11 Nov 2017
I’m not the hero you’re looking for,
I’m not the man you think.
I’ve lied and hurt and cheated and stole.
I smoke, I toke, I drink.
With power and fame and money and game
comes each and every vice.
My art was never artless:
but brimming with artifice.
The rules are different for guys like me,
at least that’s what they said.
And I believed them, and pretty soon
the power went to my head.
“Come here,” “stand there”, “a mocha chai latte!”
I’d scream at servants many.
“Good help is so hard to find,” I’d say,
“there really isn’t any.”
I’d push and I’d crush and move on to
the next project without a break,
never noticing the devastation I was
leaving in my wake.
The broken hearts, the crippled careers,
the extent of innocence lost:
the weight of all my sins combined,
the price of fame, the cost.
I never asked to be a hero,
but I’ve enjoyed it I’ll admit.
The higher up you raised me
the further I fall to shit.
I’ve taken a hit, but I’ll recover
and return in a renaissance.
But what of those whom I’ve abused,
who may never sing or dance?
Remember me for my art,
my single noblest part.
Do not peek behind the stage:
it’ll only break your heart.
Learn from my life, exceed it
in every way you can.
Dream and lead and succeed,
be an example to every man.
The time has come for you to
choose your heroes anew.
The time has come for me to leave
and I bid you adieu.
29 Oct 2017
There are a handful of emails
lingering in my gmail
preventing me from achieving
the coveted inbox zero.
A pleasantry never returned,
a logistic ungoverned,
a reminder to update the website
of a man whose wife’s a widow.
These threads remain,
refusing to unchain
their present from my past,
my past from their presence.
I can’t bring myself to hit archive,
face the truth and accept that I’ve
failed those who reached out for help
in my lazy incoherence.
As long as those emails remain
in my mind the myth sustains
that one day I’ll respond to them
and set things right, once again.
22 Oct 2017
Have you ever put, for the second time, shampoo in your hair
because you’re standing in the shower, and that’s what you do there?
How many times have you swiped left and swiped right
as your eyes glazed over, thoughts drifting to the night?
Do you take out your phone to check the time or the weather
only to become lost in Instagram or Twitter?
These idle animations of when the mind checks out
reflect our conditioning to technological clout.
My behavior in these little gaps in between
give me away as a man from twenty seventeen.
14 Oct 2017
Those that have helped me, taught me and fought me.
Those that have healed me, loved and believed me.
Those that have raised me, cared for and praised me.
Those that have scared me, defied and dared me.
Those that have added, and made me shine brighter.
Those that have taken, yet left me feeling lighter.
Those that have transformed and rearranged what was there,
unearthing what was hidden and is now laid bare.
I am who I am because of all of you.
I am who I am despite your worst and your best.
You are and are not responsible for me.
For a man with no woman in his life,
I sure do have a lot of women in my life.
12 Oct 2017
Red is my favorite color.
It is, don’t ask me why.
Not violet, gold or silver,
nor indigo or lilac shy.
Yellow is too happy,
A simple solid smile.
Blue is sombre sadness
stretching for quite a while.
Black too strong, white too weak,
green too livid, brown too bleak.
Pink is pretentious, purple confused,
orange is ugly and often abused.
I’m thankful for these rods
and cones in my eyes.
They make life a joy,
the world a surprise.
Even when the edges blur
and make it hard to see,
the colors are always there
for you and for me.