Month: April 2018

Showed up
To the meeting
In dress shoes

And you were
Surprised
That I too
Could be civilized

The motorcycle
Stayed away today

A highly overrated state of being (quantum or otherwise)

No time for anyone
Except the team

I’ve kept to the shadows
Crept between the crowds
So as not to disturb
Anyone with my presence

My movements are timed
That I’m standing still
Only when my back is turned
Dashing between moments
When no one is looking

Don’t want to be found
By anyone but you
But only if you’re ready
So I have to wait
Not knowing when
I can be myself again
Rather than somebody else

But I’m not even sure
You know that I’m there
As I sneak past you
Each and everyday

I want to get your attention
Just a little bit
So that you wonder
About the stories you may have heard

But it doesn’t work
When I try to distract you
From your daily routine
You seem not to notice

I’m only a myth spoken in whispers
I shouldn’t be surprised
That you wouldn’t even notice
The hints confirming my existence

So I can only hope
As you live your life
Unaware that I’m hiding nearby
That maybe you’ll realize something amiss
And try to find me

But with others your
Curiosity is piqued
With me you not-speak

I’m trying so hard
To shoehorn my life into
The container that
I willingly bought
From the peddlers
Of mainstream culture–
That at a certain age
I’m supposed to be
Somewhere with someone
That I’m supposed to know
Enough of something
At a certain point in time
That I must produce something
Be it an heir to my throne
Or a product of indisputable value
That I can leave behind
As proof that I ever existed

Why am I so desperate
To meet these seemingly
Arbitrary milestones?
Why can’t the words ever be enough
To quench the thirsty soul?
Why can’t faith in the divine
Calm the spirit trapped in the material world?

I see all these pictures
Posted by friends of their
Own family gatherings
Outings with their own children
And can’t help feel a tinge
Of regret at how I mistimed
My own attempts at being
Like everyone else
Even though I knew what I was doing–
Nobody exiled me
I exiled myself
To chase a contrarian agenda
Because I thought I could
Stay out a little longer
Than everybody else
To play in the sandbox
Even though all the kids
Had already run away
To do grown-up things
And ultimately with enough time
Become grown-ups themselves

And ultimately with enough time
Even I realized that
The sandbox seemed smaller
And I wanted to know what
The grown-ups were making a fuss about
Over in their corner of the world–
Now I’m outside looking in
Hands pressed against the barrier
Unable to find a way inside

And there’s always a tick-tocking that
Can be heard whether
Real or imagined
Biological or psychological–
A metaphor for the abstract notion
Of entropy or the devolution of
The orderly into chaos
Of preset opportunities being
Locked away into unavailable configurations

Is there ever redemption for
Someone who forsakes being around others?
Can there be salvation for
A pursuer of ideas instead of friendships?
Can love ever be found if the process
To find it has been postposed so much
That any eventual attempts
Seem tragically sloppy
Or ironically laughable?

All these questions–
And all I have are words
But no answers

You only speak
When spoken to

I don’t want to
Be happy like you

I want to
Be happy like me

And I sat there typing the day away
Hoping something clever would endeavor
To endear itself to me
Something other than the falsehood
Timelines that feign to be sublime
Because they lack basis in objective reality

I am such a dreamer that I get lost sometimes
Chasing unrefined rhymes often untimed
Especially if I am confined to so-called drudgery–
The procedural factory is not for me

But I am unfocused and cannot hocus pocus
My way out of this box called writer’s block
Oh I’m sure if I thought of imaginary things
Like the way hearing your voice makes my heart sing
That I can recycle the assonance that seems mere coincidence
But is actually me repeating the history
Described in earlier rhymes that no one reads
So any connections no one really sees

This is just an exercise to counter boredom as I devise
Methodology to apologize for my lack of mastery
Of the poetic arts
But it’s also a distraction from the lack of satisfaction
That I have no one to share the foibles that forms part
Of who I am
Maybe I’m not worthy to be the fire of someone else’s heart
So all I can do is present myself ala carte
In all the words you ever care to read

And maybe in the journey nurtured are the seeds
Whose sprouts lead you to a self-fulfilling monstrosity
That you are really me

I didn’t
Want to
Throw it
Away

So I
Saved it
For a
Rainy day

Too bad
For you
Since I
Live in
Arizona