11/05/17

Clouds

The clouds move high up, and they’re so peaceful

They know not what they do or why they do

But they don’t care or trouble themselves to know

Slowly they’re carried along

As if the clouds themselves move of their own strength

Steady and strong

Unnoticed, they go mostly

Like the stars in the night

Like the passage of the moon in the sky

Or the sun, journeying as it shines

With patience and still observation

One can spot their movement

Their silence thwarted

But they don’t care

They have no agenda

They move with the wind

By the air they’re supported

Like the waves of the sea

Can be calm

Can be mean

Like the land on the sea

So massive they go unseen

I see my former student pass me by

And we make contact

A quick matching of our eyes

I look away without thought

But turn back to him as he’s gone

Does he recognize me without hair

Without glasses does he care

It’s too late to say hi

His name escapes me

Joseph, justin? My excuse hidden in insecure pride.

I’m not a cloud, but a man

Not nearly as big, but I am

Bigger than life i could be

Because my lord has called me

What i should do, I don’t know

But the wind is always blowing

And i’m stuck in this rhythm of rhyming

This pattern in my writing

Can i break free and make my own path

With the Lord in his own plan

Will he carry me like the wind

The clouds bring me peace

I welcome them they bring shade from the draining onslaught of heat.

As i sit alone in this busy cafe

Full of people full of Gods grace

I’ll rest in you

knowing there are better days

back here again

my man, he always told me

if ever i feel lonely

man, just go down to stereoscope

and you'll find your future lovely

but i know life is so much more than ladies

it can be so much more creative

theres so much more that's waiting

to be discovered and made

i know i'll make it

but for now i feel so stuck and lazy

probably because i'm lazy

and i waste my time just thinking

of why we have these feelings

i feel that life could be so easy

a thought that only comes by feeling

but that's what make this life so crazy

what gives our life some meaning

what makes us different is feeling

and thinking and making, creating

anyways, 2 cute girls started playing with brownie

and just for a moment i felt like i was popular

thanks dcho

thanks brownie

KBYE

05/24/17 @ stereoscope again

How many roses til the stairs lead to flight
how many doses til I can reach the light
how many flowers til the hour
when I no longer need to fight

how many days til the days don't fade
how many ways til we find our way
how many blades have to fade
til the world seems right

how many nights til I don't feel 'lone
how many rights til I forget my wrongs
how many why's til I don't care why
and I can sleep at night

I don't know why it rains
to pour on the grass
and to pour on the homeless
I don't know why it shines
to warm up the cold
and wick away life

how many roses til a grave leads to life
and I can smile again inside?

05/12/17

I keep thinking about Roxy. I keep thinking about her all the time.

I keep thinking about the moment I found her in the middle of the road. My baby. My poor baby. Gone. My precious Roxy, now just a nuisance, strewn across the road, and no one cares, just to not dirty their shoes. I've picked up my baby many times. Warm, full of life, moving, curious. Now just cold, stiff, pressed into an unnatural shape, lifeless, with pieces in the wrong place.

I keep thinking about the moment we buried her. My baby. My poor baby. At least now she can rest. There's nothing nice about the moment. My cat, only a few hours ago, so curious and rambunctious, always ready to play. Now, I lay her to rest. Put away in a hasty hole forever, not nearly deep or wide enough to contain all that she was. But I guess that's why now she goes in and never more out. Because she's already left. And that's why there's no comfort or joy in being there. Just a reminder of her who's no more.

I keep thinking of what must have happened that night, that morning when she passed. I can't help feeling it's partially my fault. If only I didn't go out that night. If only I left my mom's bedroom door open before I left, so she could have had someone to sleep next to. If only I locked the door tight so she didn't wander off. If only I closed the gate a few days before. I wonder if I was the reason she tried crossing the road, on her way home after hearing me call out to her. I wonder when it would have been. While I was at the beach? When I got back home? While I was asleep? When I was outside looking for her in the late morning? Would she still be here if I didn't sleep in a little longer? These are the useless thoughts that fill my days and nights. Useless wanderings that can't bring her back.

I don't like being home, because it reminds me of her. I don't like driving, because every time I go or return, I see that hill where she lay cold. I consciously avoid it, right next to the once happy home. There's no Roxy to be ignored by when I leave and say bye. There's no one to surprise me with a hello when I open my car door. The door creaks open, but no one's there when I look down; just the wind making its way through the quiet corridors of the house. There's no Roxy to wake me up, ready to eat or play or be let out. There's no Roxy to force me into an awkward pose as she sleeps on my bed at night.

I know she's gone. I know that she had her short time, and as unfortunate as it was, it came to an end. I know that she was a good cat, made good and held by God til the end. I know that she loved me and the rest of us, even though our faults, because we loved her. And even though I don't want to , I know that I'll her think about her less as time goes on, because life goes on.

I just miss my baby,

Roxy.