Set out To name the way that you feel the weight of the times The miles The decades of war within and without The constant state of becoming Not knowing quite who you are Where you’ve gone Or where it is that you are going… But you constantly wake up to find Something new Inside yourself Some kind of light Are you gonna talk about What it’s like stepping out Into the night The lights in the sky Echo what’s inside And just maybe The way you want to really feel… ——- Evelyn McHale See her there Her eyes they are only sleeping Born Sept 20th 1923 Like me Like you named “the most beautiful suicide.” Because of a kids photograph taken 4 minutes after her after… Was she afraid Was she cursed Was she like me Was she like you From the 86th floor 23… Newly engaged Determination Caused her to land Across the street … From a past she won’t keep See Her clutching hand Her face almost asleep How can you not wonder About the stories of women with men And why we are constantly freightened —— We all have darkness and light we all have things we just keep inside We forget to hold And to keep And to remember And every story Inside every heart And every storm We’ve had to weather And we all forget How we We Along with the times We are also constantly changing —
These days it’s hard to remember who And what And why it gets overwhelming You’re already in And you can’t find the exit now you try to stand you try to just keep going But let me get to the point —— there’s silence And there’s commotion In the skies And there’s borders in these mountains So you know things end And things begin And there’s some kind of order Even when you’re frayed And you’re tired And you just feel wired —- Hey You’re not alone Me too Me too You’re not alone I feel that I feel that too
Look at this mountain built from sand And Sweat While our sons grow strong against the winds And All of our daughters Hearts They weep bitter From All of our thoughts We keep – locked inside of our poison- And I don’t know why … We thought we could just stand Cold Against the shoulder Of every burden and every man —- And all of the rain – and the sky it keeps falling And all of her fists they are burning Like the sun But the wine it is drunk on her lips —- Look at the moon She says She has a full weekend And all the cash she keeps While they are still sleeping Sits on the table And Her cabinets they are empty But she pours me coffee Saying I need to relax While she shows me a book that she has found —— But I can’t run like that I’ve tried in the past It turns into conversations And late night confessions —— Look at this mountain Built from sand All of our children A southern soul Hearts full Like the cloud and the storm That touch down Leave your mark A southern sound In the sky Passing years like mile markers —- But we run on We run on We run on Look at us These bones built from sand Eyes like gin There’s a guard at every heart But we keep building – A southern sound And the sky it keeps falling —- Look at this mountain built from sand And Sweat While our sons grow strong against the winds And All of our daughters Hearts….they keep giving…
Hey my brother I know we grew up fast Hey my sister I know we get caught in the grind Sometimes we feel so alone — There’s a hole in my soul Where the pain sets in A corner of the room where the light can’t —- —— Hey my writer Where’s the ballad for the working mamas —— Hey- I know they don’t sell it to you Like they used to But you’re doing better than you think you are It’s so easy to fall behind You know when the water rises You know when the pain sets in All around your home You know when the other shoe drops —- But to these little victories The overtime The paid off debt The living on a budget The getting ahead The raising of kids The leaving the past behind The stacking up cash —— These little victories In big cities Small towns Loving and living underground Staying out of trouble —— You’re doing better than you think you are They don’t make headlines for the sobriety It’s always the casualty The fast lanes But you know How to kiss the fire Keep your clutches from burning Run all the lights in this town And keep on climbing —— I know it gets heavy I know we all grew old somehow —- But sunlight still meets you You’re still winning You’re still you Even while you’re changing Even while you’re building These small little habits These take up all our days And these small little victories They will outlive our days And You keep on winning You keep on building Don’t be afraid of the change It’s only grace It’s only grace It’s only running this race
Francis: Happy Dad’s day! To tha thin man! Simon: you’re a good dad. Francis: You’re an OLD man! Simon: Everyday you go to Job. It sounds rough. Francis: But this week you went to the Doctor. I’m cheerius…Is it aliens? Are you gonna get the draft? Ack! You caught the ugly? Do you have to go to a carpenter? Lay it on us…don’t hold back…I can take it…who’s gonna feed me snax? Ethan: curious, you’re curious…also…you really don’t know what a doctor is do you? Simon: Is it your trachea? Is it collapsing? Like Garf’s ?? Dad can you breathe? Ethan: Hold it! Everybody just hold it…As it turns out…I have to prove I am human and I will have to continue to go back to the doc to select traffic lights, bicycles and other oddities. I will also have to continue to write poetry very poorly. But they are gonna let that slide…for now. Francis: I knews it. . . Ethan: Now, who wants to help me eat these pizza rolls? Francis: Is this a twix question?
She says Box up your – Depressions, they Are not impressing me- She’s got a head full of dark horses The sky is rain before her eyes She shakes her hair down You’ve got to manage your emotions Or someday soon The moon will pass across your window and close your eyes —- salvation still comes For those who believe But first You will be brought to your knees In the night —— She says Most of these days She doesn’t relate She doesn’t want to be a passenger in your seat She’s got plenty to eat She can go swimming on her own She can pour her own drink She doesn’t need you to feel complete She’s stacking up cash making her way —— She’s not some ornament for display —— And my Son, I can’t blame All my trouble on some economy —— It rains and it rains And we all get opportunity Somewhere somehow Your search for truth Will come back to you You know deep inside What’s been wrong And how to make it right —— There’s a mystery for each sinner Trouble doesn’t wait in line But son every fourth step it is an opportunity To step out And make a life just for you But the old ways they will haunt you They will call you The groups that you ran with They won’t understand The jesters And protesters The debt collectors And the ship wreckers The couch surfers And the hungry women The high and the mighty The fallen and the suicide And you will have to decide for yourself What kind of man You will become While your mother she is praying As only a mother can Because for her Your life passed across her eyes From the day you were born Until the day that you will die… —— Out here on the highway Beyond the knot in your gut You will find the old sign still reads And it says A man is never incomplete He will use the sand from his coffin If it gets him shelter and bread to eat And You can’t keep what won’t be kept You know He’s gonna do What must be done —— But if you see him walking the street Know it’s to his own beat Every man is a season And you can’t change what hasn’t changed in its own time… ——- If there’s a future out here somewhere If my years wasn’t such a long time … If my youth wasn’t such a short time If I could tell you I would remind you Don’t cheat yourself The days pass the same way only once for us sons But twice for our mothers
when I put my hand to the fire only mothers feel the pain and when you’re out there hungry only mothers feel the pangs
Don’t cheat yourself Don’t waste away at yourself You’ve got to make a way Because the days of building They are short —- Keep your house clean Cook your own meal Pour your own drink Stay on the path Stay humble Stay hungry In the struggle and the rain You never know what opportunity Will bring
Take the bread From the children’s mouth Talk about the better days And how the times they’ve changed —- All our eyes color gray You ask a lot of mother To give up all her quiet days —- I know I’ve broken the flesh And bone I guess you could call this spirit home give up clouded skies rain mixed Winter haze I’m not fading away It’s only time for me to change I can’t come here anymore I And I And You And Truth It’s time for me to change my habits Small virtues —- have I seen And felt the sun across Your skin I still feel you I still see you Nothing can always shine Even you need a break —- clouded skies rain mixed Winter haze They say there’s no harvest here What happens to our youth Body soft Red tan Lips drunk and lungs hot You’re high And my eyes colour gray I can’t come here anymore It’s just different seasons It’s just different reasons Even you need a break They ask a lot … But you You can’t Be Anything all the time Keep our quiet days —— -E
Learning how to live with yourself and your own company is a huge thing… How you act, how you love,how you treat yourself along with other people.
The whole world- short staffed – back to work, like kids leaving home, is this fair? Why is it so cruel…
We learned what we would live for Work for Thought we could be kinder But instead sometimes, most of the time, forgot how to be civil and accidentally, for a time, treated others like we were at home,
Short staffed
bakers, makers, teachers, bankers, dentist, pastors, bartenders, short order cooks, long order hostesses, short hand mail workers, sex workers, and hungry men with appetites that were never thin but didn’t have a first pitch follow through to make it across a crisis, home plate or much less a schedule…
There’s a family of 12 that is sitting when you come in, A table of 14 behind you And the girl that greets you, grabs a beer, takes your order,runs to wash some dishes, then brings you your drinks,
Tommy doesn’t like lettuces and Reagan, convinced of a bacon allergy, because of a snap chat video at 2am… Jots that down…
The new cook has to come out to the table… This All of this … Is why you don’t have your one donut…
While it appears the world is re opened like Easter Sunday and a honeymoon It’s really more like legs spread for child birth…
I wanted new experiences So I delivered food for a time “How are you?” “I’m fine, never better, I’m making more money now than I’ve ever made before…I drink all day, have my meals brought to my door…the world is mine.” “It will never last.” I said. “All good things come to an end.”
I cooked in a kitchen…
The world looked different from the inside of the bar I would never be the same Or maybe that was just the heat
I baked for a bakery
Atleast this would help my dating life …
I sat on her porch “I’m sorry I was such an ass …” “You’re supposed to be, you’re a writer. That’s what you do. You could have made me laugh more…But I’m the Elaine to your Jerry…” “You can’t marry that…” “You can’t marry that.”
All in all How lucky we were Even with loss… Even not being ready Even scared Maybe we could live for those we lost… Or at least try… All In all… How lucky we were. -E Regardingsamuel.com
Dad used to have us hold fence post while he drove them in the ground…it hurt like hell and if we let go he would get so frustrated. This may or may not sound bad, I don’t ask myself those questions… between testing spark plugs physically, and digging up grease traps and septic tanks and plumbing the house, all while you’re maybe 10 maybe 12? Being told not to tell people “We live in the basement.” (An unfinished basement that dad never built a house with) And “we got these shoes from the dump.” (A roadside dump where magically, books and shoes or jackets would appear)
Things blur together… He was good at dreams but terrible, terrible at execution…everything took two years and a summer…it didn’t matter what it was.
My favorite was selling produce I got to go to the farmers markets I got to pick out items I remember when they were still hopping and you could get hamburgers And food… Every day I would set up the produce stand on the side of the road at 6am
People would stop and ask me about school or want their kids to ask me why I did it… I would just use some prepared statement about bread on the table…
My point being Whatever was right and wrong with my father, I learned I’ve always learned I remember our house eaten by termites I remember going to every church on the mountain and accidentally going to a snake handling church and watching his face catch up to what all that entailed… I recall conversations that were twisted…
You learn from bad situations and bad Mgr’s and bad business and unfortunate Outcomes ….
You learn what you don’t want You learn what you don’t want to be That’s largely half the battle tho Move to what you want Say no to what you don’t
You learn how to plan ahead Rather than break when things fall apart
I still struggle But I’m trying
I’ve worked every day that I can remember for as long as I can remember It’s the only thing I know It is incredibly hard for me not to work
Now, there’s a growing strand of people That can’t work more than 5 hours at most
In what world do we not have to work everyday
Even at marriage Even at life It’s work It’s all work
It all moves forward I’ve been terrified most of my life Whether it was being on the side of the road during tornadoes Or driving paper routes during tornadoes
Managing 87 employees Firing people Faking it
We talk a lot about how religion “holds the south back.” Anything can hold you back That’s just life… My poetry and art could hold me back My moods My work ethic You have to have balance
17 year old men stormed beaches Fought wars Died
The only thing I know Is that life must be faced I have to face it I’ve been terrified most of my life And everything I’ve ever done I’ve done before I was ready
And I learned it on the ground I messed up a lot But I’m still here I’m right here And my life Goes forwards Face your life Its pain Its joy Its quiet
You don’t get a redo We are here until we are not This isn’t a dress rehearsal This is it You’re not waiting for a big goal Your life is largely The small insignificant habits That you think are getting you to the large goal
We change As we grow and live and that’s ok
Let yourself live And keep going Keep going
Things hurt I had to figure out what I could live with I knew my father had poor ideas about women and marriage and god He was terrified So I just sat with him We talked about work We talked about the Atlanta braves Listening to the ball games on the radio And when he died I dealt with it
I still have things pop up and I have to look at it again Such is this essay
You are the author of your life You decide You You can decide Always
