(Blank)

“I’m drawing a blank…. If a blank could be drawn-”

“-But it can’t because you are saying it and not drawing it. So why say it?”

“Because if it’s blank you won’t even be able to tell that it’s drawn; Therefore, I shall need to inform you that a blank has been drawn to keep you in the know.  Right?”

“Wrong ’cause you’re ridiculous.”

“Do all of your comebacks have to include and insult?”

She paused to think, and, hey, while she was at it I thought I might as well too. I don’t know where we are and for all I know, we’re in a dream. That would explain why I can’t distinctly see the things around me.  Maybe, I am about to pass out from dizziness and that’s why things are very blurry and unclear. I tried to focus on the girl in front of me, but almost immediately after, I couldn’t see her much either clearly.

Beginning to panic, I felt shaky. I tried to remember where I was before this conversation. If I couldn’t remember where I was than maybe something weird happened like Inception and this is all just a bad dream.

“Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

“Great, another insult,” I thought.

I didn’t have time to reply. I had to figure out how to fix this mess that was my train of thought. My head felt like a ton of bricks on my shoulders as I began to sway from side to side. The girl in front of me now can only be distinguished by the dirty blonde color of her hair and the blue shirt that she is wearing. Her voice becoming more distant and desperate as she tries to help me stay up right. She seemed to be calling out to me from several yards away, though, I thought she was right next to me.  My blurry vision turned to gray which to turned to black…

A few seconds later my eyes pattered open to a white tiled ceiling. (To Be Continued…)

Tin Can Attachment

A made up
Philosopher
changing peoples lives
through fiction
a foundation
of imagination and beliefs
and reason

a tired
Walter Cronkite
sits at a cramped desk
in his coffin
and informs
the newbies
on what the
ground has been up to

You be Jonah
and run
we’ll wait
when you are forced back
i hope you don’t hate us
or the circumstances
we didn’t know

King Saul
was just another
failure to come before a Great
staying out late
only the latest polls
could make him forget
his hate

there is a span of time
wired between our skeletons
you and me
a tin can attachment
connecting our hearts
to 400 B.C.
or the time in between

36 things

i’m correcting myself
to never care too much
or too little
with the precision and pressure
of neurosurgery
confronting me

a slight chuckle rumbling through
as if a tidal wave,
an electric shock,
a forward motion,
blossoming
connecting
and pursuing
all that is glory
and devastating

a new beginning
you have to put a down payment on
36 things could go wrong
but before they do
you will continue
or try to

36

The Work Could Work (Brain)

i can endorse my brain
throbbing and pulsing
though i probably shouldn’t
i do my hardest not to mind
as it takes in messages for my own sake

life gets tied up
so much that it hardly comes out for air
and is never just or fair
and i worry
that the constant worry
only pushes the world away

or smashes us together
but in it’s intellect lies
riddles never answered
and a store that is closing down
due to statistics that end in
“no one wants reminders of what they
can’t have back”

paint it all black
freezing
and ceasing
never to trouble us again
never to out prove us
or improve us
to never intrude
or confuse us

i could endorse my brain
throbbing and pulsing
if it was just facts and data
and whatever is necessary
but that’s not what i have
i only have what i lack

The Work Could Work (Lungs)

i can accept
my lungs moving
for me
or in spite of me
in and out
a mind of it’s own
a mind that is controlled
and stable
and remote
and gratitude
comes
because i cannot destroy it
nor can i improve it
magic or science
dialogue or silence
it does what it should
keeping time
and letting go
doing it on it’s own

The Work Could Work (Liver)

i can feel my liver working
removing the disasters
of my intakes
digesting
involuntarily

i have expected everything
to be just as
easy
iron instead of irony
but i’m finding that is just not the case

dirt and dirty
could be removed from me
simply and sweetly
the work could work
the work is worth it

but deciphering the
poison from the rest
makes me the antagonist
so i keep it all
until clarity brings the absence of substance

i can feel my liver working
doing things the difficult way
and the correct way
until the sea is saltless
and the mind is faultless

Cognition

It was falling apart-

Is falling apart               

Becoming a “forgotten beauty”                       

Memories once filled with confusion and epiphanies                                   

With neglected misgivings and forgivings

It’s purpose being fulfilled          

I’m being fulfilled because of it                 

Following suit                          

Dismissing from my mind past mistakes

And with them, their closely followed retakes

Free of my mind and self 

Placing my old thoughts and cognition on a shelf           

For everyone to see…                    

But without anyone to need                            

No longer prone to perfection

But content with just correction                               

The growth in my brokenness      

Mending the cracks of the surface                                  

Within my very soul-    

Oh, what it means to be whole                  

bring to focus

you left in an inspiring attempt
to find
a less reluctant
dance partner
you swept past
with a look
that i hoped you wouldn’t
bring to focus
i figured once
you wandered through
my line of sight
you wouldn’t be coming back

and so,
the party continued.

and i planted my anger
in fertile soil
until i grew
a strong sense of bitterness
grieving something too
desperate and pathetic
to actually claim
i spent time
in it’s shade
but when the world kept moving
i found myself
left behind.

arguing for you
and against you
denying
the undeniable
and rephrasing
evils
to fit my schemes
in it’s holy cloak.

penetrating
something deeper now
more than self pity
and vengeance.
all the times i told myself not to worry.
fairy tales and triumphant stories,
destroying my views of reality
and their contagious followings
leading up to some huge moment

“what if the end just ends? it’s worthless to worry then.”
-kevin devine

outweighing the contrasts

a wink later:
a cartoon
may best explain the theory
that the similarities
outweigh the contrasts
between the religious community and THE WARREN COMMISSION
considering that:
a glance took place,
as we moved on.
i believe you may be great!
if such a thing could be real.
really REAL.
my vocabulary is small
my thoughts are blunt and bland and come pre-punned.
a turn took place:
placing me in another room
still eating
always consuming
trying for considering
pros and cons and
objects of affection
lost in all of it.
prescribing none of it.
the similarities
outweigh the contrasts:
a tired body, a ruined car
a scribbly mess, a patched up relationship
a list of accomplishments, a list of requirements
but for a grin later:
i spun around and found something.
something lovely.

SHORT!

Don’t you just love it when Grandma Jean comes over and watches you play basketball? Well, when you live in my house you know what I mean. In the hot summer days, Grandma Jean will come over and watch me and my brothers and sisters fail to play basketball (I am pretty sure I am the only one failing.) But she will bring some bottles of Powerade  and she will sit in one of those  outside plastic chairs and she’ll watch us play. If you are fast enough you’ll get a Powerade, but if you aren’t, you’ll get a small bottle of Sunny D. Anyways…  If you’re good at basketball you will score, but if you are bad at it (like me) you will get to hear the wonderful sound of Grandma Jean yelling,”SHORT”. And if you are really bad, then you’ll probably hear about three people yelling,”SHORT.”  Well, that is Grandma Jean. If it is summer day and you are in our family it is most likely that you will hear her scream,”SHORT” at you. But it is still fun playing basketball. And guess what? I am getting better at it! YEAH. So if you live in my house, good luck and try to get better at basketball. If not,  you will likely hear the sweet sound of Grandma Jean yelling,”SHORT.”  Trust me, it gets annoying after a while.  Sometimes you want to duck tape her mouth shut. I even tried it once…..  It didn’t go over so well.