Lost In Thought Read online

  What the others have created

  Running around and screaming

  The beachgoers are

  Oblivious of the beauty

  Staring them in the face

  All they care about is

  Working on their tans

  And checking each other out

 

  With my picture done

  I put my pencils away,

  Stand up, wipe off the sand,

  Look again past the people

  Out onto the endless blue

  And go home

  July 2, 2002

  Revere, Massachusetts

  Trespassing On Your Sensibilities (Gerund One)

  Trespassing on your sensibilities

  Jumping from conclusion to conclusion

  Causing a momentous contusion

  Ripping through your mental boundaries

  Dealing out the irrational thoughts

  Gunning for your understanding

  Loosening the rusted gray in the head

  Perching to see where this will go

  Loathing your lack of cerebral continence

  Purging more than was deemed necessary

  Scoffing at what was looming in the dark

  Slamming down the inhered wrongness of it all

  Trouncing the troubled thoughts was wonderful

  Wrenching it all free and letting them fly away

  Muzzling the dangerous parts prone to hatred

  Latching the rest of it into firm sturdy place

  Graying as the years and fears whizzed and passed

  Fumbling with the locks and latches put into place

  Grinning the knowing smile as everything is freed

  Feeding on the feeling of unexplainable contentment

  Bracing for the splendid eventuality of the evening

  Lancing like lightning through the awaiting mind

  Tripping unexpectedly on the speed bump there

  Falling down to the ground where it was found

  July 9, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  Each And Every

  This isn’t going the way I intended

  Everything’s wrong so wrong

  In shambles around my feet

  And I’m standing in the middle

  I’m not sure how it all deviated

  From what I had planned

  So carefully thought out

  Now so carelessly burning down

  The attention to detail was amazing

  The logistics were minutely planned

  It couldn’t possibly go wrong

  But it did

  The fingers start pointing my way

  No time to think about the issue

  All the time is gone

  Spinning in the past away from me

  The blame rained down heavy on my

  Now much smaller little world with

  Each and every

  Voice that saw me

  Years later I look back and wonder

  Would my life have ever been the same

  What did I expect to gain

  Would I do it all over again

  I think about this

  Each and every

  Day of my life

  In my own little world

  July 12, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  This Is

  This is

  The way it should be

  The way it never was

  This was

  The wrong turn you made

  The instance you cannot change

  This will be

  The weight you will always bear

  Your sole haunting regret

  July 13, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  Until Today

  Until today

  I hadn’t written any poems

  That began with

  U, V, X, or Z

  I can see why they

  Haven’t been used

  Those less common

  Fairly few words

  Which begin

  With those letters

  Until today

  There were four

  Now only three left

  Someday there will be none

  But for now I’ll have to deal

  With those three

  Taunting me

  Until I chase them down

  One by one

  And use them

  For my own poetic purposes

  It will happen

  Someday

  July 14, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  At the time, my poems were sorted alphabetically and I noticed I hadn’t written any that began those letters and I had sought to correct that.

  Postcard Pretty

  Standing on the edge

  Wind whipping around

  Looking across the void

  Into tomorrow’s maw

  Darkening clouds

  Fill the horizon

  And begin to build

  Distant flashes

  Gray and black

  Cold and daunting

  I look behind me

  Babbling brook

  Large flowering fields

  Bright and sunny

  Warm and green

  Postcard pretty

  Turn on my heels

  My back to tomorrow

  Breathe deeply

  Feel more relaxed

  And saunter away

  Away from the void

  July 25, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  Why They Stare

  That’s what I

  Like about you

  When you’re

  Driving and

  Singing to

  The music

  Cranked loud

  Windows down

  Car speeding

  Hair blowing

  Thumbs tapping

  Face contorting

  Not knowing

  Not caring

  Who they are or

  Why they stare

  At you

  July 30, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  October

  Problematic

  Problematic

  Of legendary proportions

  Somewhat

  Cinematic

  In the display of the frantic

  Somehow

  Drastic

  Being slightly more than thick

  Somewhere

  Public

  Where wily things go spastic

  Sometimes

  Sapphic

  Loving the daisy so graphic

  Someplace

  Pelvic

  Covering the lady with lipstick

  Someday

  You’ll be able to freely frolic

  Until then

  It’s problematic

  October 9, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  I think I was trying to sound dirty without actually being so.

  Four Years Gone

  Four years gone

  Four years officially

  Of you and I

  Of us sharing a name

  The love and the pain

  But it’s actually more

  More like ten – all of it

  Packed with happiness

  Four years gone

  With hundreds of

  Wonderful nights

  And thousands of

  I love you’s

  And millions of

  Perfect kisses

  But who’s counting

  Four years gone

  Don’t be sad and

  Don’t be wishing

  Those years back

  Four years into it

  For the two of us yet

  One lifetime remains

  And I can’t wait

  October 10, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  A poem I wrote to celebrate our anniversary (with my now ex-wife). We s
eparated one month later.

  The Rest Of Forever

  When you bury me

  Please make sure

  To make sure

  That I have a

  A good view

  Of something

  Beautiful

  Of something

  Nice

  Of something

  That I’d want

  To spend the

  The rest of forever

  Looking at

  Staring at

  Contemplating

  Someplace with

  A view of life

  A view of nature

  A view of something

  So full of wonder

  So on those days

  And years that go by

  Where no one visits

  And no one thinks

  Of me

  I’ll still have something

  Still have something

  To see

  Still have something

  For me

  For my rest

  For the rest of forever

  October 28, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  Carelessly Lucky

  I didn’t mean to leave that poem

  Out in front of the computer

  I didn’t mean for you to read that poem

  The one about us

  I was going to type it in Word last night

  But then I didn’t feel like writing or typing

  And I accidentally left it out in plain sight

  Didn’t think you’d get up so early this morning

  I didn’t mean to give you second thoughts

  I thought you made up your mind to leave

  I didn’t mean to mix your emotions

  I thought we agreed I was too naïve

  Sorry to have caused all that confusion

  You must be feeling right now

  If it means you’ll stay

  If it means I have even the slightest chance

  My God how I’ll pray

  If it means resurrecting our faded romance

  If it means a chance of that then no I’m not sorry

  Leaving that poem out was carelessly lucky of me

  What do we do, where do we go from here

  No time for thinking anymore

  Confidence has replaced loneliness and fear

  Walk up the steps to your door

  My heart is leading me in for the charge

  And this is a battle I intend to win

  Your true feelings have recharged me

  Kissing you sends us into a tailspin

  October 30, 2002

  Chelsea, Massachusetts

  November

  Divot

  Divot on the finger

  Where the ring once lived

  White band of pale skin

  Is all that remains to remind

  Me of all that once was

  Even though it’s gone

  I still am stuck in my habit

  Of trying to play with my ring

  The one that’s not there

  The one that’s gone

  And so is everything

  Everything it symbolized

  November 16, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  Swim Swim

  At first we thought we were

  Drown drowning our sorrows

  But they turn turned the tables

  Knocked us under the table

  Drowned us under the table

  And we can't swim to shore

  We can't swim swim anymore

  Swimming isn’t an option

  When you’re too far gone

  So gone it’s way too wrong

  It’s easier to just give in

  Instead of trying to swim

  Slip below the surface

  Slip into the furnace

  No fight no struggle no fuss

  Nothing like that from us

  More than enough to fill a bus

  With all the empties

  Way too many empties

  No deposit no return

  Try as I might I can never return

  November 19, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  From Scratch

  Starting over

  From scratch

  Scratch isn’t right

  Mortal wound

  Is a better description

  Either way

  It’s a new beginning

  Either way

  I’m starting over

  From scratch

  November 20, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  Home

  Home used to be

  Where she was

  Now I have come

  To realize that

  Home is where I am

  Wherever I am

  Whatever pillow

  My head hits

  Whatever roof

  I’m under

  Here I am

  Here is home

  November 20, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  No Receipt No Return

  No receipt no return

  Is what the sign said

  “Next time I’ll learn,”

  Is what I always said

  “I know it’s broken

  I know it’s been

  Stomped on beaten

  Ripped in half

  Stabbed through

  Crushed crumbled

  Punctured with forks

  And torn in two

  But it still works

  So please take it back

  It has too many bad

  Memories for me.”

  The old man said,

  “No receipt no return,”

  And left it at that

  Heart in hand

  I walked out the door

  Next time I’ll learn

  And I mean it this time

  Until the next time

  There’s always a next time

  November 26, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  Beautiful Day

  Beautiful day

  To look forward to the future

  Beautiful day

  To forget about the past

  Beautiful day

  For something for anything

  Fun new and exciting

  Let the sun shine down

  Let the rain fall down

  Let the moon spin out of control

  Let anything and everything happen

  Let all those caged smiles out

  Let them all go just let them go

  Let something wonderful into your life

  Let something wonderful happen tonight

  Yell louder than you’ve thought possible

  Laugh harder for no reason for every reason

  Smile bigger until your face splits wide open

  Jump higher, so high up and over the moon

  Sing along and not care what people think

  Do it all, do it now, don’t stop now, do it

  Do it like your life depends on it

  Do it because your life depends on it

  Do it for yourself, so get out and do it

  Throw out everything holding you down

  Throw out all the things making you frown

  Toss them aside throw them out out out

  Never going to cry never going to pout

  Never none no no more ever no way

  Not going to be dragged down today

  Not going to frown on this beautiful day

  Going to wrap my arms all around it

  Going to let myself get filled by it

  Going to love going to feel going to be

  Going to do anything everything

  Here on this beautiful day

  Wicked superific mega-fantasticly

  Beautiful day

  November 26, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  December

  Zebra


  Zebra

  Alone in the field

  Picturesque field

  Looking at me

  Telling me what to do

  Always here

  Always telling

  Always controlling

  Always everything

  Yet I listen

  Yet I hear

  Yet I comprehend

  Yet I still obey

  Zebra

  Stripes oscillating

  Like a fractal poster

  On too much THC

  On too much tequila

  Stripes confusing

  Like a tax form

  After a triple shift

  After a wicked kegger

  So I listen

  So I hear

  So I comprehend

  So I still obey

  No words

  No sounds

  Just thoughts

  Just pictures

  In my brain

  Out on the range

  Just me and the

  Zebra

  December 6, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  …and there’s a poem that begins with a “Z.”

  A Small Carry-On

  I can see it in your eyes I can tell

  The mind racing thinking oh so hard

  At those last few words I said

  The part about me being divorced

  You have to believe me when I say

  You have to trust me here today

  I have a lot less baggage than you think

  Than you assume for a divorced guy

  Just a small carry-on

  Nothing too big

  Nothing to freak you out

  Nothing to scare you off

  Nothing to write home about

  So here I am

  Me and my honesty

  Flowers in one hand

  A small carry-on

  In the other

  Nothing too big

  Nothing to freak you out

  Nothing to scare you off

  Nothing to write home about

  Just me

  And a small carry-on

  December 16, 2002

  Manchester, New Hampshire

  I heard the words carry-on a few days ago which got me thinking about baggage which got me thinking about the emotional baggage implications of it. Especially in my current situation I almost feel that I would have to explain to any potential special women in my life that I’m fine with everything that’s happened, not like most men who have gone through a divorce.

  Hold Tight

  Don’t let go

  Whatever you do

  Keep holding on

  Hold tight

  I won’t be

  The one who lets go

  I can’t see

  You letting go

  I couldn’t see

  I couldn’t believe