The Best Years of Our Lives


No Use No More
March 28, 2010, 9:07 pm
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February 8, 2010

It’s all there exactly as we left it only now its all in boxes faded and priced to sell.
It served me well when I needed it and it served us each as it was made to do.
It’s missing something or marred a bit, but it’ll go well.
Just throw it away.

It’s all there arranged as I left them only now the walls are gone and the rain pours in.
It served me well when I needed it and it did just what it was supposed to do.
It’s an eyesore or a living rotting work of art I suppose.
Just burn it down.

It’s all there somewhere as I remember it being, but it only comes out just all wrong.
It’s served me well when I needed it and they do what I wanted them to do.
It’s my brain playing tricks on me as I say the exact same things.
Just bury me.

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He Watches Over Us As He Walks Away
March 21, 2010, 3:30 pm
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February 4, 2010

He is an all right sort. He does not let you know what you do not need to know and he does not let you know anything. There is no need to know basis because he does not know so what is there to know after all.

He is an odd sort. He tells you to stop writing and listen to what he saying when he is talking to you. When he is talking to you he wants you to write things down as it is important to remember what he says.

He is a quiet sort. He does not want to hear what is contradictory or what is inconsistent from others. He does not want to tell you what where how when how much or anything like that as you should know.

He is a wanton sort. He has had enough of all of this and that is that and all that and he wants guidance and supervision and instruction and accountability and he wants none of it to ever happen all at the same time.

He is a wondrous sort.

No he is not.

Not really.

Yes.



First Day of School
March 14, 2010, 12:39 am
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February 2, 2010

I am trembling so much that I can’t even hold the books in my hands.
I can’t let them see that.
I am trembling so much that I can’t do anything but smile.
I can’t let them see it.
I am trembling so much that I can’t walk fast enough.
I can’t let them know that.
I am trembling so much that I can’t find my way in.
I can’t let them know it.
I am trembling so much.
I am trembling.
I am trembling so much.
I tremble.
I walk on.

I am hiding so much that I can’t even focus on the words in front of me.
I can’t let them see me.
I am hiding so much that I can’t do anything but laugh.
I can’t let them see it.
I am hiding so much that I can’t relax my throat.
I can’t let them know me.
I am hiding so much that I can’t sit still.
I can’t let them know it.
I am hiding so much.
I am hiding.
I am hiding so much.
I hide.
I fall down.

I remember so much that I can’t tell you what to do you have to find out for yourself.
I can’t let you see me.
I remember so much that I can’t do anything but pray.
I can’t let you see it.
I remember so much that I can’t tell the stories.
I can’t let you know me.
I remember so much that I can’t talk.
I can’t let you know it.
I remember so much.
I remember.
I remember so much.
I hold on.

You will know.
You will.
I am thankful.
For you.
Now go.



They Are Closing
March 3, 2010, 11:10 pm
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January 30, 2010

We were there for maybe three months, no four, it was four months that we were there.
The doors opened and the people came and they took what they needed.
Like I said that was about four months ago and now are doors
Are closing.

We had piles of things all sorts of things from door to window aisle by aisle.
When the doors opened a few people came in and rearranged the piles.
I spoke to them in their languages and they mocked me in theirs.
I do not care.

It was for the church that brought me here for that church, the one over there.
They opened their doors to me and gave me this shop and I did a little.
I had two cars out front for sale, but they’re going to be moved.
They don’t run.

It was not to be and I knew as I watched the tables clutter and the rows fade.
The door was locked when it shouldn’t be and open when things moved.
I have nothing else to do but go back to church and maybe well try.
Again.



Not No More
February 26, 2010, 8:44 pm
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January 28, 2010

I am standing here. Yeah, I’m standing here, but my feet are shuffling and my hands are quivering and my arms are moving up and down. I’m not cold. Not no more.
I am standing here. That’s right, I’m standing here, but my legs are moving up and down this stretch of grass all strewn with plastic and glass. I’m not cold. Not no more.

I am standing here. You see me, don’t you turn away, uh huh, that’s me in the corner of your eye, all my clothes are the same color as I am and that is the color of dirt.

I’m not cold. Not no more.
I’m not cold. Not no more.
I’m not cold. Not no more.

I am standing here. I am falling down trying to get that key, trying to get that thing, that dollar that was in my hand but flew away. I’m no fool. No I’m not. Not no more.

I am standing here. All over the ground with wet sticky snow all up in my nose and teeth I guess I gotta break the window, break it with my arm. I’m no fool. Not no more.

I am standing here. I’ve got some torn elbow and some torn arm, the blood is warm and slow and I only get a handful of papers that is all tonight. I’m no fool. Not no more.

I’m no fool. Not no more.
I’m no fool. Not no more.
I’m no fool. Not no more.

I am here. I am shaking like a leaf. I am here. I sit I stand I walk up and down this street. I don’t know my name, you want to know my name. No you don’t. You’re no fool. You don’t want from me. I want from you. I will get that thing. I will get that food. I will get that piece. I will get that piece. I will get that piece. I will get that thing that I need.



All Those Uninspiring Colors
February 21, 2010, 4:37 pm
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January 26, 2010

He shakes his head and tells her:
You baby that boy
You’re gonna break him
He wont be no good
For the real world

She looks at him and says:
How can I want better when this will do?
You don’t think about these things, but you do.

He says as he gets up:
Put them aside.

She quips back as she gets up too:
The only difference you can make is through anger
That’s no good.

Walking down the hall the man scolds himself:
Maturity
Dealing with Adversity
In a civilized manner

He barks right back at himself:
Define the former!

Halfway out the door their son mumbles something like:
Every day I contemplate the gun
What side do I want to be on.

Staring at all those uninspiring colors.



Pretty Places
February 15, 2010, 8:51 pm
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January 23, 2010

With 900 layers of green and gray all scattered around the room. There were never so many ways to get lost in one’s owns thoughts than there is right now. The piles of discarded colors and slivers of sand colored glass that scatter when you walk into the room make for light conversation as they lace curtains’ shadows sketch ever so briefly up and down the walls.

It is like this that I wait inside the brittle world of carnival glass. Carefully balanced between a layer of dust decorated with crystalline spectrums that move up and down the shimmering brass rod as it lowers itself slowly onto and into a makeshift bed of cream and cocoa colored feathers and down.

With 900 days of unwritten thoughts and the best ideas spewed forth while conversing with an equally inebriated friend I climb to the top of the three-story brownstone and declare that I am after all afraid of anything higher than a barstool.

It is like this that I will remember the next ten years of my life. Vaulting ambition tumbling onward like a well-trained physical comedian.

With 900 lives left I think that my next one will be as luscious as I can get.