I’m Not A Monster

I feel like a monster

though I’ve done

nothing wrong.

But that doesn’t matter

when the stories

plastered on news screens

all say the same thing:

Look at what the bad man

did to the woman.

Most men agree that

the bad men are bad.

But somehow all men

have become monsters

Now they are forced

to repent for the sin

of being a male.

Maybe the best thing to do

is cancel all relationships.

Let’s tell men and women

to stay away from each other

or wear signs that say

PROCEED WITH CAUTION

at least until the talking heads

stop with their onslaught

of pushing their agendas.

Many would say I’m crazy

but I don’t think so.

Simply stating masculinity

is looked at with disgust.

Now guys stare into cameras

and tell the world

they’re sorry, even for crimes

they did not commit.  I refuse

to join with the group.

I am a man and I should be

able to be just that.

Old Drawings

No one really thinks

about what time

can do to paper.

History becomes

more yellow by the day

as past plans drawn

by the steadiest of

architectural hands

fade away, time

eroding the lines,

making the notations

harder to read.

They keep

documented history

locked away in storage

in units far away and

out of sights so that

new construction can be

shown in digital format.

But when they

dig back into the archives,

they will find that

time has a way of

making history

disappear.

Settling

Yesterday it was just my luck that the two books I was looking for in the library weren’t there even though the digital catalog said it was so. 

I think there’s a metaphor in there somewhere. 

This situation may be a description of when people are told to look for certain things and find themselves at the very place they were supposed to but finding nothing.  Then they are forced into deciding whether to walk away empty handed or just grab something else that may look just as enticing but it’s just not the same as what you were looking for in the first place.

So in the library at the very moment that I realized that I had to make the same decision, I did so.

Instead of walking away without a book, I wandered around elsewhere and selected something else to read.  The book looked good enough but I had my doubts about it having the same satisfaction as what I was looking for in the book that I had set my mind and heart to reading.

I believe many people have done the same thing. 

They have made choices that settled voids when what they really wanted was either out of reach or just never existed.  They live their lives claiming to be happy and maybe they are.  But there if there were truth serum to put into their coffee in the morning or wine in the evening, they may tell a different tune.  They could then talk about the choice of picking different schools or friends, living in different cities, or even loving a different person.

Of course, the worst part of it all is that some would have to admit they fucked up somewhere along the way and are just making the best of the consequences.

Thankfully I’m not at that extreme.

But I know that today in the library it was just deciding on a book to read.  But what happens tomorrow if I can’t get what I really want? 

"Red Lipstick Sells Best In Times Of War"

poem based on a painting by Emma Knight

Make the boys forget 

they may run into a  

rainstorm of bullets 

the next time out.

Red Lipstick Sells Best In Times Of War
by Emma Knight

  

Make them forget  

some won’t come back  

whole and some  

won’t come back at all. 

  

So wear that deep red 

on your lips, the right amount  

of mascara, and smile 

as warmly as you can. 

  

Give them a moment 

to forget about the  

no-man’s land and 

the hell of battle. 

  

Let them know  

there will be an ending, 

that they can come home 

to kiss your red lips.

I Can't See You

I can’t see you and I

realize it’s best for me

to stop trying. You

are an elusive sort and
it’s not for the right reasons.

I know you have much to say

but you try to be so damn

abstract, thinking a video

of a lake or a picture of

your shadow is saying something.

I can’t see you and now I

know I never have.  The signs,

they were there from the start,

the moment you threw up

that roadblock the night I asked

all those questions about you.

I only wanted to know you a

little better but there you were

in a defensive posture saying,

“Don’t get any closer.”

I tried to be your friend and I

know others who have tried

just as much as I, but you

keep running away, always

finding some sort of crossroads.

Did it really exist or did you

redraw the road map to

give yourself an exit plan,

a way out so someone

could never get in.

I’m tired of the chase, tired

of walking through mazes and

all around empty streets hoping

you would show your face for

more than a second.  Others

have done the same and gone on

with their lives.  I hope you can

realize that guarding whatever it is

you are will lead to a lonely place

where no one bothers to see you.

Finish

The end of the road 

comes closer in sight and I, 

weary of  trekking, 

try to find one last 

push from within in order 

to finish strong, to  

cross the line not with 

a weakened stumble but a  

strong final stride to show 

the world and myself  

that the last steps 

were just as powerful as 

the first. 

Out of Nowhere

Running on fumes but 

somehow I keep finding words, 

at times feeling like I'm 

plucking them out of my ass. 

But it's enough to merge together 

another piece to send out 

to the world and whether or not 

they understand it  

doesn't really matter right now. 

I'm at a need to say something 

and even if I pull it  

out of nowhere, it still 

is something I need to say.

Talking To Ray

What could you see? 

I know you were blind 

but your music says to me 

your imagination wasn't as dark 

as the shades you wore. 

What did you imagine 

when your hands danced 

across those piano keys, 

when you harmonized 

with the backup singers? 

Did you draw out 

your own images of 

what was going on 

to let you see 

what you really couldn't?  I just wonder 

the way you moved 

millions with your songs 

if I could close my eyes 

and see the world differently. 

Soul Singer

Pay attention. 

The notes I play 

may move your hips 

and nod your head 

but I'm trying  

to tell you something. 

There's pain in these lyrics. 

Ain't nothing pretty 

about where I came from 

and what I've been through. 

Life's been hard and all 

I can do is sing about it, 

let the aches and pains, 

the tears and heartbreak, 

let it all out, 

tell my story and turn it 

into a groovy tune so 

you all can dance the night away 

and I shine in the spotlight. 

But nights on stage don't 

solve all the problems that 

torment my soul.  So while 

you're enjoying yourself, just 

take a moment to pay attention. 

Spring

April morning feels 

more like October, a chill 

in the air before 

the sun, but anything is 

better than our winter. 

Days upon days of 

cold blasts that not even the 

oldest of the old 

had seen in their lifetimes, 

our city bundled up  in 

layers and layers 

of clothing, hoping this spell 

would break and break soon. 

It finally did and now 

we can enjoy what spring brings.

Burden

Holding on to your 

feelings hurt, carrying the 

weighted burden of 

dishonesty in your soul 

like Atlas carried the world, 

forever tethered 

on your back, stuck in a pose 

hurtful to your 

existence.  But you don't know 

any other way to be. 

But one day, you let 

it all go, finally in 

a random moment 

you let it all out, you dropped 

the burden and found freedom.