The old poets haunt me
they taunt me from the shadows
following every keystroke I type -
they’re critical of phrases,
they demand narrower themes
and mock the very clichés they invented.

I remind these frightful spirits of how tenuous
life was, how I’m blindly living these experiences,
how prevalent desire is, how human it is to chase
the things we’re told will fulfill us, like goals and love.

I try and explain this Internet thing,
how the more copious my writings,
the more people it says are following me.
How I really don’t want to sound paranoid
but as hard as I try - I don’t see anyone.
.
.
Song for this:
Too Much Time On My Hands by Styx
Reelin' In The Years by Steely Dan

Sometimes, as the sun sets,
And the sharp grass on your bare feet
Leaves its marks as you pass through,
You reach the goal net.

In that rigid inability to move past it,
Still seeing through,
Where the sun lies,
"The obstacle is the way."

You might think the goal net is the goal,
But behind it, something deeper lies—
Something brighter,
Something ever-present.

The beauty of the sunset—
You don't have to go anywhere to see it.
You don't need scissors to cut the net;
You don’t have to score, just be here.

Turn around; see it not as a barrier,
But as a frame, highlighting the beauty.
The net is no longer in the way—
It is the way.

Painters strive for the perfect stroke
Comedians look for the perfect joke
Writers seek to engage or provoke
**** stars strain for the perfect poke
Students grind, hoping they won’t choke
Trump derides his conviction as a hoax
Yachtsmen yearn for the perfect boat
Social climbers aspire to be bespoke
Politicians pretend to be regular folk
Workers yearn to throw off their yoke
Golfers train for a consistent stroke
Flyers pray their Boeing isn’t broke
Stoners want the ultimate ****
A smile is what I want to provoke
.
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A song for this:
Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan

My shadow was eating me alive,
I was becoming an outline,
Of the person I once could recognize.
My ambitions were fading,
Goals made for dreaming,
Left me feeling.

Aching for the life I could have led.  
With every day that passes,
my hands feel see-through.
My gaze is glazed with dull focus.
As if I am disappearing from who I once knew.

In life, does one stalk
Integrity and dignity

Choosing to hide behind and follow
As a Labrador Retriever tailing a pheasant

Or does one chase the prey
Like a Bluetick Coonhound gives chase to a fox

Perhaps one can fall upon goodness
Floating downward slowly as a fading magnolia blossom

Tell me, how does one accomplish a desire
Without knowing what to use to get there

Besides, is life better lived by being honorable
Is there merit to the rewards

Surely, the pursuit is what life requires
Instead of being in wait for what is in store

As though sitting on a rock, watching a stream
Reflect the colors of the sky
While playing a song for you to hear

At 15 she had her goals in her mind
To get her high school degree,
then her bachelor's
and then her master's
and maybe even her doctorates
She wanted to own house with a nice back yard
Despite the house crisis
She wanted to adopt she knew she was planning far ahead but didn't mind
At 18 she got her first degree
Then her second, third and fourth
She worked her *** off having ups and downs
Her world ending then starting again
She finally got a house at 27
And at 30 she adopted a 13 year old boy
She fell in love with him immediately of course
And did her best to give him the world
And in his senior year of highschool she gets him a car
She wished she hadn't
He got into a crash a few months later
He never recovered
Her world ended at 35
And it didn't pick back up again

“A dream is where it all begins..”, but what if the gift of dreaming was lost in ordinary tasks? What if checking off-to do lists and scrolling through the endless content of today’s media led the mind to forgo its ability to dream? What if now it can only fathom 10 sec-thoughts that cannot be considered ideas? What if there was no dream?

Where would life go if not led by the intensity of fulfilling one's own desires? What if there were no steps planned because there was no goal to achieve? What if the mind couldn't dream?

What if there was no "I" to have a dream? What does it take to build a dream? Where does it all begin?

Four years of insanity came and went,
Searching for a place to rest our heads,
Living through a nightmare that we couldn’t wake up from,
Finally achieving our biggest dream,
We’ve found a home.

You have to give credit,
where credit is due.
The little things mean the most,
In such a big world,
A mean world,
And now the world feels like ours,
Because we have a place to lay our hats.