Who Are You?

Who Are You?

I am not a writer, but I am a person who can write

I am not a lover, but I am a person who can love

I am not a killer, but I am a person who can kill

The point is,

I am not many things, but there are many things I can do

What I do does not make me what I am

That said,

What I am is not dictated by what I do

How so?

Out of the many things I do indeed do

I do not do them all of the time at any given moment

Out of the things I don’t do

I do in fact do some of them some of the time

Even when I don’t want to or mean to

To say I have the constitution of a fortress would be a lie

Because I have lied, I have stolen, I have cheated, been violent, have coveted, and broken every one of the Ten Commandments in some form or another

I have exhibited all of the Seven Deadly Sins at some form in my life

I have been greedy, wrathful, proud, lustful, slothful, envious, gluttonous

That does not make me who I am

Who I am…

Who am I…?

I am nobody

I don’t possess any extraordinary feat of strength, or mind

My memory isn’t finely honed

I have no special abilities

I am not stupid, however

But I am not as important as I think I am

And many lives have existed without my being there

Therefore I am not needed

If anything I need them more than they need me

So I ask again, Who are you?

Who am I?

I am nobody

Daily: Out Of Thick Air

Out Of Thick Air

The air was thick about me as I woke up this morning

So I decided to pull on it a little, to see what I could come up with

It told me to halt, and became very upset with my molesting it

It would seem thick air isn’t as yielding as thin air

I could pull many times from out of thin air

And come up with a million different things

But when pulling out of thick air,

Well, it wasn’t too happy with it

I reprimanded me for my insensitivity

And got on me about my arrogance

It screamed at me for treating it like a tool

And it reported me to the air authorities

I’m now no longer allowed to be within 100 yards of any air

It’s strange being an air offender, I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong

I simply wanted to see what would happen

And collect some otherwise unknown thoughts

But it would seem that thick air is more sensitive than thin air

As when I pull things from out of thin air it is a rainbow of imagination

But thick air, just gave me the boot

So, now I stay away from air, it’s difficult, you see.

Because we all need air

But air doesn’t need me.

Daily: Nothing Deep

Nothing Deep

Nothing deep will come of this poem,

it’s really just an expression of silliness.

Even the vague prose form that it comes in

indicates that it is just a stream of consciousness.

There is no rhyme or reason,

only the existence of words that come to my mind.

At the moment, it is nothing deep

it’s felt that way for some time now.

Perhaps it is my environment,

or the people I’ve been surrounded by.

I couldn’t say…

But I can feel my wit slipping away

into nothing deep

Daily: Hisashiburi


It’s been a while since last we met

I hope you have been well

That the ever changing sands of time

Have completely filled you sail

I pray the ever crashing tide

Hasn’t broken up your hull

But you’ve found that great wide sea of life

And it’s completely filled your soul

Daily: Would That It’Were So Simple

Would That It’Were So Simple

If only things could be explained so simply

The world would potentially not be a mess

If things were so simple,

Wouldn’t that be for the best?

But things aren’t so simply put

It’s… complicated

Because Things aren’t so simple

The world is decimated

Humans are not so simple

They are complex organisms

Simply put the simple life

requires no organization

Okay… maybe just a little. Simple things

Like eating, and drinking, and fucking

But simply leaving out the others things

Like fighting, running, and ducking

The simplistic nature of the simple life

Is more than just gratitude

Would that it’were so simple

One could develop this attitude

Daily: Song of Popcorn

Song of Popcorn

I’m not sure why I thought of this poem

That my dad read to me so very long ago

I don’t even remember what it was about

only that from a book of the namesake it came out

It was at a time when we were reading Shel Silverstein

A Light On In The Attic, Where The Sidewalk Ends, and things…

My favorite was about the sharp-toothed snail that lived up your nose

I remember those nights, right before we went to bed

The rhyming may have stopped, but I have not

For I think of life in a poem’s way

Everything seems to have a story to tell

Or some poetic meaning, an Art

Where it all fits together, and what is its part?

That is the bigger question that I haven’t found an answer for yet

I’m sure it’ll come about eventually

But for now, I look at life poetically

The colors, the stories, the feelings, the dialogue

O, the beauty of it all

Not so head up in the clouds am I

I do tend to keep a solid footing and I don’t like to fall

But I want to believe in the magic

So I sing me a Song of Popcorn


Daily: Suddenly


My stomach fails me

I feel the depletion of my innards

They churn like butter, but with reverse effect

The roiling cauldron deep within

Steams up and and noxious fumes promulgate

My head is spinning

Ever faster

I can’t go on much longer


I feel better




Shining satellite in the vast darkness, soaring with such speed

Where are you headed? Who else sees you?

The night we looked up at you and spotted you crossing the sky filled us with wonder

In that spot under the streetlights, we walked hand in hand behind the sleeping people

But the couldn’t see us, like you wouldn’t have been seen had we not looked

Ever since you were discovered though, you’ve been orbiting my head

now that you are no longer here

Where are you headed? Who else sees you?

I wish to see you again, holding hand in hand behind the sleeping people

getting lost in the neighborhoods and talking about nothing in particular and everything

As you make your rounds, I think of you

wondering when the next time I’ll see you will be

Daily: Bootstraps


Yesterday I forgot to write. It was a long and busy day that didn’t end until the wee hours of the morning

I write now with encouragement, that even though I’ve missed a day it does not mean that I’ve failed. It simply means I missed a day

I shall pick myself up by my bootstraps and continue on this journey

I know a lot of what I’ve been writing has been kind of hogwash, and well, it can’t all be stellar work

It also may be due to the lack of presence that I have within my following

I don’t know, I’ve never really been one for being very noteworthy

With no real specialty in any one particular sphere, I find it hard to find exactly where I fit

But I’m able to fit into many different areas well enough without taking up too much room

I’m easily forgotten, familiar almost. Sort of like, you think you may have met me from somewhere before but can’t quite place it

I’m generic looking enough that one would have a hard time pointing me out in a lineup

I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not

My enthusiasm isn’t for a lack of gratitude or joy, but for a lack of purpose

What is mine? I ask myself often. Am I to be forever generally good at everything I do, poor at some, a little bit better at others but more or less capable? Or is there some piece that I fill, that only I can fill?

I don’t know, I may never know

But I continue trying, searching, looking. Attempting to be the best me I can

Thank you all for listening to this, I wish you a good night