Solidarity.

An American dollar to my Ugandan shilling,
How I came across this golden purr,
A motorboat in the ocean of strangeness.

But until now,
I never felt good or bad,
Only strange and unprepared.

And when I found a piece of the puzzle,
A sudden turning of gears,
The teeth that fit,
And now I'm giving thanks
To the Ultimately Real
And to coincidental circumstance.
A merchandise line,
A Business Card,
Pancakes.
A fundamental, beautiful,
Instantaneous inner commotion.
A screaming and burning.
I knew it from the start.
An itch almost,
Something I need.
I find myself in a whirlwind,
Sadness doesn't manifest itself
No withdrawals,
Or at least not yet.

A sound escapes my mouth
Through the teeth of a smile.
It is permanent.
We speak of being surrounded
By constant romantic miserables,
A fear of the future,
And then a relapse of synapse,
Until collapse.
And I beg this feeling itself,
Never give way,
Never let me go, never hide or waver.
Just give me another adventure.

He was a man of rugby, with a smile of diamond teeth and strawberry lips.
He was a trouble maker and of quietus; kept his kingdom free of hassle. 
He was all I could have wanted, and still I didn't. 

Donnie Darkens the room and the television, the man next to me as a storm when I lay.
A problem of mercury. A strange scenario. 
3 AM and I turn over to his back, shirtless. Only a matter of hours and yet I already needed to graze my fingers. 
He was all I could have wanted, but I still didn't.
Two weeks, he sleeps through the rain. He twitches and jumps all night, a dreamer through and through. An offer for flavored smoke and ice cream. I decide an ultimatum. I am going to fall off this bed unless I do something. The cold hard floor and I align. 
He was all I could have wanted, but I still didn't. 

-A

New York.

There's a vision which clouds my mind.
A wild thought and a wandering restlessness.
The thought of you here,
Or me there,
Christmas time in the city.
A thousand buildings all lit
As if the flame in my chest is
Consuming the rooms.
But they are not the focal point,
They are simply man made portals
For paperwork and corruption.

I imagine myself walking down the drive,
Your hand in mine,
With a warm coat over my shoulder,
Along with the visible evidence of your breath.
But you,
I don't quite know who you are.
Even still,
After all these years I still don't know you.
And as the snow crunches underfoot,
I envision being taken by you,
Consumed,
Wholly and purely and without needing to
Prove myself.

And then as we walk there together,
Past the wooden dock and over the frozen lake,
We realize that maybe,
Just as the flakes of snow
Find their sole purpose in falling
And freezing onto more of these flakes,
So do we.
All we are,
Precipitation.

And then, there's this moment.

And then, there’s this moment.
When everything you believed in,
So truly,
So completely and steadfastly,
Is suddenly hurled into oblivion,
Quickly, quietly,
So that it slips away without a shimmer.
It leaves you torn and
Asking for answers and
With tears running down,
Begging for it to come back.
It leaves you shaking and cold;
From cumbersome fear and
Loss and love and
Everything as One.

Who do you go to?
What entity approached?
A reality check,
A blanket, a book,
The Ultimately Real,
A drink, a substance,
The graze of a hand
Down the small of your back,
A friend?

The strangest moment of your life.
And who you give it to,
This is what will define you.

-A

Some days and...

Some nights just before
Resting my head on cushions
And sliding my legs under a
Wave of blankets and sheets,
I catch a hint of that scent in the air.
The one that lingered from your cigarette,
The Pall Malls,
I know them so well.
I know exactly how they sit
In the breast pocket of your button-up,
And how badly I wanted to be
Wearing that button-up
That night after we danced outside
And we danced into your bed.

And some days after
Looking up into your blue eyes
And imagining your hand in mine
Under a silent sea of stars,
I begin to wonder why I ever left this place.
This home of mine where all I love,
Residing,
I knew it so well,
I knew it when I left
The first breath of a newborn child,
How subtle englightenment has
Burrowed in my soul and
Taken me captive through
Ventures down memory lane.

And some mornings when
I've forgotten how empty I feel
And I peel open my eyes to reality
and to work and to being gone,
I almost remember that smell of happiness.
That smell of convincing arguments,
Lobbying,
Still resisting temptation,
Still wondering sometimes
If maybe you weren't all that drunk,
How if even just a spark could
Become a flame in your mind
And singe the wick that would
Lead to me.

How things could be so different.

-A

blahblahblagh.

I bet he thought I couldn't, but I am.
I am floating on a current in the air that came from the words of your mouth.
I am two hundred miles away.
I am discovering an untold destiny and daydreaming of what would happen in a perfect world.
I am surprised to meet here with the sweet smell of curiosity.

Like taking off tinted sunglasses to see the real world.
Like traveling to impoverished homelands you thought you knew.
Like regaining your faith in the ultimately Real and humanity.
Like walking into a room and feeling as if nobody can see you.

I thought this place was hell, but maybe it's just shady,
And if you ever stop here, you'll know that it's a craving.

I must have run for selfish embarassment.
I must have fled from what is tied to my heart.
I must have loved something far too cumbersome.
I must have found a concurrent lonesomeness.
I must have traded him for everything.

And now I'd like to trade it all back.
-A

Taj Mahal.

Among the wild and the music,
I am calming you down,
I am rubbing your hands
I am dancing with happiness and drunks.

The first few months i've gotta deal,
He doesn't care for me anymore,
I wondered why I was even here
And that's when you noticed me.

We all seem to need a hand
Between the cig'rets and beer,
The headlights shining
When we looked up from kissing that first time.

Yeah we were embarrassed,
But you put your arm around my back and we
Separated in the store before
Nosebleeds and red dog. 

Your paintings surrounding,
Made for conversation damming,
Words flowing, pulses growing,
Until I came to terms with reality.

(This is really happening, yes,
This is actually happening to me.)

Well you closed your eyes 
While I took you over to Bengal,
You liked everything you saw
Because we felt like rockstars.

And now i'm on the train,
Some mileage away from
Running my hands through ginger hair,
From smelling you in the air.

Meet, Greet, Repeat.

A moderate sense of longing has become my parasite. It is devouring its host slowly and with an unforgiving attitude, an overshadowing and an encompassing of all other things; a longing for somewhere to call home finds me and is bent on me. In the last few weeks before leaving my friends and family, I found myself asking the same question a hundred different ways- What is home? Is home a place to find refuge within the arms of loved ones? Is home just walls and wooden beams, a place to stow your things? A place to install yourself and download after a hard day? Somewhere to simply sleep? As I join thousands of freshman in the United States and elsewhere who are moving and creating a new life, my idea of home has begun to slowly evolve and take shape.

After moving in, unpacking, meeting, greeting, connecting, I find myself in an unexpected slump. Perhaps it is all of the forced friendships composed of names and hometowns tossed out into the atmosphere and quickly forgotten. It could be the lack of male interaction on my particular floor in the dorm. Maybe it is all of these things combined with the realization that this semester may indeed kill me, and that I haven’t found my sense of belonging yet; I haven’t found my sense of home.

Time is on my side.

-A

Temporary Leave.

You must be the sweetest thing,
The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen with
Bones of ice and eyes of green.
I could watch you endlessly,
Play guitar and sing to me,
I always am the one to leave.

You and I are metal shards,
Robots who rust in time and chords.
oxygen and atmosphere,
Our eyes are next to go, we fear
All the time that passed us under,
Was enough to make us wonder.

Why we were even here at all.
If we were ever here at all.

We’ll count away with the clocks
Discovering where this plane stops,
And I will clutch the weathered rocks
Until they start to mold and rot.
But triumphantly we will shout
“Give us back our pride and doubt!”

Why were we even here at all?
Were we ever here at all?

-A

Home.

I was driving home tonight when
I passed by your old lake house.
We photographed the lightning skies.
We devoured all the rice.

You dont believe in me, still.
All I was, scroll and quill.

Your mother told me all about
How she almost gave you up.
She cooked us dinner and she
Gave me a budweiser swimsuit.

Yes, it was so odd to me.
To know all about that phase.

All I wanted was to carry you home
Amongst the birds and telephone line.
All I wanted, to make you smile,
You never even let me try.

But you and I, we crept on by.
Along in silent sleep.

I know how strange it must be,
To read me like words from a book.
Obviously wishing to be
Something I can never percieve.

We clap our hands amongst the trees,
I hoped that you would sing to me.


-A

Behhh.

I thought you meant it when you said
You'd like me in your New York bed.
I thought you meant it when you read,
"You're my first love, born and bred."

I cried myself to sleep one night
It was this week, you were out of sight.
I cried myself to sleep tonight,
I couldn't move from cumbersome fright.

Your hands move, your fingers shook,
I knew I loved you with a single look.
You can have me like jems for a crook,
I know you can read me like a book.

I clapped my hands you sang your song,
I laughed beside you all night long.
You always thought that I was strong,
I should have known that I was wrong.

-A

I am?

I am
in love with a hundred different people.
If you could outsource all your daydreams,
You could store them in my database,
Installed at the bar at your workplace,
Download and decompress to my face.

I am
Forced to settle with being lonely,
To accept that I’m a just a postcard,
But I’m content with being at least invited
To draw with your crayons that I’ve cited
To hear your music loudly on my right end.

I am
Driving down the parkway
With the thought that maybe someday
I’ll meet the family that lives at
The house whose street address contains that
Number that corresponds to my birthday.

I am
holding my eyes up to the mirror,
To watch that house pass my car door
I think that family could like me,
If we arranged some kind of meeting,
And I’d tell them about your daydreams.

I am
Concerned that I can’t hope for,
The day that you’ll settle down and
In that wormy brain you’ll realize
Finding love is harder than anything else,
Its not something you read from a book on a shelf.

I am
Sorry that you want me to be
Something that I can’t be,
‘Cause I’m on a hundred year repeat,
I can’t think just like you think,
But I’ll still be here until you stop me.

Pair of Claws.

I saw my mom in a hospital gown,
The news was on tv,
MSNBC,
Talk of making divorces easy.

Some guy who is balding,
advice with a ring on,
Sings his own theme songs,
My father proclaims, “He’s got it all wrong.”

I have installed in the waiting room;
Downloaded myself while
My coffee gets chilled,
A rumbling stomach but I won’t move.

The walls aren’t all washed the snow white of plaster,
I leave for a smoke,
A getaway from the old
Stale recycled air that fills my chest.

Outside the summer rain falls to wind,
Moves the trees slightly,
Ambiguously,
The ting of drops on tables out of sync.

I am not worried,
I am still distracting myself.

Stranger.

Somedays I’m convinced I know exactly who you are. Like truly, like as if I’ve spent real time with you instead of just data messages sent over wires and atmostphere and satellite towers.
I remember meeting you once,
The only time, really, that I’ve seen you face to face.
I was so scared of you, strangely. You were this quiet, smart, attractive guy. And I was a young, boring kid. You were reading “The Moon Is Down” by Steinbeck, Wearing a Death Cab for Cutie jacket. Playing bass guitar for Jesus in your black rimmed glasses. I was drawn to you instantly, almost as a lark.
There is really only one thing I can remember saying to you, and even then it took courage.
“I like your jacket. Death Cab is awesome.”
“Yeah, thanks!” and then back to your book.
I wanted more. I had imagined this sort of intense conversation sprouting just from a compliment. I hoped you’d notice me. I hoped you’d tell yourself about how nice I seemed or something.
But here we are, after many conversations and venting, and you’ve found something of mine to be interested by, invested in, but it is simply what everyone else sees-
My shell, my body.
But that is all. I am just my body. Never a word mentioned about my mind or my soul. Not a question asked or inquiry made. And yet I allow it to happen without a complaint. All I wanted was to be as intelligent or as intellectual as you, to seem compatible mentally,
But really I haven’t had the chance to.

I talked to you this week about how far we’ve come. How if three years ago I was told that I would hold your attraction (even as mundane and as much as I wish it were more than this) for this length of time, I wouldn’t have believed it. I reminded you of how we met and you had one thing to say to me,
“You were perfect even then.”
Something so beautiful, maybe the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. And yet, it means nothing because you’re still such a stranger to me. I still haven’t cracked you. I know you on such a standard basis even after all this time. Maybe that’s for the best.

-A

I've Been Dreaming.

I’ve never been able to see myself from a distance.
Not five years, not tens.
Not five months, I’ve never been
Able to clearly see what lies ahead, future tense.
Rich, with a fine Gent,
Or a hippie with street sense.
There are some romanticized dreams, aspirations,
Traveling vacations,
Advertising destinations.
To sit in the shade and sip on some coffee drink,
To listen to you think,
With dirty dishes in the sink.
I want to help others in an unknown foreign land,
To lend someone a hand,
Drag the ending through the sand.
Maybe write a book filled with poetry of my own,
To call a house my home,
With kids in a school zone.
I’ll visit the city lights, but live only with the earth,
To find my spiritual rebirth,
With no concern of my worth.
I suppose what I want truly is peace or happiness,
Show love to the lochness,
To live, not to possess.

-A

In Disagreement.

I'm in love with your style baby,
But you're so intimidating.
Don't blame it on the color of you hair,
I'd take you out if I could dare.
But, oh,
I'm too scared.
I'm too scared.
Blow your smoke
into the air,
Still I'm too scared.

Why wasn't I born just a little more early?
I'm too young, nobody takes me seriously.
Don't blame it on your skinny bones,
If I could you know I'd pick up the phone.
But
You'll never know,
You'll never know.
Play your song, kick the drum,
But you'll never know.

-A

Nākta Mājas.

I replayed the moment over in my head,
I ran out the door,
I jumped on the bed.

I played the song you used to sing,
I closed my eyes,
It rained on me.

It rained on me,
It rained on me,
All night long,
It rained on me.

I heard your voice over the phone,
I asked you, "what?"
I miss the tone.

Jūsu mamma ir traka,
Kā man tevis pietrūkst.
I missed her so.

I missed her so,
I missed her so,
But nowhere near,
How I've missed you.

My fear flipped over as a switch,
I gave your book,
Resolved the glitch.

I don't want to write you a line,
I know that you'll run,
I know you'll hide.

I know you'll hide,
I know you'll hide,
My biggest fear,
I know you'll hide.

-A

Try.

I drive myself insane.
Anxious clicking and whirring and spinning,
follows my frail mind's sprint.
A picture could tell a story
worth a thousand words,
but I have none to say,
not a question or statement.
I am too afraid.
I'd rather invest myself in
avoiding confrontation.
Avoiding honesty which
seems so necessary,
seems important and basic.
Fear takes its place at night,
between the speed of light
and my face in front of this screen.

I'm trying to let go.
I'm trying to give up the apprehension
and just say what I want.
But I know all too well,
That trying doesn't exist.
There is only doing, and not doing.
And I am not doing.
Far too much to lose;
You.
-A

La-la-laaa

Wake up to the day
Hide my eyes, turn away
Remember the smoke
And last nights jokes,
Can you notice me, please
That's all I really need.
Just sing me a tune,
I'll listen to you.

But as it seems, no,
Seen through like a ghost,
I'd lay there in the bed
With the one thing you'd said,
"I've watched this movie once,"
Then I'd make myself some lunch.

Sing me your song,
I'll hum along,
Show me your room
I can see right through,
Dreaming of different ways,
to convince you to stay.
Too hot then too cold,
Like refrigerator mold.

-A

It'd be Nice.

I must be out of my mind,
To imagine these things,
All intertwined.
I return each night hoping you’ll see me,
Maybe you’ll find…

And oh, the daily grind,
Not the beans,
I’d like to unwind,
Can I just have all for myself
A piece of your mind?

In your mind,
On my mind,
In your mind,
I won’t mind.

Perhaps I’m blind,
I just hear you sing
All the time inside my mind,
Id steal you away and you won’t even mind.

If I gave a sign,
Some signal,
Symbol of some kind, will it be in time,
To listen, to resign?

If I wrote some line,
To hide in this mask,
Stare from behind, if the system aligns,
Could you drop me a line?

In your mind,
On my mind.
In your mind,
I won’t mind.
In your mind,
On my mind.
In your mind,
All the time.

Something.

Yours is the first face I have seen. Eights aligned followed by pegasus after I drove by your home. I had cried but now we're here and i'll just hide again.
Something still draws me near. Something strangely attractive. Something that i've given up on before but keep returning to in my subconscious. It strangles me in my sleep through my dream catcher using my pillow. And when I awaken, like an accidental lover, it disappears from the mistake personified by my body.
Something in your voice, something in your drunken ways, a music resonating in the chambers of my soul. You show up by association at the most obscure moments. Your something is everywhere. On the streets, in my car, in my coffee, on and on. It distracts and disturbs. Saves and protects. Such division with such consistency.
I am recklessly abandoning these inhibitions of mine. I have a quiet love for these things. It is deep and it lingers on. I am in love with the brotherhood. I am in love with the spectacles. With the addiction. The sound of your spirit. I am in love between the pages and only there.
-A

Failing.

This act of pretending isn't working for me.
I've tried to ignore your self-determined disappearance for days now and I can't put myself under such strain anymore.
I can't put it into words.
There is no string of letters and spaces to convey how sorry I am and how many questions are in my mind.
Overactivity.
It hits me in waves suddenly. In the car, on my way to sleep. Wonder surrounds with where you are now. Are you in a sleepy, coma like state? Are you forever evaporated in the clouds? Or, my greatest fear, far more suffering than imaginable. And yet I do. I imagine for endless hours instead of resting. Instead of eating. Instead of doing what I should- mourning.
I question how to do this though. So used to helping myself by helping those around me but I can't do that now. Just quietly bow my head. Wipe my eye. Stand back up. Move along.
Like Public Transit.
360 miles from where I could help or be near those who understand. How do I do this here?
How do I celebrate you or question you or mourn you or do anything?
How do I move along?

-A

The Quiet Love

I have spent some amount of time trying to count and combine, while ticking clocks resound ticks and tocks but all i've found is my soul with holes like old socks. But is there any soul that is complete? Except Ghandi and Mamaji?
Who am I, really?
What do I need?
There's the person I am, and the human shrouded in robot seed, that's the one you see. Hidden from even the closest.

The wind and moon call for some peace tonight. They remind me over space and time of the fragility of life. Millions of tons of metal fly down the drive. But if he felt any love then he'll go to the Nation In The Sky, he's already there, he'll paint until it's dry.

"i have a quiet love for you, old friend." the kindest words i've ever read.

-A

Intrigue.

New Old Friend.
Beginnings thrown with endings.
An attempt is made to step back from mutual magnetism.
There is another. Posterity. She is you and she is not.
There is a side of us, unseen to any else. The Mutual Magnetism. A yearning. A throbbing. A concern.
Finding amongst rootless words a chemical compound. A method for disaster and madness and copulation. A flex and release of muscle in my eyes and thighs.
And I simply can't get enough. I have missed the attention. I have missed security. The only thing I've wanted was stability.
Stow and go. Figure you me out. A power struggle to be the control. To be captivating. Impressive or interesting.
But there's no hiding.
Through sand and fire, we all feel so lonely, and my shield and shelter is but glass.
To betray myself is to be myself.

-A

coming home. (4/25/10)

this world is so amazing.
I discovered this week how small I can feel and how great I can feel in the opposite regard. I learned that everyone will let you down. Whether you know them or not, whether they promised or not, whether they've acted like family or not. Perhaps this is the biggest wake up call I've had in a while.
it's hard to see these things from 30,000 leagues over the sea. It's hard to see deception and cheating, thievery, abuse. From up there all I can find is energy and existence. Patches of light clusters scattered through the land.
it rained on the way out of the airport. We were delayed for two hours. It was awful except for the tiny natural beauties I found lurking within the storm. The runway was lined by blue, green, yellow and orange lights that reflected without focus on the rain pattering on my window. I experienced horizontal rain, and looking out across a sea of clouds which was giving me a lightning show of godly proportions. The things causing my lateness were the most beautiful.

I should learn to slow down. Ignore the delay and enjoy the shower. Even if my seat partner from Greece likes to whine the whole time. But what does that accomplish? Nothing. Moments spent on annoyance when happiness is far more obtainable.

-A

stability.

switch off,
please,
give a break from
reality,
insanity surrounding
anxiety,
created inside the mind,
determining
dreams versus reality but
failing,
sleep and thought have
singularity
just a response, an answer
desiring,
simply looking for mental
stability.

i am learning that the Earth and ground below
the water which calls me softly in the night,
are all just regeants of consumption,
I am temporary and they will live on.

I am learning that I am always drawn
to my opposite with meaningful thought and
sliver bones, the influential singer that
will serenade for my whole life long.

I am learning that we all are really herd animals,
enjoying our collective echelon through
successes and optimal failures that lead some
astray to a foreign undiscovered place.

I am learning that this place could destroy
my mental state of being, peace of mind.
the qualities of reality are indistinguishable
from the visions during sleep.

I am learning that espresso is alright,
that the earth is worth saving,
my habits are inclusive and that I like the way
your hair sways when you rock out en casio.

nobody know sme at all.

Chapter.

This happens to me so often.
For six years I have waited, solemnly, patiently.
I have watched you grow,
I have watched you cry,
I have held your hands in mine,
and your head in my lap when sleep was near.

The day will come when I will not be tied to anything here.
I will leave this place and I will expand my horizons.
I will mourn, I will shake off the dirt and the grime,
And I will go on.
Because there is something waiting for me on the other end.
I will set sail once comes the noon of night-time,
To a close but foreign land,
One which holds all of the untold,
Every quiet secret of my future and destinations currently unknown.

Every emotion will be uncorked and thrown to sea.
Good or bad, love or the untimely,
Some laced with ulterior motives or selfish musings,
Things which may have appeared as one thing
And revealed themselves to be another.
And soon,
I will apologize.
To everyone who I have hurt or knocked down,
To everyone who I could have helped,
To all who I didn't love with my whole heart.
I will go with lighter footsteps,
And with heavy suitcases,
And I will live.

New Appreciation

I used to reside alone, my branches hung low to my side. One night in the summer, a violent storm rolled in, filling the regional skies with light and booming noises. A young bird took shelter beneath my leaves. It sang a soft melody to comfort me all through the night. And although the bird has left my safehold, I now hold a new appreciation for the sunlight and the rainfall.

-A

1/15/10 (AKA Old.)

I sink into this chair that used to be my throne, and stare at the result. 68. Failure. My pride and talent fall to the floor like melting ice cream and I am hit with the reality that maybe I'm not as smart as I thought I was. So used to just understanding all concepts thrown in my direction. Finally, one has prevailed over me. Perhaps I am not alone, however. No high-fives ring out. No lighted eyes, just solemn staring faces and audible swallowing.
The day progresses. I write. I eat. I talk. I compute. I observe. I listen. I am.
Dressed in brightly colored garments as if to cast away my own dark demons of black and gray. I hand my day over. Damaged goods. Useless to me now. No turning around or fixing this mess, it is over. The wheels keep turning and I simply follow the schedule of regularity and of qualities too mundane.
-A

I don't have a title for this.

Feeling faithless from the fall,
Looking lonely lost, and hopeless,
Hanging on by what seems like just tiny thread.

Clinging closely on the cusp,
Slipping seems my sole solution,
But looking up I see I'm clutching to your chain.

I let go,
And the fear I felt forgot me.
I let go,
And the metal chain cuts me.
I looked down,
And saw my feet on solid flooring,
And now I'm glad I'm not a link upon your scam.