What I do

Honestly,
this working 9 to 5,
putting in 40 hours just to stay alive
and fed
with roof over head
is driving me lazy.

Head in a daze
mouse in a maze
running out of time
and by the time that it’s time,

I have to give myself pep talks just to cook dinner.

and still,

I stay up too late
playing with words and paint
and biting my lip
with sexy thoughts unattained.
longing
like a good lil sinner.

Mama’s almost winner.

I swear one day
I’m gonna get it all right!

For now,
I reap the stitches
of Manuel’s Mama
and make it so.

All that’s left
is all I need
to get right.

All that’s left
is to remember how to be whole.

And I know just the right
place to go.

Made a room for myself the other day
and dedicated it to all that is sacred.

You were there.

And I go there at least twice a day.
The acoustics are great.
And I say whatever I want to that room.

I pray to the four white walls
like the four directions,

look at myself new
in each reflection
and recognize my soul.

I go in that room and day dream
excitement and happiness for the world.

Those four walls have heard me try to be rapper a time or two.

Those four walls have felt me sing the blues

Those four walls and I sweat and stretch with each other.

Fingers tap keys
voice hits them sometimes

Everything’s a rhyme
when the realm is the reason.

I go here to be free.

God and the Stars

He sees the world in black and white,
sows the seeds of PTSD in blood stained dreams
and fights to get right.

Constantly pulling at the weeds
He’s a gardener to irreversible things
exhausted and always working,
as his purple heart bleeds.

And bandaids?

Well they don’t fit the needs of a War Wounded Soldier
walking with the weight of the world on his shoulder

So sometimes,
he goes a little crazy.

Reverts back through time
back to the days he
fought through enemy lines
and stood tall with giants.

Celebrating every breath as a triumph.
Now,
he wakes most mornings with regret.

Sometimes wishing that he got hit
always wishing that his friends didn’t
and that they were still breathing.
And that he wasn’t left here longing
for the laughter of his pals.

See,
they seen good times for miles
and seen things the average citizen couldn’t stomach.
He fights this war now
because the average citizen wouldn’t.

And don’t you dare say that he shouldn’t
because we’re all blessed to still be alive and bitching.

You know motives of war are nearly never right,
but misjudging a soldier
or the reasons that they fight,
makes an ungrateful ass out of you and I.

And honor is something that should never be denied
to the men and women willing to fight
ensuring that their families sleep safe and sound tonight.

Keeping this country comfy ever more.
Shit!
He hasn’t slept right since he left that damn war.

Once a soldier in arms,
now pierced with ink
to cover up scars that are more than skin deep.

He’s misunderstood by his family and friends
and he’s bolder than the lines that now cover his skin

His home is cut deep by the shards of shattered windows and
the hinges are all jammed from being slammed
every time a door opens.

He screams inside himself on the daily!
wishing his world didn’t feel so broken.
And that he wasn’t stuck here self medicating his chaos addiction.

Because the best he can get from Veterans affairs,
is a hospital staffed full with doctors who don’t care
about much of anything except the money in their pockets.

Passing pills to their patients
and various suicide scripts

Perhaps he’s suffer less from this shit
if his government would actually deal with it
and provide a system that is fit
for a man of his hard stature to come home to.

Some rehabilitation and something to hold on to.

Something to keep him feeling as grand
as those giants turned memories
that he left in the sands
of Iraq and Afganistan.

Someone to hold his hand
and
be thankful for the fight that’s left in this man

To me,
he’s worth more than a damn

Paying for war with more than money and power

He’s worth more than the memorials
More than those towers

More than the funeral services
and all of those flowers

He’s worth more than the wooden cases
that now protect the fallen’s flags.

As a matter of fact,

he’s worth more than the Peace
that he’ll never get back.

And I thank God and the Stars that he made it this far.

Some days are rough.

Some nights are hard.

But I thank God and the Stars that he made it this far.