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No Regrets/No Sweat

Surfing the Waves Life Sprayed Out the Hose

Monthly Archives: August 2010


I wish you could sing.
Sing to the stars to move.
They’d move to me and I’d smile and close my eyes.
So I could enter a world absent of mirrors.

I wish you could sing.
Sing to our daughter.
Stranded on the isle in her room.
Could she ever find the boy in her dreams?

I wish you could sing.
Sing to the hungry.
So that maybe they’d build a thirst like mine.
A thirst for your voice and escape out of those minds.

I wish you could sing.
Sing to the snow to never melt.
Sing to the flowers to never wither.
Sing to the fire to calm.
Sing to the house to be strong and not burn down.
To be strong and not burn down.
I wish I could save you.

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The chase is on,

it’s an uneven race.

The chase is on,

I can feel it in my face.

The chase is on,

the blood between my toes,

The chase is on,

the race in myself, I chose.

The chase is on,

Gravel rubbing the glass in my heel.

The chase is on,

glasses, tie and class are my shield.

The chase is on,

mud blotting the white in my shirt.

The chase is on,

the nostalgia in my coat is now dirt.

The chase is on,

leaped into the wind as a bound.

The chase is on,

leaped and tackled him to the ground.

The chase is on,

ties between lies confronted in a race.

The chase is gone,

I can now preach to myself face to face.

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Hush it, I’m thinking…
I’m thinking…
and I’m pondering…
its wearing me out.

Push it, I’m trying…
I’m trying…
and I’m failing…
its wearing me out.

Drive it, I’m calling…
I’m calling…
and I’m holding…
its making me mad.

Take it, I’m waiting…
I’m waiting…
and I’m saving…
its hurting my hands.

Move it, I’m treading…
I’m treading…
and I’m pulling…
I thought this rock was too heavy for me.

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I’ll float yonder.

I’ll float to that tree.

I’ll float to that limb.

I’ll float to that leaf.

I’ll float to that breeze.

I’ll float yonder.

I’ll roll yonder.

I’ll roll to that blade of grass.

I’ll roll to the me in that piece of glass.

I’ll roll to that orange at the trunk.

I’ll roll to that ray of Sun.

I’ll roll yonder.

I’ll sprint yonder.

I’ll sprint that forest.

I’ll sprint across that pond.

I’ll sprint to that cliff.

I’ll sprint to that port.

I’ll sprint yonder.

I’ll gaze yonder.

I’ll gaze at the lines in my palm.

I’ll gaze at the ships in the sky.

I’ll gaze at the droplets on my toes.

I’ll gaze at this park one last time.

I’ll gaze yonder, a second time, before I say good-bye.

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I’m a little over the top….
but still well under the stone.
I am a combination of your colors, in the Sun, hitting the rain….
but still dedicated to the monochrome of the moon.
I dare to keep consecutive smiles close…..
but still keep yours & my tears the closest.
I love the Lord with all of my breath…..
and I rejoice at the fact I’ll be in heaven with leaders like Moses.
I am rich & wealthy…..
but I am simple & sensual.
Again, I am rich & wealthy….
but I am simple & sensual.
I will love you as much as I can and then some, I promise…..
and there are very few promises I choose to make.
I am going to lead this group to victory…..
but that victory will only be determined by how many lives we save.
We will save lives….
and we will give away smiles…..
Always…..
Always…..
Always…..
Forever……
and Always.

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In my research’s conclusion,
Many organs in the body are normal.
The kidney filters,
While the lungs breathe.
The toes long to run,
While the tongue demands to be free.
Yes, the body is amazing but real.
Simple, complex, ancient and modern.
It can heal itself and others.
It’s reproductive using a father and mother.
None the less malleable;
more so the core than anything else.
Yes, the heart and core is, alone, phenomenal .
The one organ that can be melted,
mixed and amalgamated in ways.
It drives men through twisted routes: seen and unseen.
It calls them incognito to assume incognito.
Men, masters of disguise and gents of heart-breakers.
They wear hats of diplomats,
Rosy cheeks included.
Helmets of brass,
Making them hard-headed at times.
They can wear nothing at all,
Dipping into a hippie culture sometimes.
They assume powdered wigs,
Bolstering the jurisdiction they own.
They wear fisherman attire,
Fishing for food and women.
My research predicts an infinite number of personas,
unique and simple.
I will further investigate this matter and report back in a similar fashion.


Oh, I’m such a fool, such fool.
The truth in a bed of bribes.
Functions to make me miss blank after blank.
Evening after evening,
You were beneath the arched gate.
Counting hibiscus after roses.
Evening after evening,
I was above the stone bridge near the port.
Counting fisherman after clovers.
Who knew I was being waited for,
Besides you and I.
Lack of humility will be my demise.
Ungrateful of your elegance.
Grateful for your forgetfulness.
Scowled for my evanescence.
Perplexed by my lack of presence.
I’m about as round and transparent as the glass clinched in my hand.
About as reliable as my slow trips to the tavern and back.
Repeatedly, to the tavern and back, the angels are helping me stand.
If only I had the valor to run to you beneath the gate.
The courage to stare into your vespertine eyes graced by your curly hair.
The bravery to ask you, with four words, a question I can’t ask myself.
The dilation of your gems makes it even harder for a man to build confidence.
You love me so much, you’ve given up evening after evening.
I’ll be there before the bottle hits the waves.
It will never give me the right to wed you.
No matter how vespertine my thirst may be.