The cosmic maitre...

Faith is the only word 

I can use to describe 

The depth of my fortitude

And resilience of my drive 

I have no clue of my destination 

Nor an idea of scripted line

But through modes of contemplation 

I trust that I'll be fine

I'll make it through 

Worn for good show

At the end of the day

Inwardly I'll know

That something beyond my control

Outside of my being

Gave guidance to steps

And resolve to my decisions

Sure, I'll make mistakes

From which I hope to grow

And have frustrated takes

During my one man show

But gain without the peril 

Never helps me grow 

Thus I take my days in stride

I work, I hustle, and oh, I grind 

I put my mind at ease 

While the world I appease 

Until I'm lucky enough to find

My fated script and life to bide

So no big deal

If sometimes I reel 

For I have faith in stars above 

You see, my heart and my soul

Coupled with notions beyond my control 

Allow me to feel and indescribable love

From something greater

Beyond space and time

The cosmic maitre 

Lets me know that I'll be fine 

Small victories...

Each day, I search for a small victory 

Just to let me know 

That I've done something right

 

When I happen upon my triumph 

A smile invades my face

It is reassuring

Rejuvenating

And refreshing

To know that I've succeeded

If only in a miniscule task

Despite the trials of the day

And the cubicles that shield 

The outside world 

Trapping me in the dregs 

Of our lubricated existence 

The small wins remind me 

That I'm alive

Kicking

Breathing 

And Fighting 

To keep my head held high

And my mind even-keeled 

I'm not a cog in a gear

Or a spoke in a wheel

I'm an individual 

Who can appreciate 

The nuanced pride

And subtle honor 

Of achievement 

Even if facially insignificant 

Taking notice of the good

Deflects severity of the bad

Rendering times lost

As stepping stones

Simply mistakes yielding experience  

Rather than a portrait 

Of my traits

Yes the smallest conquests

Make me feel great 

And push me forward 

To another day

For one by one

A lifetime of wins

Even among a sea of losses 

Amalgamate 

And script my fate 

For victory tastes sweeter

When I realize I am victorious 

My friend Mary...

My dearest friend 

We meet again 

Encounters filled with cheers 

No judgements made

No debts to be paid

Just laughter inducing tears 

Your carefree nature 

And lack of hater 

Bring me to my calm 

Our partial remedies 

To our fading memories 

Spur conversations aplomb  

You bring a smile to my face

And fill my heart with joy

Genuine nature, I do embrace

Finds me giddy like a little boy

Of all the world's wonders

And the spark in your eye

Of the vigor of life

And what happens when we die

For when we are together

Everything is heightened 

Taste, texture, sound and color

My sensories are brightened 

Enlightened by your honesty

Enlightened by your truth 

Enlightened by your carefree nature

Enlightened by your youth

Whenever we meet

You appear the same

Providence blessed

Things to never change

At least not between us

Friends through and through

The layers of cocktail fodder 

Reaching the deepest root 

And though some speak poorly

Degrading your social status 

Keep in mind that they are surly

Instead heed the words of Epictetus 

You are you and you are best

You help me lay my fears to rest 

For you are my closest compatriot 

With you, I am proud to affiliate 

And so I praise

Your relaxing ways

And the effects you have on my brain

So once again 

To my dear old friend 

Thank you Mary Jane 

Sobering reality...

What triggers my despair?

Sending me to to a nervous state,

Driving me towards frustration, 

Casting me out of myself.

One minute, I feel great 

Enjoying yet another sunny day.

To paraphrase Frank, 

I'm doing things my way. 

But at the flip of a switch, 

Whose whereabouts, I'm afraid, 

I do not know; 

I find myself thrust into self doubt,

Anxiety, 

Despair, 

At the weight of the world

Thrust upon my shoulders. 

Is it the weight of truth,

Showing its ugly face,

Reminding me of my responsibilities, 

To myself, 

And to my future?

Am I so far gone, 

Down the path of escape,

Of addiction, 

Of procrastination,

Of praying for things to be different;

That the thought of actually having to do something,

To build myself, 

And make my way,

Drives me to frustration? 

Sobering reality, I'm afraid, 

Is not the kind of sobering up 

I like to do.

There is no joy, 

There is no hope,

There is no pot of gold,

At the end of the rainbow. 

There is only reality

To serve as my trigger,

To bring me to realization, 

That I've got to get my shit together. 

Time to recharge...

Some days, I just don't feel like myself. 

I'm never quite sure what prompts these blue days.

Perhaps a poor night's sleep,

A dearth of fulfilling tasks, 

Or possibly just boredom. 

Maybe even flight from impending duties,

Ignoring pressing issues, 

That always seem to leave me stressed.

Whatever the reason,

Gone is the vigor that normally guides my days,

And fuels my nights. 

Instead...

Nothing.

Sheer apathy.

Not depression,

Not fear,

Not anger.

Only boredom laced with indifference.

So I sit and laze,

Perhaps wrap and haze,

Waiting for time to pass;

Until my next mentally challenging, 

And personally fulfilling task. 

I've grown so accustomed to breakneck speed,

And a plate for three, 

That I forget to breath;

To the point, unfortunately, 

Where a pleasant reprieve,

Is met with doubt.

Don't I have work to do?

Or calls to make?

Or a function to attend?

Didn't I promise one of my buddies

That we'd drink to no end? 

It's hard to push these thoughts away,

For sometimes I feel like I'm losing out.

Like I'm not maximizing my time on earth.

Like I'm letting precious seconds tick away unused.

It is in these down times,

These doldrums of life, 

When the interesting things aren't happening, 

At least not for me;

That I force myself to step back and relax,

To take the quiet storm at face value,

And recharge my batteries.

The paranoid hole...

I have a jacket,

And it has a hole.

But I wore it anyway,

And went for a stroll.

At first my jaunt was isolated, 

And the hole didn't bother me much;

But once my path was penetrated,

Paranoia became my crutch. 

Did others notice the hole?

If so, what did they learn?

Was I merely a slovenly pedestrian?

Did they recognize it was a cigarette burn?

A sign of my addiction, 

A memento of my affliction, 

A keepsake of my conviction, 

To act and sin, but never learn?

I became conscious of my shortcoming,

And glanced at the other walkers;

None of whom seemed to notice me,

Not even the avid talkers. 

My hole was glaring!

But only to me.

For others it seemed,

It was too small to see.

So why did I feel, 

In my conscious quite real,

That my vision was not alone?

I must have failed, 

And mistakenly surveilled, 

To realize that to each his own.

In my paranoid state, 

My subconscious inmate, 

Had over-valued his plight.

He'd forgotten to remember, 

That each social member,

Had their own demons to fight. 

Each had hole,

That they shielded from others,

Protecting their own pride.

Paranoid thoughts,

And self-conscious druthers, 

Drove the hole back inside. 

Away from prying eyes and accusatory cries, 

All men were one and the same.

Paranoid and self-conscious while hiding flaws,

For all had a hole to their name. 

Repeating mistakes...

Its almost funny,

That despite the lessons, 

I think I've learned,

I keep making the same mistakes.

I've ignored the wisdom of my father,

The writing of the sages,

The adages known to all,

Truth ripened through the ages

Words of advice,

Ones I later found correct; 

I ignored at first oration,

Confused by self-respect. 

Was I not also man, 

Blessed with reason and cognition?

Was I not the sole arbiter 

Of my final destination? 

Shouldn't I then,

Every now and again,

Seek intellectual wealth? 

Lest, I regret, 

Learn ways not adept, 

Of being true to myself?

I made my own choices,

And headed my own voices, 

Developing a moral code;

I assembled a belief, 

That brought me no grief,

Navigating earthly abode. 

But as years passed,

I met again with lessons learned. 

Yet I found myself

Revisiting actions burned

From my cerebrum. 

Of the wrong disposition.

Of impetuous nature.

Of unwound contrition.

Of mistaken behavior.

It seems I'd learned nothing from my journey.

That the answers I held true, 

Were drafted by inner attorney,  

Lacking experience and hindsight view.

The one thing I can take, 

From repeating a mistake,

Is that now I have a second chance, 

To heed the advice the elders advance. 

For nothing is new under the sun.

So I might as well learn, 

To avoid a third burn, 

From things already done. 

The morning rush...

Waking

Stretching 

Yawning

Rising

Washing 

Brushing 

Dressing

Smelling

Sitting

Eating  

Pouring 

Steaming 

Sipping 

Scolding

Dropping 

Cursing 

Bending

Kneeling

Cleaning

Realizing

Lateness. 

Jumping 

Rushing

Slamming

Screeching 

Reversing

Shifting

Driving

Veering 

Passing 

Steering

Slowing

Stopping

Waiting 

Waiting 

Waiting 

For the light to change. 

Accelerating 

Cruising 

Cracking

Breezing 

Refreshing

Lighting 

Inhaling 

Calming

Spacing

Listening 

Singing

Arriving  

Parking

Gathering 

Jogging

Greeting 

Elevator

Rising 

Hurry 

Meeting!

Daydream...

Hot Sun

Central Park

Ultimate Frisbee

Cool Breeze 

Magic Dragon

Lifted Spirit

Shading Rays

Summer Dress

Dirty Blond

Soft Skin

Pearly Whites

Radiant Smile 

Chance Encounter

Genuine Laugh

Shared Light

Bare Feet 

Glistening Grass

Song Birds

Lunch Time

Long Walk

Budding Flowers

Rising Trees

Prominent Boulders

Picnic Baskets 

Hidden Gems 

Horse Carriage

Shopping Bags

Columbus Fountain 

City Landscapes

Yellow Cab

Prince Street

Mercer Kitchen

Jean-Georges 

Hamachi Sashimi

Shucked Oysters 

Sea Scallops

Strawberry Shortcake 

Your Place

Scented Candles

Red Wine

Afternoon Delight

Welcomed Back

Spring Time 

Fortunate birth...

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. 

Instead I regret, I criticize man.

I lose sight of the fact,

That I won a genetic lottery. 

Among the few fortunate enough,

To be born in America. 

I forget that my parents came pregnant,

Alone, broke, and hopeful; 

To a new nation; 

To give me the opportunities, 

That they never had.

I often lose sight that, 

My mere presence in this great land,

Is the most envied, 

Of any man,

Despite recessions, 

Moral upheaval, 

And cyclical regressions.

My rights are protected. 

My religion my own. 

My speech never rejected. 

Thanks forefathers, for seeds thrown. 

We've had our history,

Our dark sordid past,

Shackling our brothers, 

Though freedom, at last. 

Yet we've grown from adversity,

And pushed our own course;

Securing base rights of man, 

Within these American shores. 

But sometimes, I forget,

Of my personal debt;

To this great land, 

And its boundless chances; 

To my fellow man,

And his like-minded advances.

Instead I focus on the frustration within,

On my failings and sin,

On the road all men travel, 

And the victories I must win. 

I lose sight that I am not alone;

That I live among the brightest,

In the world's greatest home.

Where wheels are greased,

And connections made;

Where friends work together, 

And everyone gets paid. 

But when I stop and think, 

Of my lucky situation; 

I thanks the stars above, 

For my fortunate maturation. 

Stepping inside...

Sometimes I need to critique myself

Because life is a work in progress. 

I reach to the edge and gather my info

And then I hold internal Congress.

Have you lived up to your talents

And remained true to yourself?

I think so, Mr. inquisitor. 

I acquired a heap of wealth, 

Of the world's workings, 

The course of man, 

And the inner modes of stealth. 

Oh silly child, 

Living within yourself, 

You've missed the point of my question;

Have you a bill of health?

Of personal growth, 

And rising once falling;

Of spiritual strength, 

And heading your calling?

Have you done the things necessary 

To develop and nurture;

Or do you merely rest on your laurels 

And throw wind to your future?

I was thrown back at once,

As his words struck a chord. 

Was I merely a pawn

Of the complacency I abhorred?

Had my singular voice

Been so long unopposed,

That I'd become unchallenged

Leaving my future exposed?

I gathered my courage,

And to the inquisitor I replied:

Unfortunately, sir, 

We both know what's inside.

I've become content with the moment

And lost sight of momentum; 

I've forced friends to the ledge 

So that I could resent them.

I've lost track of my vision, 

My dreams, and my wishes; 

Settling instead for derision 

And fury quite vicious. 

So what I am to do?

The answer is simple, 

Just step back into you. 

I looked at my judge 

And felt somewhat confused

Was it really that simple

Or was this merely a ruse?

Before I could respond,

The inquisitor continued:

I can see on your eyes, 

And your brows that have sinewed; 

That you are not convinced. 

The most that I can elaborate 

Is that the answer lies within.

It never leaves you, 

But always changes.

Its the innocence you once new,

That matured to fit the ranges, 

Of life's opportunities, 

Of your natural talents, 

Of all the things that were possible,

When you attacked with voracious youth.

 

Growing up doesn't make it disappear. 

Only your internal battle,

Can push it to the rear,

Out beyond where you can find it,

As you doubt yourself, 

And say, "Shit, man, I'm grindin' ."

I stood and I laughed,

For I now understood,

That the will within me,

Always yielded something good.  

The island of man...

They say no man is an island.

So why do I feel so alone,

In a city of 8 million?

I see plenty of faces,

And have several acquaintances,

Even some good friends to boot. 

But my daily endeavors,

Both sunshines and tremors,

To others often are moot. 

We each have our own lives;

Our own things to take care of. 

We each have our own dreams;

And futures to be aware of. 

So I live on my island,

And you in yours. 

Hunting and fishing,

Hustling and wishing. 

I walk the streets and see the faces:

Black, white, yellow, brown,

And all shades in between. 

But I don't know them;

And they don't know me. 

I go about my day mostly in silence.

Grinding my wheels,

Inducing thought,

Chasing dreams.

But always in secret

For I'm alone on my island.

Sometimes I find that my island is great,

Because I'm in control of the campfire.

Other times I find that my island is lonely,

Because smores for one isn't much fun. 

The time to myself also wears two faces.

One welcomes the retreat from my high-paced living. 

The other is energetic yet bored and verging on crazy. 

So I dance the line waiting for for others to visit. 

And while we might not actually be islands,

Completely isolated from our surroundings,

By effects of butterflies and physical groundings. 

We all know the isolation we harbor within.

That solitary experience on the island of man.  

OK is a state of mind...

Hey man, are you OK?

Yeah guy, I'm doing alright. 

No, but really, are you OK??

Ummm, yeah, really. I'm doing just fine. 

Hmmph. So everything's OK???

Yeah, dude. Did I stutter the first two times?

No, no. It just seems like your not OK.

How do you figure?

Well your thoughts reveal sorrow, anger and fear. 

I was just wondering if your mind is really clear. 

You can confide in me, I won't tell a soul. 

Just lean on back and give it a go. 

Wait friend, how do you know my thoughts?

By your words of course. 

Your frantic prose.

I sense demons inside you.

Seeking to be exposed. 

Huh, I see. 

Well my friend, you jump to conclusions. 

The secrets you see are simply illusions. 

As far as I know, things are just fine. 

I'm just wandering the earth doing my time.

There you go again!

Where did I go?

To some isolationist, nomadic, cryptic thought... "wandering the earth doing my time." 

This isn't prison you know.

Oh dear friend.

My cryptic banter is merely reflective.

Don't let it fool you.

For its purposely deceptive.

I speak not of self, but of the world I've encountered. 

I elucidate views that I imagine have floundered 

But what does that mean, if not that you're affected;

Lonely, unsure, and somewhat dejected.

It means that I'm cognizant of the struggles of peers.

It means that I recognize the depth of my fears. 

But hardly does it mean that I'm not alright.

For discovery of self simply begins the fight.

So you're telling me that you're fine, ginger, and dandy.

That a pill and frill wouldn't be handy?

Yes, dear friend, like I said before.

The words from my mouth are meant to explore. 

For the trials of man are often the same. 

So examining their scope is the name of my game.

Hmmph. I see. 

Your answers momentarily satisfy my inner worry. 

But if I reckon you're lying I'll be back in a hurry.

Thanks friend. 

I wouldn't expect anything less. 

The road home...

Most of my conversations are one sided

Because they take place in my head.

Arguments, especially, are best fought in this manner. 

I question myself a little,

But give too much in return.

Far more than I would an outward foe.

My victories are mighty 

And my glory is known far and wide.

At least in the villages and towns of my mind.

But every so often,

Usually around the holidays,

I find myself confronted 

Not with hostility

But with truth.

I find myself occasioned with questions of my youth;

Of temperament and frame-of-mind;

Of decisions made, inwardly and outwardly.

I am forced to collect my thoughts, 

Gathering troubadours to recount stories of my journey.

I hide neither the honor nor the failings,

Knowing that my audience is not swayed by banter.

By bravado.

By bullshit. 

They seek truth.

Thus I know I'm home. 

I am with those who know me best.

More deeply than the outside world.

I am surrounded by those for whom a line does not exist,

Whose curt words slice bullshit off the top layer by mere existence.

Gone are the yes-men and the underlings, 

The bosses and the critics,

The baristas and the concierge.

Now, there is truth.

Transparency to the over-indulgent me who's been cascading the terrain seeking answers 

Like a chameleon.

Now, there is clarity. 

To the muse behind my actions.

To the benchmarks along my path.

To the goals of days ahead.

Now, there is motivation.

To stay the course with resolute sword

While maintaining faith

And an open mind

For nothing is known in future time. 

Most importantly, there is a renewed sense of myself.

Of the makeup of my fiber.

Of the opportunities ahead.

Of the common bonds of man;

Who must all wield the battleaxe of war;

Who must rise to the occasion;

And forge the road ahead. 

Suddenly, I find that I am home. 

Patience, the Unicorn...

Hey. Hey you. Yeah, you. 

The clock's ticking. 

But do you have the patience?

The type that outlasts needs. 

Of comfort & companionship;

Of PTA and coaching; 

Of intricately intimate deeds?

Are you standing by the rail waiting to jump in;

Or are you too deep into the game to cash out?

But which hand did you decide to play; 

Or are you still holding out for Aces.

For that Unicorn.

You know, that mythical creature

That makes your heart flutter and your blood flow.

That brings clarity to your mental clutter.

That almost always is the winner. 

We know the game. 

We've been playing since we were rambunctious teens. 

Exploring what life was like sans cooties. 

We felt our way around the felt

Figuring out how to play the hands dealt.

Waiting for the moment to finally get Aces. 

At first, patience found us. 

Ending the action before the final card. 

We didn't know what to do.

Though we seemed to try quite hard.

Dates were made and relationships built.

We found out not just about you, but about us.

The learning curve ascended as if it never ended. 

And slowly knowledge came.

Of navigating the social scene

Of building personal bonds

Of earning respect, trust, dignity, and honor.

With minds matured, we sought our prize.

Thinking that our readiness implicitly earned us the same in another.

But when would they come?

Time passed but the action never stopped. 

The game continued uninterrupted.

Understanding, appreciation, and discovery slowly crafted our decisions.

Until finally visions of the Unicorn would come into view. 

And when they did

Would we be ready?

Would our chip stack be deep enough to play Aces the right way?

Not merely in money and stability;

But in character and depth?

To provide and protect?

To court the Unicorn?

Or would we be short-stacked?

Not having done enough to build our worth?

To have our mark see it to the river?

Would the hand be folded?

Tilting us to a palpitatious quiver?

Worse, might Aces never come?

Might the Unicorn exist merely in our minds?

How long do we wait?

Before we move all of our chips in on the next hand?

And not think of the rest?

I don't know what you've heard,

But I've been told patience works best.

Fear the indifference...

I'll admit it, I'm afraid of a lot of things.

Heights, gangsters, Aids and pranksters.

Just to name a few.

But what really drives me, what pushes me to an anxious precipice

Is a fear of failure.

Of letting people down.

Of not living up to expectations.

But to their faces

I shrug and say "whatever."

While inside I'm crippled. 

By thoughts of falling and not getting up.

Of staggering too far behind my peers.

Of succumbing to my fears. 

Of not being liked, hired, or invited. 

Taught to hide the weakness.

For fear of being eaten alive. 

Taught to drive my fears deep inside.

So I wear this mask of indifference.

Pretending to be too cool too care.

Too chill to worry.

Too self-aware to struggle.

Maybe I'm so frozen in my step.

In what other people think.

In subjective measures of my success 

That malaise tunnels into me like cancer.

Does it trick me into avoiding trying altogether?

Too frustrated to deal with the questions of life 

And plans for tomorrow?

Am I simply a prisoner of my own self-doubt?

Idle hands, wasted time, and feigned satisfaction.

All excuses I've accepted for not pushing the envelope.

For not wanting it more.

For settling into my comfort zone.

For letting the fear manifest its ugly face.

For it must be fear that drives me.

That catalyzes my every move. 

That renders me helplessly cloaked in indifference. 

Hate on this...

Ever get that feeling that everyone's judging you? 

That whatever you do isn't what should be done?

That hater eyes pierce your being from every direction?

Isn't it enough that I'm trying to do something? Anything?

So why the hate? 

Why the constant criticism, the laughs, the negative energy?

Is it because I look so good trying and failing repeatedly?

Or is it because I won't give up?

Maybe it's because I puff the magic dragon.

Does my coping mechanism strike a moral nerve?

Or maybe it's because it's fun to watch me struggle, to see me have to throw on a friendly face and a ray of hope when you know that I know that we both know I'm burning inside. 

But not from you or your opinions; instead from life and its obstacles. 

Nothing's easy, the lesson goes. 

But understanding of such comes to each at his own pace.

So now that I'm grinding, pushing myself to realize myself, why all the hate?

Don't you want me to get my shit together? 

To be less of a burden on everything you hold so dear?

Are you pissed at your own predicament?

Has the human condition overcome your sense of yourself?

Am I the scapegoat for your own remorse?

Does it burn to see me shoot above your head?

And disregard your looks, your gestures, your words of disparagement?

Does the stick inch just a little further up each time that smile invades my face?

You know, the shit eating grin that only faith in oneself can force to the surface. 

That grin that hints at an understanding of my granular nature.

I'm 1 in 7 billion. 

So are you.

So why the hell should your thoughts mean more than mine?

Don't you have better things to do?

Don't hate my swag, my confidence, my poise.

In fact, disregard them altogether.

And perhaps just do you.

Shit, I went to college...

Mid to late 20's, college degree and cordial... but unemployed?

Over-educated, under-appreciated and worst-of-all, under-paid?

What the hell happened to the world my parents promised?

Oh, I forgot, they're the baby-boomers who won't retire and open up job slots.

Or, wait, aren't they the ones who sent my entry level job overseas? 

And then complained when the trickle worked it way upwards, pushing them into the same lot.

Now the economy's a bust because the adults got greedy... credit-default swaps, sub-prime mortgage bundles, and 30:1 debt to equity ratios??? 

What the hell were they thinking?

No, no, no. I must be mistaken. Apparently, this is all my fault. 

Silly me, I didn't work hard enough, or make the right connections. 

I got out-paced by the shrinking world. 

Spent too much time facebooking, blogging and twittering to make a meaningful contribution.

Racked up a few grand in credit card debt.

Enjoyed life a little too much for someone who hadn't "earned" it yet. 

They say I think I'm "entitled" to a life of plenty. That I failed to build the proper foundation.

That the jobs went away cause I couldn't do it. 

I guess my Excel skills and insta-googling detracted from my paper education.

So now I'm fucked.

The quarter-life crisis, I've heard it called. 

I can feel it deep within my being.

Mounting frustration at the house my parents built. 

Both the blame and the future fall squarely on my shoulders. 

They're just trying to make it to retirement at this point. 

And me? Ivy-undergrad and law school to boot.

But not a reasonable job in sight.

Struggling to find my way.

But finding only criticism from above. 

Not exactly what I thought I'd get barely a quarter way through the big game.

Shit, I took on nearly 200k of debt and 7 years of school for this?