The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,  
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.

With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.

Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.

A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.

i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you **** a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the **** i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.

To love is as good as learning to swim,
Afraid to get  into the pool of love,
Sorry, you will never learn,
Love will pass you.
Be brave, take a deep breath,
Dive into the deep end,
There will be fireworks,
The sky will be ablaze with love stars.
You have three options to learn to love,
You drown into the pool of love,
You learn to stay afloat,
Or somebody rescues you,
The choice is yours.

And there is
no point in
swimming in a water
that's too deep for you.

Let her go.

i float on a frozen surface,
as my heart bathes
in a stench
of streaming lonesomeness.

As a kid, I felt lost
Unsure of the whys of my life
Unsure of my journey
I was a salmon swimming against the currents
Trying to fight life with the strength I was given
This was my flow
until I reached stillness and happiness
I was now a young adult floating in peace
Far from where I started
I felt accomplished

The quiet lake became an ocean before I could even glance at the wonder
Unfamiliar and vast
I found myself lost once again
Breaking through the waves of life
Unsure of the whys
But believing in the journey

Until one day, the deep urge to go home
To that stream where the currents were strong and familiar
For the first time in my life
I stopped swimming,
I had to go back to the mud
where my roots remained untouched

Now here I am
In nature’s water
I understand that home is not a place
Home is the current that leads me
I now swim with the tide not against it.
I stopped asking why
And started looking up
Where I can enjoy the sky
Basking in the beauty of this moment
I am trusting my path
Exploring moments without destinations

Jl 2018

The boat bobs with the rhythm of the ocean,
And it’s serene,
The motion mimicking that of a mother’s womb,
Calming,
Out of my hands…
But everything is out of my hands,
Because I’m no bird.
Though not being a bird means
That no net ensnares me,
It also means that I cannot fly away from this place,
Right here on this wave,
On this boat,
In this sea.
I’m no bird,
And no wings will carry me,
No adventure awaits me,
I simply sit.
Alone.