Monday, June 28, 2010

My Crappy Walk (Literally)

As I walk through the valley infested with dog poo I thought to myself, “there was a time when I felt this as being totally disgusting but now that I’ve walked it so often, it’s almost acceptable…” Like second nature, I weave and dodge the filth, by-products of lazy dog walkers, not even thinking of anything better. Out of all the neighborhoods in all the world, the neglect for cleaning after dogs had to frequently happen on the route from my work to my truck. All 10 blocks of it. Every morning I tread through it and every evening I dodge my way back to the sanctuary that is my vehicle. Today is no different. I put on my walking shoes and let out a deep sigh; going through the precautions in my head.

“Watch where you step. Look both ways before planting foot on ground. If you don’t know what it is, don’t step on it.”

This is my life. You can probably tell that I’ve stepped on dog crap before, among other things…but that’s a different story. Point is, I don’t want it to happen again. Do you know how tough it is to get that crap (literally) off your shoe?? Not to mention the fact that you end up being stinky for months. That shit (literally) lingers. It’s a lingerer. LINGERER. So needless to say, the precautions I take are valid.

So there I was with my attention on the pavement; right foot, left foot, and it hits me (literally); a metal pole that held up a stop sign. I look around for witnesses, to which I find none and continue my journey. Like a child playing the “don’t step on the cracks” game, I hop from area to area until I get to the parking space I usually park in. I mention early that today was like any other day; I lied. In previous days, my truck would be waiting for me without a concussion. Today, not so much. And by “not so much” I mean, my truck wasn't there and my head was bumpin'! And that’s when it hits me (literally). A football that projected from the arm of some 8 year old kid in the park across the street. And then it hits me. I didn’t park here at all today. In fact, I came in early to work for a meeting and got great parking a block away from my building, in the clean side of town. And then it hits me (literally). Another football. After swearing out loud and wondering why so many fucken kids are throwing footballs today, it hits me.

We’re too set in our ways. We live based on the past and sometimes neglect to evaluate the present. Sure, we may have stepped in dog poo the day before but today is different. We could have great parking this time. And by worrying and expecting the worst, we put ourselves into the same position again and run into poles. I throw the footballs back to those damn kids, who, I should mention need role models to teach them to throw, and made my way pass 10 blocks of that shit (literally) again thinking about what kind of walk I’ll have tomorrow. Then it hits me. There’s no work tomorrow.

So live for the moment everyone. Trust.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

"Misery is Easy. Happiness, You Got to Work at"

As I sit by myself in the hour when most shut their eyes, I feel a stillness that numbs my senses. Gravity makes heavy out of me and I feel a break at my fragile neck. All is dark except for the electronics that flash their neons to prove they live. The soothing buzz of unknown familiarities cheer on my own destruction as my eyelids give in. Easy like misery. Let's call it a day on happiness.

Friday, June 25, 2010

A Piece of Land for Me

Though I thought I'd never change again,
Here I am moved.
For the spot I see that I once dwelled,
Is only occupied by one shoe

I straddle the line I feared to cross,
Though the ground seems pretty dense
The innocence of feeling insecure
Is security in a sense

Cut down to size and seen right through
By the prettiest of eyes
Overly tall, the way others ate it up
These defenses I supplied

And the earth was no concern of mine,
Ridged as it may be
But this piece of land I just explored,
Seems like it was made for me

This Here Drink

This heart stops breathing at the frames of life
As though you've never known
In such a subtle tone

And you fall in love
Feel it in your lungs
So you breathe it out
The loveliest song ever sung

There it is! The lights and all
Truthful as can be
Unfiltered; raw

Music casts a spell on your eager soul
Someone has done it
Has won it!
So bold
Someone out there has taken hold

Analyzed something
And given it worth
Captured the air that witnessed the birth

And lips they stay parted
As eyes forget to blink
The thirst you've fought is cured
From this here drink

Thursday, June 24, 2010

My Girlfriend is a Grumpster

My girlfriend is a grumpster from time to time
I called the cops to fix it but turns out it's not a crime
I can't give her bear hugs or even a Facebook poke
And you should see the face she makes when I tell her a joke

I begged the doctor to give her meds to fix it quick!
Got turned down cause she wasn't close to being sick
If I get too close she'll shoo me away
And grind her teeth on even the sunniest of days

I Told the fireman to cool her down through the telephone wire
He had to decline cause she wasn't on fire
They all said "if she's so moody why don't you just dump her!?"
But she's too darn special even if sometimes she's a grumpster

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

To Fill a Glass

This room is pitch black. The darkest place I’ve ever witnessed and had it not been for the glass of water sitting in front of me, lit from underneath, I wouldn’t have known whether my eyes were shut or not. The glass of water is 65% full, topped off with 4 ping pong balls that sit comfortably on top of the liquid and on top of each other. You see, I was given a task an hour ago.

“Fill this glass with as much water and ping pong balls as you can,” said the low distorted voice coming from some type of intercom place high in the ceilings; who minutes before explained to me why it came to be that I was sitting in this dark, still room. Immediate after his demand, three spot lights from a table position in front of me lit up, presenting a jug of water, a bucket of ping pongs and, in the middle of both, an empty drinking glass.

I would like to tell you that I did not question his commands but that would be a lie. I would also like to tell you that I did not leave my chair and that I did not run into the darkness only to reappear in the very spot I so dearly wish not to be in; but once again, that would be a lie. Confused and desperate, I sit down and begin to pour. The more water I poured, the more ping pongs would fall off the brim of the glass. The more ping pongs I place in the glass the more water would spill. And so it was, the struggle. On and on I went until now. 65% water and 4 ping pongs.

“Are you done?” The powerful voice asked.

I nodded.

“And so it is,” it begins. A violent earth quake like phenomenon that shatters the glass and blows the ping pongs everywhere, my chair and I included, “Let the water be your identity and the ping pongs be your relationships and all that is will be as it has played out here today. The more you invest in one, the further the other slips away.”

As the voice fades off, I’m thrown ever so gently for what seems to be hours and awake on a rainy evening on my front lawn.

Darkness of the Mood

Bother me not with a moody dim
I drag down for no one, chances are slim

For to break a sweat to try and relate
Is so farfetched, for I did not create

And the source?! The source...cursed be the source
I am damned by the aftermath that your victim retorts

So I give a little sigh when my legs say "run!"
But it won't shake me scared when all said and done

And I hope, like weather, she's let it go in the breeze
For now I'll keep my distances until the mood is better seized