Meet Me, Poetry

Open Letter to a 25 Year Old

Steadfast and surefooted it’s time to run through life.

They say you are fully developed. That the effectiveness of your brain’s plasticity has slowed, making it more difficult to bend and transform, to create boisterous blends of being: a constantly evolving blob of this and that. Rigidity replaces wonder and amazement; the beauty of living the tall and taled reduced to rationale.

But shame on them.
Malleability be damned.

Lines are drawn to be crossed
Mere suggestions. Make a statement.
loudly and wildly.

With age, comes wisdom.
A stinging pain of clarity
flows and ebbs
from the spout—

Fall asleep and silently tug.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Cracked, chiseled, cratered
Dig deeper, below the surface.

It gets bloody in the abyss;
jump anyway.

A Bad Idea
A bad idea is evaporated into the ether as quickly as it entered.
Full of risk, it leads to things.
An integral part of the big picture,
A bad idea’s badness is only as bad as the good is good.

Go out and find people who expand your mind, who discover secret doors and uncover hidden passages. Who help you to grow in ways you never thought. Who push you to be a better human.

The winds of autumn blow hard and strong.
They’ll leave before winter’s end.

Lovingly & Excitedly,
A 26 Year Old

Poetry, SocialThoughts

Ode to Donald Trump’s Hair

Wisps of joy,
Covering a mountain of rot.

Decaying blades of grass,
Withering away,
Lay down the plot.

Tell me, fine sir
Where go your flippant seed?
Where go the blood you seethe?

I have been to the pearly gates
I have seen the destined fates
Little threads combed over and over,
Hoping to sway a greater part.

But blow thee away,
Back to your golden bed.
Take heed to the wind.
Snip, your platform is end.



Empty Word Vomit

Climbing mountains of the sky
Doped on caffeine and klonopin
Searching inside for a rhythmic line
A dark dismal horizon; fine
We keep climbing, we keep climbing.

Skipping through fields of clouds
Demons shouting down angels you mind
Felt the drop of fear, felt the high; here
We keep climbing, we keep climbing.

Be patient, oh little one.
Time ticks, you’ll find why
Another reason, her mastery of treason

Red velvet, wrapped in white
Tastes all the same, blame and shame
Red velvet, wrapped in white
Doesn’t realize the compromise

A found misery, get thee to a monastery.
Phasing out the nunnery
She’s hoping for a better me
Run to peace, prosperity; seen
We keep climbing, we keep climbing.


MeetMe, Poetry

Open Letter to a 24 Year Old.

You are crazy.
You are batshit-bananas, over the moon crazy.
And I love you for it.

You laugh and cry like you’re going to die tomorrow.
You feel. Strongly;
you are loud and ferocious, but oh so fragile.
You don’t let the crazy get in the way;
you let it seep out here and there just to make sure it doesn’t overcome you,
just to keep things interesting,
to make sure you’re still grounded.
You move on.

You’re a hard person.
Life has made you independent,
for good reason.
You’ve learned how to survive;
how to fight wars and rebuild torn down walls.

Now, you leave the bridge down.

It’s taken a long time.
It was scary; treacherous,
but you did it.
You showed someone else, open for all to see;
a tulip in spring.
It’s been a long time. And I’m so proud of you.

This is just the beginning.
Most things won’t work in your favor.
But learn from tears. And heal from laughs.

It’s a big world. One step closer, one step older.

A 25 year old