Deep Thoughts: Oceans

just the night before tomorrow taunting as it does. of hours that will confiscate. and time wasted reconciling how you have no choice, but to sacrifice them.

just the future ringing your doorbell. on sunday morning. too early for the bed to release you.

and you lay there, hot under the covers. still more contented sweating there than to rise and face their ambiguous offerings.

some stale cookies. some biblical pamphets. give me money. give me faith. give me whatever it is you use to tally your wealth. and they will promise you an increase should you only believe them.

but i just want to sleep. for the fan to spin silently. for the music to play only as i ask it. which is often, but not always.

i just want to have the perfect words, but i never find them. in rhyme or otherwise. still i seek. combing unlit forests for lanterns running out of fuel.

i've never said to anyone, but i've always thought that poetry and art in any form is not an option anymore. just another business america has borne.

i don't have all the right words, but they can't all be wrong.

tuck those tears in for the night. tell them stories of when the world was different. but why should they care. this is the world they inhabit now.

if there ever was a meaning to these egregious meditations. i've lost sight of it somehow.

because as deep as the ocean can sink. still the shallows abound.


  1. Has anyone ever told you that you need to write a book of poems? I hope you keep these writings on paper.

    What a wonderful find these would be to someone once you are gone.


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