P.o.t.D. 9/30/15: "Scream? or Yawn?"

As I described my mental meltdown,
Which kept me in bed all thru Monday and Tuesday;
There was this joviality
About it all, kind of like,
"Yeah, I was depressed,
And contemplating downing all my psych meds,
But I just hid in my blanket fort,
While my job came in jeopardy,
And my class fell upon the drop axe..."

Big, old run-on sentence, there, yep.

Depression makes no sense,
And thoughts of doom spin
Round my head, as real life is sent
Crumbling into the abyss
Because... "Life is unmanageable?"

I want a cathartic moment in this poem.

I want to make some sense
Out of my mind's nosense...

I hate that I'm prone to
Throwing hiding tantrums
When life is not going my way,
Hiding and withdrawing and
Trying to sleep my way past
This uncomfortable point in time.

...and I still feel overwhelmed,
Struggling to find a next right action
In a sea of a thousand choices.

P.o.t.D. 9/27/15: "Suffering in Silence?"

Is there a point
To meditating?

It's calming, relaxing,
Even a bit sedating...

Until something clicks your mind open,
And the cloud-like thoughts crowd in,
Making the sit feel a bit painful
Since the nightmares were allowed in.

Not all meditation is peace;
For some growth comes painfully
As suffering is transmuted
To wisdom through contemplation.

Pain comes from suffering,
Suffering from attachment,
And attachment is just
Excessive wants or aversions.

Can you sit for twenty minutes,
Without worrying about windows
Or itches or sleeping feet?
If so, you can do better than I -
At least for today...
Perhaps picking up my practice
Will open up my Way,
And yet...

Not all meditation
Is sedate and calming -
Not every breath is easy,
Not each step is perfect,
Some trees fall, and fell more...

P.o.t.D. 9/26/15: "Eating By the Full Moon"

Slept longer than I had planned -
Now, I'm wide awake and hungry...
Thinking that a late night journey
To Arranda's is next,
'Cause I'm a salsa fan...

P.o.t.D. 9/25/15: "Sleeping Sands"

I do not know the desert.
Twisted rock outcroppings
And cacti keeping company
With sidewinders and baying coyotes.
No man wants to tread those sands,
So no lights blot out night's Milky bands.
I imagine there's an old peace
Settling upon that sun-baked land
That cares not for the passings of man.

P.o.t.D. 9/24/15: "Just streaming stuff"

Perched upon the keyboard,
Awaiting some turquoise spark
Of burning inspiration -
It hasn't come yet.

Listening to the epic classical playlist,
Sitting in a darkened dining room...
Tempted to strike out and
Generate a random web page,
In the hope of fueling dying embers
Of a fire that snuffed out months ago.

Reminded today is National Punctuation Day
And I feel like not participating
In this stanza just to be
a little archie imitator
for some mehitabel i have yet to serve

random random random
shuffle and repeat
seeking and yet avoiding
hoping to be more than a hack writer

what interests me really
perhaps that could procreate
the hundred or so poems
left before me
in this year of poems

i do like to write
when i really like my topic
i suppose everyone
enjoys sharing their opinion on some things

then again
some fear speaking out
for they know they are attracted
by taboo and illicit items
like moths to the flickering flame

would they talk about homosexuality
knowing they may be
beat black and blue
by backwards friends
who do not understand

what about bondage and submission
and our cultures strange infatuation
with control instead of love

i saw a male customer at the 7-Eleven
just the other night
get all upset and try to put
his girlfriend in what he thought was her place
sending her out of the store out to the car
just for asking me a simple question about our products
i thought he was way wrong for this
but i did not know
what my proper response should be

so... controlling jealous boyfriends (and some women, too)
strike me some element of domination and submission
i do not think it is right behavior mind you
but I do think it is prevalent these days

and i wonder
what makes these assholes attractive in the first place
honestly, what's going on biologically
that seems to be sexually selecting
mates who are so anti-socially aggressive
is there hope for some
twisted "strong arm" parenting skills?

if you're scratching your head on this,
just think on it:
"Why would domestic violence still be a large part of today's society?"

but back to fanning the coals,
hoping to stoke a fire

there's probably lots wrapped up in sex
that could feed a few poems

i imagine math and science and especially ecology
could get me going on a lot of tangents

i might have an opinion on politics
although i feel woefully unprepared

there's the whole debates
revolving around theologies and science
and possibly pop psychology and sociology too

sure, there are topics to be delved
but, like politics, i feel woefully under-read in them,
and, god forbid! I would not want to be
easy meat for the trolls!

who am i kidding?
no one's going to read these
random midnight scrawls,
next year or the year after -
for there is no content,
no fire

just coals blinking out
like the Terminator's eye
in the final scene...

P.o.t.D. 9/23/15: "Minimum wage blues"

feeling so hopeless,
stuck in a employment rut,
"paycheck to paycheck"

P.o.t.D. 9/22/15: "Procrastination's Curse"

Let's shatter some dreams
With bad choices, distractions -
Avoiding failure?

P.o.t.D. 9/21/15: " http://www.boneville.com/ "

Looking for inspiration for today's ditty,
I thought, "Why not google a random web site?"

Alas, my google does not let me
"Feel lucky", and take whatever
The electrons deem to be a tasty view,
Delivered to me by some one of you,
With unknown perils and pleasures thus found.

Google will let me sift through a host
Of random bits and pieces, catering
My lucks of the draws
With strange search heuristics
And other such hidden laws...
Thus I found myself visiting
"random website dot com",
Which appears to work on
Much smaller subsets of the web.

Much to my surprise,
Upon my first click,
I'm transported to Boneville,
A comic drawn by Jeff Smith -
Fondly remembered from 20 years ago,
With that burned-in panel memory:
"Stupid, Stupid Rat Creatures!"

I must say that comics
Are quite a foundation
For humor both light and twisted,
And I am quite pleased
That Bloom County has resurfaced
This year, with all of its guys
Bringing tears of joy to my eyes...

Ah! Animation!
Allowing us to bend reality,
Or to delve deep into its secrets -
I just want to shout out for
Calvin and Hobbes,
Hepcats, Cerebus,
Cyanide and Happiness,
And so many more
That have left little marks
Upon my soul...

Still, today,
I was reminded of "Bone",
And I hope you can visit them,
To enjoy bits of humor that may hit home...

P.o.t.D. 9/20/15: "Silence at Sunrise"

Awakened early in the morning,
Without clock's alarm warning,
There's silence and solitude all 'round
Instead of a blaring TV sound.
Focus without effort seems to arrive,
Helping creative mind to thrive.

P.o.t.D. 9/19/15: "Argh, Me Mateys!"

All things considered,
I do not need to sprinkle
"Arghs, Mateys, and Scurvy Dogs"
Throughout my speech today;
For I am a Wylie Pirate,
By token of my secondary school attendance,
And, as such,
I talk like a pirate,
Whether I like it or not!

Now, do I act like a pirate?
Am I talking with parrots,
And demanding your cargo,
And sending you down the plank?
Or, am I one of many
Dread Pirate Roberts
Training my name's heir
When I become loaded down with good fortune?

Alas, no, no, no, and no...
Men do not fear me,
Nor do they revere me -
For I am humble to the core,
And, usually,
Satisfied to live among the poor.

P.o.t.D. 9/18/15: "Procrastination"

Minutes became years -
Lost in idle tasks and chat,
Nervous to finish.

P.o.t.D. 9/16/15: "Expiration Dates"

Poem's been forgetten -
As digestion is rotten
From meals ill-gotten.

P.o.t.D. 9/15/15: "Early Meditation State"

Words are like crazed birds,
Flying around, way up high;
Clouds, noted, move by.

P.o.t.D. 9/14/15: "When to draw?"

Spent Mondays in bed,
Avoiding my drawings due -
Squeeze them in, 'round worK?

P.o.t.D. 9/13/15: "Typical Sunday"

My Sunday routine:
Meditate, then some board games -
Peaceful times with friends.

P.o.t.D. 9/12/15: "Troubled Thoughts"

Demons torment me
Through addiction's cruel cravings,
Will my mind know peace?

P.o.t.D. 9/11/15: "Another Addiction?"

Iced tea, hot coffee,
Hot tea, iced coffee -
A bit of sugar
And carbonation,
And we have sodas?

Ah, caffeine, my precious,
How you stir up cravings
That just make me wonder:
"Do I need to quit you?"

Keep going, at this rate,
Down to fruits and water
Upon my dinner plate -
Am I consigned to life
Stupid, boring, and glum?

P.o.t.D. 9/10/15: "Time is Relative"

So, I wonder, "Why is it,
That when I try to meditate,
Twenty minutes seems so long?
Yet when I go about my day,
Just bouncing hither and yon,
Twenty minutes get swept away
Like the fragile grains of sand
Caught up by the fierce ocean waves?"

P.o.t.D. 9/9/15: "Whistling, But Not in the Dark"

To face my life's trials,
Both grand and tiny,
With a bit of humor,
Grace, and dignity -
Trusting in Gods above,
Unattached simply -
Helps get me out of self
To love life's beauty.

P.o.t.D. 9/8/15: "Demon in a Pack"

The time had finally come
To leave the smoke puffs alone,
To brave the road with my Dad
And not bother him hourly
To feed a foul addiction
Whose claws were in me so bad...

So, on September the Sixth
In the year of Twenty-Twelve
At 10:23 a.m.,
I choked down my last cheap square
In Dad's front yard, in Garland,
Praying I'd not smoke again.

We took the trip to Kansas,
Stopping for meals on the way,
And I ate snack after snack
To curb the devil's cravings -
How I had to talk myself
Out of getting one more pack!

The worst was watching my Mom
Chain smoking her Pall Mall pack,
And hearing my demons scream,
"Ask her for a cigarette,
You can handle it, just fine!"
She's quit now, from what I gleam...

Using food to curb cravings
Tapered off after some months,
Although I still like the sweets.
I'm so glad to be smoke-free,
It's saved me health and money -
May all smokers try this feat.

P.o.t.D. 9/7/15: "Falling Apart"

Sporting grey hairs in my beard
And strange skin spots have appeared...
Then there's aches in foot and knee;
I age and my eyes won't see
Signs of dying that I've feared.

P.o.t.D. 9/6/15: "F***ed in my Head"

What is it we seek?
Money and comfort?
Fame and glory?
Peace and serenity?

...time, precious time,
Spent living each moment
Savoring the bitter sweet taste of it all,
Without insatiable desires
Demanding to be met...

I can't piece together the words,
Or fit phrases to funny rules.
I can't write a poem, it seems.
I can't find my voice,
And speak my truths,
As my mind is so shattered, it seems...

Flitting from one idea to the next,
Like some bee working the field of flowers,
Gathering pollen all over his body,
To be picked clean by his hive...

Perhaps the perfectionist,
Thinking I can write once, and be done,
Without any revisions.

I have nothing to share, it seems -
So beat down by poverty,
Specialized in my education,
Lacking work experiences
To prove that I'm capable
To my next boss.

Lost in a crowd,
Lost without connections,
Lost in an unquiet mind.

So frustrated
By the impending doom.

alt P.o.t.D. 9/5/15: "starting to rant"

"Unleash the Kraken!"

Thus begins this little rant.
I'm sitting in the sober house,
where I think I'm still behind on rent,
pecking away at the common computer's keyboard...

because the wireless service has gotten all screwed up,
and no one's attempts to fix it have made headway...

I'm worried about my slivers of time
getting decimated by trying to go to school,
and work, and play board games, and go to meetings, and do my chores

i feel overwhelmed
Hell. I'm exhausted from pulling yet another 12 hour workday,
vy design and not by accident -
I really do not like these shifts,
at least not shouldering them all by myself.

fuck it. i'm tired.
i'm going to sleep now.
i hope to attend a potluck tonight,
meditate with friends tomorrow morning,
and then play games in the afternoon.

i hope that actual rest and recuperation comes with the sleep
now and tonight, and perhaps many more nights to come -
that i can feel refreshed enough
to catch up on my drawing class assignments...

I just don't like being plagued by body aches.

good night all!

P.o.t.D. 9/5/15: "Green Berries"

As summer drags on,
Green berries sit there, stunted
Since rains are long past.

P.o.t.D. 9/4/15: "Soldier Forgot!"

Sticking a weathered, ragged quill pen
Within the confines of his scraggly grey beard,
The once great, now forgotten soldier
Scratched at his balding, scabbed crown,
Hoping for a touch of genius to alight there upon.

His feeble blue green marble of a planet
Had made quite a number
Of spins round about the sun,
Since last he saw that fateful comet
That motivated him to desert, and hide in foreign lands.

------------------

Poem pieced together from 8 randomly generated words:
pen, planet, beard, comet,
genius, soldier, crown, number

P.o.t.D. 9/3/15: "Sights and Sounds"

I wander around,
Plugged into my phone's headphones,
To blot out the sounds...

Whether it's outside
Traffic on streets, or silence
That spawns busy mind

Churning up voices
Planning and plotting my way
Through today's choices.

I'd like to tune out,
To be entertained, immersed
In music about

Human conditions
Like men of constant sorrow,
Or epic visions

Conjured by movies
Recalled, who used tunes with scenes
To evoke beauty.

P.o.t.D. 9/2/15: "Working the Graveyard"

While the sun shines,
All seems so fine,
But on the flip side of the Earth..?

Drunks and addicts abound,
Who feel their antics sound
So funny - annoying at ten years sober.

Transients come by in drifts,
Practicing a thousand grifts,
For food picked from the trash, or coins from strangers.

Then there's just plain crazies,
Lost in their mind's mazes,
Thrown up to parry reality's harsh, sharp blows.

Vampires walk the streets,
Symbols of disease,
Sucking the life from their fellows' marrows.

Socially awkward,
Or sociopaths?
These solitary crows congeal into a murder,

Making another night
Facing the Graveyard's frights
Pass into a peaceful day, even though slept away.

P.o.t.D. 9/1/15: "Thirty Hours"

Start of a long day
With some games, some work, some chores
And art as book ends.