Category: Poems from the book Poet Loiterer

Old Fashioned

I told him I’d rather read the news than stream an endless video.
I’d rather see it in person than have technology in the way.
He said, “Oh, that’s so 20th century.” I laughed at his truth.
Things are changing so rapidly. There are no more telephone booths.
Once private conversations are now grocery store ambiance.
You can remain friends far beyond the limits of time and space.
Everyone has their own audience, but you can’t tell who is listening.
A person’s life has become our entertainment these days.
There’s something to be said for being old fashioned.
For remaining in the real world and not trapped by your phone.
Sometimes too much information can make your head spin.
You might find yourself worried and ignore what’s in front of you again.
So I’ll stick to my dusty scraps of paper,
because sometimes, old fashioned is far easier.

Poems from the book Poet Loiterer Poetry

Pushers of POV

Everyone is selling themselves.
What’s on your agenda?
Are we all so very lonely,
That we push our truths?
Are you blinded by your path?
Do you see the people suffering,
As they sit smiling in front of you?
Can you see past the costumes?

He’s pushing for love.
I’m pushing for peace.
He’s pushing for hate.
She’s pushing for release.
We start off in reality,
and push to irrationality.
I’m pushing the snooze button,
For the four hundreth time,
Because my mind won’t let me rest,
In the darkest time of the night.

If I let you push me as hard as you can,
I wonder sometimes, just where I might land.
So some days I’m receptive, and others, just not!
I’m happy to let you push,
But sometimes, I cannot.
Oh, but I love it when you rally,
behind your kindest selves,
and encourage me beyond repair.
So addicted have I become,
That without you, I despair.

It is so strange to be respected.
I wonder why you even care.
I do not see myself as you do.
No, I’m blind until your words awaken me.
Then you come to me for advice,
As if at 31, I’m some sage,
but it is so ironic,
Because I am not that age.
I turn to you for the same counsel,
And what comes out in return,
Platitudes, platitudes, platitudes.
When will I ever learn?

I am not ungrateful for the slack,
That you cut this hard-working slacker.
Things do not come as easy to me,
As they once did in my youth.
I’m not afraid to try new things.
Its retrying that leaves a bruise.
Oh, I’ve failed so many times,
While those around me praised.
I wonder why you believe in me,
and God, it is contagious,
for this dreamer lost at sea.

I lie awake most nights,
Wondering, “Who am I?”
We define ourslves by labels,
categories and divisive names,
when in reality, we are all the same.
It haunts me to know that
Anyone out there has felt such pain.
When you say “Yeah, me too.”
Then all boundaries are erased.
Because if you had it in you to be reborn,
Well, then, maybe, I also do?

Poems from the book Poet Loiterer Poetry