Learning to Walk Tall

He was a friend
but we managed to get into some sort of
argument
I guess it was time to throw down
and swing at each other

I told him I would let him hit me first

He didn't seem sure of himself, but
he did it
Curled up those fingers
bulged out the knuckles
and let fly

My head snapped sharply
to the right

It stung

But it passed quickly

I remained standing still and
just looked at him

"Is that all you've got?"

He swung with his left
My head snapped to the side

More stinging that passed quickly

I stared at him some more

"I'll let you hit me one more time."

I'm not sure what I thought would happen
but one thing was for sure

If he hit me again, I was going to
put him in the hospital

It wasn't a boast

It just felt like a matter of fact
An inevitability

Something was happening here
and one way or another
I was never going to be the same

He looked me up
then he looked me down

His shoulders sank

He turned and walked away

Defeated

I had taken his best
he had nothing left to give

Something dangerous had
just been planted within me
and suddenly I could walk
a little taller

The Music

It was the music

It has always been the music

Pulsating within my veins
my blood
my soul

The hardest and heaviest
most energetic and intense
rhythms I could find

I didn't care about
the lyrical content
most of the time

Just needed to have the
nerves pounding

Thunder crashing in my skull

I would lie on my bed
stare at the ceiling
my eyes burning through the
roof
seeking a glimpse of
that eternal fire
the flames of passion
the molten plasma
of creation itself

And once I was
fully engulfed
I would sit up
and write

I was a teenager then
just a young, ignorant
boy

I still have the music
it's angrier and harder
than ever before
and now I have thirty-six
years of damnation
and sin
and madness
to draw upon
for inspiration

Let's rock

Riding the Orange Rocket

I don't know what
kind of car it was
I wasn't any sort of
car guy at the time
All I know is that
it was mean-looking
and orange

All American muscle

My friend and his
buddy let me
crawl into the back
and the tires
spun out at the
end of my dirt driveway

We took a couple of turns
sharply and maybe a
little too quickly
but when we got to
the long straight
back road
that led to his house
the driver
dropped that
orange beast into
ferociousness

I was pushed hard
into the seat
the engine roared
like a monster

The world passed by like a blur
and I knew for certain that we were going to smash
into a
limp-engined
soft pussy
of an oncoming
vehicle and die
in an inferno
of twisted steel
and devil's hooves

But instead we
slowed and pulled into his
driveway.

It wasn't my
first brush
with death
but it may have
been my first
brush with life

Safe in My Home

I live a fairly safe
life now
with my
children
and wife

I often feel
as though
I don't belong
but most
of the time
I like it

It's not about
being safe
It's about
setting aside
my insanity

But the joke's
on me

Everyone
in this home
is mad

The Culture Wars

They're coming.
The survivors
The refugees
The soldiers
The seducers

They're coming
With their music
With their clothes
With their dances
With their baggage

They're coming
Ready to unload
Ready to share
Ready to shout
Ready to rage

They're coming
For the freedom
For the riches
For the glory
For the fame

They're coming

And they're hungry

New Blogger Interface Issues.

Wow.

Just tried the new Blogger interface and what an abysmal ride it was. Couldn't edit an older post, couldn't publish the new post on first try, couldn't preview, and when it finally posted the format was nothing like I had wanted. So I had to delete it.

When I tried to go back to the original interface I was given the option to leave feedback so I did...but after I sent it off I received an error message suggesting that my feedback was lost...so I guess they don't get to know what my problems were?

Thankfully I was able to get back to the original interface.

The Madness and the Magic

Bukowski.

He is my personal evidence that there is always something new under the sun if you look. Yeah, he's dead now and plenty of people were aware of him a long time ago. But he's new to me.

I'm reading my second book of poetry by him. Sometimes he can be bore, but other times he completely blows me away.

See, he is familiar to me. I've known a lot of people who have lived like him. Many of his words are my own thoughts.

He writes often of a madness among people. And a certain kind of magic that is waiting to be wielded.

His poetry is full of the madness and the magic.

The madness is defined by how we live our lives in that quiet desperation other poets have written about, it is the trap. The magic is the seizing of the day, the escape. We trap ourselves into lives that slowly kills us, numbs us, sucks everything of worth from our souls. But the magic gives us peace, frees us.

One of Bukowski's observations is that you can't have it all. Sometimes you may have to cut off some limbs. It is painful. We fear the pain, so we stay in the trap.

Safe.

There is a Christian musician who married into a family full of worship. He had children with his beautiful wife. He wrote many hit songs proclaiming the greatness of God.

One day he made a public statement that he was gay. That he had been lying to himself and everyone around him for over thirty years. He was finally ready to live an honest life, to free himself of a great burden.

He is now divorced. I found a website online with a recent song of his, something about how no one can tell him what to do, how to live his life. He seems happy, though his children and ex-wife are likely confused and full of turmoil.

Bukowski would probably congratulate this man and declare loudly, "What took you so long?"

I'm sure that this musician is taking care of his children financially and visits them. I don't know how old they were when he freed himself. But that's a long time to stay in the trap, to dance with the madness. He is free now. It was probably a painful amputation, and he probably tries to scratch where the limb once was. Some people probably hate him for what he put his family through.

But sometimes, it takes sacrifice to set things right.

The madness and the magic, live happy or die miserable.