{{ }}

i'm thankful for my anchor
but i hope our winds do change
so out of these choppy waters
we both can sail away

unimpressed we press on

connected to a screen i feel stuck

i don't know how to be awestruck

my generation is overstimulated, unimpressed,
and left craving human touch

we view what were "the good old days" as living life rough

drugs, dangers, pressing the limits have all come
because feeling is tough


patience is no longer veiwed as a virtue
but as a weakness
we demand
bigger
         better
                 faster
                         stronger

and have forgotten what peace is

night swimming

floating between two worlds
the water and the sky
almost weightless almost waiting
for the next airplane to fly by
thoughts drifting to the variety
of the passenger's lives

swallowing the expanse above me
and imagining it below
kicking feet for once graceful
following the flow

tomorrow i'm seeing a boy
who makes me feel warm
where i used to feel empty
the next day i'm going away
to live for a while
in a new city
either too personal
or political
i'm not sure i still care for poetry

a standing on moon landing

unlike those before me
i was not amazed
to see man walk on the moon
i was instead shocked to learn
we had not been more

it was years before i knew
we were not just trying to explore
but we walked
as a side effect
of war

hands

tight, angry, clenched into fists

callused from monkey bars

spread open wide as if receiving a gift

burnt from reaching for shooting stars

rough from a life of labor

clasped in an act of prayer

raised calling for the waiter

soft, stroking a daughter's hair

raising, shaking, tapping, typing

covered, criss-crossed in life lines

playing, punching, stretching, writing

yours fit perfectly in mine

outgrown imagination

when did we start letting ourselves 

outgrow imagination

as if it was last year's winter coat

why did we 

let go of the sensation 

we found between fairy tales and root beer floats 

We used to be pirates or princesses 

(if you were me, often times both)

But now we've moved on to "more important" interests 

A side effect of growth

We spend less then a decade

In the world of play, and "that's cute"

Then are told to put the fantasies away 

And abandon our own roots

So much cooler to be sophisticated, mature

and carefully unenthusiastic 

The unfettered excitement for unseen worlds and new friends

Lost in favor of upturned noses and sarcasm

Those feelings keep the mind young

And in the day to day we've forgotten

They can keep life fun 

but "fun's..... for kindergarten" 

"Hogwarts and Narnia and sheet-and pillow forts

those aren't real or realistic or right!

they aren't of the future-prep sorts!"

so we're given a red-light

but 

all the while

we base our lives on an imaginary concept we've created in our minds.

you ask the clock maker, not the "real world" if you want to know the time. 

so children, teenagers, and adults alike. imagining...is just fine. 

--

Preaching and

                      My pulpit

                                      Is a poem

Those closest to the sermon

Think that they already know it

I'd write something cheery 

For the concerned critic's sake

But whether misspelled, lacking rhythm or quality

My words

Are never

                Fake

I'm sorry this isn't 

Your neat ice cream swirl

Poetry is the ash of a burning world.