WORDS
Pseudonym
I’m standing in a bookstore
doing my best impression
of someone that might actually buy something.
Although, I don’t think it’s working.
By now,
all of the employees know who I am.
Hell, they probably have a nickname picked out for me and everything.
We really never get to choose what people call us, huh?
Anyway, they’re likely not wrong;
whatever they came up with.
I’ve come today for other reasons.
Today,
I’m here to ogle the finished works of art
that pose on the shelves
with the same conviction as seasoned runway models.
I’m here to admire the brave souls
who weren’t afraid of the blank page enough
to let it stop them from getting their ideas, daydreams, or downright lies onto paper.
The people that had the sound mind to pull the trigger on their insecurities
and sent that query letter, and burned that midnight oil.
The people who suffered though those baggy-eyed, swollen-faced mornings.
With nothing in their stomachs but black coffee, empty calories from the night before
and the organic remains of self doubt still stuck between their teeth.
For these people,
one spine simply wasn’t enough
to support the immense weight of what sits inside of their minds.
Someday I hope to join them on that stage; head held high.
But not today.
Today,
I’m being asked to leave unless I buy something…
and I didn’t bring my wallet.
Some People, huh?
Some people enjoy the Surf.
Some people enjoy the Sand.
Some people enjoy...
1. Standing in a city park with their arms out like a scarecrow and allowing pigeons to land on them until they are literally covered in pigeons.
2. Using only half of the cheese dust packet when making Kraft Mac n’ Cheese
3. My art.
It’s a metaphor.
Just...
be nice.
Wierdo.
Rx.
Take a walk in woods.
Let the breeze carry your feet
and the leaves carry your scent.
Marvel at natures persistence.
Allow yourself to be enamored by the brute force that springs to life,
without hesitation, year after year.
Take the sunlight with you on your face and shoulders.
A long car ride home with the windows open,
the radio low and the hum of happiness in your ears.
Climate Change
There is nothing
like a change in scenery
to change
your mind.
Happy
Where is my Happy?
Where did it go?
Is it even an “It?”
I don’t think that I know.
Where does one look
when one loses their mind?
Have you seen my Happy?
I’ll take any kind.
What makes me Happy?
It exists, it must.
Is it money, or my health?
Is it love? Is it lust?
Did I ever have Happy?
Or is Happy a race,
with no finish line
and only the chase?
If I ever get Happy
are you sure it will show?
Do I keep it forever,
Or does it come and then go?
I asked the Barman,
and he said, “We don’t serve it
but the secret to Happy
is to know you deserve it.”
Mold
These thoughts age like fruit.
My head is full of flies.
Nostalgia
There are few feelings
as familiar
as the needling
of fresh cut
grass
on the backs of my legs.
Perhaps,
a warm hug
from the sun,
high above,
in a lunchtime summer sky
or
the smell
of bubblegum
of any kind.
But none
more nostalgic
than you.
A Spoonful of Sugar
Medicine
taste better
when its in
someone else’s mouth