Don’t Know Nothin’

Born from puddles and sun breaks, torn between subtle truths and plumb fakes.

I’ve kissed the earth where the ground shakes, been missed by bullets by pure mistake.

I never really know the stakes except that we die like how stars are made.

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Mother’s Day Motorbike

Today in March of 2017 is the first time I rode a motorcycle since I crashed one real good in April of 2016.

Funny how there is no life or death or bliss or pain that can measure the pleasure found on the back of a motorbike. Funny.

My mother’s birthday 20 days before her death day, two weeks after my brother’s suicide left us all in dark dismay. I’ll never leave you broken that way, never leave you unless you want it that way.

Ten grand and I can make you understand and we’ll ride until there’s nothing left of land.

Autodieography

– visiting dead uncles still attached by technology, distancing yet listening, detached from my mom’s oncology –

This unruly universe has a razor on which its decisions are made. Sometimes it chooses a sudden, delicate yet brash conception that wails into this world hungry, wet and magnificent, other times it’s a quick and brutal plucking of our family from our unwitting grips, leaving us humble, dizzy and vengeful.

We succeed. We own. We lose. We teach. We work. We enjoy. We die. 

There is no reasoning with a razor, only the awareness that such an edge exists. Like a horse not quite broken or a lover not yet trusted, its natural action is one that somehow always makes sense regardless of its seeming indifference. 

Bang Bang, Vroom Vroom

Nothing is easy.
Everything is pleasing
and adventure is teasing
but the moments
we’re seizing
are so unbelieving
I’m amazed that you’ve stayed
to recognize this feeling.

Nothing is stopping us from leaving.
There is no real rationale or reason
why we brush skin and share passing grins
and escape this place every evening.

Everything is easy.
Finding beauty in darkness
catching love in one’s starkness
reminding us we’re needing
a friend, a lover, laughter feeding
on each other
like how silly boys like bleeding
and how little girls like healing.

Everything is allowing us to remain.
There is no gain in woe or to complain,
alongside we share a glimpse of this life,
navigating this amazingly strange terrain.

This whole planet is nothing but feelings
whether concealing, revealing or stealing.

You be the entertainer, I’ll be the sly conniver.
You be the gun waver, I’ll be the getaway driver.

Bang bang, vroom vroom.
It’s just us in this crowded room.

Those Days

There are days I assume you may be on every street corner. There are days I’m secretly wishing you were seeing me walk by, run by, roll by, rev by.

There are days I act as if when every time you find yourself alone with your thoughts your mind will eventually drift to me. Memories, desires, regrets, admissions and resignation…

There are days that I go crazy when the room empties or the phone lies silent, wrestling with the maddening loneliness that attempts to become my definition.

There are days when all my percolating waves of bitter insanity tower over every downtown street and breaks upon every bar bolster in this city which will one day drown, cleanse, then resurrect me.

Those were days that owned me, drove me into the gym, into the bottle, into the arms of those who truly cared or had the good sense not to.

Those were days where the stripes and scars marked each moment and memory, running deep in me like the red and the love in my blood.

These are days that are drawn from an endless well of health and harmony, driven by my desire to question, relax, accept and venture.

This day is the day that I write with sparkling eyes, and with both laughter and darkness, I thank everyone who has plucked me from the fire I was burning in.

Toast the Coast with the Most

windows to windows to light in the day
now when the wind blows I know what to say
hair falls, eyes sprawl, they shine so far away
while minutes brawl for more time in the day.

crimes commit while reason’s denied
uncertain decisions are reasons we hide
our faith is tested and always contested
by us crashing in the wreckage and the filth of our tide.