The choices
we make
define our lives
Saying this
but doing that
Wanting one thing
then following another
Looking for some truth
beyond ourselves
when all the time
it’s right where
we left it
In our wallet
next to the photograph
of the one we love
(D. James)
The writer
that doesn’t write
The poet
that doesn’t poe
The savior
that doesn’t save
On a road
that goes nowhere
leads to nothing
and ends when it’s over
[queue music]
(D. James)
If I did
as I was told
twist and shout
rattle and hum
would it be annoying
or would you come
along
If I did
as I was told
there’d be
no poetry
at least not
from me
If I did
as I was told
I might remember
to care
that everyone
has an opinion
and some are quick
to share
If I did
as I was told
If only I ever
did as I was told
(D. James)
how many hotel rooms
must you walk through
on lonely nights
with unknown
painted faces
before you see yourself
for who you are
realize what you’re doing
won’t solve a thing
how many lies
can you tell
before even you
stop believing
how hard
do you want
to make this life
before you let go
and begin to live
how many
sleepless hours
how many
unanswered phone calls
how many
broken promises
how many
how many
how many
before you close your eyes
and finally call it a night?
(D. James)
there are
two kinds
of drivel
a poet
writes
the kind
that gets
published
and the kind
that doesn’t
(D. James)
crumbling
like life
littering
the sheets
making sleep
scratchy and uncomfortable
mother was right -
best to leave them
out altogether
(D. James)
traded as fact
they lurk
in broad daylight
often dispelled
by opposing
falsehoods
nothing more
than something
someone was once
ridiculed for believing
then repeated
repeated
repeated
so much
no one asks
where it came from
we just live
like it’s the truth
(D. James)
rain and coffee
waiting for the sun
in my mind
driving through town
on a warm day
smoking one last cigarette
hoping the clouds away
being here now
letting it wash over me
(D. James)
Without doubt
there are questions
without answers
But are there any answers
without questions?
(D. James)
I wake
and the world
has not changed
since last I looked
The world wakes
looks at me and says
What are you still doing there
waiting for the world to change?
(D. James)
The truth is …
God has no religion
(D. James)
darkness chill
and the forgetting
bring back
something sweet
or innocent
it doesn’t matter
as long as it comes
before the fall
to sleep
(D. James)
pinhead
typing away
making no sense
out of nonsense
perhaps
there is
no answer
to why is
the sky blue
or
the moon white
would it be ok
if there were
some questions
left unanswered?
(D. James)
Between here
and there
From one point
to another
We spend
so much time
in the middle places
Getting there
Going through something
Looking ahead
Waiting
Perhaps it ends
when we realize
where we are
now
(D. James)
I feel like
the old dog
who can no longer
catch the ball on a bounce
but chases it anyway
(D. James)
