When I have decided
To write
About my life
I took a pencil
To write
  But I lost the fight.
My pencil was blunt.
I fetched around
I found a blade.
Closer to a plant.
I should write
About my inner fight.
A war between the wrong and right.
I cut my palm
Feeling so calm.
Drops of blood fell on the ground
Took the shape of something round.
My heart replied
That's life.
Look around
Something could be found.
I sighed
They have all lied.
Life is just two days.
One day for you
And the other day is against you.
My pencil shouted.
No need to write
If you know how to fight.
Fight your negative feelings
Tomorrow is going to be full of blessings.
Life is a song
Entitled
Be strong
Did I say anything wrong?

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.

I am going to dig through
dumpsters today; alone or
with a fellow aluminum
cowboy. Our treasure is
cans. Thank God for
redemption. Each can is
worth a nickel, and if
we get enough of these
shiny miracles, we can
get a pint of *****,
our oasis in the desert.

I sift through trash bags
full of cat **** and broken dreams.
I find: losing lottery tickets,
broken costume jewelry, unwanted
books, and a ***** magazine.
I examine the jewelry closely,
hoping for a diamond or real pearls;
some silver or gold, something I
can pawn or sell and turn into
liquor- no such luck.
The whole thing smells like
death, and ****, and a
city dump in July.

Sometimes I think it
would be easier to just
quit drinking, but to do it
abruptly could **** me,
the withdrawal seizures can be deadly.
As the sun begins to set
on Iowa City, the sky
looks like a butterfly melting.
I haul my black garbage bag, full
of cans, over my shoulder
down the railroad tracks, and
across Highway 6.
I stop to ***** behind
a building, then wipe my
face and continue to
the store- to be redeemed.

Back in my bone crushing
poverty ridden days,
I collected cans for nickels;
enough cans meant ***** and
smokes for the day.
one morning I came across
an empty can of beer, it said,
Dead Irish Poet Beer.
i thought, how odd is this?
Just then, a car blew by blaring
a Van Morrison song.
I thought, ah yes, but he's alive.
I didn't take the can for the nickel.
I left it to its green garbage
can grave.

Live your day
Like a crazy person.
Today is a gift.
Tomorrow is another shift.
Be crazy
Stop being lazy.