My mottos matter.
Yours do too.
What you believe
Becomes true for you.

Her motto was that
Hard work was the key.
She never had fun.
How could she?

She always worked hard.
She believed that she ought to.
The question remains,
What is your life's motto?

A map of every country known,
With not a foot to call his own.
A list of folks that kicked a dust
On this poor globe, from Ptol. the First;
He hopes,-- indeed it is but fair,--
Some day to get a corner there.
A group of all the British kings,
Fair emblem! on a packthread swings.
The Fathers, ranged in goodly row,
A decent, venerable show,
Writ a great while ago, they tell us,
And many an inch o'ertop their fellows.
A Juvenal to hunt for mottos;
And Ovid's tales of nymphs and grottos.
The meek-robed lawyers all in white;
Pure as the lamb,-- at least, to sight.
A shelf of bottles, jar and phial,
By which the rogues he can defy all,--
All filled with lightning keen and genuine, 20 And many a little imp he'll pen you in;
Which, like Le Sage's sprite, let out,
Among the neighbours makes a rout;
Brings down the lightning on their houses,
And kills their geese, and frights their spouses.
A rare thermometer, by which
He settles, to the nicest pitch,
The just degrees of heat, to raise
Sermons, or politics, or plays.
Papers and books, a strange mixed olio,
From shilling touch to pompous folio;
Answer, remark, reply, rejoinder,
Fresh from the mint, all stamped and coined here;
Like new-made glass, set by to cool,
Before it bears the workman's tool.
A blotted proof-sheet, wet from Bowling.
--'How can a man his anger hold in?'--
Forgotten rimes, and college themes,
Worm-eaten plans, and embryo schemes;--
A mass of heterogeneous matter,
A chaos dark, no land nor water;--
New books, like new-born infants, stand,
Waiting the printer's clothing hand;--
Others, a mottly ragged brood,
Their limbs unfashioned all, and rude,
Like Cadmus' half-formed men appear;
One rears a helm, one lifts a spear,
And feet were lopped and fingers torn
Before their fellow limbs were born;
A leg began to kick and sprawl
Before the head was seen at all,
Which quiet as a mushroom lay
Till crumbling hillocks gave it way;
And all, like controversial writing,
Were born with teeth, and sprung up fighting.

'But what is this,' I hear you cry,
'Which saucily provokes my eye?'--
A thing unknown, without a name,
Born of the air and doomed to flame.

They say the ties that bind, wither towards the end
Their witty mottos downplay the love of a friend
“The blood of the covenant,” the adage remains still frozen,
“Flows much thicker than the water of the womb.”
And therefore they deduce: our loyalties reduce
And family only matters when it is chosen.

But the blood relations between man’s nations
Groan under the strain of their bond
For who would have thought that brothers were not
By long and far man’s best creation.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.

I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?

She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.

It was Josh, right?

Yeah.

Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.

And she did.

Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.

Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.

Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.

You were in it.

Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.

You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.

I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.

I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.

My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.

I like coffee.

You wouldn't like me.

Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.

No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.

Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.

Yeah, I'll take it.

I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.

Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.

It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.

MOTTOS

I have two mottos that sustain me
Through whatever comes along.

Number one says simply:
“LIFE IS TOUGH - BUT I AM TOUGHER”

The second is
A little longer.  It says:
TOUGH TIMES DON’T LAST -
TOUGH PEOPLE DO.

I don’t know where
These words all came from.
I only know they keep me
On my feet and moving on.
ljm

Under the bridge, a once again
Tranced by the rhythm of a river
Chaos culminated to calm strains
Crucified and paraded in clarity

A push and I pushed deeper to sink
Your eyes lighted with a remedy
A redemption of persisting ache
A depth tucked and hidden in a mast

Unclaimed and reared, purely untainted
An essence delivered by a spirited past
Cocoon to a parameter of perception
A scent delicately brewed in aged truce

Under a bridge in a moment called now
Blocks scented with nitrogen spurred *****
A depart from the swan hypnotic dreams
A renegade of mottos, hollows of morrows

My mind is shattered

Green glass bottles lining a city curb

My body is scarred

Battle wounds from an inner war

I am awkward and shy

Mouths go mute and sound becomes silence

I am weird and uneducated

Care about myself like pigs care about wings

I choose emptiness and haze

Love is a fantasy, let the tab dissolve

I choose lies and incomplete thoughts

As interesting as a white wall

But I want you

Poetic mottos, background story, fluttering ideas

But I can’t have you

Age, timing, hopelessness, broken, sinner.

Old mottos resurfaced in a strange land
Ogling blindly eyeballs
all over the horizontal landscapes
Laying with my head
upside dangling from the bed
Drunk wobbling it up now
to find balanced faces like demi-demon ghosts white haunting
panting voices and legs for days
dwindling each other down with nail file twine
How long does it take to cut open your arm with an unlit candle?
Rub at it turning the wax skin and burn
I have your half blood head fang
hanging over my bed now
It bleeds on me still
Drips in my mouth while I rest
It tastes okay
I guess

My dear friend,

There's no answer in those bottles
Or those false bravados
There's truth in cliche mottos
But those answers are hollow
Unlike those pills you swallow
Because you're chronically suicidal
With no contrary to guide you
And no lover to confide to
So you'll just cram it all in a note in the hotel room they find you
Now you're only living through all the strangers you were kind to
The family that stood beside you
The hell you dragged their mind through
The lovers you had lied to
The crafts that you had fine tuned
The dark past behind you
And whatever state your mind looms now

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M. Whit

Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church.
Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first.
**** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse,
Never a good thing when i hear from you first.
Be careful what you see,
even salt look like sugar,
Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've,
And not smackin ******* when you know you should've.
People Be like "oh i miss you"
**** i miss me too.
Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru,
You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too,
Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true.
I be business minded when i be minding my business.
And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** ****.
Overcame this novocain,
Recasted the impression of depression,
Ring around the rosary,
Never relying on religion.

Im from a home of funny bones
And My elbows been ashy,
I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me,
And i been itching for this platform
If you ask me,
I used to wonder if i was a real person.
I used to wonder like what's my real purpose?
When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes,
When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos.
As a poet i never looked at it this way,
I never booked myself for this reading.
I was overbooked.
I bookmarked my favorite moments ,
I been forever overlooked.
And never understood what "more" ment,
I been overcooked.
The preheating of this season left me bleeding.
This farenheit left me heavy breathin
No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from
- grace -
me with your presence and
These broken promises,
Never been transparent to this degree,
Had to leave that monster house.
That was my American horror story.
I used to be couped up,
Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory,
See mfs want my jazz but not my blues,
They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues,
Yall be Morally incorrect,
....More or less...
Lately i been Moralless,
Need to get saved no church bells ,
Put me on the zach Morris list,
These rhymes be like my confessions,
Front row seat to my ascension,
Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced,
Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives,
I dream in MLA format.
Double spaced a letter to my younger self,
Just some **** I wish i told the older me
A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me,
My OCD be blowin me,
Need all my ducks in a row,
My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo,
Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.

Everything has to be by the book. I hate that book.

One
By
One
We are a unit
We are given
The freedom
To speak of something better
To live by different mottos
To believe in stories of the past

Often, we must  
Live by this book of rules
A helpful,
Organized book
I despise it
In this book
We are only given
The illusion
That we own ourselves.

A few months into the school year, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while
We got to talking and she asked, “How’s senior year?”
I told her, “Well, I’m having fun but it’s stressful.”
“Why?” she asked.
I said, “Well, all this college stuff is stressful, and having a full schedule isn’t helping.”
She said, “Why a full schedule? It’s your senior year, why try so hard?”

I don’t exactly remember what I answered, probably some generic response, but I didn’t think much of it.

Later though, I thought about that question.
It came back like waves lapping against my mind over and over again.
“Why try so hard? Why try so hard? Why try so hard?”
Well, why not?

Why not try hard?
Why not pack my schedule?
Why not focus on getting to college?

I mean if I’m going to pay all this cash for class, shouldn’t I be prepared to pass?
Then again, maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s absurd to be ready.
I mean, who wants to be ready for what’s to be?
Well, I suppose the answer to that question would be
Me

I, for one, want to be prepared.
And it seems like our generation doesn’t want that.
We squander what we are given and procrastinate like it’s religion
We love mottos like “Carpe Diem”
Yet the only thing we seize is the seat of our pants and we fly by it continuously
We strive for excellence, yet settle for mediocrity
If life was a mountain, we are content at sitting at the halfway lodge, never quite seeing the beauty from it's peak.

Maybe we aren’t to blame, maybe it’s not our shame.
Maybe we are victims of circumstance just looking for recompense.
We can’t control what happens to us, but one thing is for sure.
We control how we react.

See, we like to play the victim.
Pity parties are the popular theme
“Oh poor me, my life *****.”
Maybe that’s true, maybe your life does ****.
You might think you never have good luck.
But though your life might be covered in muck,
All you have to do is push through to get unstuck.

We need to take back our lives, we need to strive for something more.
Deprive the naysayers of satisfaction; try.
Try hard.

It might not be glamorous, it may not be hip,
But blood, sweat and tears are definitely worth the trip.
If we can break the monotony of complacency
If we can do away with apathy and replace it with productivity.
We can do whatever we could possibly dream of.

So to everyone asking “What’s the use? Why try?”
I promise you it is worth it.
When you do something for yourself, you fight back against the doubtful.
Be a tryhard, be a freak, be obsessed with your passions.
The outside world will call you these names, but they are jealous.
They will tear you down because they see you fighting back.
They see you doing something that they only dream of.
They want to have the same fervent desire to be better.

The saying “you only live once” becomes obsolete when you try.
Yolo has been turned from it’s true meaning into “do stupid things”
Get there and experience the world, show them what yolo stands for really

Pack your schedule
Feel free to always be busy
Because you only have one life, so live the one you got
That way, when they say, "why?"
You can say
"Why not?"

Once the window open up it's a different kind of breeze
And ****** put in extra work if they live on there knees
No subtitles but my idols have the safe for the work
And If they were force I made sure I enjoyed the perks

But I chose wisely in all my different cases
So I Shine bright no diamonds just the apollo laces
No church for the wild but just different kind of mockery
So let me put it down be for they start mocking me

Kings to the mild but what does the gold represents
The Depression and aggression and horrible contents
But that just history they don't want y'all to know the events
Because if y'all knew the truth y'all would fall and repent

Snakes in the grass but they come in different colors
So don't fall for the winter cold and false umbrellas
I subscribe you to sleep it off with brand new intentions
Because if we fall down they will still erase what was mention

Official with the hooks but I change for the books
And If I get any  points then I might look shooked
So ima have to storage my monogamy's in my apologies
Cuz ima **** myself if I start to believe in my Sorrys

But my description is chopped down to one piece
But if I mix it all then y'all all will destroy my peace
The vision is blurred but followers don't be scared
Cuz if I disappear it's to only to be reappear


Uh
No god to this
Uh
No honor to this
Uh
No honestly to miss
Uh
No lies to kiss


So the pro tools is open to the old school
And Exit them out because they're the ones who made the rules
Perfection is the correction if there's no path to follow
So I guess my wisdom will be my words and y'all new mottos

The men I date
The places I live
a song I humm
don't know the lyrics to
I forgot where I heard it

You say give it up and come to me
I say yes but I can't leave

Is it my pride
Is it because you're too close to a young child's daydream

All you see
Is pretty
And good enough for me

I need a place to hide
And that isn't in these mottos that were forced on me

Friends and colleagues saying the same **** thing

There will always be you and me
In a sound
In a smell
In a new woman to pull the trigger

You're a liar,
You can't hate me

Tempers edge the need
for your anvil head to break.

The way back from work saw
Lowry people scrape the pavement.
Dog-leg drags of shuffle, of make-up slide,
mixing flea-skin sweat with pollen rub
into a tincture of stench.

This is image that I do not want

I have
half a mind to **** but I
cannot be bothered, the other ,a
a monologue of delirious ramblings
some" French kings versus
squadron mottos" thing...
and , in truth, I am not sure what
it's going on about.

I am indoors, windows open, curtains closed
naked from the waist down, feeding the freedom
of sprawl- but this is mistake of gargantuan order
a cosmic, foolish, schoolboy- error of judgement.

The sofa is leather.

My scar tangled manners are reports of my standing
an amateur tanners spewed stew of expletives.
In a half-arsed way it seems  
I am to remain

part of the furniture

I search for shorts.. long shorts, short longs, whatever,
my legs and **** seek the solace of cloth.

On the canal a coot needs oiling
what feels like 20 minutes of incessant jar is
tapping with my rationale
Testing my love for all things feathered.

Something needs to give.

I am a Gobi taste of sandal straps and
in dire need of irrigation/ rehydration
I have waited way too long for liquid...
Don't get me wrong, this isn't some test
of deprivation- this is heat swung laziness
that is all it is..nothing more
nothing less..

And so..

We will get it tonight
You cannot pull isobars this far apart to
not have them break..
And that ogrish flat-top is thugging
the harbour side rents..

Ah yes...

"Après moi le deluge"

Seems to make sense, now

Come, discern, focus,
conceive the two degree wide,
two said sounds wide, two words wide
agon, we call the mindspace, now, in time

agged into efforting conception, we hold each
a seed within ourselves, and we have been lead
to believe we learn in real time, while we digest

suggestions from the environs, while we why away
another reason war has used to make hate, articles
of faith, he who does not hate is father and his mother,

brother, did you take the oath,
the one at a four square baptism, didja?

So, you are pretty sure there is a hell to shun,
and one unrepented will to ill treat a living liar,
such as all men just happened to be, because,

and you know its true, because
the bible says Paul read in on a…

Ode to Zeus, factcheck me, I'm good.
no liar shall enter truths spirit will
to make up minds used to making peace
in terms of loving push and pull adverarial
wonderous chaotic beautiful rushes,
or thunderous clouds of sunset joy,
during latter rains, each year.

There it was on the way into the Agon,
where mottos enforce mental engagement,
- a royal society motto,
- take no man at his word, science proves
- true the admonition.

citizens must be readers ready to read the omens,
and the letters all spelled out in Delphic chance,
to those initiates in service as translators.

As your scribe, dear patron saint, what
would your holy other than usness say to us,

as we inquire in spirit form, mere thoughts,
from words another feeds us as we think?

It is the symbol of the curious, the wise serpent,
most honed first guess, right, answers sworn
do tell, as ever before becomes thinkable,

we can imagine humans building Machu Pichu,

crow-lee squacks, waddayathankftat.

Disheveled and mutated. Ugly shell of what it used to be. Our government curated by the CEO Neo-Con warheads with nuclear weapon arms and drone strikes aimed at every other countries heart. Hawks of the most grotesque nature. Warhawks with bombs of freedom and democracy. The right to social justice and free choice are properties of the US. Yet those same words "Property of the US" line those missles, the only freedom they ring is freedom from this world. Free to dive into the afterlife.

Staunch support to policies of corrpution. Reeking of ****** and money. Dressed in red and green, piles of each, blood and money line their legacies. Facades played out in media like a family soap opera. Facsist facades play out in legislature, tyranny inducing consequences. Justice not served as they rally around the mottos of "Just us". As in just us rich and powerful get to pass laws. Just us white and privileged get walk away from cops without a 12 Guage bullet in the brain. As in just us media pundits know about politics.  In jusice they have no belief. Only selfish belief of "just us".

Oligarchic and xenophobic. Slandering the people's knowledge like we don't feel the ***** hand of power encasing us in its ****** grips. Convincing out of fear we are all each other's worst enemies due to color religion or Politcal theory. Propaganda created shackles out of freedom and enslaved us in our own good will.

The ***** roots of our skyscrapers poison the soul because what they rake in at the top is dollars made from death and destruction. From the creation of war refugees and third world farmer suicides they install suede in the penthouse. The money has created shackles out of freedom and enslaved us.