Tai Chi or Chai Tea

Surreal pillow
Lay my head upon tonight
Up late anyway

Relaxation comes
When exhaustion settles in
Collapsed destiny

Tai chi or chai tea
Which will fill my cup, my soul
Dissolved entropy


Destiny And Honey

You straddle my feelings, not sure if you want to tip me to anger or sorrow, but passion and brambles are in my eyes. What are feelings, anyway, but the too-hot emotions that boil over and spill out onto your thighs? My sleepy eyes stay closed against your brilliance and honey. Coffee smells so good, but not as good as your jasmine and ocean breezes.

The battle between good and sleep continues in my mind, but you somehow champion delicious reasons to awaken. You always do. I open the vaults that contain my longing gaze, and show you my forever.


Concerning Steve

The long tail of the sun set beneath the rocking chair of the clouds, before crawling under the blanket of the night. The sun was a cat, is what I’m saying. A cat in my living room. I’m God.

Steve God.

Not a lot of people really know my first name. Practically none. I have a few relatives, but I haven’t talked to them in a while. I think they may be up to something, though, because I keep hearing these voices on the wind, asking for various favors. It’s kind of annoying. I can’t give some guy a new car! I can barely afford the one I’ve got.

It’s refreshing, though equally annoying, when the favors are altruistic or affect a large number of people. I want to help starving people or people with cancer too, but I can’t. I’m not a doctor or a nutritionist or a billionaire. And forget helping sportsball teams win! I don’t care about it that much. I’m focused on trying to pay rent and run my little business over here in my corner of the world.

Some people might point out that there are no corners in a sphere, but there are. They’re metaphorical, bitches. Just like my powers to do fuck-all to help vast numbers of people, or people, or even a single individual, something that has been pointed out to me by the last 5 girlfriends I’ve had. I live modestly, sure. I don’t have the latest electronics or a huge mansion, but would it kill one of you ladies to look past that and see my good quantities? I’m not getting any younger here, and I’d like to have a Mrs. God before I turn 40. Even if she keeps her actual last name. And I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Like my last girlfriend, Jennifer Betterthanyou. I would have to think (and drink!) long and hard before I could decide between being Ms. God and Ms. Betterthanyou. They both have their charms. Which reminds me, 2 or 3 girlfriends ago, one Mammaria Charms. That didn’t last long, because I got tired of saying “Yes! I fucking KNOW you’re up there, but you’re also down here!” Incidentally, ballsy name choice by Mr. and Mrs. Charms. That name could have easily fallen flat, so to speak.

There’s always The One That Got Away, and no, I’m not talking about kidnapping. In my case, it was the amazing Susie Universe. She was everything to me. It’s hard to talk about, but it was like she was the center of my… something. Like no matter where I looked, she was there. All around me, part of everything. Very hard to ignore. I’m not sure why we drifted apart, but it seemed like some unseen force was driving us in different directions, despite her being everywhere I was.

There’s an opposite to that, the What Was I Thinking? For me, it was Lisa Shit-Telescope. I really don’t know what I saw in her, but looking backwards, it wasn’t very good.

I have hope that someday I’ll meet Ms. Right, who will be Ms. God. Maybe Susie will come back? I don’t know. I just wish there was someone to ask for help. Someone who knew some people. Oh well – life goes on.


I’m Not In Here With You, You’re In Here With Me



The heat collapses into melody, baring souls no longer present. A wild memory appears. It is super effective. The mind establishes the Moria bridge, refusing to move or die. Shadows fill the stands, silently cheering.

This time, simply existing is winning. A harder game, when doing nothing seems the wrong move. The wrong love. Cross. Don’t fight. Don’t remember or look back. Quests no longer lie in the swelter. The other side of the pillow beats the south side of the sky.

Magic is real. It’s just hard to perform.

Philosophy Prose

Perfect Moments In Memory Glass

This is about love.

I watched this movie on Netflix called The Map of Tiny Perfect Things, and it was amazing. Hit me right in the feels. At the end, it was talking about perfect moments, and I realized that I wrote a poem about perfect moments for my middle brother’s wedding – read it during the ceremony, in fact. It’s this:

Eternal Matrimony

I don’t care that you’re running
I know you’re not running away
I don’t mind the mountains you climb
I know you’re not just with me ‘because I’m there’
I don’t mind if you look at another
I know you’re thinking of me
I don’t worry when you’re gone
I know you walk beside me
I don’t care that I may never get everything I want
You are all I need
I’m not upset by the raging river of differences between us
The stepping stones of perfect moments bring me to you
I don’t worry about your past
It brought you to me, and us to this perfect moment
And from this perfect moment to the next
Though our lips part, still we kiss
Though our hands let go, still we touch
Though our eyes close, still we see one another
Though our voices are raised, still we whisper
Of perfect moments and perfect love

In the middle of the movie somewhere, she said she’d only be friends. He wanted more. Unrequited love. And I realized that the moment before it became manifest, the love he felt – the love I feel for someone – is a perfect one. It’s like love is a baseball that can be thrown around and used to play fun games, but the minute it’s unrequited it is like a baseball signed by a World Series winning team. Sure, you worship it, cherish it, look at it from every facet, but you never touch it again, for fear of diminishing its value.

Some perfect moments need to be felt by feeling the feeling of remembering the perfect moment, rather than feeling the moment itself. I’m afraid that reliving the moment itself will eventually make that moment like any moment, one of many, a drop in the ocean, a raindrop in the sky.

A raindrop falling from the vast sky into the vast ocean.

Instead of that one raindrop that causes me and the person I love to smile and laugh and run like crazy for shelter from the storm that just started, and then watching it and listening to each drop, none of them like that first one.

Sometimes an entire person is encased in memory-glass. You can’t go back, you know. You can only remember.


You Can’t Go Back

Idle twist with benefits, one, two, three. Desires that take thorns through skin, but never bleed. How many feelings does it take to get to the center of my soul? The world many never know. I may never know. It’s a secret that nobody knows.

Icicles form in summer skies dripping from my eyes. I am cold, and warmth took a holiday. Yet, I burn.

You can never go back. Ever. Back is a nuclear holocaust wrapped in plastic, so it’s toxic and can’t breathe, and skin ripples, and tears pour into wine glasses blood red so everyone can have one.

I revolve around a barycenter between me and the idea of you. Maybe it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it seemed like a good one at the time. Shut up. Stop. Let me bring the center back inside myself and put it between my head and heart again.


Bitter Cold, Bitter Me

She was here and then she left. It’s not like it’s even been that long, but I still feel alone. This snow, and this pandemic, both are so isolating and depressing. On the rare occasions I feel depressed, I want to reach out.

But I can’t. Because I promised myself I would never go back. No one from the past.

For various reasons, I have shed people. Some are simply ghosts, disappearing without a trace and me, with no energy left to chase them. Many are gone for cause, good reasons I think. Not being a friend. Acting out their pasts on me. Taking advantage of my good nature, which fills my cynical cup up just a little more.

Some I loved, or could have loved, if not for that one fatal flaw. Some for a plethora of fatal flaws, but who’s counting? A few didn’t care to keep talking to me, so why should I try? You know, that situation where you decide to see what happens if you don’t always make the first move, send the first text… and then you never hear from them again.

So be it. I’ll wait for people who want my company. They’ll be worth it.


This Coffee Shop Is Disconnected

Will the carrot and stick method work when I want something sweet and I feel no pain?
You took it all away and left me with everything
A fantastic trick

Does it mean that everything is okay when I no longer hear the screaming?
With no sound, laughing and crying look the same
Silence is also an answer


It’s Not You, It’s (How Much You Don’t Do It For) Me

Binge watching you break my heart
Plot twist in season two
I’m cancelled without a finale
The rally’s failed miserably
I have too
Fringe mocking me mercilessly
Haven’t found all the pieces yet
Guest starring in my own story
I’m not the hero
Is there any part of me left