A Poem to my Daughter

I don’t write about you.
I wrote an entire book about you
But I don’t write you.
Not this way
Not lately
Not in way too long.

You have your mother’s eyes.
And the other one is a perfect
Picture of her grandmother

The celtic is strong in that one
But you got the french in us
You really did

You have the attitude
And that sharpness to you
It’s how I can’t hide a damn thing
And you see right through me
Makes if hard to be a dad
(Sometimes
Little white lies makes it easier
To govern)

But you don’t let me get away with these
Not anymore
I need to up my game
And explain to you
The harder thruths of life
And share my love
In better ways
In more hugs
And simpler words
I need to learn
Quickly
To enjoy the tickle fights
That still make you laugh
Before you become a full teenager

You are asleep now

And the house is silent

I heard your book drop to the floor

As your still tiny hands

Let go of it while you faded into sleep.

And I smiled.

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Hey There (a very simple poem)

Hey there.
What’s your story
You have a rugged face
But very kind eyes.
The shaved head
Doesn’t tell
The whole story of you
Does it?

You walk
Hunched over
Hands in
Your pockets
Anger
In your step
But there is love
In the back
Of your mind

Isn’t it?

To the Fool Who Had Stopped Looking (Poem)

“Does he know he’s in trouble?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?”
Was her answer.

“You got new boots,
New hair,
New beanie,
Eyeliner and
you’re fucking
dressed to kill.”

She hadn’t even noticed.

Or maybe she had
And it was just nice
To have someone
Tell you
To have someone
See you
Again

She smiled
And for a second
There was happiness in her eyes

I hadn’t seen that
In a while
And it was good

“But it’s not even that,” I continued
“What is it?” she insisted

“There’s that glare in your eye
Like you’re tired
Of being invisible
To someone
Who’s taking you
For granted
And
And being taken
For granted
Is a terrible
Terrible
Thing to feel
Like

So you decided
You had enough
And decided
You deserve
To exist
Again
Fuck him.
You gave enough
And you’re right.”

She smiled
And laughed
That single burst
That just comes out
When you haven’t
Laughed in too long
And it was good

I looked at where
He might
Or might
Not be
Out by the front door
Or drowning in the river
It didn’t matter much right now.

“If he doesn’t notice he’s losing you,” I said.
He’s a fucking idiot.”

And he was a fucking idiot.

The Forgotten Ways of Love and Sex (poem)

It seemed to me ,
Dawned upon me
Really,
That is was as if
An entire generation
Had forgotten
How to fuck.

The smell of it
The taste of it
The sweat of it
How to make the body prance
And the legs shiver
Into glorious
Oblivion

It seemed to me
That an entire generation
Was lulled into
the boredom
Of porn
And fake fetishism

Fooled,
Tricked,
Conned,
(really)
That any of it
Had to do
With the physical
At all.

We have lowered
Ourselves
Stooped
And
Bowed
To cheap tricks
Meant for adrenaline junkies
Nothing more
And nothing less
(And no one else)

A jolt to the body
But a stab to the soul.
The sadness of it
Made me wander
For months

How did we forget.
That the power
That the fire
That the path
To love
And sex
Rested in her eyes.
And
That

Every shiver
Of the body
Every curve
And
Every time
The lips came to
Her breast
And thighs
Her hips
And
Heart
And lips

Was meant as a message
To the gods
That we are well
And alive
Here on earth

Bodies crave
And then bodies cave
As we breathe ourselves
Into each other’s skins
‘Till nothing exists
But her and I
Laying there
In the purest
Of silence
And nothingness

There is nothing
Like
Nothingness

The Pursuit (Poem)

I am sitting

Again

In a café

At the corner of my world

Sipping on the bitter drink

As I am listening

Again

To mogwai

While looking at the way

The wind pushes snow

Into the sheltered faces

Of people passing

By my window

 

I am thinking

Of the word

Of women

Of the world

I am thinking of passion

And projects

As I seem

To be out of a struggle

Right now

 

There’s a part of me

That started looking for a mess

Another one

A day or two ago

Something

To stick my feet in

And see if there’s something there

Something

Worth digging in for

Something

Worth writing for

Something

Worth living for

But most of all

(and yes, it’s true)

Something worth

Loving for

 

It’s out there

That is a certainty

There’s no shortage

Of anything

And everything

Going on in the world

And I am ready to find it

 

Just about now

The Last Saints of Sainte-Claire (Poem)

As I am saying goodbye
To Sainte-Claire
I realized
There was
a subltle
Kind of poverty here
A silent kind of poverty
An uneventfull kind of poverty

You see it in details
Like the guy next door
Pushing 60
And always drunk
Not mean drunk
But always a little wobbly
Smiling just a bit
You see it in his eyes
As he makes his way
To the corner store
And walks back
With a tall one

I had never seen him sober
Until this morning
5h30 AM
And the bus is full
He’s there
In his blue dickies
Lunch box and all
Sharp as a whistle

I am leaving this town
In a week
This may be the last time
I ever write it.

So let me make a statement

The refineries long dissapeared
But the alcoholics of the past
Have aged

With nowhere else to go.

Untitled Love Poem no.28 (poem)

She had eyes
Those eyes
With a smile in them
And bit of anger too

Just enough of it

And in a single instant,
One look of hers
And I was done
That was it
I was out
So long
To the rest
Of them

And I meant it

She had brown hair
Few freckels
Thick eyebrows
And
Eyes

Those eyes
I can’t lie

I was fucked

Eyes
That could
Just
Melt me

Absolutely
Melt me

Into pure
And
Unconditional
Obedience.

Of Living in the Future (Poem)

Of Living in the Future (Poem)

*because I can even write poetry about a market “correction”…. Bref…voilà!* I’m not sure I care at this point.

I am watching
The S&P 500
Join the Nasdaq
Into correction
I am watching
Titans
Lose billions
By the hundreds
(If not thousands)

Half of it
Pension funds

I am watching it
In real time
Through
Four data streams
And
I want to say
I told you so
I want to say
I called it
I want to feel good
For being right

But I don’t

This is the same old story
Over and over again
This is Icarus
And Sysiphus
And I’m surprised
It took that long

Even if
Things picked up
Right now
The damage is done
Lines have been crossed
Support has disolved
Money will be rare soon
Industries will dissipate
Supply chains will be wrecked
The daily lives
Or ordinary men and women
Will be tossed into the fray
Again

A mere 10 years after the last one

I want to say
I told you so
I want to say
Paul Tudor Jones
Told you so
I want to say
Bernanke told you so

But the words are bitter
The taste is foul.
I take now joy in this
I did for a second
But the initial pride
Of being accurate
(And now much richer)
Has disolved
Into the pure
And
Un-abstract
Knowledge
Of the consequences
Of this.

I have been cursed
By living in the future
Cursed
By the taste of foresight
And the lack of power
To trully act on it

I am resting a bit easier
Knowing my own is safe
But I can’t help but feel
Right now
How so many people
Are going to feel

When the calls
And the letters
The payments
And the cutbacks
Start coming in
In the spring.

The daily lives
Of millions
With no responsibility
Or say in this
Will feel it

As sharks
And snake oil merchants
Walk away
Again.

And we will let the
Because our minds
Will be focused
On next week’s meal
And payment

I have no solution to offer
No easy one that hasn’t been
Offered before
By people a lot smarter than me

It’s too late for that now

So,

Hold your loved ones
If you have one
Keep her close
Smell her hair
And kiss her

Make the most
Of christmas
This year.

Next one one won’t be so easy.

Search and Destroy (Poem)

There is this kid
on the bus
Teenager
Long hair
Skateboard look
About himself
He looks at my hand tattoos
Just a glance
And I notice
He looks at my shoes
Wonders about
The band on my hoodie too

(Madball)

He’s got the vans
And the element board
(As those things
Have made a comeback)

Then I have this idea
In the back of my head

I want
To just hand him my headphones
And say
“Here.”
Iggy Pop
Search and Destroy

And change his life forever

The Veracity of the Heart (Poem)

The Veracity of the Heart (Poem)

I climb

The way

I write

The way

I paint

The way

I love

And fuck

And care

For the world

As it shows

Me who I am

But also

Who I can be

And why I should care

(Because I do)

I have been

Blessed and cursed

At times

By this fire in my heart

That won’t let me rest

Until I’ve lived fully

Taken risks

Owed my mistakes

And made amends

Only to try again

Differently

This time

Just enough

To make a

Difference

In myself

And in the world.

But it happens

Sometimes,

When the winds

Become harsh

And the snow starts

To fill the ground

Around me,

I fool myself

(Just like anybody else)

That I could live

Any differently

Than to live

Fully

Every single moment

Every emotion

Every waking moment

Of Every day

I hide at times,

As it is necessary

To lick my scars,

Pick at my scabs

And grumble

For a while

But the bruises heal

(Some, it’s true,

more easily

Than others)

And I always

Come back

For more

There never was

Any other way

Not for me,

At least

Than

To carry on

So that now

The scars

Of times past

That mar

My heart

And my skin

And my soul

Will show,

I hope

Not only

That I dared to lived

But most of all

That I dared to live

Free