Some Music to Match the Rain (Poem)

Some Music to Match the Rain (Poem)

The evening
Comes to an end
As I lay in bed
Waiting
For the word,
The line
And the scent
Of one
Particular woman

Add some music
To match
The rain

The night
Is
Still
Very
Young.

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Don’t be a Writer (Poem)

Don’t be a Writer

 

Don’t do it.

Don’t put yourself through this

You deserve better than this

Hear me now

Or you’ll find yourself

Up at five in the morning

Digging into yourself

Into your guts

In impossible ways

While the world

Is still asleep

 

Don’t be a writer

Don’t do this to yourself

Bukowski told you

Roth had warned you

Everyone warned you

Experience doesn’t add up

No two books are the same

It never gets easier

So save yourself the hurt

 

Be something else

Be an accountant

Be a gardener

Be a carpenter

Be something else

Anything else

Except a writer

 

And if you found yourself

laughing at this

Smiling at this,

Shaking your head lightly

Then you weren’t meant for it.

It’s fine

It’s good.

Get out now

Leave the room

This wasn’t meant for you

 

But if my words sparked an anger in you

A fire in you

A daring need to prove me wrong

That unnerving urge

To get on the page

To scream at me

Laugh at me

Lurch towards me

In defiance

Of all the gods

And men

Or simple me

Standing here

With such apparent vitriol

 

Then congratulations

 

You are it

You’ve done it

You are there for it

You will live

And die by it

You will lose your mind

And find your soul

One way or another

Until you know

The full meaning

Of the warning

 

“Don’t do it.”

 

Yet

When the years have come

Gone

And passed by

You and I

May know a moment

Of peace together

Over coffee

In a city somewhere

Lost in time

As the world

Has gone somewhere else

 

And

We will stand there

Alone

In the universe

 

Laughing.

Untitled (poem)

Untitled (poem)

Fold now
And years of work
Are out the window

You did the math
Ran the alternatives
Followed your heart
And calculated risks

You went all in
Time and time again
For the life that you want
And the life that you need
A few more weeks
Of stretching yourself thin
Sacrifices now
For a greater later

Asked for help
And even favours
Regrouped
And rested
Just enough
Probably not
But it’s all you got right now

When everything
Tells you to quit
Except that fire in your heart
That screams
Stick to it
Keep at it
This it it kid,

Time to make it count
(Again)

One more word
One more poem
One more love letter
To the world

Pace yourself
Don’t fall down
Tough it out

There are greater
Things
On the other side of this.

The Equation of Life

Work
And art
And lattés
Cafés
Street side poetry
And back alley
Gardening
Get in the jeep
Lets go north
For a weekend
Away from the everyday
Then back to it
In the city
I can’t live without it
Yoga
Climb
And
Eat
Sleep
Fuck
Then do it
All over again
You and me
Texting
And
Flirting
A few good selfies
With some skin
In the evening
Netflix on the front porch
And a drink at the corner
The salty taste of sweat
On your skin out
In the summer
Winter campfires
And snowboarding
Till the warmth comes back
Family life in the alley
Girls playing and laughing
Me cooking in the kitchen
The smell of tofu
And spices
And coffee is nice
And then some free time
every other week.
For you and me
Time enough
For the
Slouching
And the couching
Sex
Love
Pankakes
The occasional spaking
And going down
on you
in the morning.
And then sex in the shower
On the counter
Doesn’t matter
Grab a bite
And sip a quick sip
Make it just in time
To work
With the smell of you still all over.
Thats the equation life.
My life.
I look outside.
And 10 weeks
Feels like a lifetime
But it’s right there in the sky.

Fatherhood Moment.

“Fatherhood” Moment

 

Working

And working

and

Planning

Vacations,

And planning

Food,

And groceries

Daycare

And homeworks

 

Cleaning Up

Plus the

Social life,

Being a friend

And a good one that is.

 

The stress

of

Investments,

(Inexistent)

Investments

But

real estate

And

Moving,

And

Planning,

Failing

At planning

And failing

At most things

And failing

At art shows

And

Projects

Replies that don’t come

Then

Waiting on “maybes”

On four different books

At four different stages

in production

After the dead of winter

And 1500 words a day

Every day

Or your carrer is dead.

 

Stress about it

and stress about it

and stress about it

and

Fifteen hundred words a…

 

No.

 

Just no.

It’s beautiful outside.

Smile at random people

Go for a walk

 

Replies will come when they come

Art is for art’s sake

And books don’t pay the rent.

A book a year?

Are you kidding me?

Just be a dad for a while.

Remember?

 

That’s a pretty good thing to be.

There is Darkness and then There is Light. (Song)

*going for that very slow folk/gospell – probably would do this one accapella

There’s evil in this world

And I know it.

There’s evil in this world

In every nook and crack you see.

There’s evil in this world.

And I’ve seen it.

There’s evil in this world.

And it will stomp you to the ground.

There’s evil in this world.

And it will stomp you to the ground.

There’s beauty in this world.

And I know it.

There’s beauty in this world.

In every nook and crack you see.

There’s beauty in this world.

And I breathe with it.

There’s beauty in this world.

And it will lift you from the ground.

There’s beauty in this world.

And it will lift you from the ground.

(Repeat – end)

The Narrow Straight Line (Poem)

*This is probably not that good, but it felt good to write it… I don’t know

Reliving lessons
Time and time again
Stance first
Then steps
Work from the center
Trust your past self
And the future you
Pick a line
Stick to it
Don’t fuck up.

I’m patient
But I’m not patient
Trying
To provoke things
Without being pushy
Wont dare to step on your toes
But can’t stand
To stand still

Trust my heart
But save it’s grace
If you feel it then you feel it
It you don’t, you don’t
Do something with that
Or do something else

So I’ve told

A few times too many.

Now I’m trying to save my head
And going out of my way
Not to disintegrate
The ethics
I held till this day

But the waiting game is here

and nearly

Too much for the nerves

Threading the narrow straight line

Keep your head right
Trust your past self

Find a way

Three AM Poetry (poem)

It’s 3AM
And I want to send you a text
Be that guy
For once
Only once
But I’ll be the asshole
Who turns this into a poem instead.

Seems like a lifetime ago
Since we spoke
Of your skin
On my skin
And the shape of your neck

I have that need
To skin my teeth
Gently
Into the edge of your thigh
And remember
How much you enjoyed it

Tried to forget
The way you prance
And moan
But nothing does it

Been waking in the middle of the night
Every night
For months at a time

Tonight is no different

3 Am and nothing does it
I force myself back to sleep
Dreaming
Thinking
Then 4
And 6 too
I give up and get up

Your skin
And your smile
The shape of your hips
And thighs.

Coffee’s ready by 6h30
I try to shake it off.
And get some breakfast going

“Fuck…”