History

There was a time not too long ago
Past this scorched earth
Beyond this social hyperbole
Of media and mass indulgence
There in the beginning
Where a poet was fortunate to survive
To come out the other side
Into the morning
To finish the ongoing line …
——
I don’t have much stomach for current things
I don’t care about skin care routines
I don’t care about influencers
I don’t care
To care ….
——
Here we are on the brink
Of spurious intellectualism and activism
Poetry has always been somewhat a self portrait and running inner dialogue …
But it’s never been so proud as to exalt itself nor its own demons
We say we’ve left the crucifixion
Yet we haven’t even experienced sanctification or much less repentance …
This turning away – from and beginning – towards…
—-
There is a driving hammer in the echo and eye of the storm…
There is a nail through flesh and splintering dogwood…
There is the suiciding
The addiction
And the manic
——
These things used to not be praised
Our afflictions
——
you can sit
High and intoxicated
And talk to change the world over
But years will pass overnight and you will be old
addictions and vices
cravings and hunger
Will hold you captive there
Repeating the same weekend year after year
——
But still
There is a tunnel ahead
It is security
144 miles a day
720 a week
50 hours
Your heart stops in the night
While reaching for bread
What are you left with?
A stale breath
——-
What are you leaving
Where are you building
Or are you only chasing …
Believing the next thing….
The next place…
The next person…

Build
Build
Choose
Always be in control of your own self

“And some from among you shall build the old waste places; raising up the foundations of many generations; and be called The repairers of the breach, The restorers of paths to dwell in.”

We are so different now
I am so far from who I once was

Control what you can control
And decide
You decide
Choose
Always
Begin
Today
What else is there?

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