Sinking Deeper

Sinking Deeper

Sinking deeper into the sea
The cement blocks are
External burdens
The rope wrapped around me
IS me
If I can release myself
From myself,
I can cut away the weights at my feet
And unravel myself free
Burdens are fixed
A limited mind can be tricked
The objective of blocks
Is to anchor me to the aphotic bottom
The rope is my imagined constraint
The rope alone drowns me
The blocks alone drown themselves
One hand loose, and I go up

Changing oneself is the obvious solution. Why do we miss it so easily? Perhaps because the weight of our circumstances is more noticeable, even painful. The ties that bind are uncomfortable, constraining, and annoying, but weight hurts, exhausts, controls the direction.

To cut off life’s problems is also swift. Escaping from personal knots can take a long time. For peace of mind you don’t get to do what’s easy first, then what’s hard.

Talk about keeping us humble.



I was told to leave
Forced to remove my sleeves
Exiled by all means
She smoked a cigarette
As if it was good sex
I was on the bottom
I was the most less-than
She outed my silences
The most civilized violence
The longevity illusion
Everyone putting up with each other
Until someone can no longer bother
To watch my transgressors
Rot in stagnation
I move, I move
And they look up
They may have been right
They may have been just
I pack my shortcomings
Doing more taking than giving
More draining
And in the way
Was I really useless and a discomfort?
I will have something to say about this one day
Maybe they’ll read about it
I go my own way
As they say
They won yesterday
When everything was better without me

IMAGE: Maximilian Jaenicke

Wake Up

Wake Up

Wake up, wake up
‘Cause I know there’s no giving up
Must make up, wake up
And so I brew one more cup
To wake up, wake up

And I wait for the day
I catch up with time
But for now just breathing
In and out is fine

Until I wake up, wake up
Doesn’t matter what I’m dreaming of
To wake up, I must wake up
When I arrive will it be enough?
To wake up, wake up.

‘Cause I know tomorrow
Answers to no one
What I have to show for myself,
A dream undone 

And I wait for the day
I catch up with time
But for now just breathing
In and out is fine

Someday I’ll wake up
Wake up

This is a song I wrote for a friend’s post on a story site. The main character would drink a lot of coffee to get herself through some difficult days. I wanted to capture the inability to burn off the heavy fog from lack of sleep, coupled with despondence. This song pays me a visit occasionally, this is one of those days.

“Stillness is our most intense mode of action,”  is the first sentence of a great Leonard Bernstein quote. Stillness is practiced from a place of power, but forced from a place of powerlessness. I ask myself, does this stillness feel like a split second of nirvana, or years of drowning? Either way, my revelation is understanding who I am under my circumstances. The painful freedom of the truth.

And then what? Am I ready to take action now, or soon? Who will I be under new circumstances? For now, I wait. 


I’ve Heard Enough

I’ve Heard Enough

I think I’ve heard enough.
I get it, you like it rough.
There really isn’t a conversation,
discussion, or debate, is there?
We’re all about your way.
And your way is my pain.
Like the small animals you maim.

I’m sorry you can’t feel yourself.
I’m not feeling you either.
You’ve limited your imagination
to only what resembles you.
And torturing others is progress.
To see someone else suffer
is cause for applause.

I understand now.
This is your time to weaponize
what makes you uncomfortable.
Your problems are now my problems
to prove you’re a victim.
I’m done fighting fair, or my way.
I’m playing your unsustainable game.
But I guess you’re winning.
My destruction is your living.

I’m finished listening. To call out an asshole for being an asshole is a compliment to an asshole. They’re having the time of their lives.

I’ll survive, self sustain, perhaps even be more neighborly.

Smart or not, educated or not, an asshole is an asshole. I’m recalibrating my position, starting with being done.


Her Reaction

Her Reaction

We treat Mother Earth

the way we treat women.

We’re not really doing anything wrong to her,

her reaction is what sucks.

I’ll sometimes humble myself by standing next to the ocean. As much as I’m too restless for my own good looking for greener pastures around the world, the town I presently reside in offers a voluptuous shoreline. A Puget Sound sunset should be on a bucket list. But this isn’t a tourism ad. The health of the planet is what has been on my mind. 

I expect to see some dramatic changes in climate and nature in general over my life time. I’m not supposed to. Despite my dissatisfaction almost everywhere I go, I don’t want to move to another planet. I’m actually content here. What’s worse is being forced to go because someone had to be an asshole instead of a whole human. And way too many of us are like that.

I know haters don’t want to be convinced. But the reality of our existence is beyond them. Is it simply human to be entitled? Are we so ego centric to think the Earth is ours and should just give and give? She’s not going to take it any longer. Right now she’s just being passive-aggressive. Watch what happens when she snaps. 






Life As Better

Life As Better

Measuring the time of a better life

depends on who you ask.

Life as better cannot be defined

in a three dimensional photograph.

Life as better hasn’t happened yet.

If I wanted to remain in the past

I would have ended myself then

and left a nostalgic corpse.

Instead, I go onward

along with the erosion of mountains

and aging of the moon.

An old oak that outlives generations of humans

does so by periodically sprouting new life.

A life of perpetuating memories is a life stopped.

Blasting back to the past makes me uncomfortable. Nostalgia is rare for me. When I observe others trying to recreate the atmosphere of their childhood, or keep repeating a personal era that appeared special, or hold onto tastes that they insist should still be relevant, I find this existence to be anachronistic. A burden, and insecure.

I want to keep pushing onward no matter the damage done to me. I haven’t had any glory days so far, at least I hope not. I’m pretty unimpressive if the past is the best I can do. Priorities change, but the goal of arrival has not.

Humanity seems split between those gripping fast to an unreliable past, and those trying to brave the unknown future. I must be a young soul, always looking forward to what is new. My past hasn’t happened yet. I wear life on my face and process age in my head, but I brave the unknown future.