Commencement speech to the graduating class

My commencement speech to the graduating class, I hope you fill your days finding solace besides performing on a numerical based ranking system and sheets of paper alluding predetermined destinies. I hope you put faith in the things that matter to you whether it’s employment, relationships, and self evaluation. There’s a substantial amount of people who will drive you to believe in things that will change the world. Money, does not equate a higher value over one’s life;  instead the usage of sharing a meal with others and knowing that one is more than just a statistic. I urge you to learn yourself.


The kids who are prime examples of what it means to be alright

I think I’ll go home and lay my bones down
Leave the door unlocked so the thief
Who arrives regularly as the mail men
Can take hold of them
I think I’ll go home
And remind myself how many times people aspire to say they are truly alright
Conscientious of how it’s more than enough to not be alright.
I think I’ll go home and turn all the lights on and sleep with them on
So thieves won’t stumble in the dark
But solace in what shines in the light
What beams through the window
As bright as headlights ten o clock at night
I think I’ll stay awhile
Dwindle the time away
Sewing each moment wasted on the hem of my night gown
I think I’ll stay awhile
And set the clocks back
Leave the house five minutes later than usual
Just to show how conscientious we all are
Of saying it’s alright to not want to leave the mattress
But lay there saying “I’m alright”
If I start to disappear the thieves will scatter the remnants of me
Around and around
Letting each one take flight
As I never had a chance to before
I think I’ll go home now
And no longer guard the door
For whoever comes in to see me
Will know
I’ll go home with this knot in the lobe of brain
How we can all say the kids are alright
Just let them sleep for a little while longer

A rock and a chipped tooth

When the bleakness of what comes
As constant as time
Stares you down,
I’ll call the names
All listing their deep sighs
And longer vowel distinctions
Where there is restlessness,
Your presence persists it is only temporary.
An exchange
A chipped tooth for a chipped tooth without the ache
It is temporary
That what remains consistent
Are our exchanges of no longer worrying what we cannot control
No longer batting an eye at the
To unravel your nerves
a wrench to an apprentices craftsmanship
No longer
Only seeing the bleakness
When the brightness of the light
Blinds before you see really where you are
And where you will be.
I call you by names
No one else knows but you
The name of the little voices
In your head

Cassette canaries

I tuck away the parts of myself
Folding each fold
In circumstances that to be unpredictable
Is to remain strong
I judge silently
Weighing each option
That no one can hurt me
I judge,
Arranging how honest one person can be
Without feeling as if a white lie
Can be traded for a piece of relief
That the outcomes of our lives are uncertain
I sing as a canary
Who claims to sing mostly croaking wails
When in light,
I come as kinder
As a traveler who speaks not of the perils of his town,
Nor the war that wages
But when the sun rises,
It shines perfectly to catch the glean on the forest of trees

The rat race to become human

Anguish arises when you dedicate your life,
Hoping to not leave it in ashes
Ruins of desperation
That time itself is not enough
To stop what ails us as being human
Flesh, Bones
Tendons and artificial technological advancements
Of our ancestors
I arrive as patient as a silent war
One that brews underneath the soil
Beneath rubber boots
And wallowing victims
Who cry to not be found
When they are hiding from
More than life.
Our moments that I tend to remember
Were the imperfect attempts at a sensational life
That depicts itself in photographs
When I ought
To find myself in thought
That we’ve made it this far
To get wherever else we need to be
Feel like we need to be
We are trying to complete the rat race

When I was five years old

I am something out of a picture book,  making quests up the stairs.  Each wooden stair was the stump of a tree; swinging one leg in front of the other, I made it to our first floor. Our house floated right over a church. The pews were a dull maroon color and the aisles were huge. I use to think if you weren’t careful, you could never leave that place. You can’t stay down there at night either. I never did find out why that was necessarily.

From time to time, our couches were as wide as boats and the cushions never seemed to end.


I give you
what I am
What I ascribe
Chase, grab, pinch and desire
I give you as much as what I remember to be real
Inclusions of childhood recollections and burnt candles to the nub
Ladies who press pennies into our four year old hands
tithes and offering
Mildred, speaks to me
That even the smallest amount means something

*Writers block*