rushing to be creative

  Posted on October 8, 2014 at 2:24 pm

departure time too present.

estimated tax payments interrupting all flow.

the sun laughs at my assumptions

it will be here tomorrow.

phone calls put off begin to encumber

like too many items on my quest.

do you hear that fellow AD&Ders?

I’m shouting out our pencil modifications

in the custom online convenience age.

my stomach is uptight

that I haven’t packed or posted yet.

my tummy is angry that I’ve neglected

my core training this afternoon.

invisible ink is a mindfuck

of a literary device.

I read truths spread out in the void.

claim myself in parts.  connecting to what’s shared

without conscious knowledge.

I can feel the pain in a line’s turn,

in a subjects’ struggle.

this is an aside: the cure is telling me

to listen to their music

with my junior high heart

and let this push be.

the creditors are so clever,

making my debt concrete shoes

in the land of freedom.

didn’t have enough time to let my parents

talk about their garden.

there’s a huge list waiting for me in the future.

it thinks it’s funny to bug me now about

yet-to-be-crossed items.

haven’t processed confederate history month

enough to go there.

the tour I haven’t even planned

has gained another day of not being addressed.

email response guilt hits me now

and I’m a gangster stereotype

professing it ain’t personal.

while the insecure I believe hidden

wonders which relationships I fucked over most.

is my silent phone a signal of my wackness,

or my lack in giving

towards the paths of others?

if I let myself embrace the toltec book I’ve been skimming,

I’ll remember this is wasteful victim attitude.

if I invoke memories of physical therapy,

I’ll deal with this more actively.

still haven’t started scanning all them photos

I promised my family I would.

I hate red eye flights and connections and

acknowledge the luxury of these complaints.

I’m not trying to let you down, guam!

I swear I want to share on your shores.

tell the stock market the gold standard

the currency exchange

to stop messing with our ability to do more

than feed its hungry asshole mouth.

I loved witnessing the happiness

in another poet’s eyes yesterday.

ain’t really that all-over-the-place.  just not

as three act traditional trained as I been.

oh, I love where sci-fi has taken me.

pay the price of its allegory gladly.

knew I could get myself typing

once I committed to share.

where was this ability

to resist being consumed in over-thinking

when the judging blondes

were in the audience, taking notes

with their laughter?

if I haven’t tagged you,

it’s not about how we’ve drifted over the years.

at least my poop didn’t come out forced today.

2010