"'Alone!', he wails..." (P.o.t.D. 4/13/08, rev 6/24/17)

Restrain tongue and pen, in work and in play --
Emotions checked, yet lusty obsessions
Simmer, seeking to have their ugly say.
Public, private perspectives, perceptions
Entwined, interwoven, in tangled skein.
Confusing courage with cries of caution,
Tangled I am found, again and again -
I am lost in deontic ties that bind.
Now... do I cross antiquated fences,
Gaining insight, facing fears, in my mind?

Before, I would "sit in solemn silence",
Overcome my feelings, yet... highstrung... tense -
Untold wreckage building upon my soul,
Never once did I feel complete and whole.
Dwelling in a pure ivory tower,
And discontent... alone... each midnight hour.
Reason only took me farther - too far -
Inside self, loves buried in aching heart,
Encamped, enclosed, entrapped, entombed "in a
Steel cage" - a lean role sans sensual sin.

Inhibitions: respect? ... or overcome?
Note, then, the true fears from among the sum.

Look... Listen... Love... and the world unfolds!
Infinite nuances will be revealed,
From which billions of stories can be told -
Experiences that can truly heal.

Everyone has a story to tell;
Stories so deep, they cause my heart to swell!
Pensive, I will miss their insights around
Even though, like armies, do they surround.
Circled by artisans, artists, arsons;
Igniting passions, felt by all senses.
Around my prison of independence
Lay self-centered lies from self-sufficience;
Leading me to forget growth from "my mind,
Your mind, learning when we are intertwined".

Ignoring others, I find I become
Narcistic, pessimistic... my thoughts, numb.

Life is too short to live in a ship's hold;
Overcome, I must, these imagined seals!
Voyeuer, no more - engage others, be bold -
Enrich my life, sharing others' ordeals!

"International TableTop Day" (P.o.t.D. 4/11/15, no rev)

Ah! To play today
Many games of luck and skill -
The planet plans it!

"Testing Dilemna" (P.o.t.D. 4/10/15, no rev)

Teachers face testing
That drains their students of hope -
What else is out there?

untitled (P.o.t.D.4/8/15, no rev)

Roses are in bloom -
Blushing pink and scarlet reds
To wilt away soon.

untitled (P.o.t.D. 4/7/15, no rev)

Memories laid bare
As I wrestle with the words,
Trying to write poems.

"Seeking the Sweetness" (P.o.t.D. 4/6/15, no rev)

Peeling the hours away from this sweet day
To get to the juicy fruit of a dream -
Not remembered, drinking at the cafe,
A draught of coffee, with sugar and cream.

"Can you spare a liver?" (P.o.t.D. 4/5/17)

I would love to share
My life with the world! Organ
Donations, perhaps?

"To Cleanse.." (P.o.t.D. 4/5/15, rev ???)

Step into shower
Where warm water washes 'way
Worries of the day.

"Haikus to explain?" (P.o.t.D. 4/4/17)

As I dredge eight years
Of my Facebook feed, pulling
Poems poignant? Or Pouts?

Like pulling my teeth,
As I scramble with my time...
Left half-finished moons:

The delicate rib,
Or bowl upon horizon,
Or midnight madness...

Leaves left, ink long dry -
Beg for edits, telling why
So sad...? So depressed...?

No wine, let me whine,
Upon my shoddy sorrows,
I force you to dine!

I don't want to be
Trite, and yet, depression
Seems like all I write!!

Spring is upon us -
The plants are blooming flowers,
Leaves noses' sorrows..

"Worried over water" (P.o.t.D. 4/4/15, no rev)

'Tis but a fine mist,
Yet they predict drenching rain -
Stay inside, stay dry.

"Write-offs" (P.o.t.D. 4/1/15, no rev)

Sandwiches, brownies -
Surviving on last night's trash...
Still, thankful for them...

"March" (P.o.t.D. 3/29/15, no rev)

A thousand pin pricks
All 'cross my skin, from the cold
Bites of March morning.

"Past Presents" (P.o.t.D. 3/26/17)

I'm riding this wave
Of poems penned two years ago -
Yet silence, today...

"Technical Evolution" (P.o.t.D. 3/26/15, no rev)

There was a time...
Before calculating devices,
When stories around fires reigned.

There is a time...
Men and tools are so tied together,
Struggles 'gainst this stream are vain.

There will be a time...
When computers become self-aware,
No longer needing these men.

"Over the Rainbow" (P.o.t.D. 3/25/15, rev ???)

Red -
For the blood, sweat and tears sacrificed,
Fighting the dark demons in those first days...

Orange -
Color that my blood turned
After a decade of Austin decadence,
Masquerading as an attempt at a degree...

Yellow -
Glad to be pissing clean and clear,
Despite severe damage done in that one year,
With much less toxins for organs to fear...

Green -
Always striving for more green,
I'm surprised it's not abundant
With far fewer drains that I've seen...

Blue -
Saddened, after another decade;
Because goals go unrealized,
And life still feels like a struggle...

Indigo -
I don't know?

Violet -
Feeling like royalty,
For that second decade
Still had unexpected promises fulfilled.

"Dawn" (P.o.t.D. 3/23/17)

The sun rises,
To chase dawn's chill.
Grey clouds roll by.

"Fueled by Frustrations, Suicide Sinks In"

I imagine myself twisting up my bed shifts into a make-shift rope, tying them to the guardrail on the Jones Road bridge, and hanging myself over the creek.

Other days, I feel this urge to jump in fount of the cars speeding down Manchaca Road.

Or... do I poison myself by taking all of the prescriptions simultaneously. What is it like to die on a month's worth of Lithium?

There's even a thought to go to the gun shop, ten minutes away, and buy a gun.

So far, that's the extent of the ideations.

They're not constant, but they're recurring. I suspect they're fueled by frustration and failures. The first time that I attempted suicide, it was not a cry for attention; I wanted to find oblivion, to be done with this circus, to make room for those who seem to be succeeding...

I hate the places my brain can take me.

I hate the expectations that our society imposes on me.

On second sight, I would seriously consider escaping by running away to a monastery (with or without notice, depending on my mood) - all the above suicides seem to have a bit of pain and suffering involved in them.

So, yes, I'm a bit frustrated right now. When I look at the outsides, though, I'm actually not bad off. Yet, like some crazed addict, I want more... more money, more toys, more games, more food, more sex, more attention.

Yet, hearing myself talk, these last couple of days, I'm not too sure that I'm very pleasant to be around. Will you still love me, when I stink?

Sooo... that's me, reaching out in a third/fourth Facebook thread. I'll probably call somebody in the next couple of hours, because I strongly suspect that no one will call me.
(maybe this is all the result of too much caffeine? )

"Couplet on Defeat" (P.o.t.D. 3/22/17)

neglected. abandoned. wasting away...
why do I keep trudging, day after day?

"Whispers" (P.o.t.D. 3/22/15, no rev)

Secrets lay unsaid,
Hidden under many words
Given so freely.

"Light Up My Life!" (P.o.t.D. 3/21/15, no rev)

My neighbor's flowers
Are little sunbursts, alive
With rays and colors!

"Carpenter at Work..?" (P.o.t.D. 3/18/15, no rev)

Pondering our lives:
Hardness, surface, depth, and grain
Like some woods we stain.

"Jody's Limerick" (P.o.t.D., 3/17/15, rev 4/5/17)

Arrived early at the movie site,
Without getting a quick breakfast bite...
Stayed busy through the day,
Yet options I did weigh,
I ended up playing at Game Night.

"On the Court" (P.o.t.D. 3/16/15, no rev)

With a wink and a gracious bow,
The lad offered his hand to the girl,
To take her onto the dance floor
Where they'd go round and round in a whirl.

By the fourth dance, she was laughing
As they tried to move in East Coast Swing,
Even though he had no lessons...
What's absurd? He also thought he'd sing.

She gave him points, though, for trying;
So, he offered his hand to the girl,
As he pulled out a diamond ring -
From there, 'tis a secret, what unfurled...

"Failing..." P.o.t.D. 3/14/15 (pi day!), rev ???"

Right now, this moment, I find myself asking, "Why?
Why did my well of wonderful words run dry?"
Probably running around too much, running myself ragged -
So, it becomes a chore of Epimetheus, pulling thoughts jagged...

Fail:
I'm Unsure of the Greek boulder-pushing guy,
And I'm Forcing the second rhyme.
I'm not even checking syllable counts,
Let alone, their stress patterns.

Stressed indeed -
A full plate before me,
Yet so little money
To get feed?

Fail again?
Beating ourselves up over stuff contrite,
Leads to mental blocks when we try to write -
Still, we win?

I see an insanely busy week ahead...
Maybe I could write much much more,
Yet I must also find my way to my bed.

"Words With W" (P.o.t.D. 3/13/15, no rev)

We wield this whip,
To work, work, work -
For what money
Or career perk?

"Cats'... Bird... March... May... Start?" (P.o.t.D. 3/10/15, no rev)

Today's poem will be a string of words:

Cats chasing errant little birds...

Posts and tweets galore
Spewing from Austin's floor -
Music and film and computer madness
Leads to citizens feeling badness...

March is upon us, with rain and cold
And so many events, good as gold -
Rodeo, basketball, and fest
Makes me feel this month is best...

Well... May is quite awesome, too,
With the academic events,
Like the state one-act-plays,
And the end of college days.

All that started from cats,
What, then, would be sparked from dogs?
Or, if you're more esoteric wizards,
You could play with goldfish or lizards!

Ready..?
3..2..1.. Write!

"Accumulate" (P.o.t.D. 3/9/15)

It rains upon me:
Water falling, tasks undone -
Both pool into floods.

"Time ticks by..." (P.o.t.D. 3/8/15)

Time ticks by...

Happy - lying beside my love,
Watching minutes weave and wander
Through their periodic patterns -
Palindromic time: 10:01, 12:21, 1:41;
Repetitive time: 10:10, 12:12, 1:11 -
And on and on, they cycle through...

Time ticks by...

I study mathematics,
She studies Roman classics -
Was this love bound to happen?
...or is it "Fated to Fail"?
Then, as sweaty summer ends,
So ends our brief relation.

Time ticks by...

The sun rises later today,
As we add an hour, in our way.
"Spring Forward" will cause missed meetings,
And confusion from clock readings...
Of course, a host of Facebook posts
Bemoan our time loss, through their roasts.

Time ticks by...

We are but one week away
From the century's Pi Day -
So much fuss now being made
Over time just so arrayed...
Seems so faked, so I ask "Why
We write numbers 'cross the sky?"

"It rained..." (P.o.t.D. 3/5/17)

It rained...

It rained tears of angels,
Crying at how we live our lives.

It rained sweat of many birds
Tring to fly away,
And escape narrowly with their lives.

It rained a nasty potluck of chemicals
Pumped without conscience, into our skies -
Slowly eating away at beauty outside,
And leaving a few afraid to live healthy lives.

I tell you, "It rained...",
And most of us
Skipped along, blind to the pain.

"Sing a New Song" (P.o.t.D. 3/5/15, no rev)

It's a tough challenge
Writing a new poem, each day -
Think before I say...

"Delusions" (P.o.t.D. 3/4/15, no rev)

Bubbling up from within my core,
Thoughts bounce around my head, in war.

From where do I draw my life's power,
When crisis looms upon the hour?

Is it through talking with my friends
Upon which "Solution" depends?

...Or praying to something above,
Source of unconditional love?

Maybe following set of rules
Is key for my base kit of tools...

Then, while walking back to my home,
Thoughts of undead did slyly come.

Am I a vampire, like disease,
Drawing life out, with fatal bites?

Or maybe a lich, living through
Arcane studies, learned in dark nights?

Could I be some sort of foul ghoul,
Feasting on flesh, in carnal rites?

'Tis not literal life effects,
But treats others as "things we fight"...

Then, the whisper comes, in my mind,
On the solitary night walk -
"How'd I survive, sixteen years past?
Am I embedded in matrix,
Or implanted with small machines?"
...So my mind wanders, in weird ways...

"Haiku on Frustration" (P.o.t.D. 3/1/15, no rev)

My mind disconnects
From hunger and lack of sleep,
Making poems so hard.

"thinking about SXSW" (P.o.t.D. 2/28/17)

As spring approaches,
There are scurrying roaches
Sipping on mochas...

"Physical Therapy" (P.o.t.D. 2/27/15, no rev)

It is amazing:
A few stretches... a massage...
And I sit sans pain.

"Distracted: A Villanelle" (P.o.t.D. 2/25/15, no rev)

Too much interferes with my sight,
Pastimes by which my life is based
Leave me alone, that I might write.

Fox news is flooded by the Right,
Leaving in my mind, a bad taste;
Too much interferes with my sight.

Playing board games, many a night -
Some chide me, calling this a waste.
Leave me alone, that I might write.

Tugs 'tween work and play are my fight;
My mind, in pleasures, is encased.
Too much interferes with my sight.

That I could scribble through the night,
Awake, to books, when my mind raced.
Leave me alone, that I might write.

In poverty, do I, "Dude, abide!"
My debt, I wish would be erased -
Too much interferes with my sight.
Leave me alone, that I might write.

"Matrix Mash-up?" (P.o.t.D. 2/24/16 rev ???)

As I watch the map
Twirl and Swirl
Behind the forecaster,

A memory becomes dislodged
From decade distant days
Spent in hospitals of state:

"How much sunlight will we see?"
Like it's metered out for me,
And there's not enough energy

To fuel my madness,
To keep up the charade...
A la "The Truman Show"...

Are they trying to intrude
In my chaotic little world,
Spinning 24/7, with threads unfurled?

I wonder what is real,
What is fancy,
What lies behind the scene?

Sometimes, the surreal
Becomes so, so real,
That my mind does reel

And I find myself asking,
As events become taxing,
"Did I ever come out of the coma?"

"Emotional Roller-coaster" (P.o.t.D. 2/22/17)

Picking at my poems,
Hoping to find happiness:
In dismay, I rage...

"Winter in Texas" (P.o.t.D. 2/22/15)

Winter falls upon
Our fair city of Austin,
Some trees' leaves are gone.

Sleep has become my career's Achilles Heel...?
If I'm not getting enough, then my mind rebels...

"Prelude to Rest" (orig 2/21/15, rev 3/29/17)

What is wrong with me?
What is wrong with the world?
How come there's such a disconnect?

Maybe a good rest will give my mind a cleansing...

...I'm going to take a nap now...

There's this bit of me that just wants to bare my soul, and be cleansed of my transgressions. Thankfully, I don't naively trust Facebook enough to do that here.
Now, if the right friends called, I might share with them?

"Auto-correct poem" (P.o.t.D. 2/18/17)

Shall I compare thee to this winter night?
I'm so happy to see my son on the bus to my house
I'm so single I can't believe how happy this Sunday was
I'm not going on a Saturday night but I'm not going on Facebook
I'm not going on Facebook
I'm so single
I'm not sure how I am but I'm still interested and there are a few things that I've been looking at and I am interested
I'm so single I can't believe how I am so single
The only way you could have been able would be a better app

This week, I've made some poor choices; and I'm not sure how easy it will be to repair the damage. I'm still sober, but I don't think I'm acting sanely.
I'm reaching a tipping point, where I have to ask, "Do I want to hold on to my old (mostly night) schedule built heavily on games? ....Or do I pursue a career where I don't feel comfortable with meeting the work expected of me?"
I'm rebelling, because I don't want to be stupid, boring, and glum - processing forms all day, 6 months out of the year. Yet, it's an opportunity to improve my finances, and to free up my fall.
I just don't want to give up my old lifestyle, in order to make sane schedules around my new career.
Oh, and I decided to back out of SXSW volunteering last night. I like doing it, but I don't like the amount of time it takes out of my schedule...

"Bipolar blues" (P.o.t.D. 2/15/17)

My mind took a turn
At tearing apart my life...
Why won't I just sleep?

"Destiny's Leaves?" (P.o.t.D. 2/11/16 rev 2/11/17)

Youth's fair and fine leaves
Ride with the wind, as the bus
Trudges long its course...

Poems plucked from children,
Posted above riders' heads
To read and digest...

Spaghetti roads or
Spaghetti hair? Images
Of tangled skeins there.

Little do I know
From what branch I pick these lines -
Life's veins intertwined...

Thin delicate rib
Of a moon, or fingernail,
Or bowl in the sky?

Colorful reward,
To gorge, on poetry bus,
With nine rhymes, not one -

To be distracted
From a dull, brown life, riding
Round the town, head down,

Looking at the phone,
At senseless memes, in long lines -
Shadows of poems, See?

Let me look at leaves,
Left in the loft of the lift,
'less I leave, listless.

"That is Not What You Meant..." (PotD 2/11/15 rev 2/11/17)

'I heard you say, "I'm doing the dishes".
Yet, your actions show you've other wishes!'

"How can you defend sitting on the couch,
Screaming at me, right now, like some old grouch?"

'Those dishes are just sitting in the sink -
Postponing them just strengthens what I think...'

"Don't tell me that you are sleepy and tired,
Drinking that much tea has got you quite wired!"

'Did you leave the plates soaking in water?
'Cause scrubbing off crusted food is harder!'

"Why do you keep harping on today's chore?
Living with you's like living with a bore..."

'Wait! What are you hinting at? What'd you say?
For sex and fun, the plates we can delay...'

"The Meadow" (P.o.t.D. 2/9/15, no rev)

Slipping through the shadows,
Its coat as dark as night,
Its green eyes all alight;
The cat owned this meadow.
The mice trembled in fear,
Knowing it was so near...

"Revert to Haiku" (P.o.t.D. 2/8/15, no rev)

When in doubt, haiku!
A simple form, oft abused...
Mastery is tough.

untitled (posted to Facebook 2/8/14 rev ???)

What words are percolating,
colliding in passing...
some times sticking,
other times flowing?

What ideas power that current -
distant memories of this morning,
or random conjectures
of tomorrows,
marching into the cement
of actual experience,
or fading away
from physics falsely found facts..?

what is that you say? Whimsy?
Like so many other scribbled notes,
I try to begin in the meta-,
A sign perhaps,
That I am scratching at vapors,
Not at all sure what's happening
Right now, Right here,
In the Present Moment.

Then again,
Maybe I want to stoke
The creative fires,
And let loose the imagination,
To try to glimpse those alternate realities,
Where pigs DO fly,
(...and women ask me on dates, for a change...)

And...
Like that, I suddenly want to end it, and post it.

"Silver Pins?" (pub 2/7/16, rev 2/7/17)

Our minds became hollow, empty vessels,
Drained of all sparks, with brains swept up in news
Faked by the paparazzi media...

Try as I may, my senses sucked mine dry
Through flimsy skin, plugged up ears, clamped shut eyes.
Our hearts evacuated long before -
Leaving behind travesties of lives sore.

My hope - it still exists - is that one day,
Our vacant existence will replenish
With love's fires, that we'll find silver pins
Hidden under all the straw mens' toothpicks.

Let us slay charming vampires and werewolves -
Diseases poisoning society,
Plucking my mind from day's vitality...

"what rhymes with pain?" (P.o.t.D. 2/7/15 rev 2/7/17)

pain
insane,
makes me wane -
I can't explain
the physical drain...

"Picture This..." (P.o.t.D. 2/6/15, no rev)

Capture a moment
With camera expertise
And no Photoshop...

"Traveling" (Poem noted thru Jack, subbed in as P.o.t.D. 2/5/17)

"What is this infatuation
With travel,
All about?"

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

Jack Edward Martin: 'I must say though, that this is actually a lovely little poem you created:'

Tap. Tap. Tap...
(silence)
"mrr mrr mrr... Hah!"
Rattatat tat! Tat!...
...sounding like a machine gun,
his fingers flew over the keyboard,
as he gave words
to his divine inspiration,
riding it like a Florida surfer...
Sentence after sentence flowed on to the screen...
...and then, 20 minutes later,
the thoughts slowed to a trickle,
to a "Tap. Tap. Tap...."
...and stopped, again.
Some would say,
"A wise man would pause here,
and review what's been written,
tweaking it ever so slightly
to add fluidity
to those awkward phrasings -
all a 'Head Fake' to try to reconnect with the Muse."
However, he was determined to get a chapter written tonight,
and would plow forward,
adding gristle to the editing mill planned for the morrow,
just hoping beyond hope
he could meet his editor's impending deadline.
He didn't care that what he wrote was disjointed -
not well connected at all,
and laying the seed for tons of weeds around that mill.
So, he pecked at the keyboard,
like a pigeon looking for
kernals of truth in a barren field.
Were the similes and metaphors evocative enough?
Only time will tell...

Jody:

What if Christ has returned,
Yet not to be crucified...
But to die in anonymity
From suffering a life, unloved?

Shawn's reply:

The Christ has returned
Many, many times
Loved and despised,
Hated and feared,
Carried on high amidst cheers,
Every life lived,
All the trillions in history,
Are shattered shards of a mirror;
There is only One.

"The Giving Tree" (P.o.t.D. 2/4/16 rev 2/4/17)

Perhaps the birch bark's a delicious treat
For buzzing, gnawing, insatiable
Insects, stripping it bare of its black bark.

We leave it to creak in the winter cold,
Bereft of fall leaves - 'White now, bark no more.'

"When it creaks, does it, like a treant, speak,
'Give unto me shelter from this harsh world?'"

I walk on, to face chill winter's harsh winds;
Leaving the birch rooted in its sorrow,
"Perhaps its bark will grow back, tomorrow?"

I shiver, glad that the tree stays rooted,
"What chaos and turmoil could it create,
Branches swinging, scratching, at all us beasts?"

About dating site profiles...

What is this infatuation with travel, all about?

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

Or.. why the over-used statement, "looks great in blue jeans or a black dress"?

"Stripped" (P.o.t.D. 2/3/15 no rev)

White birch sentinel,
Bark stripped bare, in neighbor's yard;
Its leaves spread 'cross mine.

"Getting Older" (P.o.t.D. 2/3/15 rev 2/2/17)

Legs twisted up in strange pretzel shapes
To reduce their nerve and muscle aches.
As I sleep, drool drains out
Wet pillows are all 'bout...
Just a couple bad signs of old age.

"Food for Thought" (was "Unfinished Media Meanderings?" (P.o.t.D. 2/1/16))

Like a steadfast woodpecker
Meticulously digging at my brain,
The clock beats out its seconds
In its Chinese Water Torture refrain...

'Do I want to write angry words,
Railing at Flint's dirty water,
Or suicidal open mics,
Or psychopaths for President?'

Just a slice of the "news",
Eating Facebook pizza -
Quite a bit unhealthy
If gorged on each minute,
Of each day, all these years;
Leading to drying up
Of desensitized tears...

Drifting, I focus on the color orange.
I wonder, "Will my Longhorn spirit show?
Will I wander down a mental alley
With a decadent, sweet, innocent fruit -
Rolling beside me, and yet unaware
That soon, it will be skinned and devoured?"
Most of the adjectives I am drawn to
Seem to be visual - colors or fruits...

Or hard to make rhymes with...

How I thirst for metaphors,
Twists of words deep in my brain;
Awaiting the woodpecker,
Or possibly Pink Floyd's worms...

I want to listen to the bards,
Instead of the clock-knocking birds,
Or the silence of stores so bare.

So, I plug in my phone
And blast the tunes so loud,
Hoping musical noise
Will find a buried home
That attention allows
To become my mind's toys.