please don't go
I was just getting used to you
simplicity and organic just isn't what I'm used to
it was so perfect not to worry about
when, where, or why
we just let it happen, no need to check time
I know you have to do this
and no looking back
I won't hold you captive, there's no sense in that
Just promise me this:
you'll always see me
because you were the one who taught me to be me
I've written far too many endings to have any decent beginnings.
The flowers I've planted died,
The petals falling onto the soil, slowly decaying.
Why is it that life resembles death,
Whenever my fingers skim the edges?
There's this need to create and contain,
To possess and obsess,
And yet still,
The hurt remains, gaping
Eating me alive.
Biting and nibbling at those that I love.
Life, never expects you to live with a smile plastered onto your face.
It never guarantees you an easy access.
There are no manuals on, 'how to live a good life',
Just a sign posted at the start line saying,
You try to live a good life,
Through the heartaches,
Through the happiness.
You try and try, no matter how many times you fall onto your knees, resulting in bruises or broken bones,
You stand up and make way for the experiences to shift and transform you into who you're meant to be.
No matter how many endings I've written,
The beginnings seem far worse,
It's the first step into leading and living a good life,
And I so desperately,
Do NOT want to butcher that,
Leaving reminants of blood smothered on the floor I call,
its not easy to read the lines between wanting to find a solution and wanting it all to end. that's what no one will teach you. life is fucking hard and bullshit happens every single day, to every one of us. our buttons are pushed, our faith is tested, and everything you desire or you're grateful for, its like a set of eight pins. life, whenever its ready, will take its shot and hope it gets all the strikes it can.
sometimes looking to the universe will help you, and other times it wont. and sometimes you wont realize quickly enough that at night, all the stars in the night sky will shine brightly and exquisitely for you, and for every other person on this planet, in their special own way. everything is yours and everything is not. and life is always fucking changing so if things get too difficult and too shitty, remember there were moments when it was the complete opposite. those times are coming. i just don't know how to wait properly on those times.
what i've learnt is that life is a test. it gives you good things so you can realize what is good, what is fun, what is wanted and desired in your life. but it also gives you what is bad, what is horrible and painful and unbearable. and when it does this, its to remind you that things can go horribly wrong, extremely quickly. that's whats so horrible yet magnificent about life, it takes your eight pins and says "fuck it", and goes in for the kill or inspiration anyways. it changes on the flip of a coin, it changes on the flip of your emotions.
how to deal? i'm not quite sure anymore. i used to use positivity as a way to handle these strikes, to have a reason to think that things were going to soon once be okay. but life is always changing, so for now, we're not going to know. there are too many variables to think about when you're living, and we can't always see them all when we're in the moments of being alive. and we are not the universe. so breathe, and just stay sane. stay alive. and when life gets those strikes, and he's jumping around in the sky all happy and creating thunder, you'll feel small. and that small girl sitting in the biggest rainfall of the season is going to sit and think and just fucking smile. because nothing is going to get any better or any worse than this.
The congregation read in unison
following each word, careful
not to lose their cadence-
dutifully delivering their part
with dignity and grace...
Familiar sights and sounds-
everything and everyone in its place-
just like last Sunday
and all those before...
The loud slam of the ancient, wooden door
changed all that and all I ever knew...
as all turned at once to see who- or what had
interrupted our peaceful equilibrium.
Not a soul spoke or moved an inch
as the stranger came walking.
It appeared as if he was
casually entering his own home.
His hopeful eyes danced left and right
as he strolled shoeless down the
center aisle, prospecting for a seat-
one with a good view for the show.
We all stood still with time itself and
waited with the others to see
what the preacher or the ushers
or anyone would do with the stranger.
Here in the little country church
where everyone knew everyone- and
their bloodlines and the convictions
of their great, great grandmothers.
But no one seemed to know the stranger
who now rested among us so comfortably.
And the irony of our own discomfort was
to be the sermon for this day.
"Feed the poor and help those in need"
my pretty teacher's words rang sweet and true.
A lesson I had learned a thousand mornings
if not a hundred times over.
The real lesson I learned was not to be spoken.
I saw the stranger look back at all of us
and I witnessed the two ushers that headed his way
to relieve him of his self-appointment.
He gently rose without a fight and
shook his scraggly, matted hair-
his eyes wandered among us- searching us all,
but many gazed upon their shiny, polished shoes.
But I watched every movement- his every step-
for a lesson was being taught- one I had yet to learn.
It came from the stranger in the dingy army surplus jacket-
the man with a smile on his face and the blank stare.
The next thing we all knew- he was gone.
We all heard the familiar, quiet catch of the old front door.
Order had been restored- and the preacher spoke-
and the choir sang joyously to the rafters- but strangely
I couldn't hear them- I couldn't hear them anymore.
© gmw 2015
When I was three years old,
I came face-to-face with Allen Ginsberg for the very first time.
I hated him.
In my own little three-year-old way,
I thought he was a mean, rude, nasty, ornery old son of a bitch.
But when I turned twenty, I learned the truth:
He was a fearless, bold, no bullshit old son of a bitch--- he wasn't the only one.
The world wasn't meant to be seen through rose-colored glasses,
but to be witnessed on our feet in the present and off our lazy asses.
Mankind was meant to live and die
in an adventure, seeking peace through trials of wrong and right,
not to bask in a stagnant bath, nor stop in the midst of a path
to a future bright, though out of sight,
for this is no way to thrive,
but to live and die a treacherous lie.
Here in the first world, we are afraid to suffer,
but eager to kill,
to ignore internal issues.
[Pay no mind to the men behind the curtain, the have their own agendas, and we allowed this--- we voted them in!]
We are afraid to be wrong,
but fearless to fight
a battle with no true end in sight.
We will never fix the problem,
nor repair the damage we create,
if we all just sit on down,
grab our egos and masturbate---
There will be no orgasm, no explosions of mental cum, no parade, just bullshit, horseshit, and all the other shit that comes along when we bite off more than we can chew and still force it through our systems;
blow it out your asses and let's get a move on,
we've got things to do and places to be!]
We talk in circles,
we talk of change,
we talk making a difference,
we talk in circles...
see what I'm say'n'?
Politicians are a sham,
Real people lose the race, whether slow and steady, or fastly-paced,
so they butt out of it all,
as they had no business running in the first place.
We the people are dis-
and dYsFU[ckIng fu]nctIonal;
all too lazy to gang up and be the CHANGE we seek,
and fight over our spots to sit in a seat on a ship sailing its way south
In twenty--- hell, thirty, forty, fifty years,
we've made little progress,
but we've got iPhones and Wi-Fi, and people going to Mars,
We've got technology never before imagined standard in our cars!
Now, ain't that just swell,
ain't that spectacular?
We're all going to hell
for sucking our own blood from our own dicks like an auto-fellating, narcissistical Dracular.
What do we do? Where do we go from here?
If Ginsberg, Bukowski, Poe, Dante, Plato, Socrates, Freud, Hitler, Christ, Caesar, Shakespeare, Lincoln, Lee, Brooks, Miller, my parents, Mr. Pete Rose, Franklin, all my friends, and a million other folks taught me anything,
it's that we're all bastards,
we're all sinners,
we're all losers, occasional winners,
we're all assholes,
we're all wrong, though sometimes right,
we all live,
we all die,
we've all got shit going on in our lives---
and what I've learned from all this,
was that I can do better,
YOU can do better,
we can ALL do better than we are doing right now,
that we are each unique, but we are no different from one another, we are human beings;
we can learn and teach, and we must do this always,
from day, through night and to each and ever other day.
But the most important lesson above all:
Don't be such a prick, whatever you DO do,
simply try to understand,
for all the world's fate is in our own
feeble, but hopefully growing hands.