Prompt: 06/20/14

It is not up to us to correct the mistakes of our parents

but to pave over our own paths with hope, ideas, and solutions

adding value to our individual and collective experience

assuring ourselves and our ancestors that whatever attempts

were made to insure a promising present and future, 

those attempts both successful and otherwise, 

are surely not in vain, but rather cherished events

that will forever be hearkened  in the chambers of our hearts.

I Am Defender

Against the throws of war

I am the defender of my heart.

Poisoned arrows with sharpened tips

soar with accusations dripping down their silvery lips 

ready to puncture my every pride.

But I am the defender of my heart.

When lovers complete the idea of me 

with incomplete ideas of me, 

a hollow shell of my actuality 

is animated 

and mocks me like a cartooned parody.

I am the defender.

A patient heart is a determined heart,

not waiting, but patient. 

Indeed wading, patiently, through thick 

and sticky scores of sluts, tramps,

and hooligans, all waiting with bows and arrows in hand.

Here I stand, the shield, the man,

the only defender of my heart. 

The blade sheathed in me is sharp and quiet, 

can reduce a loose tongue to a 

removed one, and will pierce the ears of 

any fortunate enough to hear what truth I speak, 

or stab, for my blade runs deep.

And it must. Because in me, my soul has trust. 

I seek within, beyond the moths and rust, 

between the unsettled dust, 

beneath the copper crust. 

I am the defender.

When chicks play games and lick the names 

of the many men they've fucked and bent, 

I write the boards and bar my chords 

pressing ink to page while burning sage.

Needless to say, the nights are solitary 

in my home. 

I thrive by candle light, 

fire helps me write, 

the flame insist that much burns inside of me. 

The pain, the shame, the 

misery, all melt off like calories.

I exercise the defender in my heart.

I have friends in many places, some wear 

two, three, four, and five faces. 

Some are copy cats and rely on traces 

to shape their lives and like glass blown vases 

are full of hot air. 

Speak your peace or let your words rest peacefully, 

because only deeds can be 

resurrected successfully, 

and the groundsman gave the keys to me, 

I run the graveyard shift in to the early morning. 

Would you believe how many thoughts are buried in this cemetery? 

Six feet beneath actions, respectfully. 

Where is the love you ask? 

Well where do I start? Begin where it ends.

I am the defender of my heart. 

Gods

Just as they created us

we created them

gestures of our human nature

are broadly traced upon their inner and outer contours

Up on great legs, these deities walk

trampling over mountains

swimming in the seas

growing vast valleys on their backs

Some say there is only one

that He is the greatest of the greater,

that She is the spirit, the Mother,

the Creator

Some shatter the spirit into many fragments

For there are rulers over all of my affections, 

my despairs, my prides, and my pities.  

Bakersfield

I cut my face leaving this city

on the sharpest words I think I ever did speak

Now, I don't mind apologies all the time

But I swear I'll never, ever say I'm sorry

We caught a lucky break on Valentines Day

I bought a two way ticket and a hotel where we could stay

Meet me here in Bakersfield, halfway

We could settle down and talk the day away

With no self control,

no question why,

no giving up, 

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

A stranger called on the telephone

it was a dirty prank played by a local boy

Nothing here interest me except you, my dear

So lets pack our bags and never come back again

But we made love late into the morning

I watched you changing in the mirror

The teddy bear I bought was tossed in the corner

We spilled some red wine and caught it on camera

With no self control

no question why,

no giving up,

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

No letting go, 

no nights alone

no kiss and run,

except with tongue

no reason to ever stop

loving you

Verses

I want to love you, but

I don't know what to do about it.

I want to you kiss you, but

I am so scared of the taste.

I want to tell you how

I've waited all these years to tell you, but

I don't bother cause you've

cut off both your ears.

I think about you when

I'm out drinking alone.

I start to day dream with

the pictures on my phone.

I think I need you.

I think I'm wrong.

I feel you moving, but

it's just you moving on.

I read your articles.

I read you mind.

I think about the bank where

you save up you're time.

I'm just a dreamer.

You're just a dream.

I think you love me, but

I'm caught up in the seems.

You want to reach out, but

you don't want to seem vulnerable.

You want your freedom, but

it comes at such great cost.

You want protection.

You want control.

You want the person who

can fill up all the holes.

You're always busy.

You're never home.

You only think of me

when you feel all alone.

You say you're right.

You probably are.

You feel so close, but I

push you way too far.

You never ask me

how I'm doing anymore.

You only assume

I'm the same as once before.

You say you're sorry.

I don't speak.

We're like a sad song

broken on endless repeat.

We're seven verses sung

in discord harmony.

A dissonance heard

by ears of likened hearts.

A major melody.

A minor chord.

The sweet resolve

led into a soft encore.

Contenders

I see what you're doing

You've found something new

You're learning how to flip your craft on its ear

and explore new territory.

And I'm proud of you.

I'm proud for you.

I'm inspired.

I'm envious.

It's so easy for you to share your work

You can just send a photo and wah-lah.

You're getting the credit you deserve.

You're getting up and out on the streets

littering the walls with your creation.

It's brave, it really is.

Watching you has helped me expose my fears

and in that exposition my goals are revealed.

There is much I have to share.

There is much work I have to do.

We are very alike, yet so different.

We both want to succeed!

And I am proud of you for wanting that!

We are both contenders fighting a similar fight

in a world riddled with wars of varying nature.

I am doing my best to be a friend.

I am doing my best to grow.

There's so much I want to say,

so much anger and hypocrisy waiting to be exposed,

but things of that sort are better forgiven and half-forgotten.

Because no matter how angry I get, or how jealous I become,

I love you, I care about you, I've got your back.

This is my gift to you.

It's small, but like the passion you have in craft

and in creating envy, 

it grows.

Come on Strong

What did you think would happen?

You came in with a loose tongue, spitting

like a dog off a leash

carrying on about what you heard

I know, I know, I know, I know

I've heard it, heard it, heard it,

heard it all before

You know, you know, you know, you know

it's not worth it

but it hurts, so you like it

You didn't think it would happen

You placed a bet on the wrong hand, didn't you?

It was a long time coming

You fell fast face first on the cold, cold ground

You thought you knew it all

had it figured out from the start

Well, we've all come together now

do your best not to rip us apart

You come on strong

Like the wind before a storm

You come on strong

Like the waves beat down on the shore

You come on

Like the night before the dawn

You come on strong

Like the sound of fading away

Lately

Text messages and miscommunication

Lonely days and lonely nights

Better connecting with self and cat

Behaving more like a stable individual

Thinking, thinking, thinking

Paying less attention, being more attentive

Participating in speaking

Better with women, better with friends

Managing time, money, inebriation

Focus getting stronger

Cultivating true independence

Listening to an old music

Doing what I want to do responsibly, respectfully

Exercising leadership skills

Shifting perspectives, perception

Pushing harder, reaching farther

Reading, writing, and reciting

Building capacities on stronger foundations

Heart Drive

"Click...Click...Click...."

The music had hushed, Elliott Smith was quiet.

iTunes was working, but not working.

The time marker crept along, keeping time, but

no there was no sound except the underwhelming whirring

of the fan in the CPU and the slow, eerie,

"...Click...Click...Click...Click..."

which I had never heard before.

"Some thing's wrong." I said, grabbing the mouse

and selecting pause on the play options menu.

Quickly I selected

Start/Shutdown/LogOff

"Please wait while..."

I waited for a long minute before deciding

something was definitely wrong and used my index finger

to quicken the shut-down process.

The clicking ceased, the whirring quieted, and

another long minute passed.

A hopeful index finger depressed the power button and

the familiar high whistle of the fan blew again,

the motherboard chittered and chattered to life,

gears and gadgets creaked and clanged, and

the computer came to life, much like when any

man or woman wakes from a black sleep,

stretches and twists the body, preparing him bones and flesh

for the working day ahead. And though all these start-up sounds were familiar,

one sound stood out like a jewel in the sand, or

a dark spot stained against a flood of light.

"Click...Click...Click...Click...Click...Click...Click..."

"Fuck." was the preferred expletive.

LogOn/Start/MyComputer/

"What the fuck is 'Drive F?'" It was not the drive I was looking for.

The drive I was looking for was not there.

I was looking for Drive H: Seagate

At least the clicking had stopped.

I unplugged the hard drive from it's mount and "Bum bum..."

the cheerful and dismissive sound of disconnecting a unit from it's port

chimed loudly out of my studio monitor speakers.

"At least it's being recognized..." I thought.

Carefully, I plugged the drive back into the slot, docking the unit to the CPU.

A cheerful and welcoming "Bum bum!" was pronounced along with a haunting

"Click...Click...Click..." from the little black drive.

I was starting to get scared.

"BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ" shook my phone, and a blue light indicating a text glowed on and off.

"It's over... It's done..." I quietly announced.

My Mother busy with her crochet needles and yarn sat quietly on my bed,

her ears tightly cupped inside a pair of my headphones, listening to a YouTube program

streaming to her phone.

"10 years..." I thought.

"10 years of my work, my memories, my time, all erased; lost."

I thought about all the times I had fantasized about this happening,

losing my work, that is,

what I would do, how I would feel.

It was nothing like I had thought it would be.

I was painfully calm.

I didn't scream, I didn't cry, I didn't punch holes in the walls, I didn't

brag about it on Facebook,

instead, I accepted it.

Tracing the footsteps of my memories,

I traveled down many hallways to doors that had long been shut.

Pictures and art from high school; gone.

Pictures from the road trip with my estranged Father; gone.

Pictures of my lovers; gone.

All the late nights, every minutes, every hour, every trace of anything I've ever produced; gone.

My writing; gone.

All the music I stole; gone.

My memories; gone.

My time; arguably wasted.

Still, I did not scream. I did not suffer from any inverted orgasm.

I did not writhe. I did not quiver.

Instead, I responded to the blue flashing light and

joked about about how not all hope was lost, just "most of my stuff."

Thinking Out Loud

"Oh shit...."

I said to myself

as light from cars passing outside

danced across the office wall,

"...she's turning 27 this year..."

a quick personal pause

"..that's so....fucked!"

laughter burst out of me.