nothing concluded 185

what really matters

or doesn't

wake up and live

master the walk

you walk daily

thinking at random

as always

unavoidable

some just won't

pay attention

everything that is being said

but thought instead

then write it down

so it won't get lost

somewhere

along the way

back to when it all began

Sunday afternoon

full day of work behind

thoughts ahead

most likely all night

and through the morning

and on what is it being

said if anything at all

nothing concluded...

orange blaze

sun setting and the wind blows
it's colder as December is only days away
some birds will stick around all year
and you can hear the wind crawling
down the street bending everything
that doesn't break on it's way by
it keeps on going with no destination

at one time I thought I had it all
but everything was material
and I left it all behind
except my books and my music
still trying to find my favorite songs
after two years still laying out pages
of poetry to be read and judged
at a later date

luckily the page is white or else
it would be hard to see as the sun
disappears behind back yard trees
far off on the horizon there is
an orange blaze glowing
it's today's last light
thoughts being collected here
so they might light me sleep
tonight without restlessness...

stands back

maybe he's not cut out to be
the dad they need
trying to be a better person
in the process
imperfections stare him down nightly
sometimes his desire is
to smash the glass
but he stands back
and breathes in the positive
exhales the negative
the day brought with it
his heart is filled with love
for a family and he wants it
to include three former strangers
one being the love of his life

maybe he's exactly what they need
another imperfect soul to connect
and be there for support
and defend them if need be
there are so many thoughts
they don't even know
what to make of him
and the unraveling of his mind
daily onto page after page
in book after book
until everyone understands...

nothing concluded 184

same theme for so many years

changing as the world around

changes all around if there

exists an actual plan whose

plan is it and who is it for

same beat up older mind

tripping and falling so many

times he might as

well walk on knees and

say a prayer while he is down

nothing concluded never

had a plan only title to

start with and a constant

pen pusher seated at the

blank page steering wheel

plain and simple an idea

of an idea of an idea and on

somewhere until the hand

loses the ability to be the

go between for the mind

the book may get old and

pages creased but words

and the thoughts that

put them in their

place will never die

the story may never be told

properly exhausting every

detail randomly or in order

of time and importance

these volumes may remain

handwritten eternally the writer's

worst nightmare staring

into tired eyes just wanting

to find that inner peace

nothing concluded...

thoughts while reading Frost

under clouds and in the dark
beside himself with thoughts
the pen the page the words
the soil the seeds for a future harvest
keeping the thinker sane
away from some thoughts
and closer to others
putting things in order
and revising older thoughts
as they grow with the thinker
growth forces change
directional change doesn't mean
the focus has to change

under cold conditions
still outside after dark
culling the soil and germinating
seeds someday that fruitful harvest
will come with confidence
everyday is dealt with evenly
and with great care trying to peel
back each layer upon layer
of history and thought
and a harvest that will
last until the last thinker
closes that book on thinking
and experiencing and learning

under a loneliness he creates
not intention merely side effect
not widely discussed or talked about
and forgotten fire burns the feet
everyday but the hand held is warm
and comfortable and never to be let go of
and connected to an island paradise
and permanently tattooed in the mind...

destroyed mind

this mind is destroyed
so much at stake
every day patience
worn thin as these pants
I sit in day after day
shoes torn on the sides
barely covering the right foot

this mind is destroyed
rerunning through all
these mistakes and hurt brought
on others time after time
flipping through old thoughts
trying to make them new again

this mind is destroyed
by only me and in front of me sits
the mistakes I have yet to make
and the people I have yet to hurt
truly hope none of these
bad thoughts hold onto this
destroyed mind

this mind is destroyed
daily to make room
for new creative genius
emerging from under clouds
and heavy rain
the sun was shining
all day long…

warm for November

sitting on the front step like back in Brockton

fifteen years ago the house looked different then

both grandfathers were alive

they knew what we were up against

the poet might not have a style

maybe random regular people bull shit

every day worker  bull shit

both grandfathers strong fighters until the bitter end

as if the end of life could be anything but bitter

the poet might not always find the positive thoughts

somehow pushing through stronger for that determination

sitting front step in a cloud warm for the middle of November

they say it’s a rainy month and the poet soaks

it all in like a thought sponge tired of the grind

both grandfathers stressed how tiring it would get

no matter how hard you work

you will always be tired still they enjoyed

every minute they could…

higher learning

contemplating a change
to challenge the mind
twisting it into an different
space allowing it to expand
on and on
as it should be
has been all along
and has with life
all it’s challenges
the pen has never had
a chance to rest
none of these current
volumes allowed to gather dust
contemplating a change
in a specific direction
focus still on the heart
and who fills it
and this will not change
need to only let
the mind expand
and not get trapped
behind all the words
only needs the encouragement
of the loved
and the determination
to push towards a more comfortable
end to justify the means
call it survival creation
a new outlet to pour on
some of this random thought…

said it before

the country 
has been hijacked
said it before
getting worse 
by the day
we as a people 
need to be willing 
to fight 
for our republic…

traditionally

it’s tradition to start the new volume
within minutes of finishing the last
one thought at a time
poured out onto the table
even if it is portable
even if it is on my lap
out in the cold of a cloudless night

it’s tradition to write out in the cold
or down in that hole
with no one to witness
the power words have
in this life to this writer
breathing this smoke
hoping it isn’t doing too much damage
knowing it can’t be good
somehow it helps unravel this mind
traditionally…

where I take it

from beginning to end

in one place again

finally able to realize home

where I take it

not where I may live

from beginning to end

only hearing the sounds

people in their yards

not the constant traffic

the city where I lived

see the reflection of the sun

as it sets earlier tonight

through the trees behind me

somehow always facing

the west at this time

with me daily where I take it

in this place I don't need direction

home is where I am

the road has turned now many times

following the path I make as I step

from beginning to end

everyday a step forward

never giving up patience is the key

unlocking hope behind and one day

dreams realized

from beginning to end

in one place again

finishing a book

finally able to see that home

where I take it

not where I may have lived...

throw some strange

the mind plays tricks
focusing on the broken
when there is nothing to fix
life is a struggle
that fact is never going to change
life will throw you some good
then it will throw the really strange
downright confusing
never letting go of what matters most
even falling to the ground
helping each other out
half full or half empty
the glass is still a cup
fill it to the top
and lift yourself up
a new found height
no matter how tough
worth every bump and bruise
life is a struggle
that is not going to change
forget being normal
life throws a lot of strange...