Worst Day

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Well, I was in Kenya until recently working from my laptop. I started a blog after I was prompted by some of my friends and it has been a fantastic experience. I posted most of my work that I wrote while in Kenya and the response was really uplifting. 

Through all this I was so excited because I knew once I came back to the States I would break out the mother lode. I had all my work since 3rd grade stored in my computer and I was really excited to revisit, share and get feed back on my writing. This computer literally had everything, my triumphs and high moment along with some of the darkest times of my life. All chronicled in black and white and emblazoned with funny titles.

This morning I was finally ready to start the adventure of sorting through my work for some gems and laughing at all the poems and short stories I used to think were gold. At first search I find nothing. Unperturbed I keep searching because I knew I was pretty private about my writing and hid it well. After literally tearing through my computer for an hour and finding nothing, I finally break and ask my mom. 

“Oh yea, the computer crashed and your dad did a clean sweep and re-installed everything.” The words clean sweep echoed through my mind over and over again like some monkey playing cymbals in a bad dream. Clean sweep, clean sweep, clean sweep. 

Everything that I am and I have ever written was stored on that computer. My hopes, my dreams, my tentative story ideas that I secretly thought were brilliant but never told anyone, my maturing as a boy to boy man to man boy to man and my growth as a person and a writer. Everything. And now it’s gone. 

 

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Doing me

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Solemn words, words so lame echo and re echo in my mind

Trying too hard to make something beautiful and inspirational

You know, to much of such and such and who and whom did that and this

Then and there but this poem is really going nowhere.

I write so much of such slushy like words that are mushy

That last line was just bad; in fact it was rather sad

That was me trying to be a poet, you know the kind that rhymes and sounds divine

And copies others who sound sublime in an attempt to catch that light of lime

But I am tired of doing them and not tapping into me and living my poetry

So I’ll take my own invitation and step into this and breathe,

The thick dark emotions constricting my throat like the ocean waves batter my soul

And I will sink into this and drown myself in myself and in my death find me

And resurrect me so that I can rise from my depths a new man, almost divine

Its good that I just learned to swim because now I can doggy paddle my way to discovery

And breast stroke my way to my nirvana each breathe sacred and holy

As the salt of my unshed tears sting my thirsty mouth and I drink the bitter waters

Of my Mara, the bitter waters of my failures and consume my own heart for courage

These words that pour out will be me more than I am me being me.

So I invite you into this journey of introspection, not the meditation preached by the silent monks

Or yoga postured by the crippled beggars, but the rocky journey of self discovery

Like when America was discovered by “Americans” because until you discover you, you don’t exist

So come and starve with me as you feast your face with tangible food but your soul hungers for the illusive desires

Come and burn with me in the hot sun fire of my emotions that are so bright I wear sunglasses inside my heart

Reach deep inside to the closets hidden within the closet where the darkness is so bright that you are blind

And can not comprehend what you are even hiding.

See me and you as worlds, entire universes because we are the sum total of our world

Reach and feel that power that you have shunned all your life, feel it there like a pool of lava

Powerful and incinerating everything so hot hot is hurts to touch.

But ignore the pain and reach in with me and sink your hands in down to your elbows and feel the exquisite release

As our world of lies and masks is burned away the lava eating through it all like an inexorable flood

Heating your blood and your bones and your clay self and making it into what it is

Come and mold and make yourself and stand forth in the sun your heart strong and sure

Your body glistening in the light of your ambition and your soul a lantern of hope

Walk into this adventure and stride out a God.