An Edict From a Lover On the Bench

Hey y'all. I haven't written any poetry in a while. I got thinking about some things tonight and it just came out while cooking some pasta. It's funny where we find inspiration in life.  I can't tell you how these words fell into my mind exactly, but what I can tell you is that I've opened my mind and my heart and my thoughts are flowing freer than ever. Enjoy.


An Edict From a Lover On the Bench

By Chris Handloser

I need a girl who will follow, not lead me
Always believe in me but never try to be me
I know some say "It's my way or the highway"
But that ain't my case. My way IS the highway.
This edict is not a request for indenture
Life is on the arm and we choose our own adventure
I respect those that live on another one's path
Making mole hills out of mountains and turning sand to glass
Though all truth be told, I'm just not that dude.
If you're riding with me, it'll be on my route.

Until days are gone and only nights remain
I am my own passion, my person, my refrain
I look on at love with a calm from the bench
So I'm very well studied and you know where I've been
I'm not at all adverse to a mate at some point
But I'll choose the game while she rolls the joint
Till then, my team motto is "Cautious approach"
Until a sweet, passive voice says, "Put me in coach".

Noise in the Feedback Loop

What's that? The wind....

My thoughts are too abundant for the this one trick brain. I need an expansion of capacity only. Not that I have any misconceptions to the nature of this mystery. The more you become aware, the more you wonder what you should be excluding.

I want to find myself in a desert. I want to be painfully thirsty. Why? It seems like in its desperate agony, it would offer focus. Maybe I'd be good with any legitimately overwhelming struggle. I probably just settled on a desert metaphor, because I live in a city built on a desert.

Focus. What is it? Hold on....nope. I still don't have it. Though I wear this burden with a lighter heart than you may believe, and the lesser of two difficulties is at hand here, I struggle with what is a blessing and what is a curse nowadays. Shouldn't analyzation be the compass to navigate me to the oasis? I find it more of a quicksand then a porthole, though I'm more adept at analyzation than a simple thought. I can focus on none and yet conceive more than all. Now I believe we have a sandstorm folks. Winds blowing interference around what is otherwise a beautiful landscape. (excuse the sentence fragment)

Perfection in example. Contingencies override accepted standards. Your north is my east. My advance is your downfall. Your incapability is my strength. My strength is my downfall.

And so I'm left with a simple dollop of sand. Maybe I'll fashion a glass house and add some ants. The precision and intricacy enthralls me. Though as happens within me often and thus would be expected in any ant farm I preside over, the shakes and sifts would be so frequent, the efforts would be only to maintain movement. Upwards, downwards, backwards, forwards, but never nowheres. Is direction a prerequisite? I feel unqualified to decide. Motion is all I'm willing to invest in.