If you really knew me you would know that I can name all the bath and body works lotions by smell up to the sensual amber line.
You'd know that I played varsity footbal.... but not really
You would also know that I feel like I did a lot of growing up from the sideline this year
If you really knew me you would know that the candle blew out long before the legend ever did.
If you really knew me you would know that Elton John and Winston Churchill are my hereos but it has more to do with people I loved who loved them.
If you really knew me you would know I'm obsessed with finding the sound of his piano.
You would know that the first time I ever read a poem for anyone it felt like a sucess and I considered myself a natural until I went to write my second poem
If you really knew me you would know I over think everything and that I blame a lot of things on myself.
If you really knew me you would know that when the going gets tough the tough get going
If you really knew me...
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
When the going gets tough the tough get going.
Life is a game of beautiful heartbreaks...
It's a grindstone... whether it breaks you down or polishes you up depends on what you're made of.
You've got a broken family HERE, an unemployed dad over THERE and WAY over THERE... thats where your baby brother never made it home from the hospital.
How it happens doesn't matter, because when something is broken its broken and the same rules apply to a heart.
So whether it breaks when your name is at the bottom of the depth chart or it breaks when she explains it wasn't you it was her
It doesn't really matter.
When something is broken its broken and you're given a choice
Because when the going gets tough the tough will get going
I will ALWAYS love my grandpa for taking the time to teach a young 9 year old boy that life isn't always fair.
You see the story of who he became, began with a boyhood of bombed neighborhoods. My Grandpa grew up in times where the windows were blacked out before it was safe to begin prayers from the torpedo tested shelters.
Prayers in hopes that the detonations would happen in the fields of farms, instead of over the houses that harbored families of four.
With tears in his eyes Grandpa would look to me and say son... You haven't been asked to give up your ration for the day... and you haven't been asked to chart a torpedo tangled trail....
but you have been asked... and the things you have been asked to do are stepping steps you're expected to maneuver .
They're going to tell YOU a lot about who you will become.
They will give you just about all you can handle and when your heels hang from the cliff, with one subtle push these stones will take you over the edge.
And while you STILL probably won't understand what it's like to pray from a blacked out bomb shelter. Everything that you will need to become YOU... will be somewhere in the fall between the edge and the bottom.
But this is where it gets tricky.
There is where life gets tough...
Because it's a lot easier to remain broken at the bottom than it is to figure what you need to do to get up.
It's a lot easier....
But then I can see grandpa looking at me and saying, "David when you hit the bottom"
DON'T EVER FORGET
WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH THE TOUGH GET GOING
So this is MY thesis,
it doesn't take a final phone call to decide your fait... but it might.
and it doesn't take a broken home to teach you what matters in life... but it might.
The maze we're all running through, it's different for everyone.
But I can promise you this...
YOUR maze is going to take you to the edge and when your heels began to hang off... with a subtle push you will find yourself at the bottom.
So whether it really was her and not you.
Or whether it's the final moments with a loved one before life support is pulled.
YOUR MAZE.... YOUR LIFE will end up being a game of beautiful heart breaks
But the only way you will ever understand what you need to be
is by hitting the bottom and realizing
that when the going gets tough... the tough get going.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Somewhere between the slurpee and the skinned knee...
You're probably reading this and hoping for something real right? Well... I have been sitting here for a half an hour now and this blank screen still hasn't fed my finger tips anything that I think would be worth reading. I'm caught in a heated debate... Half of me wants to say that I should wait until I have something worth while and half of me wants to take a blind first step and see where this adventure takes me.
I've been looking for the sound of his piano. I don't mean to be blunt but I'm sick of trying to put together ways to start this post and it hasn't gotten me any closer to what I used to feel when the speakers used to shake our windows. As crazy as it sounds... I feel like the sheet music is somewhere close enough to see but far enough not to hear.
Every once and awhile I can almost hear the treble cleff break through the double paned plexi glass. But it's never enough to motivate me for more than a week... Let alone shake the frames it passes through.
I know the sharps and flats are all there. I can even see them coordinate themselves acording to majors and minors.
So my questions to you are these
How do I hear his music again?
Would I even recognize it if I heard it?
and
Why don't the speakers play the same anymore?
I've been looking for the sound of his piano. I don't mean to be blunt but I'm sick of trying to put together ways to start this post and it hasn't gotten me any closer to what I used to feel when the speakers used to shake our windows. As crazy as it sounds... I feel like the sheet music is somewhere close enough to see but far enough not to hear.
Every once and awhile I can almost hear the treble cleff break through the double paned plexi glass. But it's never enough to motivate me for more than a week... Let alone shake the frames it passes through.
I know the sharps and flats are all there. I can even see them coordinate themselves acording to majors and minors.
So my questions to you are these
How do I hear his music again?
Would I even recognize it if I heard it?
and
Why don't the speakers play the same anymore?
Favorite child?
you just can't do it.
Unless one of your kids is fat you should love all of them the same.
Picking a favorite movie is like deciding which Jonas Brother would make the best snowcone.... It just depends on your mood and there is not a lot more to it than that....
So uhhh pass the popcorn
Unless one of your kids is fat you should love all of them the same.
Picking a favorite movie is like deciding which Jonas Brother would make the best snowcone.... It just depends on your mood and there is not a lot more to it than that....
So uhhh pass the popcorn
Sunday, April 29, 2012
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?
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.
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.
Monday, April 23, 2012
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.
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.
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