never satisfied with now

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)

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this can’t be it, can it?

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)

messages

what if
there were
messages

lessons
something
to learn

what if
there were
spirits whispering
in your ear

what if
you could hear
the sound
of an angel’s heartbeat
in the dreams of a lover

would you rather
drudge along
talking about
what’s impossible

or
spend your days
listening for light
in the flutter of a bird’s wings

(D James)

silly tired

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)

urban scrawl

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)

thinking thoughts of shouldn’t sayings on Sundays

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)