#continuing
In science you learn about the blood flowing through your heart is what keeps you alive.
The oxygen being carried around your body is what makes you survive.
Arteries, veins, and capillaries they keep blood on a full loop.
A tight leash that meets at the heart for it's annual regroup.
But after heart break everything keeps flowing.
The drowning worsens but the heart doesn't start slowing.
Arteries, veins, and capillaries they keep the blood on a full loop.
Never stopping no matter the situation the outside world puts me through.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 10:03 PM UTC
It is hot
I am sweaty and already tired
a lone mason out here in the sun
my back bent over the edge of the foundation.
Behind me the stack of bricks
in my hand the trowel
snatched up from my weathered toolbox.
My forehead drips joining the goo of mortar
I lay the mortar bed row
and grab the first brick
to begin the southern wall,
the wall that will face the first squall
of this troubled season.
Sep 7, 2021
Sep 7, 2021 at 12:03 PM UTC
Breath in and out
Just a little sore
Neck, back, knees
Thighs, arms, shoulders
Some on purpose
Others from age
I wasn't like this before
But I have gotten better from a year ago.
You struggle
You survive
Breathing air
Until your heart works itself to death
And you die as well
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 11:33 AM UTC
~~~
**Happy Father's Day, God in Heaven!
(A Continuing Dialogue)**
~~~
wonder if I am the first,
even the last,
to wish a deity,
happiness based on a human construct
but feeling groovy with you,
meaning we ride sums of the same
curves and the lines, grooves,
connecting holes in the palms of
our hands
ya see,
got some familiarity
with
fatherhood...
and all that entails
the balance of imbalance,
it's tough I know,
load-bearing children,
leave ten ton scars,
but don't expect no
tea and sympathy from me
you and I,
we have our beefs,
and by the by,
master of the universe,
nothing has changed between us,
just saying, for the record,
ya know, for our inscribed
bible personal with our own bible argumentative stories privé
a human has no right to offspring,
but off they spring,
when the 'damn dam’ springs a leak,
and them kids then spend
their lives.
saying yes and no
in light speedy abundance,
or worse!
ugh
...whatever...
if
they respondez
to whatever you suggest-see
rebels even when
they hug you
around the knees,
all knowing we papis (poppys)
fully, way in advance,
that in their supposed adulthood,
children will curse and bless you with
the equality principle
of self-righteousness and I know everything
Let us think upon it....
somewhere in the world,
it is a sabbath,
your citizen-creations
are beheading and burning
each other, Papa,
in your name,
so Happy Father's Day...
I mean,
really, that must be tough,
so it's perfectly clear
why you created free will,
all parents need a way to
walk away sometimes from
the children's choices
somewhere in the world,
it is a sabbath,
billions sending you a
litany of liturgy, a sweet songbook
in so many languages,
the simultaneous translation machina
must get overheated,
all those human claques submitting
liar loans applications
the backlog must be
eons in length
you see, I am,
muy simpatico
of fatherhood,
what is my expertise?
a fair question
from one who provided
us the classic excuse,
"that's so not fair"
two sons have I,
a Cain and Abel,
so in this, expertise,
we've trod familiar ground
but this be about us pops,
not about how our embodied creatures,
bent and beautiful,
sending us formalities of video thanks,
should they remember or be bothered
maybe we should institute
greater frequency
of celebratory notifications,
making it easier for all of us
to forget,
lessen the guilt, the ache,
for it's more convenient, easier
to be overlooked,
with familiarity
nah,
I am not a complaint
in human guise,
not much, anyway,
and don't you fret,
I got you
a Father's Day present
as appealing as it is,
atheism in me won't take root,
cause I look forward to giving you
holy hell, next we meet
it's so richly deserved
so maybe I'll repost this in a year,
or maybe, I’l be close enough
to whisper this in your ears,either way, come hell or
high water,
Meus Pater,
you can bet your last bitcoin or
anything you might value,
I'll be bugging you,
(cause I'm
still crazy after all these years,
from standing upright,
on one left foot,
showing the world the poetry
of your world)
so tween us, I wish us
a Happy Father's Day
best wishes
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
do not read this poem
it is not made for you
this poem is a secret untold
of a memory I rarely think of
that was resurrected today
and I am the only one who knows it
and this poem is for me alone
I was maybe 5 years old and I both
do and don't remember her falling
spilling out of the giant porch window
like a slippery black fish out of water
and I do and don't remember seeing blood
on the snow and sidewalk and the sound
first of the fall, then someone opening the door
and I didn't understand where she went
instead, I stayed with my grandmother
who told me it was my fault she jumped
she didn't love me any more and I was bad
that she wouldn't be back for me
and I believed it, of course, it made sense
some of us are just born wicked, I knew
I have always been wretched, inhumane
she said she first noticed the evil in me
when I was very little, behind my dead eyes
that it was always there inside of me
so I knew the only way to rid myself
of my own evil was to do the same thing
she had done, all those years ago
so I wrote a letter and labelled it
Do Not Read
the last letter I ever thought I'd have to write
and it's a sad sort of irony that I would be
paying homage to someone who hated me so
but the black fishes and spirits from beyond
never came for me, and I wondered if
the worst punishment of all would be
to continue to be haunted and survive
just as she had all those years ago
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
and I decided to stay because there would be so many adventures lost without me
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Twenty-one days,
They say,
Only twenty-one days
Til a new habit
Has a face ;
Kicking the one out
They wish to replace.
I can and I will,
I have
Worn change
As a second skin.
Twenty-one days,
They say,
Rather a lifetime,
If I may.
For true smokers hate quitting
Who are we kidding –
No switch for a cigarette lit ;
A new regime
To be a little more fit,
Ending cravings that will never leave
With alternatives.
We persevere.
Like an alcoholic giving up the bottle ;
Not taking a drink will always be a battle.
Twenty-one days,
They say,
Forever, if I may.
I love my bad habits ;
Glory is in continuing
(to quit).
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
Rays of warmth stroke my heart
My eyes, glazed, deliquesce
Resolve calmly enters my mind
My soul forced to start again
A ray of light passes by,
Enters a diamond's murky lair,
Reflecting multitudinous times,
Parting with rays to spare
Its continuity
Rays are lost everywhere
Refracted, diffracted, gone
Unable to recombine again
Forming a radiating unit of one.
Not needing to recombine,
As they move to consign
Rejecting inability
And escaping black holes...
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
Hi!
I miss you.
I miss the smiles that never wavered from our face unless we fell and scraped our knees in the playground.
I miss the love that radiated out from our heart to every single person that we met because we had no reason NOT to trust them.
I miss the nights when we'd wake up crying from a nightmare and mom and dad would comfort us.
I miss the family parties that we're actually enjoyable because there was still a kid table and we were still a kid.
I miss the laughter that escaped our lips and continued on until we were hunched over, grabbing our stomach, in tears.
Now... now we're just hunched over, grabbing our stomach, in tears because the darkness holds on and just won't let go no matter how many pills we take.
Now the family parties are us sitting at the end of the table, staring at our plate, hoping no one questions us, asking why we look so tired.
Now are the nights we stay up crying, hoping no one hears.
Now we're afraid to put our trust into someone because we know what it feels like to have our heart taken from us and smashed like a vase being dropped to the floor, knowing it can never be put back together again.
Now.. now we know what betrayal feels like, how the sharp stab of the knife feels upon our back, how not to share any thoughts because people would run away from how dark they are, how to curl up in a ball and tighten every muscle in our body to control our sobs during the anxiety attacks as if we're in the biggest competition of our life and the only way we win is if no one discovers us like this, how to force a smile onto our face like a clown has one painted upon theirs.
Now, now we're not a kid anymore and it feels like we've walked through hell and back but guess what we're still here ******
We're still living, we're still breathing.
We've made it through the heartbreak, through the betrayal, through the mental illness and, hell, we've still got a long way to go, but we've made it this far and
we can
and
we will continue on.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
In my room, it is dark.
My eyes grow heavy.
And as I stand in weakness,
I hear a bird singing outside my window. There’s something in that
That makes my eyes stronger
And makes me want to keep going.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
My greatest source of pride would be
Deep lines on my forehead
As they would mean
I thought long and hard
About dreams deeper than
The cuts you gave me
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
I can hear the nurses over the din
That is my blood in my ears,
Coursing through these veins as if on fire.
I can hear them say "He's struck dumb,
Poor man, gave the boys all he had,
All that's left, of course, is a wordless bag of bones,
And broken heart".
I can hear them frivolously care for the others I cannot see,
Whose names, are to me, little anchors that weigh me
To reality, like a nail in the ground holds a kite down
To keep it from breaking free.
I am silent, struck dumb
Why can't the thoughts that swirl in my mind like mist
Materialize into words and sentences so that a living eye can read them,
So that a living ear can hear them, as they flow from my mouth
In little indeterminate streams,
That can remind me that the world exists beyond what I have seen.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC