More than anything else in this world,
I just want to be good.
I want to “be” someone, you know?
I want to mean something
to someone and more than this,
I want to be beautiful.

I want to be pure
like a child when they see something new
or when a child plays or laughs or smiles,
innocently,
as if to have never been burned
by the edges of real life; or better,
I want to be pure in the sense
that I am me and as raw as I am
to the sight or to the touch,
or as imperfect as I may be,
I want to be beautiful
as if to be forever unmarred
or never marked and unmolested,
or removed from the version of sin or stigma
or judgment and so on.

I was thinking about the lyrics from a song,
which say so much
when it comes to matters of the heart
or love, or about the way we mess up
or ruin love
or ruin the best things we have.

I stand here, guilty as changed
and convicted, equally and dually noted
and sentenced.

 Sometimes . . . .
I suppose it should be enough
to just sit still, you know

As in to sit quietly and just
listen to the emptiness of nothing
or to be someplace, like,
say by the side of a lake somewhere
which is a real place to me
off Seven Lakes Drive,
which is up by Sloatsburg, New York.

As it is, the world is a crazy place.
Therefore, as it is,
we all need to find a place,
or a refuge of some sort,
or way, a means to an end,
or to find some kind of balance,
in an unbalanced world,
which is why I am here.

This is my art.
And this is my inspiration.
This is all that I have and
I can say that I have given far too much of myself
but at the same time,
what is art without pain
or a little blood from the heart,
or what is music
without blues for the soul?

What is chaos anyway?
Let’s start this off with a basic definition –
Chaos, what is it?
Well, the dictionary says
it’s a state of confusion or wild disorder.
At least, this is what the dictionary tells me.

I think this goes further though,
and yes, I think that a state of confusion
or wild disorder is close enough. But no,
I think there’s more to it.

It goes this way. Life, I mean.
And there are times which come without reason
or without any sort of explanation.
And there are times when we freak
out or lose our cool
or in my case,
I lose my head, and yes,
we do things
that are against our best interest.

And we know this is wrong.
We know it as we follow through
just wishing we could stop ourselves.

But, we hit the trip wire and then boom
love goes up in a burst of flames
and the battlefield is drenched
with innocent bystanders,
or otherwise known as
the person you love the most.

The question to you, Mr. Chaos is simple.
The question becomes what have you done for me?
What have I lost on your behalf
and where has this led me?

Are you ready for a little bit of honesty . . .
I am as imperfect as anyone else in this world.
I’m crazy too,
or mad as any madman.
Or worse,
I am equally as desperate and afraid that yes,
somehow, I missed my ride, and now,
I’ll miss the show
or I’ll miss my chance
to see the world
like I’ve always wished to see it.

And so, what was
became what is and quickly too,
and more, this happened faster than I knew it.
Just like that, in the blink of an eye,
a temporary burden became fact
and permanent because of an unfortunate
force, which I call
the deception of my perception.

But this is where he lives.
Mr. Chaos, that is.

This is for the kid who is misguided somehow
or tricked, just like I was
or fooled into thinking
that something about them is faulty or wrong
or mis-wired
or otherwise imperfect.

But the fact is no.
You couldn’t be imperfect if you tried.
Believe me.

Good morning, my old friend Chaos.
It’s me again,
trying hard to find my way
and trying harder to defy the ideas
which have consumed me for way too long.

I find myself on the verge of another impasse
or crossroads, or perhaps I am on the verge
of another choice, or change
or decision. And again,
I go back and forth and walk down the same streets,
which have recently changed, yet
everything is still the same.

1)

It’s time to go back,
or if anything,
now is the time to get back to it,
and by “it”,
I mean the source of my thrill
or the meaning behind my life.

What is this?
What is this thing
in me?

What are these ideas
which spin around in our mind,
and how is it that they mutate or multiply,
at least a thousand times or more
and then they drive us mad
or crazy or,
they send us off
or drive us away in different directions?

And meanwhile, all we want is peace.

I need to stop.
I need to figure this out, somehow,
or try to find a way
to level the playing field,
or if not,
perhaps I can find a way to
reverse the polarity
or make a shift
so the weight is less,
and my leverage is better
or, at minimum,
the pain can be less
consequential.

And if it were true
or if it was so,
or if the facts were that yes,
my insecurities were all real
and that yes, my body was as I saw it
or, that in my assumptions that, at best,
all I could be was awkward,
then yes,
naturally,
I would assume that everyone saw me
the same as I saw myself –
inaccurately.

Ah, Mr. Mathias.
I knew you well
and so did our old friend Mr. Chaos,
I believe.

You taught me well and
you taught me that I knew more
than I thought.

Sometimes, music is the only thing that helps.
You know?
Chaos comes in like both,
an expected unwanted guest,
and just like old times,
the heartbeat picks up
like pig meat before the slaughter
and the mind moves too fast
for me to find peace.

But the music helps.

Yes, I’m aware that the book
is never the same as the movie,
or that life does not come
with the so-called “CliffsNotes”
or an abbreviated version
to ease the study of one another, but yes,
I get it.

No one takes the time
to read between the lines anymore
nor would it seem
that anyone looks to dedicate
the time it takes to really know someone,
or something,
or to dig deeper than just the surface level. 

There are nights when all is quiet
and the moon comes through the blinds
to leave a beam of moonlight
with a bluish tint across the sheets on my bed
or the whiteness on my face.
The blanket is off of me, and then on,
and then off again.

I am up, of course, and awake as usual.
I am thinking of random things
which somehow multiplies
into other thoughts
that take on a direction of their own.

Crazy?

Sure, I’m crazy.
Then again, what does it mean to be crazy?
Am I crazy because I still want to believe?
Is it crazy to want more?
Am I doing the same things over and over again,
and expecting a different result?

But wait . . .
that’s not crazy.
That’s the definition of insanity
which, yes, if I’m being honest,
of course, I’m insane too.

1)

I want to leave it all out there.
Do you know what I mean?
I don’t want to ever hold back again,
or be common or commonplace enough
to be side-swiped by some mediocre life
or to live in some basic or mundane existence
where I find myself aimless or aimlessly walking around,
like say, somewhere in Midtown,
caught in the undertow of some unfulfilled
or everyday world.

You look and you try.
You wonder and you dream, and you imagine,
and then perhaps you barter and you trade,
you negotiate and often you compromise
to find that “thing” which I have been telling you about.

And you want this.
You really do,
You want to find this in whichever form
or in whatever way this appeals to you; and as you go,
you take notice of “what was,”
to prevent what happened
from happening again.

It is even more confusing to say
that tomorrow is not a given,
especially when we have so much
depended on tomorrow, like a bet at the window
as if to bet on the 7 horse to win,
place or show.

Maybe tomorrow is not a given.
Maybe there really isn’t anything else
but right now . . .
and now has become the determining factor
of whether you or I will take that next step
or make that turn
or change our minds
and figure out a plan
for the rest of our lives
(so we can be happy).

I find that I am in a constant state of competition
with myself, which is not to say
that this is a race or that there is a first place,
second, third or last.
No.
This is more than just a physical match,
but mental as well, and emotional
and even educational to some degree because
as I go along, I find that I have been given
a series of inaccurate ideas
as well as lived in accordance
to a plethora of misinformation.

I was listening to a soldier
talk about an operation of violence.
And yes, this was violent to the core.
At the same time;
this is war and hence violence
is nothing more than a necessary evil
. . . just to survive.

I heard the soldier talk about the action,
the reason,
and victory of rage
which he also admitted to a celebration
of events
that the people in our society
are not ready for
nor are they tolerant of; however,
this is what it takes
to win a war.

Today . . .
I ask this question out loud yet,
I only ask this question to myself;
however, you are free to ask yourself
this same questions
and if you’d like,
we can try and answer them
together.

Dear Chaos,

I know you well and for so long now,
that perhaps it would be safe to say
that you and I
have been on a first name basis
even before I understood what that means,
to be on a first name basis.

I am the one and always will be,
the one who loves,
the one who wants forever,
to start right now
and the one who feels, sees
and seeks our moment of truth.

And love . . .
. . . Yes, love,
I believe in you still
now, then, and always
as in forever, or as in for life
or longer.

I believe in you
and the highs or the lows,
or the ins and the outs
the ups and the downs,
or the back and forth
or the “for better
or worse.”
until death do us part.

I am not who I was
then again,
none of us are
who we were,
I mean.

It’s hard to think about it . . .
. . . what’s it been now,
33 years?

The world moves.
I know it. You know it.
Everyone knows the world is always turning
and everyone knows that
everything changes,
or that life happens,
as in, all the time.
Every day . . .

Ah, Chaos,

I wonder who I would be,
if I were like the Buddha,
as in all-seeing and all-knowing,
or ever-growing and consciously improving,
as in consistently, on an ongoing basis,
as in forever,
always evolving, ever-changing
as in adjusting or adapting
in a moldable form
like an unfolding story
with a peaceful plot that projects
the pure divinity of beautiful aspirations
and essentially, this is what regains
my ever-evolving perspective
towards the possibility of infinite hope.

The dreams come to me sometimes,
when times are either tough
or in a sense of disarray, and still,
the dreams are always the same
and all of them so different, but each time,
I find myself back in my old world,
like, back when I was young,
or like, as in back before there was a “before,”
or even before then, like, say,
back when I was young enough to explore or pretend,
or to walk in an empty field,
which was a vacant lot across from my home,
or also known
as the playground of my youth—the suburban world,
my town, my little spot,
my house and home and my room,
which was the one upstairs, as in up the stairs
and to the left.

And then comes the question
which is often based on the theories
of our inaccurate math.

What comes next?
What comes after the concept
of a life that was unexpected?

What do we do?
Or say?
Better yet,
what now?

Daybreak—

I want to make a change. Or better yet,
I have to make one
as fast as I can,
but sometimes,
you can change direction
or switch gears
as fast as you’d like.

There was a movie from my youth
where a young man with an ailment
had a plan to ride through Europe on a motorcycle.

Who knows?
Maybe this was a way to give himself
something to look forward to, or otherwise,
maybe this was his way of giving himself
something to live for.

I have spent years on the clock
and decades working with men
who lived hard lives and
who understood hard times.
I have been the young one
and now,
I am not so young
anymore.

Of course, I want more.
I want to be more too,
as in more than I am now
or more,
as in more aware yet,
the more I am aware,
I want to be more comfortable
with what I know as well as be fine
with what I do not
or cannot understand
because, of course,
what is a man who knows?

I have come a long way “since then,”
but then again, we all have,
even if we haven’t
because life still moves,
even if we are stagnant or still,
the world keeps turning around, like . . .
on a regular basis
for free.

1)

The world really is an amazing place,
which does not mean I can always say this
with a kind regard.
For example, it amazes me how two people
can see the exact same thing
and walk away with
two different conclusions.

Ever see this?

My heart beats . . .
. . . and here’s why.
There is a glow about you,
like an archway above your mind
and all the angels who sing
have claimed to know you
all too well,
like someone who was placed in our lives
for one specific reason,
and eventually revealed
throughout the burdens of time.

1)

I know—
The things I say
are different from the things you hear.
But hey,
in the Land of Interpretation,
misunderstanding is king.
Or perhaps I should say queen,
depending upon the circumstances.

As I see it,
the world moves in pieces,
like a chess board
and so,
the eyes of the misguided
and the people with stalemate minds
will move from one day to the next
just to avoid the reminder
of being in check.

Safe to say . . .
I can be free now, if I choose to be.
Safe to say
that I can walk in any direction
or cross the street
or find a little café
and strike up a conversation
with some out-of-town person
who never saw
The Empire State Building
live and in-person.

1)
March 2024

Yesterday—

It was nice to see the city in the sunlight.
It was nice to see the hint of spring
which should be here soon,
and soon enough, the great thaw will take place
and once more,
we can feel the warmth on our skin
and feel alive.

It is closer to the months of summer now
and perhaps we are closer to the sun yet,
pieces of us
are growing more distant from each other.

I can see us now, as we were, a long time ago
in a lifetime, far, far away.
I can see the past come up in random moments
where random faces of once-known people
pass me by like perfect strangers,
which is fine, I say
because hey . . .
this only shows that our time was temporary.
No, really, it is.

1)

This is to you, who practiced your goodbyes
or to you,
who rehearsed your lines a thousand times,
and yet,
you never took a step in the next direction.

Once more . . .
We find ourselves here again.
And sure,
I see how life is cyclical.
I can see how things change,
or how we go off in different directions,
only to bring us back in full-circle.

And here we are,
looking back in a state which is all too surreal
and all too realistic, but hey
Reality –
It’s a real trip . . .
(Que no?)