The Piano Man

I'm sick of phone calls followed by tears.
I know you don't know what it's like not to go to the aquarium but I know someone who does.

This poem was meant for the ash filled lungs, the lives lived within a reach of a prescription and any other addiction you can creatively gift wrap in a metaphor.

I know you don't see it right now... But take it from a 9 year old boy that saw that social drink 20 years down the road.
So if you want something real...
I'm gonna tell you about a fourth grader full of dreams that learned to stomach the reality of an empty seat at every major milestone his life has to offer.

No wait... Let me tell you about me.
The ice inside my veins right now is literally heating the back of my neck.

Its telling me that addiction has a funny way of ripping the pictrues from the walls and the drawers from the dressers.
Its telling me that without addictions clamp those pictures would have hung up right there. They never would have shattered across the room and on the floor.
Its telling me there is ALWAYS another way out.

The fire beneat the cracked seal and tucked in under the cottom swab...
That Pain Relieving Pop

It burns holes in family walls and scourges the realtionships that stand between you and your next withdrawl.
People weren't meant to live a life of shakes and headaches.

That 9 year O... I mean I remember.
I remember ever note your keyboard was capable of conjuring .
I remember sitting on the couch watching the windows shake as your music filled the neighborhood.
But then.... then I remember sitting at your funeral.
For the first time realizing that Billy Joel wrote the song but that somehow you always were and always will the THE PIANO MAN.
I remember the way your video camera never stopped rolling... But then on August 1st it did.
The hardest part for me... Is remembering the butaneer I left on the casket.
That pin that held it to my suit coat had to be pryed from my heart before I was ready to leave it.
I still don't feel like I was ready to leave it...
I remember watching the casket lower 6 feet from the tears in my eyes.

His addiction is the reason he NEVER saw a football game and the same reason that he will NEVER dance at his daughters wedding.

As he sat at his piano I think he was convinced it would never be him...
But it was.

So ask yourself.... Is it worth it?

FLAVA FLAVE

What is my perfect crime?
Flava Flaves bachelor pad at midnight.
Do I go for the easy women? No, I go straight for the clock. The one around his neck? No that would be way to easy.
I'm in this for the glory.
7 steps up I hear, "YEAH BOIIIIII" from the dining room. Then I know its game time....
I came to play.
A subtle sneak through the cracked door reveals her. Flavas most prized freak-a-leak. Its to bad shes easy. I was in for a thrill. But then I found out shes not.... It doesn't matter she wants me anyways and wants me bad.
ME and Gloria spend the evening in the company of Mr. Rodgers and his fearless red blazer. The heavy cotton inspires me to try something I never have before.
It's been a lovely evening but its not over. Me and Gloria head to the hot tub where we play a heated game of footsies while making Santa Claus bears out of the bubbles.
This is where it gets interesting.
I head out with the grandfather clock and the girl but leave the girl.
You might ask why I took the grandfather clock instead of the one he sports with swag around his neck. But I'm going to let you in on the secret I took both.
I just needed to cross the border before I could tell you.

Hakunamatata

Paradise is somewhere between your third and 4th plate of chicken nuggets where the water reaches your feet but not your seat.... ya dig?
Listen... Do you hear it?
Thats the sound of a furocious warrior dolphin amidst the heat of an epic maiting season.
Listen again...
Thats a bahama papa bound for a bahama mama if you know what I'm saying.
That dolphins swag has testosterOWNED written all over it.
from the shade of my tiki hut to the sweet sensual kiss of the sun offers to everywhere my swimsuit isn't.
I just don't see anything wise about life on a rock.
Somewhere bewteen the second and third gulp of Alberts pina colada potion made me wonder if God was told to stay in the lines when he painted the earth.
Personally.  there is NO WAY...
This is about all the thinking I can handle for one day though. I don't know what life is like up on the rock but if it doesn't involve bikinis or palm trees dancing through my mind I don't want any part of it.
Something about the way the sand sits between your toes when the water reaches your feet but not your seat makes it possible to put the world away for a minute and pretend you dont live in it.

The Gravity of Soggy Paper Towels

 The Gravity of Soggy Paper Towels

Rescue from a remote desert
 These days her workouts mostly involve chasing after Noah
Just last night she had to go
But all that came to an abrupt halt on the afternoon of Dec. 13 2006
She plummeted 60 feet down the side of a cliff to the bottom of the canyon