dear future self,
i hope you've finally learned to put yourself before other
that everyone isn't who they seem to be
and never to fall so hard for someone who'd never love you

i hope you learned that you don't need people who don't need you
to love yourself
and that you're important

i hope in the future you are the best you possible

Wake and bake you fuckin flake!
There's nowhere else than here for you,
How dare you think you could get outta this,
No sir, this ain't something you can miss!

Go go go we're on a roll
I'm gonna drop you out the back like fresh cargo
Out the deep blue sea of air that beats and steams
Smacks you flat across those baby cheeks

It'll eat you alive, there's nowhere to hide
Life has a gun in her mouth and runs wild with her dice
She'll roll you in-- a winner or loser,
And can already tell which one you'll be.

This ain't sunshine and rainbows!
This is war
This ain't eden,
This is the floor!
A trillion miles left to heaven,
And hell separated into this long ago
So heft your baggy saddle
And go

That is, only if you want it to be
You can heat your meat with the Furnace of dreams
Exchange your bones into gold,
Let the rain melt to snow
Trust the gun and the run and don't forget to have fun
You'll really get me then, boy I'll have nothing left to say,
Once you turn life onto broil that day

It's good to let your blood pump and boil,
There is no soil for which doesn't toil
And churn and burn and yearn to learn
To experience the uninterrupted turning of the earth

We're on our way, you and I, plummeting
Searching for some incomprehensible summit
Of trust in the ticking hand of life
As she holds our souls in her palm so tight
We can hardly tell we're slipping away
Pumping and jumping and having fine days
To which one of those, bundled,
we will fade away
And life will smile, wide on her face,
Knowing she hit the jackpot of the age
And as we fall to the playing table,
Dust of chance and left to spin
Well, that's when we'll know for sure we win.

we are not safe
all the markets could come crashing down
it could happen any day now

a blue origin rocket ship
never making it to its final destination

no man knows the hour or the day
no man knoweth that

bridget jones had her cigarettes
with wine and mr darcy
but i only have weed and a plastic
one liter bottle of coke zero
and no mr darcy to know the hour or the day

helen fielding, enabler of the delusional,
recycled happy endings

but the plastic coke bottle
isn't a jane austen novel
and the chinese don't want our garbage anymore

there is enough garbage in china already

"there are 8.3 billion tons of plastic in the world"
8.8 million metric tons are chinese trash
for the yangtze river to carry to the sea

sometimes i feel just like garbage previously shipped to china

trash and blue origin debris
comeuppance for the yangtze river to carry to the sea







endless oceans end
same place plastic rocketship garbage begins

It feels like
The days pass faster
Than there are sunsets
For me to catch,

Because for so long
    Have I strived
To chase beauty,

But endlessly I seem
    To forget
That perhaps capturing it
Defeats the goal
    Of experiencing it,

So now I find myself
    Like a fly trapped
Between the glass
    And the screen
Of the window to
    Some outside world,

Doomed to burn up
    In my self-generated
Heat, born from the
    Friction of my struggle.

How many times will a poet
write
about writing
poetry?

TBD.

applause

"You must be very proud of yourself."