a beautiful life.

At the end of this life

if you can say

I did some things

I really, really enjoyed

and helped some people

along the way

all the while

laboring loves labyrinth

then that

I’d say

is a beautiful life.


getting out of bed

However you get up and out of bed

or off the sidewalk

however you dig yourself

out of the grave is commendable.

And if you choose nothing

that too is just as valid

as choosing something.

I see far too many people

driving themselves mad

with work and love

and money and power

and fitness and greed and guilt

trying to fit into some sort of

idea they’re bred to believe

will fix them when really it won’t.

They don’t need to be fixed

or loved or loathed or accepted.

They just need to listen.

Listen to the air.

Listen to the ice crack when hot water hits.

Listen to the sea spray.

But I know nothing really.

All I know is what I see and what I see

is beautiful and diseased and delicate

like a rose petal or a dandelion flower

plucked from the earth by a child

in the outfield of a baseball diamond

wanting nothing more than to drift away

with the seeds he’s blown to anywhere else.

However getting out of bed

or the sidewalk or gutter is the first step

and the rest well, the rest is just —

up to you I guess.

affliction or redemption

What’ll it be

said the man

on the stand

to the reflection

looking very grim

sunken eyes

of redemption

come on come on

choose our next addiction

this time though

be aware

aware of my remission

I know I know

what fun is there in that

hell why don’t we find out

it’s either or perhaps

I’ve given you the right

that now I’m taking back

the will to fight the urge

I know that’s what I lack

so taking down the mirror

with no one staring back

the man poured the reflection

with ice into his glass

he calmly took a sip

one more than another

and when the glass was empty

to him it did not bother

just one more

thought the man

understanding his reflection

it’s up to you to choose

affliction or redemption.

yours to keep.

There’s hope out there in the sunshine

and there’s hope in here in the darkness

I’m sure of it, you know

it’s kind of like early in the morning

when fog hangs around mountaintops

there’s a peak up there

you can’t see it but it’s there

so you climb farther and

farther than you ever imagined

now close your eyes and breathe

and in the darkness of the mind

breathe in all your worries

all the war that is inside

then breathe out and feel

one moments relief

that there is yours

that there is hope

that there is always yours to keep.

a beacon

There must be something better

than living in this state

like a free floating feather

I must be on my way

it just took me some time

like Jenny on the run

through city lights, a heroine

to forest I have come

to recognize the stars

on a boat far out at sea

floating through the sky

my legs have taken leave,

and behind all of the people

I’ve passed along the way

is a shining light, a ray of hope

a beacon to this day.

A Life Altering Depression that led to a Conscious Awareness of Choice.

If you lay in bed long enough,
you understand that there’s no reason to leave.

When you don’t have the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand that it’s better to give them what they want to hear.

After you’ve made a decision,
that feels like anything but,
all that’s left is to wait for the consequence.

If you hide yourself away long enough,
you understand that the calls will stop coming.

And even if you had the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand they wouldn’t even make a difference to the big picture.

After you’ve checked the mail,
twice a day,
for what feels like months,
all that’s left is to accept the denial letter, denying you back, from where you fled.

They don’t want you anymore.
They won’t trust you anymore.

Do they love you?
Are they just putting up with more of your bullshit?

They want you to succeed.
Remember when they said, “remember us when you’re famous!”

Did they ever realize the pressure?
Weren’t they just trying to inspire you to believe your own self-worth?

If you lay in bed long enough,
you understand that it’s difficult to be anywhere but.

When you still don’t have the answers,
for giving up on the plan,
you understand that maybe it’s better to give them truth instead of lies.

After your insecurity turns to shame,
and fear is watered down,
a fire begins to burn,
and all that’s left to do is coax it.

If you hide yourself away long enough,
you understand that it’s your turn to make the calls.

And while contemplating the answers,
for the way that you’re feeling,
you understand that the big picture doesn’t give a damn either way.

After your shame turns to curiosity,
and fear fizzles out,
a flame can turn to wildfire,
and all that’s left to do is decide.

Will you get out of bed?
Or will you fake this grave till you make it?

Nobody cares, really.
Nobody, except the one’s you love.

Despair comes for us all,
it doesn’t have to – always – be the present constant,
in fact,
no matter how hard you try to make it seem…

This is life.

There is choice.

This is not a heads or tails game.

And I write this poem.

I hear the voice of a little girl.

Exterminator!  Exterminator!

She’s maybe nine years old.

I answer the door.

She walks in holding a clipboard.

Her father follows.

He’s smiling.

He knows me.

We do this every second Saturday of the month.

“Please sign,” she says authoritatively.

Her father makes his rounds.

“Thank you,” she says.

I hand her a dollar.

She adds it to the clipboard.

Her father exits the kitchen.

“I no use near food…” he says with regard.

They leave.

Exterminator!  Exterminator!

Y escribi este poema.