The other shoe

Watching for the axe to swing

Looking for the hammer-fall,

Hoping for one last sweet breath

Running out of drive to stall,

Dying for a chance to live

Living for a dreadful stop

Circling that famous drain 

Waiting for the boot to drop.

Anathema

Lancelot or Galahad,

Tripping on my own good deeds,

Scruples that I wish I had,

Slave to passion and to creed,

Lonely heart and blackened hands,

Fragile magic in my soul,

Wandering her hallowed lands,

Fighting long against this role,

Ruby lenses long since gone,

Shattered in a lovers' war,

Shameful heartache dogs my step,

Trust is broken evermore,

Hopes and dreams all count for naught,

Without facing what I've wrought.

Uncoupled

Running aground so hard on your shore,
Aching to touch you wanting you more,

Drinking your lust from those silken lips,
Breathing you in and tasting in sips,

Falling so far in wells of your eyes,
Reaching so deeply to claim your prize,

Brushing my hands and raking your skin,
Drown in your heat to start it again.

(Re)cycle

Day 1 fresh and bright
Tighten boots and fight the fight,
Day 2 going strong
With my brothers all day long,
Day 3 burning low
Suit them up and end the show,
Day 4 get it done
By shift's end the team has run.

Found something I had misplaced...

Writing has always been a part of my life. From the fanciful creative writing projects in grade school, to angst-riddled poems of high school, to the more mature prose and verse of college and after... But I stopped. Not writing, but trying. I stopped trying to express myself through writing. I stopped sharing. It's time to begin again.

Summer of Hope

Hope is not historically one of my favorite words.

Despite numerous pleasant associations, namely Star Wars episode IV A New Hope, countless poems of merit featuring hope as a theme, and the very definition itself, I have often likened hope that passive, wishful thinking sort of optimism which, when exposed to it, has generally left me wondering "Well, it's awfully nice that you are hoping for X, Y, or Z...but what are you actually doing to attain it?"

That said, (and with a sentence that verges on Faulknerian in length) I find myself tending a certain number of hopes for this summer that is more or less upon us.
*
I hope that Evie enjoys the great summer vacation my mother has planned for her. Evie had a wonderful 2nd grade school year. She has grown tremendously, in maturity as well as height, and certainly deserves a break. This summer will include her first time flying alone, her first time attending an overnight camp (the same camp I attended for 8 years), as well as a host of other camps and activities. I imagine she will come back taller and more savvy than ever, to say nothing of tanner from trips to the poolside and beach. We have worked all year long to tend our level-headed yet still impish, leggy flower and I send her off knowing she's capable of handling herself.
*
I hope I'm going improve my work situation this summer, whether that entails a return to the classroom (hurray I have my teaching credentials again), a correctional position closer to home, or something else entirely. One of the steps in this process will be going back onto shift (12 hour days, 4 on, 4 off) to free up weekday job-hunting opportunities and avoid an atrocious new schedule at my current position. While the long-term goal is getting myself back into teaching, I am realistic enough to realize are other options to consider in the short term, so long as they involve an end to this horrid and wasteful commute I've endured for over 2 years.
*
I'm also hoping Michelle and I are going to use the kid-free summer to get some quality "us" time. While one might assume that's a forgone conclusion with Evie away in CA, history has proven otherwise. I've been coming up with a list of activities for the two of us, ranging from daily mundane stuff (evening swims) to more exotic adventures (Michelle mentioned kayaking and I want us to take the Jeep off-roading).

As I said, I'm not really one for the pinning of hopes, but there you have it. For lack of a better word, my three hopes for this summer.

Meet you at the 50!
B.

Be cows nothing can stop the man....

Awhile ago a post was done here and then followed up on my blog of a little writing amusement found within the bars of prison. Last night The Recalcitrant Beagle brought home another sweet note of entertainment. We love this guy, he's a raving moron of epic proportion. I think he's in for attempted murder but I forget. He's in for life though and really that's all that matters. Here I have scanned in his most recent pre-school writing nightmare. I had to stare at it for a few seconds because my brain kept doing this auto-spell spell self correct and all I could see was what should have been liter. But no he meant letter. GOOD GAWD WTF? Gow's? GOW'S?! Who the hell doesn't know how to spell goes? Oh that's right, max security morons who insist that it wasn't them that did the crime. As far as I'm concerned I could care less if he did it, spelling like this should not be allowed into the general population. Ever. And these guys have access to schools, reading material and what not. Do they use it? I guess not. Probably too busy enjoying their summer camp like atmosphere in the lovely Texas Dept of Criminal Justice. Where they are not allowed cell phones but instead recently had phones installed in their day rooms. Shit my college dorms weren't as sweet. Probably just as high likelyhood of getting raped though huh?