bring it!

i embrace the agitation, face the pace
and by summation forcibly grace
the place where pressure mounted,
pleasure dismounted &
aggravation amounted to pure motivation,
i smash on deadlines
and punish the decline in time
available with furious bursts
of what can only be defined
as man conquering goals

got old

i look in the mirror and see life gone by,
the wrinkled skin, lack of the sharp spry
look in my eye, and i deny it as i spy
my skin looking thin in the mirror,
wishing what i saw in days before here
was what i was seeing right now in this tier,
but what we have here lady’s and gents
is a man who has done since spent
his youth and his looks,
his ego, and books, on some other hook
that had him believing things never changed,
so now as he grows and things rearrange
he has nothing to cling to or estrange

family ties bind

we move as we should, and do what could
have been done until none
is the sum of what can come
has been exhausted,
accosted and bossed in
by our sense of duty
we carry on to bring beauty
in movement, form and function
is brought about to the junctions
of where what they need to meet what we bleed,
those of us born to take care of family
always make time in our lives while handily
moving about things in lives of our own,
we were shown and grown
in a world where the known
understanding of what to do
is primarily about how to bring into view
homeostasis in our family stew,
regardless of what we need to do for ourselves

shitty growth

the fall from grace happens in our minds
and the hurt defines what we feel for the time
we’re involved in the loss and feel the cost
is too great to pay, we can’t see the way
we’re gonna overcome what brought us dismay,
so we see only falling, failure, distress,
think the only thing coming our way is more mess,
what we don’t see in this moment of stress
is that our success is all born out of failure,
we grow from pain, we become more mature
like grass pushing up through manure,
strengthened by shit we become better equipped
by what we live through and know to be true

only fear the living

the past can't hurt you, only the present can,
so when views from the past are all you scan
due to fear of what might become of you
or what's next to walk in and attempt to destroy you,
you're leaving yourself open for right now to occur
in an astounding fashion that can only disturb
your delicate sensibilities, leaving a behind a sting
that this brand new moment to be scared of brings,
so stop staring in the rearview and focus on now,
that is if you're interested in a life of how
to's as opposed to blue tunes
with a head bowed weeping away as times dunes
sand storm your life into darkened forms

words at work

raising the page with my finger
i see words come to life,
painting pictures for me,
opening doors
and whispering tales
in my ears

tell me

i want you to tell me a story,
a journey of glory, of pain, of smiles,
of rain, of reigns of the insane
caligula like types, hugs with tikes,
tell me your memories and the remedies
you use to diffuse life's refuse,
tell me so i can see a picture of you
and i can read your tea leaves

cual eres?

you sir are a blur,
i'd love to say i can confer
with my memories, just stir
up some scene where you were,
but i can tell you right now
your file was misplaced somehow,
i could vow to take your name
with your face, place it in a mental frame
so to never again come off so lame,
but i'd just be lying, playing a game,
and i can tell you right now
your file was misplaced somehow

afterthought

thunder rolls and lightning crashes,
breezes stroll and clouds grow patches,
cool breath climbs in and rolls out hot
as visions of sin color the thoughts
pacing the halls of my mind

wanderers

sometimes i wonder
where they all go to
when they walk out of view,
and i wonder if they wonder
about me and the things i see,
about the man i've come to be,
i figure they don't
though maybe they quote
my lines as they dote
on the current moments concerns,
i figure since they're burned
into my memory and churned
out in who i am now
they gotta reflect me somehow
like a tree shooting off a bough,
maybe i'm wrong,
maybe i don't live on
in the eyes and songs
of those i have touched,
but i'd like to believe as such
because they each meant that much
to me

aged

i see the changes as they play,
some hair's gone away, other's turning gray,
a sour face i made in yesterdays
has left new wrinkles on my face today,
i don't always recognize the man in the mirror
or the creaks and pains here, here, and here,
aging's a process i've heard it said so,
all i know is that i wanna run fast
but can only manage to go slow