Following Mr. Wells’ thoughtful post about the wisdom of youth, here are some of my thoughts on what we lose with age, and more importantly what we can gain from revisiting what it means to be young. In rhyme, of course. Image

it wasn’t too long ago, though hindsight is muddled at best
I remember. clear as my reflection in the puddles of stress
that clung to my chest. that sweet, bitter numbing effect
of retreating back into the arms of comfort’s neglect.
wide-eyed, wider pupils. that insufferable sweat
of the substances I run to for my love of regret
lulled into bed by the sullen threads I mulled in my head;
Jumbles of text my lullaby for a mummified rest

Dulled intellect. only ego to keep the sky afloat
Mind the boat, we’re sinking deeper into the dream that I demote
Women and childhoods first – quickly now, untie the rope
Abandon ship, it’s cancerous, let’s see how far the tide’ll go
Now the escape pod wanders beyond the currents of my control
Silent boasts drop anchor in the shallows of my siphoned soul
True Gemini, two ends of I, at our cores an isotope
torn between seeing the world through telescopes or a microscope

I don’t know…

I don’t keep up with the trends anymore, they’re so foolish
concluding with the same feelings that are introduced –
no new shit, the pool is on the brink of diluted
I swear if Sisyphus was here you guys would think he’s the coolest
so simple, so clueless. Compliments got me mixed up
“You’re so smart/funny/talented – how do you come up with this stuff?”
So I sit up with a big huff, extend a smile of my glib trust
Knowing that after I read Midnight’s Children, I didn’t write for 6 months

I knew I’d never be the genius that I wanted to be
or the prodigy I got other people charmed to believe
Instead of think of it, my insignificance became my comic relief –
Look at all the things I invest my time in, forgotten in weeks

Existential hyperventilation: corsage of defeat
That helps me blend in with the rest of them, donned as fatigues
Cuz we all run on the same wheel, daunted to see
The speed at which our feet persist while dreams fall underneath

They wander, recede at impossible speeds. a crease in time
Separates the rate of wasted fate to moments that, though brief, define
The contexts we exist in, the things that give us meaning –
Signs that give us our direction, courage to self-realize

Everything I seek to find blossoms from a seed of rhyme
Lessons that I need survive, etched within these metered lines
Just like the ocean recalibrates my body, gives me peace of mind
An open moleskin is my escape into the sea of ink I leave behind

Breathe deep, then dive…

My poetry is home for me, my prose is haunted
Both are contras.
Fighting to steal purpose from each broken promise
Cloaked as offices, monotonous social dogmas
That confuse the meaning of being hopeless and modest
I’ve never been the best, smartest or most accomplished
But these words are my only window to be open and honest


my niece was born, not too long ago, a small slice of the heavens
The past alive right in front of me, hindsight in the present
So excited to venture in the grass, dig in the dirt till her hands fill –
Feel the earth at a standstill
No concept of yesterday or the expanse of tomorrow
I couldn’t hope to find a better example to follow


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