Directions

Sometimes I feel wild inside,
With dark thoughts and wishes:
Holding back with all my might,
Things made worse by thinking.

With all these scars,
Perhaps I've changed too much:
Though I have done my best,
To dull at least my sharpest edges.

But there were times,
When by restraint my joy was lost:
And because of fear I did not sing,
At least when you were looking.

So I remained the stranger,
Even when you held my hand:
Hiding with my words,
The things I really wish I'd said.

I regret not risking more,
To save the love I've lost:
Waiting too long,
For fate to intervene.

I Loved you so deeply,
When we snuck away:
And we kissed that night,
On top of Serenity Hill.

Just know,
You pulled me through the darkest nights:
The crayon drawings I made for you,
Calmed the hell inside my head.

When I left,
I cried against the car window:
Giving up,
The beauty of what might have been.

I was not wise enough then,
Too young to understand:
The selfish way I begged,
That God would bring me back to you.

For many years after,
I thought I saw you:
Mistaking strangers from behind,
Because I couldn't forget your face.

What power your memory held,
And you are inspiration still:
Thanking all my lucky stars,
For all the ways our Summer changed me.

Stop Telling Me To Calm Down

I hear people say things and they make me wonder....Why can't I hear God's voice? It's not as if I haven't been listening. At times I've been so low I begged for God to tell me something, anything. Based on what I learned in Sunday school, if the answers don't come you're just supposed to wait. I have yet to hear any voices from above. I've always wondered what it is that makes me different from those that say they hear God speak. Do I have the wrong kind of ears? Is my life and all it adds up to unworthy of acquiring a direct connection to the heavens? I have tried to believe as blindly as a person can in some kind of God that listens. The problem I keep having is that blind faith and the life I've lived just aren't compatible.

It's no secret that I used to drink too much. As a result of that excess, I found my way to the water wagon many years ago. When I first quit drinking, I believed that God had personally saved me from my addiction. Everything felt so new and crisp without the bottle in hand. As time passed the highs of my new life wore off. During various attempts at being sober, people tried to point out to me that, in fact, I hadn't really changed much. Years after I quit drinking I was still the same arrogant drunk, only I WAS D-R-Y. As I fucked up in all the same areas of living, I often used the excuse that it was God's will that things happened the way they did. Of course the pattern would go something like this--act badly, blame others, and walk away feeling justified. I was just carrying the good message of clean living in a profoundly confused way. This is the definition of a rationalization. Ignoring the facts of a situation in order to protect oneself from the truth is the kind thing that exempts a person from being responsible for any behavior under any condition. I believed that if someone else was in pain it must have been their faults that made them so vulnerable. I would say things like "I didn't MAKE you feel anything". It's popular in modern psychology to expect everyone to "take ownership" of their feelings. I took that to mean that we should all expect others to be invulnerable--talk about ignoring reality. Maybe we can't magically zap emotion into each other but we definitely have the power to provide the stimulus that evokes a painful response in those around us. As we move through the world, we constantly receive feedback from others. Friends, lovers, employers, and family, they all provide us with the necessary information to adapt to our surroundings.

In the past, despite my apparent personal flaws, I could tell you all about God's will for myself and the world!...Blah blah blah and peace and love and God's plan etc. I was a spiritual giant and simultaneously the worst listener a friend could have. Eventually the wheels would fall off the water wagon and so would I. A delusional person is only one banana peel away from disaster. I know from experience that things don't always go according to plan. Pretending to be so wise as to be above mistakes is an isolating way to live. As time passes people tire of arrogance. They go away in disgust or pity. What choice do they have? This kind of selfishness leaves no room for human connection. The superior minded person rejects all wisdom from outside sources because their delusions are the foundation of their reality.

The Impossible Trials of Living

Of all the missing colors,
Washed away by sleepless nights,
I missed the blue sky most of all.

The morning birds,
They could hear me shuffling,
Behind the tin foil window shades.

My skeletal hands,
Moving in the half light,
They shook as I talked inside my head.

A few small bills and chewed up bags,
Beside an empty pack,
Were laid upon the table.

In this falling stillness,
I would often hear my mother's voice,
"Jason?"

As if she was searching,
In the dark,
Through rooms of strangers.

She was losing me,
I was losing me,
To an impossible disease.

The fantasy of death,
It always followed,
As my high began to fade.

The violence of addiction,
No moral code can bend,
Taking what it wants from many.

But in my last minutes on earth,
Just before giving up,
There came an inner silence.

My cheek upon the cold pine floor,
Struggling for breath,
I closed my eyes as if to vanish.

Somehow I am still here,
Begging for another day,
In the mystery of what remains.

I found there were many,
Survivors of that desperate prayer,
Watching for the drifters.

Threadbare,
Hand over hand,
They pulled me into the fold.

Together,
We give and take,
In turns like friends do.

Holding each other up,
Past midnight in the coffee shops,
Because some nights we just can't be alone.

Many years have passed,
Still sober,
I am grateful.

My daughter now fifteen,
Knows only the stories,
Of the dying boy I used to be.

And I don't miss the sky anymore,
Because I am not afraid,
Living day to day this beautiful life beneath the sun.

Finally Standing

Unto the silence of man,
Born mad from hunger:
The upside of nothing,
Wherein all dreams can die.

So fast humiliation comes,
With have-not shoes upon your feet:
When poverty is on your face,
Glass ceilings teach us to hate ourselves.

But I have gleaned from faith,
A power thought lost:
Some deeper strength to fight again,
And use what lessons my tangled past has taught me.

In life there is no salvation,
Only what acceptance brings:
For all that people wish would be,
Miracles never seem to last.

Many pray because they're told,
A God will come to take them home:
And all their days,
They slip away like rain upon the glass.

The real magic simply hides,
Within increments of living:
Like the music of a first embrace,
That sends us dancing home to a private tune.

If only we could look again,
To find the simple truth:
We are all together here and now,
Searching not for God but each other.

The Illusion of Power

Ten million feet will stomp the march,
Racing strong to the fortress gates:
And as the hinges crack and fold,
The colorful masses will rise.

If you have been the fortunate few,
Be warned your time will come:
Your vision of a white washed world,
This temporary illusion will only fade.

Our burdens have strengthened us,
As builders of your citadels:
Your cords we've carried,
And now we know the truth.

We are stronger by far,
An unbreakable and beautiful people:
As dreams of freedom grow to rage,
Our children sense what change is coming.

With wealth is born an ignorance toward suffering,
Stealing as it does the last of everything:
Not one thin dime a beggar can retain,
When defamed by the rich for asking.

This myth of merit that you preach,
Staring from beyond the glass above:
Now all at once your truth has died,
For we can finally hear our own voices.

The oppressed will not forget,
Your violence cannot be undone:
Our loved ones were struck while we were caged,
And I for one remember every crease upon your hand.

And so I carry on til when,
My peoples' eyes will douse the road:
And on this day-
As we climb the horizon with the sun,
We will sing the gospel of the coming storm.

Everyone Has a Moment

I was working today in a vacant apartment. I'm a handyman-I fix broken things. While fixing a problem in the bathroom, I passed in front of the vanity mirror. I was singing along with The Shins on my Ipod and nostalgically re-living a moment of contentment from the past. When I realized I could see myself singing in the reflection, I shied away. I called myself a "fool" and turned off the light.

There is still in me a critic. He is more sour than a lonely old man that yells at children to stay off his lawn. He cannot observe happiness without feeling his own bitterness. He is a tragic flaw for someone as naturally silly as I am because he makes letting go seem like a mistake. My whole life people have said things to me like "Why don't you ever smile?" or "Are you mad?" I might be happy as a lark but apparently it's the critic that shows up on my face.

Maybe this is the year I can find the strength and put the critic to rest forever. Maybe next time he screams "Get off my lawn kid!" I'll look him dead in the eye and dance a jig across his Bermuda grass while singing Elton John at the top of my lungs. I mean what's he gonna do anyway, spray me with the water hose?