Through Open Doors

Every journey
only opens doors

Never decorates the walls and closes in the warmth
The handshakes and back pats
all fall
on a heart that knows now what

Every journey
only grows you

makes you feel
only that you should have always been able

So short lived
is the real joy of the push
the last miles that could be nothing less than one foot
over one foot
and no other thought

Such clarity
has no room

and yet the world gets back in
and rolls every edge dull again

Found and Denying It Still

the alcohol
pulls my veins to the side
and makes them matter not
to the happiness of my head

I could throw so much away
and not lose a thing
for the moment

sure a sun somewhere has a number
it's figuring is mine

but it is not,
not yet,
yet mine

for now I am invisible
or free

free under the darkness
and its fine black feathers

wind at my back
leaning on me with all reassurances
fueled by whatever no matter

fueled feels so good
so good to always
always come back here
again and again

but really
as often as this ends or begins well
it more often ends
an end all alone
or less than the sum
of all that went in
and away

so long to find a mind that was sound
or enough so
to be me

and all this time left
left to avoid it more

Need to be Worn

Need to be worn
worn and left old

left tattered as loose soil
in a steady wind

not protected and preserved
I am no more special than any next,
but to more than a few,
and less so the more important I make myself

exposed, used, worn
but not preserved, not whole and untouched

untouched is all for birth
and not accomplishment

not that the former is not a feat
just that I am long and many teeth beyond it

we are if nothing more,
a pair of eyes for the part of the world
that can't see

for the universe looking
to find
find itself
through our stumbles and scenery they fall on

I will work
seek to be worn
worn out
no scrap in the yard still with purpose and use after I am done

no such wrecks for me
besides those
within
that tear enough
as is

Dream of Living

So
asleep

but running
sweating enough to keep the landscape green

I scent
the meaning of fear
[into existence]

go high
fall low
miss the distance
and all fail

but brag different

the meaning of fear
into existence

where only bad will
was seeded
now swarms misery

misery in search of balance
balance that will cut
and slice

good
meaningless and lost, bits
of decay

a few will see
but less
will know
know what
what to do with
the sleep lost

to do with
the never had sleep that was lost
what to do
with the never had
the loss

what to do
with the loss

let
live
leave
fly

believe
in all
is good
and comes
in as much
as is needed

is needed
and that then sets orange
like a sunset
just out of reach

out of reach
but fully content
in the heart
and head

I've already...

I've
already lived
half a life
twice as long
as anyone should.

I should finally,
if even on the eve
be ready to be me
and only me.

Twice the time of half the heart
fixes nothing
but desire and insecurity.

Still I only crawl
as now I am less me
and more the puzzle I fit into

The father, brother
lover, artist, mudslinger
plant freak, what ever

finally getting naked
shedding all the things
I would have been
I am left
with just what I am

If you can hold your core
your you
the expectations erode
and one in awhile you can stand up

Nature

Nature,
thousands of bugs,
dinner.

The patrons feasting on them
dinner themselves
in talons and sharper beaks.

Killing all around
yet all being just

and what it is.

Beyond or before all kinds of supposed tos.

Not all the sick and twisted reasons we do the same
or ignore the life of our own food.

Its there
that I start know
we are no longer nature now.

Finding the Land

What is gold
but a stupid metal
hid hard in the ground?

So what
that it is soft
and lends its shine
to rings of wed.

So what
of its generous smiles,

so many lived
in noting more but cans
and tents
to find it,

and still more
never did
in so much less.

So many pursuits of wealth
told so may years before the pursuer
even half way got done

So many
end so much the same.

Half done
but long lived thinking more would just come.

Alone,

but we, the true believers
do not let down.

We hope on
despite all the bad
repeat, repeat

repeat.

Chances true,
     chances false,
still at hand
same before as everyday.

And our best gets the best of us
and we see potential.

Potential never ending,
and more seldom arriving.