Another April
Another poetry endeavor

30 days
30 poems

But what’s the world coming to
When people don’t write poems
But one month a year?

What an outrage!

Wield your pens, poets
The day has come
Every day

Notebooks made for musings
Kindling to our dreams and desires

Write the world on fire
As loud as you can

If not now


Dear 15 Year Old Me

Guess what?

Like you already learned from Operation Ivy
You don’t know nothing
Get used to it
But you’re going to keep getting better
Like wine

Trust me

Buddhism’s good for you
It will lead you farther within yourself than you expect
Bring a strong shield and fierce weapon
You will want to bring fire, also

You will be punched by a counselor named Bulldog
In the chest at summer camp as a teenager, almost adult
And it will change you forever
“Speak up! Say something … more!” he will say
You have not shut up since

You will beat the high school quarterback in a throwing challenge after PE
It will be one of your greatest accomplishments to date
But hardly worth mentioning
He was an asshole

You should have kissed her
Not that 1st time, your 1st one, that was right on (well done)
But the 2nd time, when the party lights looked away in the corners of the backyard
And all she wanted was your lips on her gloss’ shine
Everyone knew it except you
You still wish you could’ve mustered the courage
Over one decade later
She’s a dancer and a dentist now

You will go to college
But you will not make the most of it
You will graduate in four years
You will understand yourself better
You will grow to appreciate marijuana, not alcohol
But find liberal studies is a state of mind more than a subject matter

Friends will come and friends will go
So will girlfriends and long lost hopes of love

Jobs are means to an end
Not the end of the world, but
Fuck if everyday doesn’t drain you
Give it your best

Stop worrying about the locker room showers
I know it’s an all-boys high school, but you’ll be fine
Not that you ever take a shower there
But it won’t matter, act like it doesn’t matter to you

You are a fool
You will come to accept this fact
With plenty of practice in the Taoist arts

Stay positive and smile as much as possible
This will get you through the toughest times
Like deaths and sleepless nights of regret

If anything, don’t worry
It’s not worth it

You’ll find the path paves itself when you keep your head up and heart right
It’s a gift you have, and others will feel it, attract to it

In a few weeks you will be exactly thirty
It’s an incredible ride, and I’d love to tell you everything to expect
From halfway through
But the best part of the journey
Is the unknown

If anything, don’t forget to breathe


Everyone’s Expectations Everyday

Leave me out of it
Who do you think you are?
I know who I am … sometimes
But who the fuck are you?
Let me have it

I’ve got my own weight to carry
Don’t dare me to prove it
I’ve got miles of desolation behind me
Ready to bury you in silence
It’s about time, modern world
You know the meaning of breathing

Heart rates
First dates

We are all reborn forever more
Through every door we enter
Through every door we exit

Assume nothing
Except peace

Accept peace

Harmony is within reach
If you believe enough in nothingness

Where do we come from, anyway?

I want to know nothing
Remember nothing
Live anew, like nothing’s ever happened
But everything’s left an impression

We are but clay
Molded everyday
In no image
With out God

Leave me out of your prayers
Accept me in to your heart
The truth penetrates black holes
Don’t that make you feel so damn small?


The Hardest Part of Writing Poetry

The hard part
Isn’t writing the poem

No, it’s easy to poeticize
(Pick my brain for a half-hour
Find it’s a way of life)

See, the hard part
About poetry is
The finalizing

The editing, revising
The vitalizing
The identifying
The rewiring
The rewording, reverting
The ‘what got this poem started in the 1st place’ moment
You know, the reason
For everything

No, the hard part isn’t writing the poem
You see, the hardest part of writing poetry is letting go
When the pen’s full of ink
Ready to rock n’ roll
And there’s still so far to go

The difference between the dealer and the drug
Between the money and the high
The trust

Whatever gets you by

The hard part
Isn’t writing the poem
No, the hard part
Is getting the world to believe
Poetry means anything

You feel me?