December12013

Ambition

It aches in my stomach

And burns wildly in my chest

I’ve so much in this vibrant world

That I still wish to experience 

With my widened eyes

Swollen from their sockets

Like that of a bush baby

I wish to canoe down the Mississippi 

Until I reach the salty tip of the Gulf

I want to see the liveliness 

Of the Chinese Lantern Festival

It itches at my ambition

Like a flea agitating the patience of a dog

Time is wasted on sleep

I’d rather take a walk

9PM

bothkindsofmusic:

Deer Tick - Unwed Fathers

McCauley sings Prine.

9PM

Papa

You are perched

humbly on the White Pine,

The same soft pine

From which you have been

so delicately crafted.

There was never a better medium,

For you were a kind, nurturing soul.

Your body painted Christmas red,

Eyes masked in black,

Your crown, peaked.

How warm, your heart

How driven, your mind

How proud, your demeanor

I touch the back of your nape,

Wishing I were younger.

And you, alive.

Like when I used to hang from your neck

Close enough to feel

 the patterns of your heart.

But I’m doing alright.

You taught me right from wrong;

How to love fully.

Now, when I see you take flight

From the tender limb,

I know you’re telling me to do the same.

9PM

America 2013

It is an eerie feeling

Like a rock sinking in the pit of your stomach

The lies vomited into the mouths of the vulnerable 

They protect us

Mistakes are disguised

Like buried dog shit

By the people to whom we are loyal

And we swallow every tainted word

Smoother than a pill 


How long will we consume our trusted publications?

How many many amendments must we write?

Until we taste the poison? 

Destroy, rebuild, repeat

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