A child learns to walk
his way to becoming a man.
A man learns to sit down, shut up
and listen to the master plan.
Seems kinda backwards 
to a guy like me,
so I'll keep walkin' on,
keep bein' free.
They say the grass is greener
on life's other side
so I took a trip,
I went for the ride.
I arrived and I saw
a new point of view,
I showed up refreshed,
feelin' somethin' new.
So I decided
that I'd stay for a while.
Got better reacquainted
with my inner child.
I spent my youth workin' hard
tryin' to grow up,
at twenty years of life I realized
that I hadn't lived enough.
So I opened up my heart and mind,
started trustin' everyone
except those who won't accept me,
those relationships are done.
Peace and love
and all that other good stuff
too many other people
just don't look for it enough.
But I started to accept it
once I opened my mind,
once I broke on through
to the other side.
Trap me in a room
with some normal populace
I'll be antisocial
in my head makin' lists,
'cause I wanna be sure
I don't end up like them.
My life, mind and time ain't as simple
as the suit and tie men.
But put me in a place
with people dyin' to be free
I'll have a smile on my face
and a reason to be me.
I'll enjoy myself,
I'll dance, laugh and love
and know Gods smilin' down on me
up from above.
He didn't give us life
to fill with work, stress and tears,
he never expected us
to face all our fears.
He loves us and he wants us
to be happy and free
like bluebirds in the sky
doin' whatever they please.

I'm not as cool
or as lame
as some would lead you to think
I'm not as calm
or hotheaded
as most people would say
I'm not as lost
or as focused
as I'd claim to be
I'm not as sad
or as happy
as the person I play

I'm just me
and I'm ****** good
at being
what they want me to be.

This house still is not a home. 
Sure, all my stuff is here,
and I have even more than I did before;
which I've found is rare after a move.
I have things like freedom
and a spot in the garage.
A theatre major across the hall
who likes Portlandia as much as I do.
A giant mirror
leaning on the living room,
which I doubt Keiya will ever move.
Joe's Market is now a block away
instead of Matt Elliot,
who is the epitome of white trash.
And Mud Suckers,
where I can find a mean chai,
is just two blocks past that.
I have Dinkytown
and it's countless opportunities
within walking distance.

What makes a house a home, though,
is love.
Home is where the heart is
and my heart has no memories 
to help support itself here.
I haven't laid in this bed,
watching David Bowie
in The Labyrinth,
with my arms perfectly placed
in the chasms of another's architect;
I have yet to get lost,
in this now familiar place,
with someone
I am uncomfortably comfortable with.

Like quicksand around my feet
procrastination keeps me.
I put things off
that I find off-putting;
It puts me in rough situations.

The kind of situations
that a man needs to grow.
How can you be upset with life
when your given all you need?
Nobody knows, it just sort of happens.
Everyone finds something
to complain about,
no matter how easy life is.
When the real wolves come
to overthrow us from our comfort
we are already too caught up
in ourselves.
We panic
We sink
We forget to remain
Calm.
And like being trapped in quicksand,
we are swallowed whole.

A nice stone fireplace.
Worn in chairs.
Tables covered in scratches,
stories people have forgotten.
Kind faces.
Delicious drinks.
I wish I lived in Caribou.
It's the kind of place
that helps me find peace
in the middle of the storm.
The kind of place
that helps me forget 
about the small things.

Your words seem often sheeted
by waves of mystique
Like sand by the ocean
out on the beach.
They pour over your lips
like waterfalls in your head
They come crashing into pools
of what's already been said
I'd love to dive in deeper
submerged in sadness and lies
To bathe in your holy spirit
like an infant first baptized 

Your eyes are like white wine
they help to calm my nerve
Your nerves are like explosions
they catch my eyes as they deserve
Your skin sets my skin on fire
whenever we don't touch
I feel the flame encase me
like a casket forged in rust
Your frame holds the painting
that is your beautiful soul
Your hands, unlike my burdens
could only be mine to hold

Your assets only intrigue me
you carry yourself so well
You drape yourself in clothes
to cover your beautiful self
Your modesty is mesmerizing
your humbleness deserves merit
You carry your lust inside you
like a bomb waiting to be lit
The words you've whispered to me
shoot contradictions like a gun
Contradictions like my ability
to write love poems to no one

I wonder what goes through your head
As you lie awake at night.
I wonder what you thought I'd say
When you said you weren't right.

Do you know how I pictured you?
The fun one that never rests.
But now I see your sadness.
It sinks anchors in my chest.

I see you yelling for help.
I see you stranded all alone.
I know your looking for something,
Maybe someone to call home.

I think you need help
But I'm too close to you.
You need someone further away
With a different point of view.

You expect me to share your weight,
To bring you in to safer shores,
But I'm finally shaking my blues,
What gives you the right to give me yours?

21 years of waking up 
with the bed half
empty.
The nightmare that haunts me
as I lie there, awake,
Is going through 20 more.

More than death
More than failure
More than large bodies of water
I fear being alone.

I won't let the love
that flows through my veins
go untapped. Unused.
I've already let
too much potential
go to waste.

'I mean, seriously,
what kind of man
scores a 31 on his ACT
and only goes on to do
a single year at community college?'

The same kind of man
who's worries have
teetered on the edges of love
rather than within the confines
of success.
The kind of man
who'd rather be writing
stories to the beat
of other peoples lives
than allow the tales
of his own journey
to grow dull with time.
The kind of man
who measures life
in the amount of friends
and loved ones a person
accumulates
rather than with stacks
of green paper.

Someday I'll meet a women
who can see the world as I do.
We will be happy
in our tiny, cute 
twin cities cottage.
I'll walk down the street
to grab the paper and some coffee,
she'll watch the boys
while trying to make her deadline.
We'll be happy
in our own chaotic,
free-spirited,
open-minded kind of way.
Physical possessions
poison the soul.
Money has no value here.