province of adulthood,
and live as a free soul,
no longer required to conform
to the standards of ascetics.

Summertime blues
feeling
down n’ out
gut out
passed out
on the street corner
where I hear
a familiar song
Deadhead born a generation late
never suited me anyway
just trying to be cool
but it’s too hot
I’m melting
I’ll become something
completely new
original
leaving behind what I was
I’m changing
for better
or maybe for worse
I know I’m not perfect
growing up *****
when you first see the mold
and it starts to fit
stick to you
like sweat on a
hot summer day
when you just want to
liquify
seep through the cracks
and drain where they aren’t
watching
judging
expecting
you to sublime
into something
be someone
go somewhere
even if
you drain into the gutter
out to sea
or if you just take a bus
to California
where the beaches
are cool
where the people
are cool
where you can just feel
your problems melt away
your lover is there
waiting on the beach
waiting for you
lover boy
just go for it
what’s to lose?
just go for it
strike a match
let it burn
catch fire
and let your heart explode
lock lips
and set her heart ablaze
shoot off
like a rocket
take a look at yourself
where did you land?
or did you just burn up
on re-entry?
did you see it coming?
did you see her coming?
did you see you coming?
‘cause you were really
cool
when you were
burning bright
you did it
tiger
you shot for the red-hot stars
you wanted to shoot for
and you made it

I thought I'd grow up and become a cloud ranger;
I wasn't ready to live a life aligned.

I couldn't become a fin grazer;
I've barely skimmed the surface of this life.

I was this synthetic stranger--
too unfamiliar with my own mind...

Life was pure when it was linear

And not some bird

-short-lived

-unbalanced

-unaware

-somewhere.

That tore off it's own wings to land itself right here.

When I couldn't see where I was going I--
believed songs. They could. --they might. tell. lies.

I didn't see where I was going I
I didn't think I could go that high
I didn't think I could fly
(What are they going to remember me by)

I didn't see what was coming I
I thought this song could save my eyes
I was wrong. Well,
Maybe I was right?

Because diamonds meant more to me than saving a life.

In the end, I didn't think I would become a butterfly;
I thought I'd become what the airplanes leave behind.

Growing up is tough, you see
Making choices
Weighing possibilities
Not even 20 in
Planning the next 50
Maybe 60
Maybe more

Staring at each open door
Choosing which to shut,
Which to explore
Remembering my childhood
Wanting 1 last year
Maybe 2
Maybe more

I can't go back, I know
Only forward
Ever onward
Into my future I go

That's what he told me
years ago,
when the hills first
started to sprout
in my head,
beneath the sandcastles,
and under built fairy huts,
when I knew the world was round,
but thought it felt like
a marble in my palm.

He told me,
while I wrote a poem about
a plant,
and then one about dirt,
because I thought
all the growing things were beautiful.

He told me,
after my multiplication
worksheet came back,
bearing 100%
and I couldn't have been
any more proud.

He told me,
after he showed me how to tie shoes
without bunny ears.

And I believed him.

The hills grew into mountains
I promised to move.
But the fairies left the hut when
I left that house.
And the world was round,
but it looked awful flat.
The marble grew heavy, and
got too **** big to hold.

My poems changed,
I'd **** the plant, and the dirt
was only *****.
I thought sad was starting to
Look beautiful.
Math got hard, and I
always wanted new shoes.

Nothing grandpa said
made sense anymore
and his dementia-soaked brain
went too crazy for my company.

Still the mountains in my head grew,
but it was starting to be too late;
they were growing around me,
and I couldn't move myself,
let alone the mountains.

A bird sitting on the end of an arrow
When it fell your wings knew what to do
You liked being carried along for the ride
You learned to fly when your courage grew

But was that really you?
Riding the wave
Whatever its direction
You needed to feel the floor drop
Before you finally felt brave

You can do it now
You can know what was forever true
You used to watch it happen to someone else you knew

You can learn what matters now
You can find out before the day gets too late
But you have to you fly in skies that aren’t always blue

The sword is covered with all our blood
The folks who swing it don’t worry about their aim
We spend our times frying eggs and looking down
But we don’t have to lose our pride or take the blame

A bird sitting on a freight train
When it set out you didn’t care where it went
You only believed in man-made things that never die
But when it stopped you knew which message had been sent

You can do it now
You can remember what they told you
Or you can decide if you want to be someone new

You can learn what matters now
You can find out before the night becomes early
But you have to fly in skies that are sometimes cloudy

Over the river and lost in the woods
Made of fun-house mirrors built directly into ventricles
Of one heart beating through an overdose of chemicals
Thoughts drowned in the peptides of shores in the ‘waiting room’

Bygone feeling splashing all around for a lifeguard living with his guard down
His days went from providing his scarf to providing his hearth
To days in and out of compromising his mirth

He’s told “It gets better as it goes.”
He says, “It’ll be dead by tomorrow.”
They say “Come on now, life isn't filled with sorrow…”

And apparently, the dissonance is covered by a distance of another;
He’s a folly to the blood-and-water chapter
Speaking of mixing soluble matters…
The truth will often leave a bitter taste
But are the lies dissolved in accepting change?
Sometimes the words and visuals just aren't the same.

So today, he took three things out of his heart and mind
Left social phobia, some truth, but mostly lies behind
He will be the allergy to compassion and all that’s empathic
He will suffer; he will grieve; he will be pathetic
And then he will just go.

She was running through his mirrors, waiting for bandages and gauze
He was privy to the scene as his mirrors stayed intact without a flaw
Watching himself scar up the reflective measures; making transparent views of pleasure
Until one broke; exposing a familiar scene of brick, last place he etched his soul forever
And in ambition to recover, stopped her in the moment that marks a desire to discover
But he failed in ways most intricate
Wrapped by the sharpest lines of the most delicate
Sinew that warped the core of something the void could use to replace truth that were self-evident -

But… no.
He’s digressing from the path
There was no particular reason to even do the math
The numbers didn't add up to what he had previously squandered
She was fresh to a life that she may never have encountered
With him; it was just vying for affection through a virulent infection
And it was a part of her that stepped in that day, a partial fit to the display
Fresh paint on the decay

So today, he took three things out of his heart and mind
Left insecurity, rationality, and his future behind
He became a monster to dishonor and a liar to himself
He’s disgraced; he is inane; he is unwell
And then he will just go.

He has been completely unable to dissect himself and put back the pieces without a coming up short a third-party to my misery
He has been completely distrusting of those whose lives have never felt equal pain overflowing from his tragedies
He has been routinely maintaining dispositions that contradict on every semblance of a trusting word in my vicinity
He has been completely dishonest about my conditions as if they were just failed attempts at analyzing strategies

I have been the juxtaposition to every single saintly word as he chose isolation prone to my own forms of devilry
I have been the very epitome of a mask that cries behind every nonchalant smile displayed like a centerpiece
I have been an undependable source of confidence ever since he broke skin through my poetic farce of empathy
I have been completely unreceptive of every word a kind voice has ever come to lend selflessly

And he has been a ******* child without remorse and word to those that have ever cherished me

So today, I took three things out of my heart and mind
Left the hate, the damage, and instability behind
I will become a martyr that defends nothing to prove
I will be unable; I will fail; I will lose.
And then I will go.

© 2015 Neal Emanuelson

There was a time when I knew everything to say,
Where the world was not indefinite and grey.

I realize now, though, that I was only young;
That that world is gone and a new one for me has begun.

For we are only what we feel
We cannot be anything more than
What in us is urgently real