Eclipse of a Star

She steady excels

on that tightrope to freedom,

everybody loves her

but you know she don't need em.

Survived a dark past

she now greets with a smile

and breezed through the first step

once known as denial.

She has love to give

and often too much

to people

too scared of the shine.

Every time

she raises the bar

always comes

the eclipse of a star.

Vacation of the Heart

Here I am
going to far
to know where I stand.
Forcing meaning
where emptiness belonged.
These words of charm
should raise alarm
but just puts you more at ease.

This relationship's arranged,
it is fabricated.
This vacation of the heart
is something I created.
The stage was set
right down to your reply
manipulating love
into just another lie.

But thing's changed,
I know I did,
studying spinning
highlights on reel
editing indifference
and insecurity.
I find I like what I see
and I love what I lost.

So with a will
there is a way
and this dog
will have his day.
Let me leave with a warning:
eager arms will look to console
and anxious eyes will wait until
you lose control
enough to think
you can find yourself
by cutting out the best.
You've furthered the memory,
you kept me cold.
You can leave now,
I am finally numb.

Vacation of the Mind

An elusive hour,

promoted and pushed

to daytime drinkers,

the social swills

who reminisce of 

when they were kings

with a body made prescribed 

to a heart that sings. 

Pour enough 

to enjoy,

without too much 

to lose.

Turning my glass 

into a centrifuge.

Mixing sip to rim,

rim to swig,

swig to comfort 

in feeling dim. 

Awake, 

fucking with fatigue,

dragged in drugged delicacy.

Swear to slow 

before it grabs a grip on me. 

Awake,

into another dream,

where everything is 

just as it seems. 

One less thing 

that a mint can disguise,

One more son’s 

failed attempt to rise.

Sunshine

Sunshine was born

on a day

much simpler than this,

delivered from love

and welcomed with a kiss.

The life of a light

has times of turbulence,

from flicker to fade,

too strong too young,

burns a little less bright.

Some take to being victim,

fall to abuse.

Stronger such as she

use it as an excuse,

to illuminate the room,

the source of a smile,

at just a glance,

made worthwhile.

She rises

the light I love;

this sunshine,

reflected in eyes above.

Pros Like Us Pt. 1

We love

like a waltz,

a rise

and a fall.

The start

signals with a chime,

we dance 

together

in 3/4ths time.

We began uncouth 

then found our legs.

Born to suburbs

of Vienna. 

Upsetting the masses,

what we do,

called obscene. 

In response,

our heads held up,

no dip in our chin. 

pulling you tighter

as we commit 

to this blissful spin. 

We loved life,

at least escaping it together.

But opposition faded, 

and the heat

once felt on the dance floor, 

now cold to the touch. 

Once beautiful outlaws,

turned old, 

antiquated;

made passe.

Now that it’s accepted

it’s no longer exciting

not much more to read

when they’ve given up writing. 

A romantic rise

with a familiar fall.

Leaving a man

dancing with shadows

in an empty hall.

Pros Like Us Pt. 2

We met, 

a bit creepy I suppose.

A life’s work,

made something no one knows.

We loved life,

at least escaping it together.

A demolition romance,

reduced to following prose. 

Golden hair 

with a silver stare.

The only answer

to a hopeful prayer.

The kind of love,

in simple silence expressed. 

The kind of girl,

to ruin you for all the rest. 

Let’s regress

to when it was good;

back on your bed, 

when lovers 

said what they should.

Back when passion

was a match

to set the sheets to burn.

Back when I loved,

and I was loved in return. 

From the start, 

I’ve been in this 

till the finish,

with a ring

in my pocket

and a lump 

in my throat. 

A proposed future.

A reply in tears. 

A reaction 

to erase all fears.

From flashing

to all of the lights,

keeping the beat 

to our sleepless nights.

Let’s kill

the lights.

Let’s let

two wrongs 

make a right. 

I’ll be the darkness,

you be the light. 

These are the

words I’ve never said.

To those

gone for hours,

keeping company

in my head. 

Some pray 

for the strength

to flip a new leaf.

Some scratch 

the surface

and never find 

the prize beneath. 

Not us, 

I’ll always 

be your exception

to every broken rule,

and you’ll always stay,

my beautiful jewel.

Rust

I may be young

and still thrive 

with a little

fire on my tongue. 

But if this bottle

were to shatter

and give me a choice.

To stay stunted in self

and place this poisen

back on the shelf,

or a limited lifetime

of headaches and heroics.

I'd stare

at the broken pieces 

of the shatter,

and I would always

confide in the latter. 

With cherished words like,

'I'd rather be ashes than dust',

Well,

I'd rather burn out,

than be confined 

to the rust. 

Time, doughnuts, and realizations

“Time has little to do with infinity and jelly doughnuts”. 

This quotation has always meant something to me. It is from the title of the first episode of the last season of Magnum P.I., “Infinity and Jelly Doughnuts”. This is the episode picking up from the season 7 season finale where Magnum gets shot and almost killed. When he awakes from his coma, he utters the phrase, “Time has little to do with infinity and jelly doughnuts”. 

I first saw this episode when I was a kid. It baffled me. I was so brilliantly curious by the quotation. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. I like to believe it means that infinity seems so vast and great to us but it’s really just as insignificant as a jelly doughnut, which opens up so many questions. But then what does time have to do with it? Apparently, little. I always feel like I am on the verge of wrapping my head around this phrase and it escapes me. 

Now it could just be a crackpot quotation and means nothing, or it could be over my head and understood my a smarter man. But I find that my fascination with that line explains so much about myself, even if the meaning isn’t entirely clear. The fact that I can obsess over ten potentially meaningless words shows, at least to me, that the pursuit of knowledge is that paramount. 

I feel the need to Google everything I don’t understand, and yes I have tried that approach with this quotation. I couldn’t find an answer. No message board explaining to me what I wanted to hear. No article I could reference to find clarity. I was wonderfully lost. 

Although I still do not fully understand what these words mean, I do know it means something and has taught me more about myself. If only to discover a question that Google can’t answer. This conundrum I face has taught me more about myself than a quote I can truly relate to and understand. What more can you ask of ten words?

 I have spent my whole life trying to be grounded through facts and meaningless trivia to help keep me grounded in the world I have become accustomed to. The truth, is I need to not figure out what this quote means. I think it’s unintended lesson was to teach me that I can’t define every little thing. As much as it irritates me, I need to find peace in not knowing. Because if I don’t know something, well that just leaves a potential for so much more to discover. 

Epiphany in 993 words

The writing process is a funny thing. My editor tells me to write about an artist, a sculptor. I instantly agree to it because art is a particular love of mine. I look at the artist's work later and I found it pretentious and one of the few styles I couldn't summon much respect for. Just very abstract, modern material. I moaned and groaned about having to write this article, especially after just writing about my father and it being the most fun I've ever had writing. So, I pour a drink, call the artist and commence the process.

Very sweet woman, she told me about herself and opened up to me about her art. This can be a personal thing. She told me about her artistic process and what inspires her. She told me how music influences her above all and when she sculpts, choice songs play as a soundtrack to her creation. I felt that her process was very akin to mine. I wasn't expecting to relate to her, so I was surprised when I began to love her art after she broke down the story behind each piece.

I do the article in one day, because my deadline was of course the day I wrote it. Each paragraph gave me a new momentum as I gained respect for what I was writing about. I send the artist an early draft. First time I've ever sent a source a copy before print. But in this case, she was my sole source and my article kind of falls apart if I get a fact wrong. Being that I had just wrote this on a day when I slept in, and still managed to fit in a nap. I didn't expect a glowing response. But I got one. She loved it. She told me that out of all the articles written about her, mine was her favorite because I captured her as person and defined her art the way she wanted it seen. I took this as the biggest compliment because with any artist, in any form, they won't be very receptive to someone defining their work. She wanted my permission to print it on a flyer to publicize her work. I gladly gave it to her. My material being read by as many people who will take the time, is what I'm all about.

While this is a charming writer's anecdote, I chose to look deeper. I see now, after writing 993 words about an artist I chose to put a stigma on, that the cliche' to never judge a book by it's cover is a cliche' for a reason. I thought that I saw through what she had created by looking at photos. But in getting to know her and the labor an meaning she put into each piece, I found there was so much I missed at first look and the joke was on me.