But Who's Counting?

You are a treasure my love.
A million whispered words
Lost to the clock's aging chords;
A thousand sideways glances
Expressing intimate intent;
A hundred harried moments
Where a smile spawns clarity;
A dozen firsts sprinkled
Across the power of perception;
And that one singular second
When I looked at you and found me.

My Darling,

As I sit here in a moment of (non-)clarity

I recognize I don't need symbolism

To accompany us upon our journey

Into the distant purple forever

Lying upon a hazy mountain

Cold and foggy and fascinating.

As I look upon the bamboo

That is dying now due to age

The one I brought for you

In my humble attempt

At associating us with durability.

A first attempt at "I love you.

Rifling through the memory box

I am flooded with one wave and again

Of timeless smiles hoisted upon

Emotional connect to foreign ideals.

Mary a one feels like an end

Just a buffet of simple beginnings.

I appreciate the passing of the moments

Alongside you experiencing the world

For it is creating a tapestry of thrills

That can only find creation with a 

Lifetime of forgotten re-memories.

Thank you for the select seconds

Where you stopped being aware

That there was anyone else

On the planet at that place and time.

Pergolas and metallicas and romantica-s.

Thank you for being you 

When you are with me.

The New Slavery

      When you look at the mass chaos we see every night on the news, it seems like I have heard and seen of things like this before. An elite littered with business owners holding down their workers. Men with money taking women at their whim based on money and power. The angry majority lashing at toward one another in an attempt to climb the social strata. The government is in place, the landowners have changed, but as the populace continues to destroy itself, we feed into the ultimate misery that we all feel.

The Time Draws Near

These past six weeks have been fantastic

We have lived, we have learned

We have found a mellow peace.

Airplanes,Planetaruims and Apple

You were there for each step of the way.

A thank you doesn't seem quite enough

To relate my unending amount of joy

Trapped in each of our experiences.

As we head back toward the "Reality Monster"

Don't let go of tours of my homestead

Or tales woven from the fabric of my youth

Or looking out into a hurricane at my side.

Take these joys along with you 

And know that there will be many more

I love you.

Are Your Legs Tired?

The throbbing base begins its ascent

As the subtle modesty descends

Your costume labels you unholy

But my desire's akin to sin

The guitar's emotional lament

Underlies your sultry swagger

Your eyes lie lifeless from apathy

Innocence torn from you long ago

Your body rides the bombastic beat

Your raven haired bun framing your face

Your top obscuring my sole purpose

As I anticipate your bare skin

Your overwhelming confidence

Excites my unbridled craving

You execute your dance of desire

As I offer tokens of attention

You slither towards my trembling frame

Breasts undulating on their own dance

Gather my mind to a single sight

Our eyes come together in purpose

My hope to peek behind the curtain

Your talent is to drain me for your gain

With the invitation of your body

And my anticipation rising

The choatic lights slide across your skin 

As you writhe, mirroring my fantasy

An almost embarrassing display

Creates an atmosphere of silence

Taken with your interpretation

Charisma; difficult to explain

Alas, impossible to forget

The crescendo is within your grasp

As the audience provides support

Ever faster; a whirling dervish

Heel stomps, pole bouncing, acrobatics

You sacrifice the stage to your sweat

The song trails off into the distance

Your strategic sonata gives way

To the holistic hum of the crowd

One last glance; the ringmaster bellows

You collect your bounty for beauty

You gather your costume once again

Subduing your sex-soaked persona 

To mingle with the yearning masses 

Seeking one who lusts to touch the dream

Filling their rejection with deceit

Caressing the object desired

In the hopes of a moments solace

Descend into their desperation

Remembering that "All the worlds a stage"

Offer them your hollowed out body

Tuck your soul away for safe keeping

Giving them their song for your "success"

Taking your characterization

To dance through their minds every day 

Don't Know What

My Son,

     I want to thank you for spending the past month with me and providing me a look at the wonderful young man you are becoming. I spent all day busy, but as soon as I got back to our hotel room, I realized how much I miss you. Always know that your Dad is thinking about you and everything I can do to make you happy and prepare you for the world. We adults do everything we can to make your life happy, but only you will be able to choose exactly what you want to be as a grown up. I am your father and I will always do everything I can to make you happy that I am your Dad. I love you.

Love, Daddy and Mama J

You Can Go Home Again

       It just won't be the same home you remember. I am reminded of Ancient Greek philosopher Hericlitis when he said that, "You can never step in the same river twice". That is true both from the perspective of a changing self (I am not the same man or experiences who left four years ago), as well as the ever changing landscapes of our 'hometowns'. There is so much familiarity in the overarching basics, but subtle changes are still a tad surprising and curious. It feels like what you remember, but your memory points out the subtle nuances to remind us it isn't.

      Friendships can be like this as well. As you move through time, many of the original interests shared become less vital as we mature and take our relationships into new ground as we discover it. Jobs, marriage, housing, politics, religion and even sports can be surpassed. If both friends are in tune enough to make the move, it can create a whole new playbox for them to create new castles and share.  If not, then you get those friendships that feel hollow when two people are together - the faces and the words are the same, but the passion for growing and becoming together can feel stilted over crab cakes and another annual meeting to discuss where everyone at work (or school or any social club) has done in the meantime. It's a theatre of the absurd for the delight of no one - a cause in reconciliation just because one party doesn't want to say, "It's enough. Let's leave with the good memories in tact".

     In both cases it's the subtle obligation to appreciate - much like visiting a funeral  or a dying relative. That sense of obligation without desire; a familiarity that feels appropriate if not desired. So many of us caught up in trying to horde those things that made us what we 'are', all while we change before our very own eyes. Like disco music and "Ice, Ice Baby", these environments stir our emotions and transport us to another time; another place - where our memories tell us were simpler; more 'us' (as long as no one else finds out). A friendship should be a commitment to understanding and accepting; not an obligation "for old times sake". People can be a part of our life for a time or throughout time, and we mustn't be afraid to let them be - while always being on guard to help if the time requires it.

My Last Will and Test Of Man

 While not legally binding, it is certainly emotionally so:

To my wife, I love my undying impassioned thankfulness. If ever sadness should stop by, take any random moment - from front step forevers to subtle surprise silliness in so many forms. Leave my body behind, for now my self travels at your hip in essence.

To my boy, I leave the world - as best I could unravel it for you. Only remember what I have said, as you get older it will unveil its current mysteries to you. There are so easy lessons only time can explain. Beyond all, be the person you were meant to be, but understand the world does not owe you to concern itself or agree with your combinations.

To my friends, I leave devotion that has not passed (though I may have). I hope your moments with me were complete and full - all I ever sought was to make my presence make a difference. Deep conversations or midnight runs to wal-mart; for that moment I hope there was nowhere you'd rather be.

To those who knew me in passing, I can only assume I left you something. For just a moment, I showed you who I was - and then you were able to take that with you. If you only gave the experience one more thought than it required, then it was worthwhile.

To the world, I leave my words. Hope, overcoming, becoming, rationality. In a lifetime of civility, I have watched so many of these things ripped from our vocabulary - perverted into catchphrases and sarcasms. I will cheer from the sidelines that the equality that comes from Logic will find its way into the futures yet found.

To myself, I give the thanks of knowing I did all I could with this form. I encountered the efficacy of eternity, I remained true to experiencing as many different things as I could, I found the self-respect to have the strength to stay true to my word, and I loved - many ways and many days. I have no regrets. 

A Novel Concept

     A world where people are free to find true love. People are built to live out "ever after". Friends to be relied on; a society of kindness and prosperity. What a book it would be! The twist ending - there's no dark underbelly! And if you provide someone the reason to do so, you can actually live the dream....

Don't Stare At It Too Hard

The morning sky hangs damp, heavy and gray...

     It is a desire many of us have - the desire to watch a young life form before us. It burns within us, the sight of a giggling baby is enough to make us covet in a way unhealthy. A void created where none was needed; a new trophy that morphed into a purpose. Craving ensue.

When the spectacular sunlight serates the sullen sky...

      Then you have one - a son or daughter; nephew or niece; best friends baby or a neighbor. You warmest this little creature that was once so limited sprouting into greater tomorrow's: milestones mounted; logical lessons and the hope of honor. Like any of our creations, we subconsciously plant a sliver of us into them in an attempt to relive our youth. Make things better this time.

When once more the mists rise to provide a depressant...

     But it can be so hard. If child rearing was the stock market, we would never escape our Great Depression. For every eventual success, there are a thousand time of frustration and fear that seep into the joists of your mind. What if he never learns to hold a fork? Did my parents tell me how to open a soda can a thousand times? In watching them grow, we step back every time and feel a little of how they are feeling staring at this dominant figure in the sky.

And yet, the light shines through in the lavender light display...

     Every victory is compared against your own milestones. You just pray every night that you can shove enough knowledge into them that they are thrust upon the world equipped.just once before you die, you want them to look at you and say, "I see why you taught me not to lie. I'm happy. Thank you for raising me.

The night falls, and things that are now gone still linger and are not forgotten...

How Can I Love You More?

I've given you everything I have to offer

My personality; my adoration; my honesty

You've promised me your nineties

In return for my unwavering commitment

We all have ghosts in the emotional machine

But the point of coupling is in a "couple".

I've left my dark in the distant abyss

Shown you my flaws and my shortcomings

In my own search for your eternal companionship.

The hardest part of discovering a dream

Is the devastation left in its chaotic chasm.

I'm not a base societal machination

Taught how to push the buttons for success

I am a defunct automaton of avarice

Who found in you a land where I could revive

Loving without shame and remorse

A festive pinnacle of individuality unchained.

Turn away from the norms of 'civility'

And join me in the path least traveled -

Love me without regard or regret.

I will hand you a butterfly from within

A sentient sunbeam of my intentions.

I can't love you any more than I do in action

So please do whatever it takes to meet me at the end.

The Alpha and the Omega

     He's nine ears old, but I still have to look in on him each night. The day he was born, I understood what it meant to give myself over to someone, much like the Knights long passed. As I held him in my arms at 6:15 in the morning after three hours sleep, I could only whisper, "I will do anything to give you a better life than I've had." His coos met with misty memories. A creation well made.

     She's two years my wife, but I still kiss her when I crawl in beside her each night. The day we got to know one another, I was ready to give myself to this woman, much like... (You know - date stuff!) As I held her in my arms (to her surprise), I could only tell her, "I will not betray you - this was more than friends". Her visage causing blurred vision. A wife well met.

Patience

      Is it maturity or madness that I now feel a day spent unconscious is a day wasted? How did I lose the subtle enjoyment of doing nothing at all for long periods of time? I spend barely motor time in my thoughts as in the distractions these days. I fight hard to maintain my ability to think, to reason - to do those things that are uniquely humanity. I can't be a mouth breather and still have a desire to something greater. Either I give up my motivation or my laziness. Reading is still a positive outlet, but I can even feel in those moments that I might be doing something "productive". I'm fighting myself for how I want to spend my time. My left and right hemisphere are dueling for control of my body...

Caught In A Sigh...

There are moments,

Moments I stand back

And revel at you.

You, who was waiting

When I found it to

Land in your yard.

It's those subtle slivers

That show thoughtfulness

Considering the absurd

And giggling with me.

A light of passage

That allowed me to

Become the 80's 

Song reference machine

I was always meant to be.

Once upon a rhyme,

A sad day was the norm -

But our infusion

Brought about 

Delicious delights,

A changing landscape,

And a simple rhythm.

Dance with me 

Into this thing called "wife"

And I promise to be yours

Forever.

And Now, In Your Main Event...

     It occurs to me that the action I consider "kissing ass" in my life is really just a press conference before big events. Self-congratulating, informative events that announce to everyone - especially those who would never know if not for a news outlet - exactly what will be presented when the time for action has arrived.

      'Selling oneself' is a talent that can be hard for some of us - at least me - and I just want my actions to speak louder than words. Archaic thought process, I know, but it really seems what I do would say everything about what i am capable doing. However, I can't change the system and am thus am responsible to learn how to play within it.

      I am currently interested in a promotion with my company, and the path to 'leveling up' goes through a process of selling managers on your accomplishments in place of them recognizing your hard work. This is the place we've found ourselves in - 'doing it' is secondary to proclaiming it. That's where I made the connection watching a live press conference just now. There's a wrestling event happening in Mexico in a few months, and as I watched (with no clue what was being said), a thought dawned on me that there fans would know what was coming, why go through the hassle of a 'presser'. To reach the average Joe, not to sell to the average fan. When I go to my managers and tell them about the strides I've been making, it feels dirty. Like a snake oil salesman. In my next attempt, I will try to frame it mentally as exposing one of them to parts of my day they don't know. Hopefully I won't feel so dirty.

       The process of growth can be uncomfortable, but is necessary in the evolution of the self. I will try to reframe my feeling on the process in order to reach the goal I am squared on until I reach it. Can that be so bad?

The Human Condition

      We are all so petty, degrading others in a race to prove our outright correctness. Why the hell can't we leave things alone anymore? For all of the 'progress' being spoken of, all I see is mayhem and discontent. Roving packs of rabid rioters causing chaps and hiding behind the lens. Every generation has its "the end is nigh" moment, but I don't believe that's where we are. However, the Civil War is not out of the question. Those who remember better times can only shake our heads and sigh.

I Believe I Just Got Served

     There's nothing wrong with being able to "leave a tender moment alone" as Billy Joel once said. It's hard - wanting to take an epic encounter and raising it higher. It's so much more warmly expansive to gestate in the essence of what has been said. Screaming in its vast void - "I'm in the exact same place." Humility marinates where arrogance misses the point.

       Just be quiet and hear the voice of an angel.

Hmmmmm... Where Have I Heard This Before?

      The United States is in disagreement over race again. Politics floundering, extremists crying out in the night. A war of words has become the death of true innocents in the streets. Those cops weren't shot, they were assassinated. This isn't a new phenomenon, but it will again divide the country as its predecessors did. The hippies in the sixties. Oh, and there was another one - the next Civil War is coming, people. In my own life, brother has challenged brother on race alone. The whole race issue isn't about equal treatment, it's a promotion of the radical ideal being accepted as reasonable. It's the bastardization of the dream to promote ones own self interest.

Across the Vast Echo Comes A Voice

     I stumbled across a memory this evening as I walked past Kezar Staduim to the booming voice of some gentleman excitedly announcing SOMETHING. The echo and dulling from the walls made it difficult to hear outside. With the tone of his voice and the appearance of the building, a sense of connection came over me and reminded me of my six months in the true, rural south town of Munford, Tennessee. It was a town of a little over two thousand people, and there wasn't a lot to do since Memphis was an hour away. When I started "dating" my cute next door neighbor, she asked me to accompany her (and her brother and parents) to the talent show on Friday. I agreed, as the smile of a woman can sway most things in a man's... Heart.

     We arrived at the building, only for me to find it was a church. A Christian function that screamed some part 'hoe down' and some part innocence. I was not looking forward to the events of the evening, but her hand squeezing mine in excitement gave me pause, as I had sprayed Right-Guard directly in my crotch - I needed a payoff for the burning hunk of honkey love that taught me a valuable lesson on the proper placement of alcoholic substances. As we sidled up to the door, the man at the ticket counter handed us each a raffle ticket as we paid the nominal three dollar fee for "some good ol' fashioned entertainment"! Then, the memory that jogged this all free would arrive. "Bombastic Buford" (I'm not certain hat was his name... But I'm not certain it wasn't either) would come on stage with a mixture of Baptist Preacher meets 'The Micromachine Man' (about five of you reading this understood the reference) and take control of the situation. This was one of the first ties I noticed the power of charisma. Whether it was a fifteen year old boy with a cracking voice singing Patsy Cline or the girl who could touch her tongue to her nose (that happened, but I don't think they understood why men uncomfortably nervous), he would bellow forth and assure you that this was a ride you needed to take. Also, hallelujahs. 

     At the end of the night, I felt thoroughly entertained but not sure why (like reality shows always do) - entertained by the MC more so than any act. It was just clean wholesome fun. I went a few more weeks with "Right Guard" Rita until we decided we needed time to find ourselves. 😀 Also, figured she would be a cold fish. Fourteen is too early not sow ones wild oats. I may never have gotten to her, but those moments with her obviously still resonate within me.

A Double Left-Right

     Sometimes, you just have to skip a step. Either your out of rhythm (with life) and need to fall back in or maybe your out of step with a partner. It feels awkward to skip out, but it can help reset your momentum. If you are in a rut, the only change necessary is any change at all. Whether it winds up being better or worse in the short term - it will be a different beat. It doesn't always make it better, but it's a step toward recognizing that you have control in changing your trajectory. 

     No one has ever lived this life pain free. Take the bumps in the road and just be ready to slow down and enjoy the smooth patches while they last. Don't speed by and then fantasize about how great it will be if you ever get another break. Your responsibility in life is to appreciate everything you have before you want for more.

Last Rights

Drifting off to sleep with our song humming low... Marble arches, victory marches and you. Melancholy melody motivates memories meant to mesmerize and maintain. Your arrival us but a day away.

Good night, my love.

Screw Your Privilege.

     I think what has gotten away from us as a whole is that we went from wanting to treat kindly (and be treated kindly) by our family and friends, then mistook it to mean everyone has to be nice to everyone. What an absolutely childish mindset, to feel as an adult that anyone should bow to your whims solely based on the personal choice to be 'different' - while seeking to dilute the idea of 'normal' to the point it has become a symbol of hate. Do people just expect to go through life without any inconvenience or even injustice? Why would someone feel they are entitled to me treating them according to their idea of the world in place of my own philosophies?

          We, as a society, need to return to a place where logic was the rule of the day. Some people would need thicker skin, some people's feelings will be hurt, but we will be able to continue to grow as a species. This naive belief that we can walk through life pain-free and without difficulty is a fool's folly that only makes the rest of us suffer. I shouldn't look over my shoulder in the restaurant to be sure that no one is offended, and I will not do so. I will fight for my beliefs and I will fight you for trying to impress upon me your worldview. I won't quietly sit by and be accosted, I will instead fight you and pay the price.

Shane is a Nice Name.

     The true beauty of diversity has been perverted and eviscerated by the cancer of political correctness. In one morning, I have had breakfast with a Nicaraguan while being served by a Lithiunian lovely; purchased a bong and learned from a Middle Eastern Male and shared drinks and cheered for both soccer and Irish Football (alongside a friendly father of one of the players on tv). I asked the waitress where her accent was from out of fascination, not folly. I was openly ignorant of Irish football rules, but was able to cheer the action and have the father discuss the sport and not get his feelings hurt for me not knowing a sport a world away. People don't know what the don't know, and you as a 'different person' only have a right to explanation of your 'truth', but I don't have to be changed or affected if I choose not to.

     When did we lose the right to disagree and be done with it? And when can we bring Irish football to America to be played by the ladies above? 😬

In Context

      I have had opportunity lately to find more and more that modern spciety has no need to try and actually be reasonable anymore. People rail against each other for benign circumstances, everyone tries to be 'the same' (to span an enormous gulf) or to rage against historical facts with modern knowledge. We've been destroying our idols for years (who to look up to now?), so now a large degree of malice has been pointed squarely at those heroes littered through history - and are not available to defend themselves. Do so many people live such a sadsack existence that all people of greatness must be torn down to create 'equality'? What happened to those who strived to be better to match their idols? Now many wallow in their venomous contempt and assault others with fiction and double think. Sad.

Achilles?

     My (former?) best friend recently brought up an interesting question - if I was a super hero and had to pick my Kryptonite, what would it be? Initially, I was going to answer rejection, because I hate the inevitable flake factor many people possess. However, my comfort level with rejection is high, as mostly every important person in my life has life in a matter of time. A season, if you will. No, my weakness is time. Invariably, there seems to be a shelf life on how long people can deal with me. Even then, I never imagined my brother who saved my life and accepted me would turn. In this case, my weakness is 'the times', as the current political climate has become toxic in our disagreement. My best friend and best man is no longer aware enough to recognize his world view is toxic to me and himself. Sad.

Racism - the New Religion

      Many years ago, Minor Threat sang about it in "Filler". Tupac took it on many years later in "Ain't Mad at Ya". Religions interfering in long term friendships. And now race has wrecked mine. I guess Minir Threat was ahead of the curve when they wrote "Guilty of Being White". Maniacal devotion to an ideal that prohibits others... Sounds like a religion to me. The worst thing is the proclaimed 'victims' are those who spout racist remarks that marginalize the real horrors in this country. 

      But why ruin a good fantasy with facts?

Consideration, Not Contempt

And what of me, in all of this?

I am far from a perfect being

Broken and horrible inside;

Self-aware enough to know that 

My desires and my mind's eye

Put me at a disadvantage,

Left feeling a belligerent,

But also bruised sense of meaning.

Claiming and denying to my 

Unmitigated averageness -

I am anything but present.

Ascending toward average

From my place in myopia;

Big dreams with no chance of success.

Buddha says that my wanting is 

Sufferings worldly beginnings,

But I will not leave want alone.

A meal, a song, a hug, a text

Can be deemed as a mild success 

Or leave me feeling discomfort

Within, a void and rejection.

People are a season, I've found

But it was never to be me.

So many, so easy to escape

But I thought I was something else.

I must store away my yearnings

And focus on what I have now,

In this pivotal journey home.

In a brief moment of silence

My mind is able to again

Project forward and play pretend,

Leaving me craving and vulgar.

Catharsis, Not Upset.

God damnit, all the moments we experienced.

Bucking the system with differences

Solving the worlds issues fairly

Always willing to agree nothing is too far.

Yet, look at you now; advocating for separation

Victimized and unwilling to hear another view

Left wallowing in a martyrdom left long ago.

I don't seek the hero's role in this endeavor

I merely offer another view to consider,

To no avail it appears.

What of those around to see the change

Of course, there are many who have broken you

Turned another individual into just a number

Giving in to a nation of negativity

By suppressing your logical leanings.

Philosophers have often been broken in their time

But there's nothing thoughtful or revolutionary

In the stand of suck you have chosen to inhabit.

This cathartic construct is not made out of hurt

Nor is it painted in the avarice of anger,

You have bought into the rules of the lemmings

And it saddens me to watch your will

Dissolve into a puddle of introspective irony.

I won't ignore the terrors you helped navigate

Nor will I leave your side when you need me

But I will not be cowed as a coward

For principles based on hate.

After a bakers dozen, the problems have all left

And perhaps I am the projection of your disappointment.

I will sacrifice our good times for you peace of mind

But I will never lie to you just to avoid

The subjects that 'civilized' society uses. A bully pulpit may discourage many

But if you had imagined it might work on me

Then you learned nothing of me all this time.

If you want a genuine friend, come find me.

If you want a cause long dead that has become 

A marketing campaign,

Then there are plenty of apologists

Who will choose to feel sorry for themselves

And for you as well.

Roots, indeed.

Americans hating America

Is the new generations 'American Dream'.

Chewing Scenery

I'm still a good person; aren't I?

Despite the moments where 

I vex those who love me,

They know that I am always 

On their side; don't they?

My job provides for me

As I struggle with sunlight.

A thousand hobbies

That I don't always have time

But can always find my way to guilt.

Lava lashes out from my speech

Eyes view the devastating diatribe,

Destruction delivered in Dolby

Breath grows ever shorter

As my body sizzles silently.

My mind racing, it is hard to see

The tiny sliver of sense

Piled atop the corpse considerations.

If only I could sacrifice my want

In favor of my deepest need,

Without fracturing my self

And leaving me despaired.

What Can I Say?

They say to write about your passion

What is my passion?

My passion is you.

You, who brings me feelings

Feelings beyond what I thought possible.

How can I hope to describe

The things which spur my haste

Using the words we all use everyday?

In a world of, "I love burritos"

I dare not compare.

The shining light of your love

Carrying me to dizzying heights

Granting me access to a world

So very few are able to inhabit.

A place where 

We need not grant freedoms,

Where understanding is freedom.

How will I ever concert these thoughts

Into a new turn of phrase all you own?

If I happen upon the appropriate muse

Only Shakespeare will speak more eloquently

Than I.

But I Like Rocky Road!

     The truth about relationship sex over time is that it's rather vanilla, unless sex is all the relationship is based on. Over the years, gone are the week-long sex fests; the hours long lovemaking that neither your stamina nor your creativity can keep up with; the tension of the choice and new interaction.With all of that said, that's the undeniable beauty of sex over time. 2 hour long lovemaking is to make sure that every move is used to show our ability (to peacock), while years later all of the events have been condensed down to all the best parts; like cutting a film for production. Emotions add to the steam train in the beginning - a furious fire to fornicate without remorse. As things go along, the more tender side of emotions set forth, with even the act itself can seem otherworldly - a charge of static to the spine (and loins, of course). Your partner learns your most sincere likes and dislikes - no more baring with scraping to get to the next level. There is a satisfying oneness in a quick fling that pumps the ego and reinvigorates us (to find a mate). Years later, it is a dance of subtelties, innuendos and approraite actions taken. A soothing, gentle ride that brings peace to your mind and a song to your heart. The chase has it wonder, but long term satisfaction can only be provided by a long term commitment.

Go Your Own Way. (And Respect Me Going Mine)

     What is being lost in all of the politically correct rankings on transgender pronouns and respect for others is that these things are not universal rights. The relationships we have with one another is what should inform what personal things we can ask of one another. When did it become where I owe the people of the greater planet more respect than I do for my own beliefs? These are frightening times, where everything that has helped to stabilize the foundations of societies worldwide is being chipped away at or tossed aside all together. In a world riddled with everyone experiencing insecurity and personal destruction, I suppose it could be nothing else.

And Your Chicks for Free

      None of us do something for nothing; even within the confines of a relationship. There are checks and balances; moments where we go against our first nature in the interest of another, the avenue of personal growth. There are going to be changes within us all, but the expectation should never be of like mind as much as a willingness to accept one another's point of view and work towards a common understanding. The belief of "doing things for yourself" doesn't always fit, and the request of me to make it so doesn't change the fact that I'm not wired that way. I am a person who lives "inside-out": I start with my internal thoughts and ideas and then project them into the world. Therefore, the motivation for my actions is to satisfy an internal urge, even if that urge is to do something for another. My wife often asks me if I enjoy cooking (a skill she has created in me these past four years), and I always respond the same: I enjoy her reaction to my cooking - my creation giving her pleasure. I decide to cook in order to help out because she's tired (or I had another mad scientist moment), but the goal is a kiss and a smile.

     Is that really so bad?

     We have become so jaded and emotionally aggressive in modern relationships. "For better or for worse" has taken on a tone of "as long as you accept what I am. I may change along the way, but if you ask me to it feels domineering/ needy/ insecure". This invalidates any premise set forth in requesting a change, because no one wants to have these labels applied, especially by a loved one. When I spend an entire day cleaning the house; I do it because it needs to be done, but also to provide my wife a sense of order and pleasantness. All I ask is that she smile and try to be content - this is my 'reward' for accomplishing something I now she likes (but I'm not always up to doing). When the smiles aren't there, or when the things I've done are passed over for more things she would have me do, I lose the reward. Over time, unless I learn to enjoy the chores (as if 😄), I will inherently feel less motivated to continue to do the chores as often. In turn, this often leads to my wife asking why I don't do as much as I did before. Once you stop 'chording', it's no small feat to return to doing more work. I've tried explaining it a number of ways, but only today did I come to the realization of why it bugs me so much. There are always going to be motivations in relationships that couples don't share, but that cannot override the nuanced back-and-forth that ultimately leads to getting things done for one another. 

     If your man wants a smile in return for laundry, do that. Is the payoff that steep?

     If she wants you to take her for sushi and you hate fish, eat McDonald's first and then nibble on chicken karaage.

     If he wants to have sex after hours of raking leaves; why not? Sex is a relationship staple.

     In some way, every action in life is driven by a payoff. When you fall in love, that is amplified. Yes, loving you is accepting who you are. Being loved allows you to ask me to do things in order that our partnership nurtures and sustains us both. Asking for sex is not coersive. Asking you to ignore your friends is. Or putting you in dangerous situations. We all know what evil is, but requesting a smile for any action done to derive you satisfaction should not be a lot to ask....

I Wanna Be Like You-ou-ou!

    The time my faults go from shining to searing is when that disappointing gaze washes into my psyche. I am so very flawed, and I have learned that the key to happiness is to not dwell on the poison of wishing to be anyone else. Yet, when the time comes and my shortcomings bind my capacity to rise, I fall into the pool of dreaming that is, "If only I was...". Thrashing about, wrists burning by my captors; ferociously I use my body to strike forward against the walls, hoping to ascend. Alas, my mind has changed, but my fate remains the same.

Ignorance Costs Us All

Standing at the moral precipice

Looking out over a smoldering cauldron

In the distance, the winds of disappointment 

Collide with the futures long abandoned.

Reason rests quietly upon my brow

As its perverted cousin peaks out.

A million ounces of worry above me,

I seek the wisdom of a hummingbird

To inform my steps going forward

And to recognize the landscape

That spreads out to the southwest.

Remembrance of events not far past

Tint inner turmoil and cloud vision.

Eyes descend into increments of darkness

Equatable intake of air recognized

I move into my soul's darkest recesses

To determine my uneasy disappointment.

Underlying cause eventually uncovered,

I fall back in the respect of what I thought was

Very clearly exists only in my mind's eye.

The journey has not ended is disgrace,

Only taken detour for safer travels

Alongside one willing to chase a fantasy

At the potential cost of a lifelong friend.

How much of this I can endure

Is not for me to say, as the future holds truth.

In this moment, I am supporting my friend

While questioning their actions (and loyalty).

Haiku You

Cascading stream springs

Carrying forth pollutants

Anger flows stained.

Happily Ever After

How hard is happy?

Meeting multiple matches

Left longing for love.

Seeking simple sentences,

Illustrating inquisitive invites.

Which wisdom will worry:

The opaque outcome ongoing

Or desire to determine desire?

Taming the torrential tides

Regulating response to rumination

Allowing aspirations all arenas.

Puzzling potential partners,

Considering commitments and care,

Fear of forgotten foils finality.

Breathe beside your beau

Everyone experiences emptiness

Never for nothing; new names.

Qualities quietly qualified

Working within walls of want

Gathering gifts of generosity

Ultimately uniting universally

Knowing the kamikaze kiss

Attained after admitting to always.

Spring Forth

Reddish sun light bleeds

One momentary musing

The path becomes clear.

Driven

Avalanche of snow

Powers past all obstacles

Only peace remains

Peace

Hummingbird scurries

Aggressive and determined

Do you know of rest?

Festival

Change comes to us all

Tumbling willow, life's spring

Gift of a journey.

What To Do?

     It is said that we all have a special talent within us. Yet the talent we have is often what we use to survive. However, what if our greatest talent isn't something that can be used to make a living? Not all talents directly relate to survival. The worst part is when you want to do something, but just don't have the talent to accomplish the mission. You know?

The "It Factor" in Conversation

      What has happened to the spontaneity of a child we all once possessed? The innocence that made being able to see another house from your bedroom window was enough to befin a relationship. People today have a script of things to say in passing, a script of what not to say when around certain people and an expectation of what one will ( or will not) be based on superficiality. In many cases, the prospect of communicating with another can lead to stress. Have we really abandoned those "naive" premises for something BETTER?

A Great Time Had By All

     In a long day of joy, I was able to finally slay the beast that was my statistics course. In a running theme of my life, I again came to an irritable impasse that occurs when I am tasked with busy work like so many formulas exist for what basic math could solve in no time. I have never gathered why we as a species make things so difficult for ourselves; like humanity doesn't ACTUALLY want to figure it out. What would we do then? Or are formulas for people that carry an instinct for math? Do these things actually do any good in the long run?

No Your Self.

      Know what you know, then figure the rest out. If you answer the questions you know for sure, then you can use logic or intuition for the rest. Logic is simply taking something you don't know and using facts about it you do know to deduce the answer. Associations of things..... 7 degrees of Bacon! Intuition is that inner logic that associates things on a subkevel, and it generally gets it right. You don't have to know, you just have to reason.

Yeah, I Really Do Think

     I like to think that somewhere in one of those alternate universes, I was conceived with a chance to be normal. To live the life of the Everyman.

     Then again, what would I lose? Pain, for sure, but how much have I discovered I my suffering? Insecurities, perhaps, but my vulnerability is what keeps me accessible. A drive to succeed would be nice. Ultimately, I am possibly the only (or one in a millions) in existence. Just like the people I unmask here on earth, the only thing I can control is me.

All Around the World

      I have been awake for 14 hours today, and in that time I accomplished much. Yet, I merely did the things I need to do for "daily life". Does that mean my supply of energy is so low that this is all I can muster? Or do I carry an enormous weight that seems insubstantial in my embrace? Even though we all find our fifteen minutes of fame, we are not all built or equipped to be anything more than "the common man" in our financial lives.....

Chemical Restraints; Chemical Warfare

Why must you pin me down?

Not quite suffocating

But leaving me apathetic.

Unable to pursue passions

Not wanting to accomplish.

What awaits seems uncertain,

Unclear what it carries.

My sole focus darkens

Caged in the eternal now

Filtered from the future

Paralyzed in the present

Hated by history

Mourning my memories.

I call out through mental mud

Voice painting the horizon

With my unbridled agony.

No hope of a distant ear

Only a cathartic

Cry of constant contrition.

Enveloped by fixation

A barrage of flashbacks

Pummels my resilience

Searing my conscience 

And robbing me of my

Willing self preservation.

Nowhere to hide in the mind

My enemy, my self

With no hope it will cease

And no way to shield me;

I crumple to a wary knee

Battered, exhausted, hurting;

Yet unbroken; angry.

I am sure I have better

If my drive returns

There is so much that

I could accomplish.

When the restraints tie you down

From within your base of hope

And the mind that gives strength

Turns on you to wreck you;

Riding the storm out

Is the best you can hope

To get another chance

To be fully alive.

All Endings Aren't Storybook

     There is a widespread feeling among many that suicide is "an escape" or "the coward's way out" or a "final solution to a temporary problem". It irks me a great deal when I used to hear (and now read them all over the Internet - apparently teeming with Doctor's and certified therapists) the many reasons people cast shade upon the idea of someone (literally) taking their life in their hands (as opposed to the figurative ideal of straightening ones life, which is smiled upon). All mental illnesses are not the same, and not all of the mentally ill react to life stressors in the same manner. However, I can tell you for those who suffer many illnesses, suicide brings the hope of closure. Those who pass judgement upon us; telling us to "buck up" and "it gets better" will never understand the feeling of waking up each new day and not knowing what their mind will be up for that day. Or having to think about everything that people take for granted - sleep rhythms, drinking alcohol, even the amount of soda I drink in a day can affect my mood. (As well as my belly) Then you have the medications required to try and manage your illness (never cured), and you start to see a glimpse of the stress that merely being RESPONSIBLE for an illness like these can carry. Add to that the shame many of us feel (on some level) for not being able to control our internal typhoon when it sets upon our shores. Many with mental illness don't like to share it with the world, because people hardly ever understand, and this misunderstanding can lead to emotional crisis being dismissed as "a cry for help" or "a tantrum" and even "an excuse". Imagine a person in a dark place getting their emotional turmoil being dismissed out of hand, and what that must feel like.

     My first suicidal thoughts came at the age of 14, when I was living with a Father who had once abandoned me and a stepmother who psychologically tortured me. I had always been a bit darker than the kids around me, but never to the level of angst I would come to embody in the decades that followed. That night at dinner, I began crying in my spaghetti (not as good a song title as "tear in my beer"..... although "Sobbing in my spaghetti" might catch on) and my Father growled at me to go to my room. A short while later, he came in and asked me what was wrong, and I told him that I hated my life and wished I could die. He told me I was being "melodramatic" and that I needed to "toughen up". This was my first interaction with the snobbishness people handle bipolar with. My first suicide attempt that required hospitalization was at 19, and when faced with what ad happened (not decade yet!), both of my parents took the time to tell me to stop overreacting, and that they had not raised me to be a quitter. Today, I look back and laugh; at the time, it was a devastating introduction to the absolute carelessness people handle mental disease with. It just so happens that, to this day, I am very open about being bipolar with everyone in my world, and there are those (as I have grown) who are much better at respecting my limitations and my liabilities. My shame is not from being bipolar any longer, but from not being able to do more for those who love, support and provide me moments in a life worth living.

     Which brings me back to the beginning: suicide is often a desire for closure: to the sadness; the disappointment of not having the motor to match your desire; the mood swings; the responsibilities of being a person with a disease process and the unwelcome assumptions of the masses who can't see your malady and dismiss you out of hand. Suicide is also not a "cowards" way out; you can never understand how difficult it is to go against your internal programming that helps to keep us all alive. Suicide is a way to just stop the day to day melancholy; a way to stem the tide of despair (or agitation or discomfort or fear) that washes over you each day that your mind is "not quite right". In your darkest hour, when all hope seems lost, it at least provides the tumultuous mind an option to the existence it is currently suffering from. Like many other thoughts, it is harmless in our mind, but becomes something much darker when brought into reality. No one has the right to interpret the level of agony that someone who is brave enough to mention mental distress might be going through. No one ever taunts cancer patients for losing weight, but a tortured mind can be dismissed out of hand as unmotivated. Unwilling to "pick yourself up". Giving up.

     A quitter.

     Yes, I have reached a place in my life where suicide is a long ago lesson, and even my bipolar has gone from raging Cyclops to irritable gnomes, and a large part of that goes to finally gathering a great supporting cast around me. At last, I have a wife who cares and seeks to understand and forgives me my (hopefully) occasional trespasses. A best friend who will talk to me on any level I go down, and whose own battles give him a darker, more direct understanding of how I exist. A great number of close friends and acquaintances at my job that accept and encourage me in my darkest moments. Lastly, I have come to recognize over the course of my life that, without my bipolar and my suffering and my suicide attempts, I wouldn't be who I have become. I wouldn't be the voice others could turn to and feel accepted and understood when they are in pain. I wouldn't be so open to any experience or trying new things, as my bipolar beliefs have opened me up to. I wouldn't comprehend so completely the savage fluctuations of a life, mind and emotions in turmoil. I don't hate my diease, it has made me what I am. I do, however, wish some days that I were able to offer more to my wife and friends. I'm not always up to going out when everyone else is ready. How must my wife feel when I tell her I called out from work again because my mind is not ready for people? Does she truly understand? Is there a small voice in the back of her mind that questions if I just wanted to sleep in? How must my managers take it when I call out, again, for mental unrest? Does society have one iota?

     About society: why has mental illness always been so hard to accept? In a world where so many are standing with their hand out to the Government to make things better politically, why is it not imperative to sure the plight of the mentally ill that we all can (in some way) relate to? Why is it that race and sex and religion and acceptance are on every debate, yet no one can find the time, means and money to build facilities or monitor people with illness? Where I live right now, I have a young lady who was recently diagnosed with bipolar, but cannot find hep because there aren't enough outlets for her to learn how to work through this life changing experience? The local papers cry out for not harassing drug dealers or getting homeless off the streets, but the only mention of mental illness comes when discussing drug addicts and those inhabiting skid row? Just because I have made it as far as I have in life (I.e. I share a home and have a job while going to school), that solute lay does not leave me not wanting at times - wanting for a voice to say it's going to be okay. Yet my struggle to find light behind the dark shade of despair isn't a sexy enough topic - it doesn't get people mad enough to go and vote their allegiance to a cause. The mentally ill are taught that we are bastardized children that God must have used subpar parts in creating, and that our problems are ours alone to bear. We have come a long way since we were getting holes frilled in our heads to release the demons, but giving me a medication that effectively lobotomies an individual isn't a whole lot better.

     Will it ever change?

Not Always a Success

Man is not special 

Like snowflakes, he is unique

Not always useful.

Where Am I?

      It all boils back to one simple truth: What are you priorities? When you are staring up to the stars and imagining your life, where does that dream begin? To make a simple question complex; what are your priorities? So many things that we are taught to are priorities: family, money, fame, relationships. In truth, these may not be something that truly moves you; it's merely something we are taught. Money is not a priority to me. That said, it does provide a better life form my priority. Family in the universal sense is not a priority to me. My friends and my choices in life have given me those who I would deem "family" due to shared experiences over those who shared a relation to me before I was fully formed. I couldn't care less about my fame: universally or locally.  My priority is the relationships I form in my time on this Earth. Does that make me better than anyone else? No. When people query, "If money isn't a priority, how are you going to have all the nice shiny things in life?" I won't... Because that's not my focus. Money is a means to an end, and in the end is only there for me. As long as I can survive, my life with others, and our shared experiences, drive me to thrive.

     I won't die very well known, or with the biggest bank account, but I will die with the deepest heart and best stories. I'm okay with that vision.

Staining the Page (The Dye Seeps Through)

Fantastic feasts are fabricated for consumption

Buildings created for their final destruction

Societies built and burned on failed construction

And breath given to Man's march toward Hell's auction

So I'm going to die at some point.

Which can only cause me to say,

"So what if I do?"

My hours here will be sufficient

To complete the process

Of my existence.

A life lived in taking appointments

In the mind's and hearts of others.

To you my darling wife, I swear to always be

In another realm, but focused toward you truly

To forever have your glowing heart near to me

A giant, glowing totem of our love story.

I will remain in your company at all times

Under a different capacity than we met.

When you feel the quiet wind caressing your face,

It is my kisses coating your face in glee;

The morning mist massaging your skin at sunrise,

Are my hands stroking you gently into the day.

When you notice a whisper from the shadows,

Hear me calling to you in unbridled devotion;

When you close your eyes for an evening's rest,

I will climb into your dreams and spend the night with you.

Unexplained warm spells will replace hugs of affection,

Deja Vu will remind of spontaneous forays,

And I will bestow the happiness of having loved.

*Symbolic Phrase Here*

      In a country where racism is bandied about with frequency while hardening back to yesteryear, it seems often that it will never go away. However, I feel like it remains a catchphrase with a blanket (stereotypical) meaning that does not always apply: white people are racist and that's where it begins and ends. The reality is that racism, under it's true guise of prejudice, is omnipresent in everyone of us. The sad truth is that the word "prejudice" has been stained due to decades of violence centered around race, although the word itself was not a negative one.

      "Prejudice"; very simply the act of pre-judging an event; is the abilities we used in the past to keep ourselves safe or using our experiences to make an informed decision. In a world without cell phones and motion detection lights, settlers had to pre-judge that a twig snapping in the forest might be a wolf. Even today, if you are a person that says you hate anything: dogs, cats, people from a certain profession (Lawyers, right?), people judged by their personal choices (trailer parks/ Hippies/ "Gangsters"/ Abercrombie & Fitch/ vegans), religious affiliation - than you have a prejudice. When you meet the "offending" party, you are going to assume a series of facts about them at the outset: making a pre-judgement. In modern America, that action puts your squarely as prejudice (and by default, racist). For me, it has always been the next step that differentiates hatred from the instinct of self preservation: actions.

      My Dad grew up deep in the country in a town of 200 white people in the 1950's. The first person of any color he ever saw was in his teens when the family went to a city. He was surprised by what he saw, but had all the prerequisite emotions that came with growing up in the time, and for his whole life he never had any comfort around other races, always "pre-judging" them to be a threat to him, to our safety and to the white race at large. That is the racism the forefathers of the civil rights movement dealt with in the 60's. Closed minded stereotypes that can't be changed by people of another race. He instilled a lot of his ideas in me as a young man, after all, he was my Dad. My opinions in his house on race, religion, politics and even relationships were instilled in me, but my personality style is not one to blindly follow anything. When I entered the real world as a young man, I knew all the things he had told me, but I have always kept an open mind about everything life has to offer. I learned a different reality on the subjects he expressed opinions on, while prejudice is not always incorrect either. Ask anyone NOT in a white hood what they feel about "Birth Of Nations". (See? I just made an assumption that most of you nodded in agreement.) The key to me is whether or not prejudice is the last level of thought you allow a person based on any certain characteristic. It's in eliminating an alternative that prejudice transitions into hate. However, intent is not considered in modern society, the "victims" make the rules of engagement on when they are being harassed or minimized, even if it is not that intent or in action.

       Why does this matter? True hate definitely still exists in this country based on hate, but every time something happens between a Caucasian and another race, it is not immediately racism on every count. It definitely is not "the same as it ever was", how demeaning to the millions in the 60's that endured unspoken horrors along the road. In fact, it seems that the "white devil" stereotype gets a pass on the racism scale, but it is just as racist and close minded as the people from the other side of the tracks. We will never agree on this issue until race dissolves as the primary identifier, then again, in the days where family reigned as an identifier, there were a million blood feuds over lineage.

      Why can't we all just leave each other alone? Befriend who you like; disassociate from people you don't enjoy their company, get mad when you are insulted as a person (not a part of a larger ideal) and just do your thing each day. It sounds naive, but why do we put so much stock in people that we are just looking for a negative experience from? I live my daily rut (commute, job, school) just to get to the good moments (wife, food, Netflix). I don't have the time, energy or desire to sit around seething hate for anything (except mushrooms). I don't get why everyone else can't? Does my bipolar actully aid me in the endeavor? If so, Gnarls Barkley pegged it.....

How Do I Stop?

I'm hopeless

I'm hurting 

I'm worthless

And waiting

Nothing right

Blackened mirror

Void of sight

Soaked in terror

Exploding ember

Fallen again

Fate rendered

Cast from Heaven

What am I worth

If I can't please

Lying on earth

Night dreams a tease

When energy drains

During the climb

The next round of pains

Aren't far behind

It's always been me

Soiled in disappointing despair

Under woe's wide tree

Until I am no longer there

      With apologies to Shaggy, it WAS me. It always will be.

What About Ninjas?

      The concept of a "spirit animal" is an old one that humans have used to symbolize personality traits and ideals held dear. The Native Americans used this practice a great deal, even incorporating the animal into their tribal names. Bears, Tigers and the like make for awesome visuals, but can everyone identify with those levels of brute force? What spirit animal reflects a person.... Which trait can be called out best? Which animal tells your story?

      As much as I would like a Goliath of a beast to be my calling card, I find upon reflection the truth for me would be considerably less awe inspiring. The turtle tells my story - a slower animal with a wealth of protection to aid it in disputes with its enemies. A rhinoceros would work here too, but it's not a vulnerable animal for my personal journey. Sure, I am big, defensive but also a juggernaut at times, but I find my general demeanor in the turtle: just moving along trying to get to my next event. No real hostility (unless provoked), just making my way through life with armor at the ready. 

      I'm okay with that.

Shame Ol' Song

       The difficulty of relating to the world through the lens of a "disease process" is that even those closest to you want to understand, but there is still an inherent shame in things beyond your control. As a person with actual chemical imbalance, I have the outstanding view from the cheap seats that is bipolar depression. While I have learned how to manage it throughout my life, and as I have come to recognize some of the wonders beholden to it, it still posses the power of absolute takeover on any given day. Along with that can come the fallout with relating to our world.

      Many people understand the idea of depression (through the lens of their own down time), but more as "the blues" and less as a lifestyle choice made by the genetic gamble before birth. Many can allow you your lethargy or sensitive feelings, but it's the deeper things that are so terribly difficult to discuss with your loved ones. How can you relay that someone close to you has hurt you, through the shroud of depression, without them jumping on the defensive? How do you come out and tell those closest to you that it takes more effort to talk to them in these moments than they can imagine. Is there a possible way to tell family that any given time your mind creeps to your demise, the release from the burden of your dueling identities? People hear "I want to die" when most times it's "I'm tired and I want my mind at peace; at last."  Intent and acceptance rarely mesh.

      Mania can be confused by the masses as a.d.d. (At worst) or a moment of confidence and enthusiasm (at best). In fact, mania brings its captured to have thoughts that flow so fast you can't grasp them, an increased sense of irritation from heightened emotions and an over exaggerated sense of self that leads to bad decisions and impulsive acts of nonsense. Mania can cause a fixation on a given subject to the point of actual mental addiction. It's maddening.

Eyes Tell What Story?

As I make my approach

A steady gait and easy motion

Your eyes lock on the distance.

Why the immediate avoidance?

Is eye contact so sensual and private?

Is an invitation that you fear?

Or a rejection that raises your blinders?

Can small talk be so uncomfortable?

The environment is green with unease

But I don't take the chance to jump.

And so, another person passes left

And the sidewalk is mine once again,

My mind smoldering in coal..

Because You're Beautiful?

Loving you, is easy because....

No, loving you is not easy. 

Easy lets you rest on you laurels;

Allows you the gentle comfort

Of a given, absolute truth.

Loving you is difficult

Because of the time

I put on for our dates 

And all the moments 

I neglect a juicy burger

For a grilled chicken 

(with cheese!).

Loving you can be taxing

When the time comes 

To clean the house or 

Cook when I only wish

To release my eyes from

Their Herculean burden.

Loving you is taking

Time away from the game

To arrange a "date day"

Throughout the City park

(game alerts allowed).

Loving you is effort because

It is in all these ways

That love can gain its

Deepest (basic) meaning:

You are worth all the effort it takes

To please you and offer you the knowledge

That I will always be ready to come through for you

No matter how hard times erode, I will find it from within

To stand up

Take your hand

Look you in the eye

As I assist your rise to your feet

Smiling to say, "Look at all the fun!

Come play with me and do it once more!"

Loving you is what makes me.

Take my hand.

Money? Like the Baby Bear's Porridge...

     I don't want to be a millionaire. I know that puts me squarely in the minority of everyone, and I'm okay with that. I don't want to take an oath of poverty, it's only that having a bunch of money is nice, but it has its own stressors that would be too immense for me- family concerns and maintaining your wealth and being in the public eye. Besides, as cliche as it may be, there is a certain wonder that comes with striving toward a goal. When you can have anything you want, many things start to become passé that were once year long goals. How large must the gift back to satisfy the desires of a millionaire. It would be simple to say that I won't fall prey to the whims of the emerald obtainer. However, the reality is far more succumb than are capable of making a million dollars still seem like an insane amount of money. For so many of us, it still is, and I want to keep that innocent wonder and be thrilled for my MCDonald's sundae - not mildly amused eating food with gold in it.

Ascent

Keep in mind that we create relationships

Not only to drive solitude from our lives,

Not simply for the act of procreating,

But in order to evolve to a higher level.

Evolution requires transformation

That can come only through experience.

When we stop learning from others,

We deny ourselves the ability

To attain greater enlightenment

For the historically soothing comforts

Of remaining the same.

A simple truth is that while

We need others in order to live;

We require other people to

Reach our full potential:

As friends, as lovers,

And as individuals.

A mirror to reflect actions;

An institution to provide learning;

A harbor to give safe haven

When life's undercurrent

Threatens to cast us off

Into the oblivion of despair.

Stay true to your covictions-

That core that rests at 

The base of who we are,

But stay malleable in deed,

As there is always another 

Way to be learned from

Those who have done it before.

Gleaming

You never imagined me

Yet here I am at your door

Hands resting upon the floor.

I'm not asking for your obedience

Or looking for novel way to kill time;

I want to start a tale with you

That ends only when I do.

Void of life's venomous creek

Let us find happiness together

Let us seek solace 

Within our home

Let us discover comfort

In a night's subtle embrace.

It's not that I need someone -

It's simply that I need you.

Many people have driven

Sadness from the core

Of my eternal being,

But the majesty of your

Hair gleaming in sunlight

Is one of my great wonders.

The gentle pattern of your sleeping

Is more soothing than any

Beast has fallen to before.

Thus she spoke:

"What of my faults? What if I hurt you?

What if I cannot give you enough

To stay?"

I will grab your hand in my own

And run forth into life's expanse,

To leave our every moment

Exhausted and exceptional.

We will have trials in its time

From the external and internal,

But I could never be better off

Without you occupying my space.

I could never truly smile

Without having you to look forward to.

I could never truly live my life

Without you as my darling wife.