GI100 Book #2...random attempts at poetry. |
A second attempt at "Give It 100!" , since the first one ("100" ) turned out pretty well even though I didn't complete it within 100 days. These are just rough sketches and ideas that are barely a little more rounded-out...they're not perfect but they're gonna be good enough to share here at least. Your comments, support, and words of encouragement will be greatly appreciated! |
6-29-17 I can stand being alone for long periods and I don't need to talk to certain people daily just to prove I'm ok. Sometimes I just wanna do my thing in peace and maybe be a little dangerous, but I won't hurt anyone. I promise. It's fine to be just fine, without implications or fancy vocal inflections, and I'm not saying it just cuz you asked sometimes, but I also know you don't wanna hear about it and maybe you need to be faked out just like I need to feel like I'm being heard. |
6-29-17 I'm not here for my looks or your brains. I'd rather be alone, but since you're in my way I guess I'll have to figure out a place where you can stay and sleep with me. And you don't have to tell but if anyone asks, say "He's not the undead; he's just making room for the new arrivals and he needs a hand." I can almost live with that and you. But if I find you're taking up too much room, it'll be you moving the stones and breaking in the new sleeps. I might not be able to undo the undead, but I can get you almost all the way there. |
6-30-17 I don't know how long you can insist that "nobody wants to see me like this" as if you're some kind of insult on bachelors in cargo shorts and flip-flops. You're never gonna unimpress me or alienate the alien within me. You don't have to do a thing to see that the key to being is to let go and be. Why is it that we always insist "nobody's ever gonna understand this" when it's us that never seems to get we command as much as we comprehend? The world's proven it's big enough for you, and I can show you there's room for two. There's semantics and then there's proof that when you're a giver, you'll recoup. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose. Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. And don't listen when the world insists that nobody cares what you think about this. You're a bird that's learning how to fly and even if you fall you won't run out of sky. One answer doesn't end all the questions and one failure doesn't cancel future missions. You're only as good as you're giving. Share your love kindly and share your life freely. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose. Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. |
7-2-17 important people doing important things God's America... I was sitting by the fountain in the park, reading on a typically glorious summer afternoon when I became startled by the ringing of church bells from the neighboring property. They sang annoyance to the tune of "Yankee Doodle Dandy", as if my day- no, my life- would be incomplete without it. I offer no allegiance to either, and only to the moment, barely, but mostly to myself and the time I was losing in the interruption. If I'm not fit for independence, then who am I? unimportant people doing unimportant things |
7-3-17 too many people too many people hiding in plain sight hiding in plain fright unaware what's happening surroundings surrounders radar under radar the inmate and the guard i am throwing bilateral darts too many people too many people under siege out of control in demand of control hand to hand to hand combat at war i am watching faithlessly fake news plainspoken lie = truth time demands time unreciprocated too many people too many people here |
7-4-17 When catastrophe explodes into something so meaningless that you'd rather give up than explain, laugh. Maybe I will feel your pain. Even when you're lost, you're still somewhere. I... I swear I've seen this before. All you wanted was the golden sun, but by the time you made it ashore you were all hands and no arms... a burning mess of liquid smoke. You couldn't swim so you thought it'd be safer to float. Like a cannonball parallel you became collateral, and I... I swear I've seen this before. I was the carnival above the norm; the calm to your overboard. The burning ship in your brainstorm. Maybe it's better to laugh than explain. Maybe then I'll feel your pain. |
7-4-17 Is your map fluent in the psychology of local weather? I can translate clouds and tear apart monuments but do you read as much as you pollute? On the pitied day the world colludes to drain your sea, what used plastics will clog the light? Can the water wind its words down and ess-curving to a useful evaporation? I've come with a rake for the cleanup; I may have gotten ahead of myself, or perhaps I didn't overthink enough. |
7-4-17 What's the fascination with used collections for? Who, and I don't know where to begin, except you. The missing word in an overutilized and underlooked art of some everythings. |
7-5-17 You're a cagey darkness, stashed away always in the places I least think to look. And it doesn't mean you're gone. You can hide but you won't run. Why do you settle in the unseen? What's that mean? When you start from far and away to narrate my dreams, you turn into something bigger than me. I need you, but I need you to not be overwhelmingly the opposite of pristine. If sadness is cancer you should be the IV and not the gauze; the pillow and not the cough. Sheens over shadows for the least likeliest win. A break. A breather. A sigh. A handy alibi. Just for a day, even, I need you on my side. |
7-5-17 It tastes like anxiety that washes over like lava. I'm hot. Not like temperature or anger or society's definition of primal attractiveness shined up and packaged for a personal consumption. Maybe it's tendency... a yield sign overlaying the cracked Do Not Enter kiss. Combustion is the holy climax after a series of events and I'm not any closer to the start than the finish. The drip that hasn't dropped. Won't ignite, won't go, won't stop. Skipped A and B and went to C looking like XYZ, and still feeling like A. I'm hot. Long on wondering and losing comprehension yet capacity has never been greater. I don't get it, going maybe nowhere for a change of scenery in a volcanic vacuum, but not for lack of entrapment. Am I a danger, stranger? Things have happened. |