The beaten path is hardest to go alone but it makes one stronger. One never wants to admit to oneself that misery is the predecessor to change, ushering it like the pilot ushers the plane down upon the runway.  This is a new destination you'd never have known. That is why we go up and then down, otherwise you wouldn't care for clouds. They'd be like stop signs posted on every street of every town you can't escape from. Don't you think whales like to take a dip in our atmosphere with the same exhilaration we dive down into their ocean? Marine life has it's trials, it all seems so buoyant and peacful, but its another jungle down there. Beautiful until you live it and predators lurk every corner and algae field. Everyone eating the next guy, if its your residence, it is no vacation. Its not so simple just cuz they've not got rent to pay and corrupt politics. Babies on the way while no financial burden make most species crazy. Try being a single mother just trying to keep your kids well enough hidden just to go off to find good eats for them. They have very emotional lives out there, full of pain and suffering. If whales could get drunk, mermaids would charge and set up breweries. But the ocean would dilute any profits, and two tons of blubber each would call demand too high and so whales throw themselves into our world just to escape. They could gulp the air so low key, surfacing like submarines, instead they splash mountains with their ferve, the same way we get down, tossing cares across dance floors. And we wonder why when  they take a breath, they reach for the sky, they just want to be free, where nothing of their world can touch them. And we wonder why when it's not enough, they just give up, just like us. Massive escapists desensitizing to the joys in the depths of their waters. We wonder why we find them so sad layed up on our beaches, you see it in their despondent eye. They just want to die in that memory of exhiliration. One. Last. Time. But they're not happy. Cuz they were always chasing a high that fleetingly springed them from all worry. They lay knowing its the last time and they wonder what's gonna become of them when its all over. They just figure what lays on the otherside, or even nothing has got to be better. Maybe they're right,  or maybe all the off kilter chemicals got the better of them. Full moons got them all emotional just like us, gravity pulling all their painful memories to the surface, pulling them up out of the ocean all hopeless. Shoot maybe some of them dont even mean it, they were just so tired of the krill or baby seal murda life, or sharks poaching their babies and needed longer and longer til oneday they got too sleepy and the tide snuck down too low. Like when I pass out in the shower when it's hot enough, I swear I was about to get out..then, ****. Maybe that's why they're so ******* sad. They didn't mean for it to be over, they just got caught up in that feeling. I bet the old ones though go on purpose, just to spite the sharks that took their babies out they'd rather rot in the sea breeze they loved. Or maybe they're so depressed at the loss of their child they just want it to be over. They carry their babies in their bellies just like us, I bet they get depressed like us or the smarter dogs. Being a whale, or any sober creature can be very hard, but at least if you're not running from it, you might see through the storm for the beauty of its strength, releasing fear to just stand in awe of it. You can learn to cope with pain in at least better measure to sprinting in laps, without intention, you're just on the track, even if its as vast as the pacific, adriatic, atlantic, doesnt matter all the waters you cross, they all just ran back into themselves. See, the whale can only cope, no emotional escape route, so no matter what comes, whale is miles wiser. Their calls sound a little sad but so hauntingly beautiful. Do not beach yourself humans, in your little ways everyday. Stop feeding this disbelief in yourself. You were given this brain to choose to overcome this pain, to communicate in new ways. If you get tired of something just cuz you're used to it, you've done fell off your rock, you slipped to drown in your own riptide, to get pummeled to death. Or as my Papa woulda said, you're not playing with a full deck. You drown in intoxicant, whatever your vice, liquor, uppers, downers, shopping, food, flirting, ******* to numb life's beating. You're running from sobriety, from reality, from those people you don't love anymore cuz they can't jive with your illusions. You'll look for every reason why your psyches not the problem. If you'd not only accept but seek the need to heal,  you wouldn't need constant change of scenery just to feel something, to feel snippets of sanity, mini vacations from your daily miseries. New people, places and substances are just so exhilarating, cuz you can't handle yourself. If you could, each listed above would be blessings of oneness, not necessity. Running is only blocking your life from mattering as much as it should. You squander potential wandering in circles inside yourself. I smoked **** habitually since I was twelve, it didn't really hurt me right, just my dump trucked loads of brain cells? Wrong! Sobriety is the hardest but most rewarding excursion so far. I delight everyday in the opportunities I can receive just cuz I can think so clearly. I have an occasional shot or glass of wine with coworkers and think God I feel good. Then go home and think and plot, how can I attain that joy without consuming a dollar, compromising my body?  How can I be so at home in my skin that I don't need that just to feel like this?  I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. It's the big ******* mystery, isn't it. I THINK my point is,  we would never know what's so good to be cherished if we always had it made. They call it a beautiful struggle, and i really think they're onto God with that one. Wherever your feet lay, next time you look down at them in dismay, remember your pain is the best teacher you never had to pay.  It makes you great, it makes you an epic ******* trilogy of the past present and future.  You'll get through this day, I promise you. Whatever it proves to be to you, I pray oneday you hold the kingdom. Oneday you'll praise yourself for holding on. Oneday you'll stop running. You'll just wake up and feel at home inside yourself how the wise whale makes peace with the ocean. Tempering the binges to the surface. As above so below. You just have to find the thrill within the hand you're dealt and make yourself better for it.

Breathe.

Inhale deep.
Let the afternoon sink
into your tired lungs
on golden wings of daylight
and ease.

Breathe.

Exhale slow.
Let oxygen, nitrogen,
carbon dioxide and pollution
whisper from your bloodstream
and mingle with the trees.

Purify.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.

Count to five (for me).

One:
stretch each muscle of your fingertips--
first knuckle,
second knuckle,
third.

Two:
curl your toes inside your shoes;
feel your socks stretch
inch by
inch.

Three:
spell your name until it sticks;
seven letters raindance
just to comfort
you.

Four:
Tell me where you live,
how the squeak-springed couch sinks
under the weight of family
and love.

Five:
close for me your tired eyes;
shifting patterns of stars wrap your dark
in brightness
and calm.

Then breathe.
Inhale deep and exhale slow.
Untie the knots from your shoulders,
and open the cage to your chest.

Breathe.

Despite the wind that’s cold



no gloves nor winter hat



for the ten-year-old.





I lean with the waves



backs broken by her bow



sea-legs and springed stance



keep me dry for now.





The wind whips and whines



chaps my neck and my nose



my hands were warm, too



hidden down, pocket-deep.





But the boy braves closer



than his mother’d like to see.





So my red, tingling hands


should he slip on the deck



are cold and stiff, but ready.

Your elegant embellished clouds
Are eternal bubbles in my coffee
Every morning the hail of my mouth
Storms the cups of my kitchen closet
Your harsh crass vocal chords
Are my splendid baritone
Melodious the song I sing
Reverberated and springed through your teeth
Your sunshine I perceive
After storming with the cups of my closet
In my heart once rose a thunder
The sparks flew of your sunshine
In my coffee and splendid baritone..

on top circuloid hydration
white springed days stepped forward
as the older man sang to the purity that sat high on top
the purity on top regarded the song as worthy, hums and tapping
of the human's tongue. he bounced on one foot, the other foot, cloth-
-ing gyrating to its own melody and humdrum. the man settled with
a humble drawl.

It's been a while
drifting thoughts
glittery feeling
coursing through the chasm of my mind  
eliciting fragrance of ecstasy           
as my heart fickle and tickles,
a light rose petal
driven by the current of the wind

It's been a while             
my mind strike a cord
a song is aired
Leaving my worm blood rejuvenated 
like a strong chill red wine 
I'm high in a flight
a ship you pilot with no wheels      
            
It's been a while
a rose seedling springed out of the cracks of my ******* heart  
With a fragrance so pure any man will yearn after
Its been a while
But not all this while
A thing felt so true
So real  and most beautiful.