rushing
to get somewhere
do something
finish
wanting
to get to
the end
everything
else seems like
wasting time
all this
waiting around
“what time
is it not
now”
(D James)
rushing
to get somewhere
do something
finish
wanting
to get to
the end
everything
else seems like
wasting time
all this
waiting around
“what time
is it not
now”
(D James)
and this is not
my life,
is it?
worrying about goals
and hitting targets
making my numbers
for the month
this can’t be
why I’m here
this isn’t my life
being in debt
and fretting
over back taxes
my life
is about art
and culture
and friends
and family
and love
mostly love
my life
is for fun
and adventure
and taking big risks
my life
is to be used up
so that I don’t die
leaving behind
just debt and struggle
but something
of greater value
than that
something
much more lasting
or at least more fun
(D James)
begin
at the end
erase
every word
remove
the thoughts
quash
the heart
obliterate
the soul
until
there is nothing
left on the page
(D James)
not enough
sleep tired
too many
cigarettes tired
tired all the
time tired
two in the morning
writing
poetry tired
brain tired
road tired
time for bed tired
over-tired
wishing I didn’t
have to get up
and go to
work tired
nodding off
with my fingers
on the
keyboard tired
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
(D. James)
this thing strung together making no sense yet kept writing these words and not even thinking letting them flow and trying to keep up like in life when everything moves at the speed of sound and people keep moving and I seem to be in the way, slower than everyone else feeling tired and left behind it all seems a bit too much maybe I’m still on west coast time or it could be that I’m no longer interested in the rushing and running, the pushing and shoving, shouldering my way through life trying to get in front of the person in front of me assholes behind me kicking at the backs of my shoes, knocking them off skittering across the platform as the E train rushes out of the station and the next group of followers gathers in the station, and on to the next thing, the one after the one right before this one, how can anyone make sense of the world anymore when people start conversations in e-mail and end them in text, and no one, no one, answers the phone any longer, why can’t this rant end? because there are no endings and no beginnings, there’s just all this rushing around in the middle and when I go, and when you go, there will still be 6 billion and more on the planet to take up where we left off, and there is no reason for it, no meaning – it all is and it all isn’t and we’re here to sort out what it means to us now, and then we’re gone. And the sun will rise and the sun will set, and the sun will rise and the sun will set …
(D. James)
whispers
of things
I meant to
say
when long ago
I watched
the sun rise
now the moon
is full
and my heart
sinks
the demons
smoke cigarettes
behind the gate
waiting
in darkness
to be let out
(D. James)
don’t take this
away
it’s the last
small joy
we have
like a slender shaft
of sunlight
through the basement
window
don’t take it
away
we won’t
know what
to do then
waiting,
like refugees
under a rain-soaked
tarp
hoping,
for what was
what might be
so please
don’t take it
away
they’ll be
nothing left
to say
(D. James)
let’s run away
she’d say
find
a place
where they
can’t find us
let’s run away
someplace warm
where the sun
always shines
find
that spot
where time
stands still
let’s run away
before we’re too old
let’s run away
before this life
kills us
let’s run away
let’s run away
let’s run away
at least until
the morning comes
(D. James)