It’s called paranoia. It’s part of social anxiety.
It’s part of lunacy, they say, but I call it life. . .
Delirium slips in under the wire, like a surprise visitor, and it dwells as a voice in your head. Can you hear it?
I know I can.
First, the craziness comes in like a slow and subtle storm. And you start to second guess yourself. You wonder things like, “Is anything really worth it?”
You wonder if it will pay off and when.
“When is my turn,” you wonder, and Continue reading
“I come through shattered pieces of an amazing image
soaked with moisture
lying still
. . .and waiting
I’m waiting for another wave
or another way
to beat the system
and escape symptoms
She dives for me
angry—like the wind when the storm picks up
She dive for me like a hawk towards its prey
and sweeps me away Continue reading
I was thinking about the words sung by the late, great Bob Marley.
“Good friends we’ve had.
Good friends we’ve lost—along the way.
In this great future, you can’t forget your past.
So dry your tears, I say.”
See, I remember when we used to sit on a concrete bench in Prospect.
We were young and daring. The entire Continue reading
To Liv:
I have this small tiger near my desk in the loft of my home where I do most of my writing. He’s a small Bengal tiger with a green short-sleeved shirt that has red writing across the front. I keep it near me because this little guy means a lot more to me than just a little stuffed animal.
I know it sounds crazy . . . me being a grown man with a stuffed animal and all, but you’ll let me, I can explain why this little tiger has been with me for Continue reading
Here it is another day and we’re back at it. It doesn’t seem fair does it? The time between then and now seems to slip by so quickly. And yet here we are, back in this place, and time seems to move so slowly.
I saw something this weekend that made me think of you. I woke early to take a long hike that ended with me at a Continue reading
In the earlier days on Merrick Avenue, the neighbor would have her grandchildren come and stay with her for a few days throughout the summer. Both were military sons with a father in the army. Both were younger than me. The oldest grandchild was younger than my by two years and the youngest was younger than me by three years.
They were good kids. Different from most of the boys I knew; the two brothers were fun and lighthearted. Neither of them wa Continue reading
Back when I was somewhere around the age of 10, I made this decision to head down to the basement and play around on my brother’s weight bench. I was too small and too weak to lift any of them. I tried though. I tried to lift his weight bar that went across the bench. I pushed as hard as I could. I clenched my teeth; my arms reached upwards with hopes to push and lift the bar and weighted plates from the rack, bringing the weight bar down to my chest, and then pumping out a few quick reps.
Unsuccessful with Continue reading
And so of any, this is the first page I write in a new journal.
This is the first paragraph to detail a new journey. It all starts here at page one.
This is where my yesterday ends and I begin.
It all starts now . . .
I remember when I started with this commitment. I promised myself—no matter how busy the day is or what happens; I made a pledge that I would write my thoughts and work towards this goal I have of becoming a writer.
I remember the first time I sat in Continue reading
I sat in a bench of armchairs at a little airport in the small town of Melbourne, Florida. The hour was early and the airport was mostly empty. Overhead, the lights brightened the white ceiling and glowed over a blue, Miami style carpeting.
I was amongst a small group of passengers that arrived early to quickly slip through the security checkpoints. Men in suits walked with urgency. They passed with business hats on their heads, a newspaper folded in half—tucked underneath the free arm while the other gripped to the extended handle of a wheeled, carry-on bag.
I admit that I am a guilty fan of people watching. Yet with no one around to watch, I settled down to take in the sights. I could see the morning sky through the tall windows throughout the gate area. Airplanes slept dormant Continue reading
You . . .
You are a soft and gentle idea.
A feeling, perhaps.
You are a delicate shade of thunder
that rumbles with a sense of intensity
but moves in slowly to overwhelm the sky.
I am thinking of you as the sky weeps . . .
rain falls in large, drop-like tears.
The sound of wind rushes passed the homes
situated on a small quiet block.
It is daylight and still,
I am dreaming of a long slow day
that I wish would never end.
I am thinking of a couch along the wall
set below the front window of a modest home.
The long flowing drapes opened enough
for one to sit on the couch
and stare out into the empty suburban street. Continue reading
