I'll wait for you no longer my legs have gotten stronger and I'd rather stand alone than follow where you've shown I wish that I could keep you your beauty is apparant and so true your eyes they move my soul to weep, your voice it makes my tired heart leap but your mind it is so young and you cannot hide behind your tongue you give yourself away and I know I cannot stay One day so far on down the way I will recall how we used to play and I will smile upon these memories knowing you as just another part of me another sister lost and found another lover come round and gone round but you have changed my heart and mind and you are such a sweet and gentle kind perhaps it never was you, always was me blinded by your beauty, I chose not to see but now I surely know, it is time for me to go Goodbye little darling so long girl, so long, so long, farewell to you lovely, forgive me as you hear this song.

Who am I kidding, sitting at this laptop like I got something to say. Sublime pouring out the speakers, tappin my sneakers to the sweet smooth sound of the reggae. Alone in my living room waiting for my bud to call, waiting to find out where the party be at tonight. Alone just like the moon, waiting for the season fall, fading away into my chair, listening to the light. Harder to type when a good song comes on. I'll love Sublime till the matter of me is gone. Man, if I can be happy for anything that transpired from my last relationship, it's that she turned me on to this incredible band. I mean I always liked Sublime, but when we would hang out, we would listen to their music for hours, just sittingin her room, weaving hemp necklaces. I can't say anything more than I just love their music. I love Brad's voice, I love the beats, the bass, the choppy guitar licks. It's so much fun. It don't even make me sad, it makes me remember, sure as hell, I can see her face in certain songs, but they are just so good, that I can dance the memories away... I hope one day we can dance together again to these songs. I'll pray for that. Sure as hell. When she grows up, I hope we can dance together again. I thank God for her and for Sublime. That is all.

It's been a windy day. A windy-ass day, if I may. A constant surge of the stuff. Just continual, on-going blowing. The leaves of the trees will not shut up, and my hair is made of so many fly-aways. I see my face now in the reflection of the laptop's screen as I sit outside typing this ditty out. I also see the reflection of the sky behind waving arms of leafy branches, as if the trees dance to the unheard music of the steady gust. The music becomes the whisshhhh.... Forever, as far as I'm concerned. That's all I hear. Anyway, it's been a strange-ass day. I spent the day with my mother and her friend, Tina. I believe my mother fancies Tina's husband, but that's another story. We went to brunch at Mimi's in Parker. We each paid for our own meal. They had bloody mary's, I had iced tea. After that we went and saw EAT PRAY LOVE. I hesitate to say it was dreadful. It wasn't awful, not terrible or anything. Just a chick flick, totally. But there were alright thoughts scattered randomly throughout, touching moments, my mom cried at least. I find myself giving myself up for the sake of the others around me. I am the accompaniment. I enjoy myself, even though the activity is not one I would do if I were alone. Just a day with Mom. Nothing wrong with that. A dragonfly just attempted to fly up around my porch, but he got caught by some wind and blown out towards the street. I realize this isn't even a poem, but a string of random thoughts made to resemble a poem. My life is not a poem, it only resembles one. Someone has once said to me, "the appearance IS the object!" If that is true, then this IS a poem, and my life IS a poem. The greatness of the poem, is as always, debatable. Just this particular one, I'd say, is fairly shabby. What am I saying? I am saying nothing. I am just saying. Leave me alone why dontcha. The day just rolls along... Time, time, time, time... My mom is a chatterbox. The wind has still not let up and shows no signs of doing so.

Another normal day. Another perfectly, utterly normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Woke up and layed out in the Sun. Got tired of the heat, went around to the front, sat crosslegged in the shade of the leafy tree. The grass had left little indentations on my bare feet when I shifted positions. Grass marks, my little sister has called them before. I found it so strange and curious, the similarity of the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves to the sound of the ocean by the beach. Wind comes in gusts, water in waves. I had the thought, "perhaps water is just heavy, wet wind." Then I took a short nap, went to work, made it through the blur of faces, cash and change, drove back home, and now here I am, typing, listening to Bob Marley. One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain. My mind is basically blank. I eat some cheezits. They are amazing.

Alright, all of life does not reside exclusively in my mind. That's true. All of life is all around. Outside and without me. I understand that. I don't believe in objective reality, I accept it. I do because that is all I can do. I accept that things can be observed and recognized by all humans, and I accept these things because that's just how it works. I observe and recognize the law, I work for my money, I do what I must do to get by and through in THIS world. I am a slave and/or servant to reality just like any other. And I deal with it, whiling enjoying everything I can (including this argument). I try not to let it phase me. Most of the time, life reminds me of a joke. Something I must humour, even nurture, as it plays out. Always, I accept it. But I do believe that everything that we SENSE is only a distraction of what really occurs. This life is like a trick. Smoke and Mirrors. In a sense, I think reality is an illusion that we are forced to sit through and view. I guess I believe that THIS can't be what it's all about. There has to be something else, behind all of this, because this is so laughable sometimes. Maybe that is denial. Refusal to accept that this is ALL THERE IS. Because honestly, this can't be all there is. There is always more than meets the eye. Life is a ruse. To believe it is entirely real is to be decieved by the trickster. It's just a show, crafted to entertain and instruct.

Amazing how everything can change in a day. Time leaves you speechless, I got nothing to say. When it started I was low with my head in the sand, as it comes to an end I got my feet on dry land. Retreat into bed, slip into tomorrow. Live briefly in dreams I'm allowed just to borrow. Wake to the sound of my cellphone ringin, peer out the window, hear morning birds singin. Light filtering in, wash the floor of my room, brightness glows yellow to banish the gloom. Rise from the warmth, feel the chill of a breeze. I'll scratch my bare legs, calves, ankles and knees. Grab a quick shower, throw on clean clothes, head on downstairs, drink a cup, I suppose. Put on the tube only just for a minute, check out some videos, the limelight, who's in it. Then trek to my car, pop in some CD, crank up the volume, and drive away free. Well, free to the extent of the wide open road, but from here, on to work, psyche into work mode. Arrive at the mall, ten minutes to spare, step out of my car, smell the moist August air. How the summer brings peace to the soul of the city, employed, overjoyed, the trees sparkle pretty. And into the clambor of the chaos within the mall, all the people showcase scowls and grins. So much noise! So much Noise! All the voices at once, barrel on through the time till I'm rewarded with lunch. And I'll eat chick fil a like an emperor prince consuming a nice royal meal with iced water for rinse. Then back to the grindstone, back into the swing, hello, how are you? is the song I must sing. Oh customers, customers, thank God for you all, without you, we crumble, our business would fall. Thank you for your money, thank you for your time, thank you for your courtesy, you're swell, you're sublime. Even when you're not, I will choose to look past, because truthfully, really, it happens so fast. You're here, then you're gone, you pay and you leave, so if you don't meet my gaze, I won't be too grieved. Just continue on through, kill the minutes and hours, do whatcha gotta do son, that's how seeds become flowers. And when it's time to clock out, you punch in your name, you send out farewells and be done with the game. Head back to my car, parked out in the lot, and release your old head, forget what you thought. Cuz it don't matter now, you're on your way home. Turn up that sweet music, sing out on your own. Amazing how everything can change in a day. Time leaves you speechless, I got nothing to say.

My house is silent as the world inside a shell. My sisters are sleeping, my mother is off working, my brother is somewhere else, and I am here in the rocking chair, typing. Shhhh, listen. The house makes noises. I hear, the fridge, the computer, the lamp, the walls crack intermittently. Silence is not as it seems. Perhaps silence is merely lack of voices. Perhaps quiet is not lack of sound, but lack of motion that makes sound. In this case, my house is still, quiet, and silent. But if you listen, and there is always something to hear.

The internet is a crazy place. Countless individuals all over the globe, men and women, boys and girls, from 15 to 55, all brought together in the same space. Cyber space. Here, we are all one even as we are alone. As we gaze into the depths of our screens, we are all looking at the same monument. The monument of ultimate information. It is infinite in facets, sideless, and still with all sides. Imagine the internet if it were tangible. I imagine a sphere with a surface of gleaming spiderwebs. All is shared, nothing is sacred. All is connected, and every one is separate. It is a land of contradiction. Or if I may, (in the spirit of songmeanings,) A Land of Confusion. But I love it. You gotta love it. I love it because I am part of it without being who I am. I am not my face, I am not even myself, I am my words. I am only what I choose to say. I am not my person, but my person-ality. And that is a beautiful thing. You could even say an ideal world. We are each blind, deaf, and dumb, when we are online. All we have, all we are, is what we decide to submit of our minds. It is a strange and unique world, this place we call the internet. Truly brings out the best and worst of us all. How shall we use this almighty tool? Let us use it for communication and aid. Let us send love and encouragement through the wires to whosoever may require a small pick me up. Let us not fight, but find and figure. Then submit only wellness. Offer only positivity. Talk about an ideal world. At least, let me use it for inspiration. For what else can you do for someone else but inspire them? -Bob Dylan

I went to a concert tonight. Drove down to the springs, me and my little step brother, my little step brother and I. Course, I guess he's not so little anymore. Seventeen and a senior, where does the time go? It was a long ass drive, least it sure seemed that way. We even got lost trying to find the place. An extra hour of searching, to Hell with Google Maps. However, we arrived just in time. The second band was finishing up, and the band I came to see was to follow. For All Those Sleeping. Have you heard of them? Neither had I on the day that their guitarists stopped by Hot Topic, as I happened to be working. I spoke awhile with them. Said it was their first tour, their first time in Colorado. I recommended they check out Red Rocks. Great hiking up there, lots of canyons, I said. They said hey, why don't you come to our show on Sunday? And they put me on the guest list. I love when things work out. Course, they didn't play the song I knew, but they had good energy, and they were friendly and talked with me for awhile after they played. They had checked out Red Rocks. I bought one of their stickers, and later on in the show, I saw the two guitarists I first met hitting on this girl in striped tights. I'm sure nothing became of it. Also, as I stepped up to the bar to buy a bottle of water, this cowboy looking fellow said to me, "you should shave all this," he indicated my beard, "And leave the mustache. Just rock the mustache." Funny enough, I'd been considering that lately. His name was Kyle, and he was the guitarist for the headlining band. He was obviously drunk, and he held my arm when he talked to me. Think I'll take his advice tomorrow. It rained on the drive home, misty rain, sprayed up from the tires of the cars in front of us, water made the freeway slick, and reflective of every light that twinkled, flashed, and shone. Made it difficult for me to see. Think I need new wipers. There were great branches of lighting also, that lit up the wide sky. Just one of those nights. Fairly forgettable, but just special enough to cause a stir, to set off a stream of ideas, to get me thinking, to get me feeling. I'll put the sticker on my car when the rain dries away tomorrow. So even though I may forget, I'll always still remember, whenever I open my trunk. Where do nights like this go? Here I am, still inside of one, but I know that in a matter of days, weeks, months, this present feeling, will have left me. A brief moment, preserved in a poem. Where do nights like this go? I think they go away... As we move forward, plug onward and upward, these nights are left right where they were, and it is we that spiral on, leaving all in the place that it existed that once. If I am an airplane, then behind me stretches a white, fading jetstream. If I am a spead boat, then I leave behind the two opposite waves of my wake. If I am a comet, then I have a long tail of light and ice crystals. But in any situation, the life lies in the front, and what trails behind is only beautiful... This poem is as a silver strand of hair that has been pulled from within my mind. And as my fingers reach the end of it... pluck!