Owner of land and peasant
I tend to fields and forests
I raise armies to engage teh hostile
Build fiefdoms my son occupy
Power is that voice growing louder
It's magnetic voice echoing over this soil
The land is still even the wind can't move it
I can feel the stones and boulders below the surface
I can hear my name on those whispers
Through the farmers sharp hoe clashing
The slow penetrating root
The wayward stream
It all whispers today I am yours
Tomorrow I will be your resting place
Feel me peel myself off
I need this piece of me lifted
I separate the very margin inside
The layer of me that goes on existing
disconnected from my body
Orbiting these spaces I call my turf
Checking each one outside of my hub
Stalking the night
Hissing in silence
Until once again
My heart says it's time
It must glue itself back on
I am entire again
Walking that inch taller
Loving that much more
Seeing what was invisible before
In shapes and colors that renew desire
That help me appreciate the world
More than the time I was divided
So much more to absorb
When I am together
I knew him
always moved like he was late
for a conversation no one else could hear
navigating cities that were not there
He was never the loud one.
Never effortless, struggling to be a friend or a son
But he watched
God, how he watched
Saw adults lie with their smiles
He saw children pretending to be strong
He learned early that silence even if it felt wrong
Could be both shield and weapon
He felt small in rooms
The ones he finally outgrew
Carried that hard smallness in his pocket
Rock he rubbed smooth with friction from his mind
He romanticized possibilities
Built castles out of glances
Turned unfinished stories
into epic myths of victory or oblivion
He wanted to matter.
Not overtly
just undeniably
He wanted to shape the air
To touch something that would provke the senses
Feel it shift
Celebrate it's life
Before being pulled back into the mundane
Why that need for control
Why those waves of intensity
ponderings aloft hovering
at the edge of being himself
Chaos felt more alive
He was evasive
Knowing clarity would expose him
He could hesitate
right when courage was required
He mistook complexity
for depth
Tied up in ideas
lost, breathless
But he also had stamina
When feelings hit him like weather,
he did not collapse
He interpreted the storm
His tenderness for a given few
He pretends is incidental.
It isn’t
It is in his bones
He can hold someone’s vulnerability
without flinching
Even his own
He rarely admits it’s brave.
He has a spine for virtue
Bends under pressure
but does not break
Wonders the shape of lies
He wants to be bold
Not reckless
He wants to feel he earned it
Through his inventions and sweat
He was awkward, yes
Intense, too often
Sometimes too hungry
for proof that he mattered
He was never cruel
Never careless with truth
Never indifferent
Or overly ruthless
That’s the Simon I knew
He is still here, writing about himself like a maniac
They called me onto the stage to talk about my book
The host sat on the floor as if to humble himself
But didn't show any interest in it's content
Just it's impact on the market
Like a hippy who would ask what kind of clothes to wear
To better meditate and get closer to unity
He did hold the audience in his hand
As if they were just guinea fowl
I could see my achievement was recognized
But in a way where media imposed it's dilution
Then there was the cults that frequently reached out to me
begging me to make their quirky groups official
Book signings were exhausting and required security
Scanning and searching for any Chapmans
The lonliness of obscurity
To lonliness of fame
As I was signing those books
Smiling my smile
One in five had actually got it
But that was more than enough for me... to keep writing
Overthink and analyze everything, Pure clarity paralysis
Chase shadows and projections, mistaking them for reality
You let waves of desire smash you
longing control your mind along the way
instead of directing them
Romanticize your past
and your own potential
instead of acting in the present
You carry shame
fear, and self-doubt under layers
of clever phrasing.
You retreat into internal dramas
instead of facing life boldly and directly.
You replay what-ifs endlessly
letting them dictate your energy.
You mix moral heroism
with vanity
confusing doing good
with needing validation
Shrink from confrontation
even when it would clear the air
You have childlike needs
longings dominate your adult self
You hide behind fantasies
and exercises
using them as crutches
You worry excessively about perception
reputation, and “rightness,” instead of presence.
You romanticize struggle and suffering
turning pain into theater instead of clarity
The outside world
Losing a game
Present day right now
you need to keep playing yours
mistakes and errors
are not a sign of losing,
They are the nature of you son
They are a sign you are going through it.
Use your tenderness
Somehow draw compassion for others
and grit to go through it
indulge people's selfishness just for fun
Remember they won't reciprocate,
Give to feel alive
So give as part of the game
This existence they seem to think is real
You read these words and old leather cases full of obsolete verse
Useless fucking gimics that go nowhere
That attempt art and just crash into your resistance
Your belief that these words have no meaning is valid
There is no function
it is a teenage boy with a body of a ninety year old
These are the crumby chalky over exaggerated words you can expect
you read this garbage, I cannot comfort you as you have nothing better to do
There is no deeper message here the whole distillation
expresses just one foul truth about my work
A total lack of faith in the human spirit
What's worse is most of these prose don't even rhyme
Some old critic would highlight this but I got to get read first
People trip over this blog by accident
I harvest numbers through these lost searches
Isn't that just a delicate definition for life a lost search
Predictable dreary four lined stanzas that act self aware
build themselves into routine like latrines getting dug with letters
And the obvious long periods of sitting and filling them
My words are feces you are welcome
My computer insists im tired
God points his finger and says stay in your lane
But is it him or just this pasty pesky fucking mess society
I wish i could climb it all and blow fire down it
But all I got are these childish words that don't get read
Messages that never get understood
Maybe ill just read it all back to myself
like a raving schizophrenic
Because there is no other use for it all
Cultivate a little sympathy from the bleeding hearts
for shipwrecked men who cannot see the horizon
writing in long lines just to build bridges toward it
Parts of it fall away and no one sees the sharks edging in
To take a limb or my whole life
This should be where you stop
If i was on this page behind your eyes right now
Oh I'd have quit, You can't get what you want
Neither can I ever...
Reading all the way down here won't resolve anything new
It's going to get painful and inconvenient
Step off i tell you as you insist flicking over these cheap twists
theres no genius here, no fine mastery
you've gone and stumbled on a fool
Pushing a boulder up a mountain
just to have it roll over him
With the inertia of self doubt
With all the eyes telling me no
pointing out my weakness
caging them and creating a petting zoo with it all
Yes don't mind me
As I attempt to release them all
As they are mocked from a safe distance
What are you all searching for
One obese cliche
cut open and bleeding nostalgia on your upholstery
My word bacteria getting all over your open sore
You did it didn't you, I told you not to
almost at the bottom of the page, yes that rock bottom
Abandon all hope and slogans of such genres
ease into this despair as you do old wet clothes
Succumb for down here the air clicks with an otherworldly sense of emptiness
The true crushing sensation that the mouth will no longer taste flavor
Neither skin sensation, words here lose their meaning
They only seem to collide with outside derision
Down here gravestones melt and my true nature rises
A gargantuan amphibian that will devour you all whole
Digesting your eyes for a millenia
Slipping back into the flood waters fat and satisfied
Until I realize I'm back down in these relentless words
That must be born and live on these fucking pages
taking everything from me
and now probably taking something from you too.
