FREESTYLEVISION

Personally a lot of my thought has gone into this question. So instead of thinking about an answer to this question, I decided to go for a run instead. After my run, I established that living is a privilege and should be treated as such. I live for the present moment. I allow myself for some personal time to center myself for the whole day. This relaxation allows me to calm down and to avoid getting wrapped up in superficial things. I try to slow my mind down and focus on my breathing. Only when I am truly relaxed can I appreciate the present moment and enjoy life for what it is, not what I expect or want it to be. This space is where the truth and happiness lies.

Wayne Everbeck
Age 25

When you are mad at yourself,

who is mad at whom?

The perfectionist berates the lesser

achiever.  The clumsy at heart

seeks the suavity of the dresser

of presentations, honing his part.

Some continue to go over the past

and its hall of mirrors.  Even

now we observe as in a badly

synchronized movie, always delayed

just off the present.  The shoulder

tires from from looking over it.

Why do we remember some moments

of long ago again & again

while other years are gone?

In the public square

I watch the flare of nostrils,

the waving hair, the unguarded stare,

no care truly hidden from

the knowing eyes of strangers.

We all pass each other without

the details that fill us all out.

I see the moving lips in the crowd,

but I am somewhere else

putting the touches on my presentation,

so you will see me

as I want to be seen.

Some of our masks fall

in our private mirror.

Oh, see me

as I see you & may we

be satisfied with

the reflected truth.

I have a problem with the phrase:
The Past is the Past
The Future is the Future
And the Present is a present

presents are items that we hope in the future will bring happiness
presents are temporary.
Examined
Played with
Discarded

The Present is
The Present is infinite….
Receiving
Holding
Inspecting
Opening
Discarding the wrapped box.

Derive joy from the Present not from the presents.

God bless us, everyone!

Why do I have to look at my email and Facebook every time I open my computer?
Staying busy is a fad
God forbid that we are lazy

As I look at myself in the mirror
I wonder where does my face belong?
Acceptance is a good thing

Life is happening

I need to p

Three rules of Fraternity Bathroom Etiquette
1. Wash your hands every time
2. Put the seat down
3. If you need to sit down to pee you are drunk.

The quieter the outside world is the
Louder your inner thoughts can become
Then you have to face the root of all your problems

Yourself

So we avoid it
By keeping busy
Filling calendars with plans

All while ignoring our inner needs
With hopes they will be fulfilled externally
By that new car, phone, house, relationship

This will only satisfy your ego temporarily
And over time…
Will lead you to pain in some form or another

Twice in my life I made extensive wish list of all my material wants
And both times I succeeded in getting every item off that list
However all that I was left with was a feeling of disappointment and more stuff

Looking back I felt the most alive when I had no-thing at all
Cause I had a feeling of true accomplishment and a healthy dose of pride

Accomplishment is not receiving things or completing things
Accomplishment is knowing that what you are doing is right

Consumerism has not worked for me
So now it is time for a new approach

With two sets of directions
He leaves work
At 2:00 PM Pacific Standard Time

Knowing full well
He will hit Friday traffic

The linear progression
And accuracy of his calculations
Facilitates his timely arrival

His pragmatism makes him believe
He can manage the flow
Of a changing world

However, his mental assumption of staying put
Is literally called into question

As she champions the idea of
Moving closer to the train station

He avoids getting defensive by staying present
And uses this opportunity to showcase
His adaptability and preparedness

Utilizing the second set of directions
Gets them within blocks of emotional security

After finding an open space
They park and stop at a world café

With drinks in hand
The organic conversation begins

He describes actively listening to her
Is like trying to collect rainfall during a brain storm

Her success comes in the form of paying clients
And passion is for helping those unable to
Her tool kit is filled with relationship building, mind maps, and qualitative analysis

He describes himself as an internal structural consultant
Of an under resourced elementary school
His instruments include jump ropes, kick balls, and appreciation circles
Though their professional cultures diverge greatly
Their shared language and vision
Unites their goal of continuous process improvement

With the time ticking
They embrace with a hug

Global achievement is truly measured
By honest smiles, warm embraces, and honest feedback

For these colleagues will continue to collaborate

The blow across my face

Is so ingrained

That not feeling it

 

Wakes me

To the safety of my own bed

 

It is the first night of Spring Break

I am too bothered to sleep

 

(On Reflection)

I help a drunken mother

Up a mountain of stairs

She teeters and totters

Before falling to the ground

 

I leave

To clear my head

 

I come back home

A term I use loosely

 

To find a bathroom filled with silence

The sound of confrontation usually starts

Quieter than a whisper

 

A stereo is plugged in next to the tub

The dank room smells of drunken lust

I find my clothes drowning face down in the toilet

 

A parent apparently didn’t think

That I cleaned up after myself

 

I scoff under my breath

My frustration is palpable

Even upstairs my father can taste

My rage of injustice

 

He asks “WHAT?”

I roll my head in disgust

Knowing it’s a lost cause

Fighting with a lost cause

I never learned to shut up

For that long

 

I stand my ground in opposition

I don’t have to say anything

 

My presence alone signals my defiance

I ready for the strike across my face

 

When the pain doesn’t come

The adrenaline grabs for the pen

 

My past has ensured that this first vacation night

Will not be a restful one.

 

 

Poetry doesn’t work

A nine to five

 

Nor does she live in the good part or

Bad part of town

 

But in the thick of everything

 

In the second story apartment

Above the burlesque jazz club

With the daily open mic night

 

She picks up shifts

When it is convenient for her

 

Living dollar to dollar

Selling rhythmic glimpses of her flesh

 

She is naturally seductive

Flirting with both women and men

 

She leaves you

Amazed and awed

 

But when you need her

You are left baffled

Scratching your head

 

STUCK

 

Knowing that your next fling with Poetry

May bring you power and clarity

You so deeply desire

 

She giggles while writers spend

Patience and sanity on her

 

She is very fickle and sometimes

Runs at the sight of a pen

 

But if you can catch her eye

The moment stands still

And the page becomes beautifully filled.

 

 

He can’t remember

Why

The attractive teacher

 

Blasted through

The closet door

 

With passionate rage

Burning like sulfur

From her sockets

 

His breath

Taken away

From the sucker punch

 

He finds comfort

In the violent reaction

 

He gets carried away

By his daydreams

 

But he cannot

Run from his subconscious

 

He is sure

His lust for pain

Had everything to do with it

 

Going back to bed

Is not an option

 

He is going to have to

Deal with the fact

That while awake

 

His life is

Without suffering

 

A hesitation

Makes me question

 

To see if my spelling is correct

 

Glaring at words in a thesaurus

 

The original

Not poetic enough

The process

Altered

 

The instinct versus the allegory

 

The words

Find their way

From a notebook

To a computer anyway

 

 

I digress

To find myself…

 

 

Editing my intuition

 

As if it ever mattered before

 

I can be amazing “dichotomistic”

As if there is a correct answer

 

The judger of language

Will always stare at a

Blank page

 

They are just words

After all

 

Even if they are made up