Nighttime Hours

Did you feel the noise
Did you watch with poise
All the girls and boys walking down
The lake paths lit by light on spikes
Being stabbed by pikes
Making waves in the lengths of the lake’s still water
There’s so much to see that we wish we were taller
But we can drive down freeways and see what signs say
30 miles away
20 miles away
Then 10, then 2, then
One away from being able to be part of the hour
Can feel the rush
Can drink the power
Full of chemicals that taste like copper
When you’re heart’s pounding so fast it could never falter
Like the pulse of your chest keeps you standing
And lets you recover from each footstep landing harsh
On the back of gravel trails that wail with a crunch
With each passing moment without fail
Dispersed aside like a dispelled lie of conspiracies
That the moon can see tracks from astronauts
Still it’s so easy to trust in words
Even when they come from different worlds
So overwhelming intended messaging
Drowning in the meanings of consequences
Back to the lakeside path
Not much has changed but it’s only been a second
That lasted longer than it had the right to
Perception is a thing that lends its might to
As the energy in a cup of coffee empty
On the floor of the backseats ignored
Now passed through your veins and talks
To your heart to show you its ways
Without even knowing what a soul feels like
You make an illusion to make loud the quiet
It could be a trick but you’d never know
You have to play your part and trust in the show

Olympia Sunshine Life

I wore monochrome
Since it was grey outside
Until I found red sunglasses

Breaking down the walls
That cast long shadows
Through the streets
And down the beat
Paths struck by shoes
That cracked at the arch

Eating bagels and having
Breve before Bower’s Books
Comes into view
Around another corner
A vertical horizon cutting
Through past and present

Each new concrete building
Wrapped in festive paper
To be violently torn asunder
As you might pry open a
Carefully-wrapped
Christmas present

With the eagerness of anticipation
Destroying the aesthetic
To get to the present below

Which is the past in a new bow

Something dirty and dangerous
Stuck in the mud, degenerate
But beautiful as the days
Ago by half a decade
As we read novels of novelty
And sing songs of this victory

It was the tearing of the paper
That shattered the morning calm

The birds sat upon telecom lines
Scattered and flew idyllic as doves
When disturbed by thunder
Or the threat of a predator
And knowing that the genuis was in
Living to fly another day

Flocks of doves cast shadows on asphalt

Past the homeless man with his head
Between his knees, rocking back and forth
And very deliberately breathing

We walk past him and into a thrift store
That is built from the goodwill of
Those who grow out of clothing or
Associate with favorite shirts
Now-awful memories, laundered of stains
Before arriving in black garbage bags

Sunshine dashes through the lake
And onwards to the marble buildings
Each a hundred years old
And each has a strong hold
On the law of man and each obey
What they have laid

Sunlights cut through marble
So that we can rewrite rules

And so that we can window shop
Over all the wonderful jewels
Money can buy in downtown Olympia

Yet what it can’t hold a candle
To
Is the experience of being
Out with three friends with a city
For the seemingly taking from the
Temple of justice to the water front

So I thank the three friends
Who invited me along
And the woman who asked if we
Were looking for a vacant booth
When all that was on mind
Was a dusty, dank pizza parlor

Somewhere off of Franklin and 4th,
Though about locations we weren’t
Really sure about much apart
From where we had all parked

There, I worried quietly about
Who offerred to cover half
A shift for me,
For today,
All in the good name
Of making memories

And the hookah set passed
Early in the day at
Vendetta Vape

That was after noon
After we brought light to
Rainy Day Records
And read the covers
From rock to rap
And pop in between

There was a spectre vanquished
That no one had seen
Something dreadful
That had hung over me
But it was only a spectre,
Now maybe a dream

Digital film strips
On SD cards that only I
Know how to develop

We look from hoods, beanies,
And extravagant sunhats,
Dresses, tights, jeans,
And red sunglasses at a place
Aswathe in sun
Yet same as the realm
I saw some nights
Long ago

It was that day
In sunshine, bathed
That we punched new meanings
In marble
And made one day in the city
Give way

Ivy Anxious

Ivy Anxious was a blonde
Dyed died brunette
With big blue eyes that drank in seas
And lips stuck any color she pleased

Though Ivy Anxious limped a little
And sometimes found herself in hospital
She reached for her dream of
Being best at hair styling

And most days you could catch her
At salon boot camp sequestered
And squished in between
Egos and very high esteem

Ivy Anxious never felt that well
Even dreaming was a kind of hell
Waking screaming some days
Early in the morning

And at points stuck with pain
So unbearable she might faint
Yet still she cut through nightmares
And focused on aesthetic affairs

Pageants, photo ops, and boot camp on mind
She looks serene in those photos
But no one might be the wiser
To blood she shed as a splicer

When she nicked fingers with scissors
And composedly panicked in the loss
Ivy Anxious could well gloss
Over cuts embossed and cross

A haircut off her appointment list
And still dye dark hair white
With expert affinity, rising
From bed more than willingly

Though she hurts most times inside
In waking life, Ivy Anxious
Could just as well bring you to life
By bravely making you beautiful

Life

There are so many questions
And each is more difficult

You can only reach a
Certian point of understanding

Before you realize
Understanding for its own sake

Is meaningless

There’s a fulcrum where
You reach a peak

You move and do
And put verbs behind words

Suddenly asking questions
Isn’t needed anymore

Because at this point
In your path

You know what to do

Master

Don’t look down
On top of the world

Don’t look back
At the stairs you climbed

You are apex
You are zen

A predator of ideas
And augur of action

You experienced enough
To give you a title

Someone to look up to
And to call a mentor

You’ve completed things
No one else can

Because

They aren’t you

 

Meyer

We played a game of life
Improperly

I was a therapist
And you were breaking down

“Let’s go on a date”, you say
And we watched The Great Gatsby

And went out to coffee
Later that day

Three years later
We might just

Do it again
Intentions back

Let’s duel
And see who wins

Junction

At the end of the halls
Vast of doors and knobs
Some guilded, some not
Each one in a different spot

You visit everything
See people you love
And the places you’ve been
Full of memory

Those “good times”
On polaroids
You said you would
Never forget

Grilling in the summer
Dressed for winter weather
With the girl you were
Dating at the time

And her smile

These things are tortuous
As you relive funerals
And see all the times
You were let down

Are you happy now
Or did you still want to visit
Another place you know
You probably shouldn’t?

This was your reality
This is your reality
This is a force
You cannot flee

This is you

The good
The bad
The awful
And the most amazing

No grass is ever deader
Than the one who
Still waters their lawn
Long after green is gone

Invisible Man

I trust there’s a plan

I trust I’m awake at three
A.M.

Wondering if I’m
The only one
Who finds myself
Thinking these things

I trust there’s a plan
That there’s a place
To eventually land

And that I’m not just slugging
My way
Through a crowd of
The ugly and depraved

With their hoods on
And faces drawn

So I can’t recognize them

Every hit that lands
Every flail of my hands
Breaks bone but fails
To breach a brand
Of idea

Every fist I throw
Into a skull
Or nose
Or chest

Is met with nothing
But staggaring
Confusion

As the attacked
Gets up
Brushes off
And rejoins the crowd

Even in violence
I won’t inspire

I trust there’s a plan

I hope that there’s
A beautiful place
My waning hurt
Demands

Once the crowd disperses

Guilty Pleasure

Yeah, motherfucker
Taking shots of
Whipped strawberry
Rockstar energy

Drink in my
Passenger seat

It’s all a big joke
As we listen to
“Shut the Fuck Up”
And blast it
In a hive of
Millennials and
Elderly

It’s all a big joke
My friend buys
Fidget spinners
And vape boxes
Ironically

I’m not a whore
But we’re gonna hit up
The Taco Bell where one
Of my exes works at

On our way
To our old high school
Staff parking, no permit
Don’t give a shit

Stopping by just to say
Hello to a few old teachers
Blending in with the crowds
Of teeming angst and
Naivety

How solitary
Cute, nearly
These middle schoolers
That fight over girls
At the park in public

And the clouds of posh
Blown from the lips of
People who think it’s better
Than cigarettes

How pathetic

Dabbing like we’re ‘faggots’
And making fun of longboarders
While I’m dating a girl
Who’s into it

It’s all a big joke
Stereotypes in the wild
This can’t possibly be real
What’s even happening anymore

Trump jokes: we got ’em

Shots of rockstar
We have those too
“Close your fucking mouth
You’re just really fucking dense”

As we’re driving with our
Windows down
Like someone else
For this is down

This is our freak kingdom
A day and age
Not of knights
But for the fake

And fuck it all
Let’s god damn partake

Qasidat L Nadin

From the concrete jungle
Beaches of Olympia
I have set sail
In winds’ prevail
To land upon a coast
Of any fresh hell.

Gone are we
On an endless sea.
What bay shore
Upon we may prey
As predators is what
We hunt for:

Experiences.
Made memories.
Us both are
Birds of prey.
Into abyss
Let’s interplay.