I notice new windows on a house and wonder how much they paid
The cost of a new roof too, I wish could be relayed
Through the end product prominently displayed.
Landscaping, The flowerbed’s they’ve made
While my grass remains grubbily grayed.
One neighbor’s out there hand trimming each blade.
I pander blessings misconveyed
Sitting in my porch’s shade
And wonder when the green will fade.
Some dreams I see
Things I need to be,
Provider and father of three
With the writer in me.
This video is yesterday’s poem and today’s poem combined. Crazy I know. I’m walking on the wild side.
A Newborn’s Bodily Functions
When my son nurses he’s often slurping
loudly and that’s totally okay.
We’ll pat him on the back to get him burping
And when he spits up, then we‘ll say,
“Good job, nice burp, way to work it out!”
And we say something similar if we hear him fart.
But I know that soon enough, without a doubt
The cuteness of bodily functions will depart.
Clean Teeth Craving
I crave the act of brushing my teeth
Sweeping a tooth brush around the wreath
Of projected bones locked in a tomb
Where flakes of food would like to loom.
Stuck in a Stare: Part 2
Even if there’s something in me that doesn’t love a wall,
There’s something deep inside that wants to stare and stall,
To take a moment and reflect
With a visual incision,
Whatever’s in my vision.
It’s a calling that one has at a particular time and place
And although it makes no sense, you can erase
Your thoughts of the rest of the world
And let your body be hurled
Into some sort of stand-by mode
Released by a secret code
Or prematurely quite abruptly
If you choose to interrupt me.
I’ll hold nothing personal against you
If you steal my introverted view,
But why choose it so I lose it,
Why not choose to use it?
Why would you take my view just to take it,
Take my stare in your hands and break it?
People in our culture don’t get it
If a stare must continue, then let it.
There is no rule that says otherwise
So take a moment to finish with your eyes
Before returning to the tasks you have at hand,
By doing so, you’ll come to understand
Why someone sits and sticks inside a stare
And why you should let them have a moment there,
Enjoying this spectator sport
Even if it has to be cut short.
Stuck in a Stare
Okay … Alright… almost… wait for it… There.
Sorry, I was stuck inside of a stare.
You know you can wait for it, right?
You can give in to your stare and not fight
The urge to see a fixed point on the wall
While a friend sends an end snapping stopping call
“hey …hey.” They say as if their snapping wasn’t heard
and somehow they’d pierce your ears with spoken word.
As if their snapping was left to be defined
And you’d only understand if it could be combined
With a “hey… hey…” which of course translates to
“you have something far more important to do,
like look at me and what I’m doing,
Instead of your endless pursuing
Of a fixed point that’s somewhere on the wall.”
This person has sadly never felt the call.
Throwing Out Memories
My kids are both big garbage fans
And like their favorite garbage men
They got to move the garbage cans.
Creating a remember-when
My kids took up the garbage cans that night.
And I’m sure this will become somewhat less cute
When they’re older and their chores become a fight
But tonight I let their smiles leave me mute.
I’ll see what you’ve been up to
In a place where time suspends,
Hung up on walls for me to view
What’s up with all my friends,
Friends I haven’t spoken too
For forever and a day
Or friends I’ve never met who
Just happen in to say
A comment on my wall, a link,
Perhaps a status update.
If I don’t stop and think,
At least I hesitate
Before I click to view your photos
And all your conversations.
Perhaps you did not know that those
Were public complications
That I just saw, or over heard
By clicking through the sprawls
Of information friends inferred
And wrote on others’ walls.
Do I Drive-Thru?
There is a time when it all comes together
That instant when you have to make a choice
You reach a climactic moment as to whether
You go in or speak to a voice.
Do you enter brick and mortar,
Where it’s obviously shorter.
I can’t imagine it’d be worse in-
Side where there’s one person.
Still I think the way to go
Is driving with my radio
Allowing frequency of talk in
My car to stop my walk-in.
Tempted by Raining BMWs
God isn’t worried about Money
Because Heaven doesn’t have a hole.
But what if someone drilled through the sun He
Put there and then stole
A stream of gold from heaven’s street.
And left the hole to show his Feat
So everyone on Earth would know
He stole a part of Heaven’s glow.
What would we do with this guy
Who’s taken our thoughts of Heaven to try
And redirect our attention to buy
Sun-beemers that fell from the sky?
We’d let him sell us all sorts of stuff
That we really don’t need anyway.
‘Cause even with more than enough,
Our Freewill would happily pay.