No Surprise

October

The rumblings have become gales as the distant storms grow closer.

We expect frost this weekend. I relish the thought. No BS. Its the relentless nature of nature that I respect. Because I am godless I understand that some forces cannot be overcome no matter how hard I pray. This shit could kill me. Nature is all like, "The seasons are gonna change, yo! So y'all best git usta it. Sheit, man!" While I'm still dreamin' that cops can stop drive bys and that all those good ol' boys mean me no harm. Sh*t m*n, I'm one f**kin' delud*d du*e, eh?

Colors have turned. Leaves too, perhaps. All the while, Bart keeps running
marathons and returning to Chicago (like Rahm).

Me? I like the scent of decay that comes with autumn rain - I reminds me of nothing but

the slow rage of centuries; the certainty of sunrise even amid all this doubt. Thoughtlessly i have survived, with purpose I will move on. Despite anchors and a particular albatross

this is a hill I will climb. Each dying leaf gives me strength and I change

with the season, become a 4 petal rose or a 2 second shit.

Sarcasm is often my armor of choice and the safest jokes are those that only I get. I am uneasy
when understood, and so I try to be obscure
because it makes me feel superior.

(How do you feel superior?)

Meanwhile, humility speaks softly and tells stories of liberty and the loss of facade. Besides, everyone in the universe is smarter than I. Statistically at least.

Where am I me? Who will go there with me?

I will. You will too.

We're this thing called "family" after all, right? If it were a commercial or a pop-up ad you'd believe it and I would too. Do we need to rent a billboard? I don't understand marketing either, but if we restricted the universe to things I understand we would barely be two dimensional, and that is no way to live. A well-dressed and well-heeled lunatic, I forever pound at the city gate, but that's a "horse of a different color", so to speak. There is no good reason to bet against us - even my mother would agree with that.

Where are you this October? (you can easily rejoin).

A trend develops

Hole Baby

You know, Mr. Obama and I are the same age. Demographics says we are "Baby Boomers", but we are not. Mentality says we are "Gen X" (or whatever BS label it is today; Post-Label).

Calliope's Voice

Molly el puma grande has a point.

Hopefully you are all acquainted with The Muses. This poem was written in Minneapolis while I was hosting Voices From the Well Open-Mic. At the time, Chris Shillock was doing an early version of his epic poetry cycle, Millennium City. Its a rather gothic poem and Chris can really get into it when he gets going, especially with a band behind him. Anyway, this is my response to his cycle. Somewhere in the City, Chris dwells on inspiration and dares the Muse to dance with him.

Calliope is the Muse of Epic Poetry, by the way.

So...

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