Saturday means the world to people like us
Blue jeans and t-shirts, like modern day
Roman Antioch’s fighting to the death with Crete
Over emails and papers and memos and nothing
Sunday mornings became time for dreaming
“How was your girl last night?”
Well Bill, she was fucking amazing
But the rain came down and canceled it all
So I watched television signals all night
And went to sleep early in preparation
For dreaming – the sex would be on fire
If not for the rain
I’ve perfected the art of perfecting the arts. I’ve divided my heart into five different parts: first- the one that’s just blood and tissue. Secondly the part that claims to miss you and the other three parts lay still like bone because you can’t breathe a pulse into a piece of stone. No one ever sings themselves to sleep it takes an orphan’s song to make them dream because “insomnia is in this season” being wide awake is an excuse not a reason…the bite mark swells on the side of my neck. I hear three church bells ring away the sunset my heartbeat jumps and I’m dead in a cold sweat stuttering provisions in the death of a salesman the bookmark falls from the spine to the lift as my hallway drags. I take another hit it’s the faded blues and shining greens that make an otherwise natural smooth come clean a snap of the fingers, click of the tongue another pop of the collar and the radio hums…”hey, hey, hey- aren’t you sick of this yet?”And I never meant for you to regret this like I do.
Throughout life, you are given gifts and talents. Some take those talents and hit the ground running with them, others let them become stagnant and find themselves stuck in a slump, unable to progress.
Some people have spent too much time chasing dreams that realistically weren’t achievable. Before you’re able to see life for what it really is, it takes a series of failures and misses. Sometimes in order to achieve complete clarity, you have to have your comfort zone ripped away.
It’s scary to be surrounded by things so intolerable.
Once you can see beyond the set backs and failures, you’re golden.
Your life is now an open book with endless possibilities.
Life is what you make it…if you spend all of your time fearful and unhappy, that’s the result you’ll receive.
You will never know what your soul is capable of until you turn a blind eye on doubt and uncertainty. Life is precious and full of opportunity. Rise as high as you can and love with all you have.
So much love and life and art and humanity and beauty and time and creativity and god forsaken vanity is lost in the cell-phone-internet-instant-coffee-messaging-teleportation-electric-car-twenty-four-seven-news age. And here I am typing on a plastic computer; conveying my plastic thoughts that I only wish mattered more than they do. Why can’t things last anymore? What happened to the innocence and the mystery that made life a work of art? It is so predictable now; and when it is not, it is a story for five and half minutes or so, and we move on to the next. Oh how I cherish the cold feel of a fine book in my hand, the letters in print pop from the pages like Braille that I read with my eyes.
