Life Happens

I keep telling myself that I will plan out time on a Saturday morning to write out a decent blog entry.  But life has a way of getting in the way.  After a nice workout, I had no time to really collect my thoughts.  My kitchen blinds needed fixing, the backyard had not been raked of grass clippings since I mowed the yard earlier in the week, a couple of rooms in my house needed to be cleaned, laundry was waiting, and I found out a friend of mine is in town tonight.

So the great blog entry has been reduced to this, just me trying to say something as the final load of laundry is running in the dryer.

Such is life.

Balance

I had made plans to write every morning before I went to work.  I would get up at 5:00 in the morning, head to the kitchen, pour myself a glass of cold water, sit down at my laptop and write for at least an hour.  A lot of mornings that’s exactly how it happened and I was very pleased to get a little further along with my novel.

But some days don’t work like that.  Rising at 5:00, writing, and then heading off to work makes for a tired guy.  Plus most nights I’m bringing work home, spending it on my work laptop doing updates and preparing for the next work day.

(And that doesn’t include meetings before and/or after work)

So there have been mornings when the alarm hits 5:00 and my brain cannot function enough to even generate a page.  Writing is important but so is rest.  Because the real world doesn’t care that you’ve got a notion to put down a story that keeps dancing around in your head.  It expects you to be at certain places and performing your tasks, sometimes beyond the level of expectations.

So how do I somehow keep all of this balanced?  It’s not easy but it’s a challenge that I accepted a long time ago.  It’s really about maximizing time.  There are 24 hours in a day and I try to take full advantage of them.  At times it doesn’t work and things get left undone.  But when I can make it happen, a lot of great things get accomplished.

Luckily, today is Sunday and there is no work pressure on my plate.  I’ll get a few pages of my story done and my work updates will be finished with no problems.  But Monday starts the 5:00 schedule all over again.  I’m just hoping I can stay on point all five days this week.

Just A Saturday Morning Thought

Finally I have a moment to myself.  It’s been day after day of being yanked in a multitude of directions.  People wanting, needing, requesting, and whatever verbage you could think of…well, that was all directed at me.  I’m only one man but I have to wear many hats.  I try to keep them all neatly stacked in my mental closet but sometimes there’s no time for organization.  You grab what you can and hope you have the right.  Usually I’m right but there are times I’ve walked into areas without the proper headgear.

But right now I don’t have to worry about hats.  There are no places to go or things to do or people to see.  There’s just me, this laptop, and an empty space with no light.  If my parents saw me like this they would plead for me to turn the light on so I wouldn’t ruin my eyes.  That may be fine for later but I’m liking this scenario of putting my fingers to the keys with only the illumination of the computer screen as my light source.

Soon I’ll have to venture out into the world.  People still want or need or request my presence so my hats are ready.  But having this moment to myself, to have some thoughts of my own, is something I need to do more often.

Ode To Poetry

No matter how far I stray

I must return to you

for we’ve walked together along this way

a journey of which you’ve remained true.

I’ve dabbled here and there and at times

I took detours to find other routes.

Even then you were patient, waiting for me to find

what was there and the results that came about.

But in the end, I’ve always returned

and you waited for me with open arms,

knowing there were things I needed to learn

and the lessons gathered caused no harm

but enhanced the journey we continue to share

toward unchartered horizons out there.

PSA

Corporate raiders

become moral messengers

as they post PR campaigns

to lecture the masses

on what’s right and wrong.

With talking points

so aesthetically pleasing

no one would dare

disagree with any statements,

they set out to establish

a new paradigm based on

their utopian visions

with the assurance

the masses will follow.

But the smart ones know better.

They can see through

the slick marketing tactics

and generic scripts to

find an agenda that rings

too hollow and brings

no real solutions.

They know many will follow

just because the message

sounds good, but they

know those foolish souls are

heading into a barren valley

while they search for

more fertile land. 

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.