16 days without

can’t explain why
it is so hard to understand why
it began almost twenty years ago
follow the leader and got hooked
like all the other fools
sucking on smoke can’t explain why
still not easy by now to feel
as though quitting has been a success
drinking coffee and trying to find something
to fill the void where once a cigar was held
now with a pen trying to write my way
out of the habit I don’t want to miss
but I do
it’s been sixteen days
shouldn’t be hard to make it one more…

eleven times three

hard to look into the glass
showing who I am to others
see it different eyes seeing Fall
in the air all around
each corner holds something
still is not quite right
now is the only time held
close so it will not disappear
too fast already a memory
only made to fade
like the color of this shirt
hard to look into the mind
left alone will flip out of control
what is seen and heard
by the smallest ears in the house
still knows the sound
of my voice heard as I try
to sleep anytime of day
fine for some rest of the day spent undoing
the rest gathered over the closed eyes hours
hard to look into the eyes
of the self my worst critic
analyzing every move made
every brick laid before feet
as I walk from there
to here and back to where
I started to see clear
like the skies until the clouds
push themselves between
these eyes and the sun 
working hard until the day is done...

pointing out the obvious

afternoon sun reaching through trees
the cat joins me at the table
neighbors are starting to get loud
labor day weekend
summer's last dance
until the next time around
pointless thoughts
pointing out the obvious
to anyone paying attention
given to a random detail
burned out fire smell in the air cooler now
afternoon sun and the birds will sing all day long
and the cat falls asleep against my arm...

wouldn't have known it then

I work in a different kind of market now
still selling the food
still stacking the fruit for the most part
all the workers are a little friendlier different from in the typical market
even the customers are less irritated almost glad to be there
some who come every day
just like the old market where I was nearly twenty years
the regulars who knew me by name
work passes faster in a different kind of market
still miss that sixth day of work
and the higher pay gone in a blink of an eye
an extremely unfortunate turn of events
somehow all for the best
wouldn't have known it then
when the entire life got changed
no one in the old market had my back
let me walk and burn the bridge
thoughts are different in a different kind of market
still selling the food
still stacking the fruit for the most part
it's all the same eventually
even in a different kind of market...

trapped otherwise

don't know what to say

or how to say it right

in the middle of another summer day

lone guitar heard

through the backyard trees

carried as the wind picks up

and brings it louder

to the untrained ear

it sounds out of tune

in here for an eye full

of words poor conveyors

of these thoughts

trapped otherwise

never fully realized

how important it is

to move the pen daily

meditations to better the self

blinded in the afternoon

sun rise this morning

was picture worthy

snap shot to begin

the day is right here...

old thirty-three

sometimes haunted by

thoughts from the old house

words written forever trapped

the back of wood panel walls

never to be seen again

the piece never to be completed

sometimes haunted by the thoughts

from the basement

at old 33…

slight breeze

the kind of heat

when the slightest breeze

feels cooler than the last

might be the imagination

rumble in the distance

sounded as real as the sweat

running down forehead

onto the page below

the boy uses a sprinkler

under a trampoline

to cool down

flipping over and over

and then he will tire

lasts about fifteen minutes

the kind of heat they call oppressive

the humidity makes it hard to breathe

still it makes every breeze appreciated

and anticipated like tonight’s rain

as if the first in days

which it is how many hot ones

before the cooler air

comes back around…

nothing to do

sun is shining and the air is heavy

no one reads poetry

if they do I don’t know them

well enough to tell them I have

something or nothing to say

boring myself would be an understatement

at this point I need a GPS for life

sun is shining through a hazy sky

looking down to where I sit

daily trying to understand

why I put pen to page

and used to do it daily

as if I had something to say

or was it nothing to do…

day to day ramble

a ramble that won't ever stop

the madness of an ordinary day

to day transitions hardly noticed

many things on the way to this point

to the part that makes sense

out of a ramble that might be hard

to get moving once stopped

and left dormant thoughts build up

need to find their way out

through a hole this ramble dug

to release some pressure

a ramble that won't ever stop

right in the middle of one thought

onto the next time the ramble comes

out of nowhere nothing between

mind and pen at that moment

the ramble takes over this time and space

for thoughts to take hold of something

tangible the way the humidity makes

the air all around feel heavy

as the ramble rolls on...

with the wind

the wind always picks up

when he’s thinking deeply

about life and what it might mean

everything means something

isn’t that what they say

the wind dies down a bit

he feels the humidity

his arm sticks to the page

only he see his smoke

travel with the wind

as it reveals something

each moment it moves

the air and if he had any

it would move his hair…

stare long enough

when staring sometimes

sight gets blurred

nothing can be seen

stare long enough

into nothing

the mind numbs

fully conscious black out

time freezes for a moment

only in the mind

the clock hands still move

in the other room

caught staring out a window

got lost in all the green

makes the room disappear

is the glass even there

at that moment who wouldn’t feel relaxed

find that moment

as often as possible

staring and getting stuck in the stare…

water glass

water glass not clear through

new eyes

see truth is life is hard

rough road for any and every

one minute water is like glass

and the next intense waves

of emotion shoot

through the pen and

only one gets to watch

the ink dry on the page

every few days necessary

if not daily

thought will get trapped

up inside…

it wasn't supposed to

where to begin to understand this life

has got to mean something

like the smell of fire

that lingers as the last hints of smoke

trail into sunset trees

reflection seen in table glass

what comes next

whatever it is it too will pass

too quick want to slow it all down somehow

where to rebuild some confidence

never held to one set of rules

tomorrow will come even if we don't get it

probably never will

where to begin right here in the moment

every moment counts as long as we let

them fall behind to make room

for all that is new about today

it won't make sense

it wasn't supposed to

where to begin and how we fit in...

leaf from branch

sitting breathing living

enjoying the day

and all it has brought

to this reality

that is here right now

and a cool breeze reminds

the mind to release itself

into the wind

like leaf from branch

not worried about the fall or flight

just flowing until the mind returns

a seated position relaxed

without pressure to be that way

just relaxed and floating feline

from table to floor with a thud

then continue on it's way

no thought on distance of fall

relaxed again sitting watching

wind ripple water in the pool

reflecting sky clouds and sun

mind returns again

as pen dances across the page

hardly knowing what

words will come next...

burn out before dark

left alone with thought

watching the fire burn out before dark

wishing to know more

explore places will never see

too late now to start it up again

the fire must be left alone

with thought tangled tighter

some days it's harder to see above clouds

even with the clearest skies above

wishing to figure it all out

untangle the web by day

break tomorrow

left alone with thought

all that solitude replaced with company

no one here to offer encouraging words

advise or criticism some eyes need to be found

to find this thought discovered while

sitting alone tan canopy and glass table

looking right through

catching the eyes dozing one minute

pen moving the next

left alone with thought

buried under the weight of the day

wouldn't end if the light would stick around

a little longer days ahead six more times

before the reverse is true

left alone with this thought...

thoughts left random

ten minutes per thought

game played while thinking

and power writing

just like power walking

without the walking

holding a pen instead

feet stay still beneath

mind studies the irony

of every situation pausing to quench thirst

for relief the only distraction at the moment

when they pour powerful into the head

they are immediately dropped onto the page

may never be seen other than these eyes

only allowing ten minutes then onto the next

some think thoughts need to be

refined to become poems

some thoughts just want to be thoughts

and left to their random ways...

out from the shade

sun becomes the day

has no clouds interrupting

the warmth felt

as soon as you step

out from the shade

serves it's purpose too

sitting on the porch under canopy

hot coffee to drink until I can drink no more

too shaky to write at times

sitting and just thinking

without the pen I feel useless

sun warms the spot enough

to never want to return indoors

wishing it was always like this

nice-fro is what some still call me

if they call me at all

and most of them don't...

ode to the steps

pushing buttons just to see

how much I can take

the heaviest weight

keep piling it on top

you can't crush me

no matter how loud you get

no matter what you say

you won't break me

don't know how I fit into this life

even when I think I do I don't

but I do know I will outlast

both of them

and smile on the other side of right now

smile right now but no one

around to see how much better

since then when truly alone

in the basement every night

and my own bed every night

sharing space is so much better but

day time sometimes impedes

closeness can't worry just be patient

and I will come out on top sure of it

no matter what type of bond

they think they have and will never have with me

facing all the challenges steps of progression

through unlearning what I thought I knew

but don't and won't break like trees

in the breeze bending with ease

praying on knees for relief of pressure put on

standing tall no matter what comes next

the steps won't trip me up

firmly knowing I am where I need to be

understood and respected not

tolerated and disrespected whenever possible

two cents put in and won't buy my ear

for any amount of time wasted walked all over

and realizing even the rug has a purpose

at times wondering how it got under the steps...

smoke watch dream

smoke watching swirl round

wet wood turns it black

as night or dad's coffee

but he's drinking it

on the other side of the equator

at the moment

envious only of a simplified life

not much but having

the beach at my feet

only a dream

at the moment

the rest of my life

would be the same

swirling smoke around a fire

my beautiful girl by my side

would not even mind working

if life was simplified

less worries less bills less stress

the beach at my feet

smoke watching dream

taking a walk on that beach

cins hand in mine

walking until we wake up

then walk some more

smoke watch dream...

mt pad

moving the pen all day

makes me feel productive

as I know I am

every day brings a new challenge

this mind to a think off

alone as often

when it gets dark again…