Holy Ground

As I pave the lane through my growing pains, I’ve noticed I walk differently now that my armor’s changed.

I’m a little more selective with who I expose my cracks and chinks to… a little more protective over the parts that still don’t work quite right.

My flaws are sacred.

Tongue is laden, not with seductive toxins drained from rose petals, but with the burden of bearing the shield of Goliath. There is no protection for the priests inside the tabernacle walls, they must guard themselves by what they speak, before they let anyone in at all-

And I’m the same.

So if I show you the holes in my magical perfection… the wounds where blood still leaks and hasn’t quite dried… know that I’m not interested in having to defend myself against you. Rather, I have begun the true hero’s journey of discovering what it means…

To trust you.

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And There Was Her

I don’t know what I want… or fully what I am… But I know what she is. I recognize her like the foggy haze of a dream stolen from the hearts of better men.

She is thunder in the storm, a voice cutting through the chaos giving purpose to the light.

She is my best kept secret, hidden away in chambers of love so deep I’ve yet to discover it for myself.

A deluge of sparkling fireworks, scalding the adoration clean off my tongue, rendering me speechless.

She is the cinnamon scent of well scored holiday cinema…

She is the candle I light when I don’t know what else to do and night won’t let me sleep.

A roaring delight, volcanic passion thinly wrapped.

She is a universe of unspoken divinity and I, a priest desperate for the prayer to charm her…

She is the aspiration of the ocean, the magic patiently sought by stardust.

A flower spinning petals through the bar room air, dashing the drowning depths of escapism with her dazzling photosynthesis.

She is the pause in my cadence, that sacred word just on the tip of my tongue that I can’t ever seem to remember…

She is the solitude of the hero and the flag of the warrior- nobility knows no identity without her.

An unblemished flaw, juxtaposing past and prologue, disturbing the stories swirling all around me with her reckless dedication to being so in the moment that all others fall away…

She is the response to our Lord’s very first command.

Let there be light…

And there was her.

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Two Many Ones

I keep thinking about you, even when I shouldn’t be thinking about you. It’s like the last ten thousand rounds were a circle and I’m up for round two. But this time, the story would be different, I’ve learned enough to make a difference like the enemy of addition. The mission is written in tinted ten pins, so even if I strike out and my mind clouds in the gutter, the resulting explosion will reset my broken pieces.

But that’s not what you want, is it. That faucet’s cut off like you’re done with the dishes. I know it sounds silly, but look how well we’ve done willy, I imagine the point of conversation starts at reminiscing. We ain’t gotta be together, for you to be here with me. And although the only parts of the castle are still sand, at least we managed to build a city, starlight brand, lifted the band up off our fingers, slipped out of the mask, I put you through the ringer, and I’m sorry for that, but now the real thing is, all we have, and if we had to crash our paths to shatter hour glass and blast the fatted past aghast at massive smash, to pass through gaps and splash in satisfaction, promised land-

Then I’d say worth it.

This is what I mean when I say I’m thinking of you. We couldn’t break orbit together, but we invented better rocket fuel, from knocking jewels, together like playing bloody knuckles outside the classroom in your favorite sweater draped in leather, what happens next is everything like the molecules of matter.

I wasn’t your plus 1. That’s why things could never add up. And you weren’t my soul mate. That’s why it never felt like Heaven. We were like two convicts, jumping from our hiding place, diving out the window and sliding down the fire escape. It wasn’t til we hit the ground, right where Sandra bland went down, that we got bullocked by the switching lanes.

Oh shoot, we’re running different ways. The breeze brings me your scent occasionally and I just give a little wave like a beach in San Jose, I know now we weren’t meant to be, my inner me is no enemy and it’s ended please…

Don’t regret the time we spent. Even if it turned out to be monopoly money. Because now, for every dime we get…

We know better than to put it in slot machines, the magic bean, makes a fool of our country.

Footprints

Every victory is a tipped tank carving the shards of me with hard angles, my darn ankles roll like grandma’s head in pa’s stranglehold!

Trophy is gold. Hands are brown. Heart is black. I curse, it attacks, I pray, it distracts, I may have a way to unbraid all the tracks, send the train off the map, this pain isn’t gain it’s terrain on collapse!

My footing stays unsteady. Without the bottle in my fingers my arms start feelin heavy. I can’t escape from escapism because when you’re not sick there is no remedy. Oh jiminy. God forsaken brevity. I’d burn a cross on mount Olympus if it meant experiencing divine levity.

Han wasn’t the laser brain. That goblin was me. Lightsaber straight through the center of my cranium. Severed identity. I’m sorry Carrie. I keep feeling like I’m betraying your legacy. What am I supposed to do when doing right and doing wrong are still being true to me?

TD Jakes said that being famous is the side effect of being effective… like a sycamore searching for sustenance in asgaard- I’m not sure where that leaves me. Honesty is the best policy nobody wants to cash in on. Poets are really practicing politicians posing as paupers and players of God’s midnight song, but late in the midnight hour all the magic of facade is gone.

Too many nights alone. Creating fragmented memories and calling them poems. The sound in the forest that nobody hears is the melodic tone on which my life steers. There’s no drop of golden sun for thirst of female deer, just West coast homeless probes in an autotuned tunic. I guess every superhero needs his theme music. 

But my theme is red light district. Look around. I blew it. And that line might have gone too far, but when you’re the only friend equipped to go the extra mile, you realize…

Most of your life will be dark patches of moonlight. Without even an echo to find your way home.

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Reframed

The string is taut

I’m still learnin though

When I was a kid

It wasn’t such a far drop

Now every misstep

Blairs the warning crescendo

Of look out far below

Eyes on the prize or the sting of the fall?

Every moment my feet inch out a little farther

Arms stuck out like rusty helicopter blades

Tipping. Balancing. 

Heel toe shuffling

A deck of cards sans hearts or ace of spades

I’d put the whole lot back in the box, but-

When I’m quiet…

I can hear something calling to me…

Halfway out over an abyss I can’t fathom

Bare feet scraping trying not to think of what’s possible to imagine

Fireworks in the background

Crazed fans screaming from the bathroom

Silent observers reading each character, assured that they know mine, right down to the letter…

I can see the grass stains on the goal post

Makes me feel like there can’t be much more to go

Phone rings

Wakes me from my coma

It’s not just mom and me anymore

There’s a whole stadium studying my persona

I’m not the whole show

Simply one act

One note card on the storyboard

What could be more humbling than that

Can’t wipe the blood off my sword anymore

Every crimson stain a memory

A talisman from my past

Like Vader’s gift through Anakin

Looped through Padme’s lifeless fingers

Love’s light lost at last…

The string is taut

I’m still learnin though

Sliding along the edges of this fraying education

At this altitude

Booing and cheering have the same insinuation

Whether insane or not…

Boy you better make it