Spontaneous Prose

Confusions awkward momentary

lapses of conversation. Anxiety anger

mongering on the for front of your mind

I take four breaths and

rewind the situation, remind my self

that false is the sense of time

I wish I could exist without

all of this,

and I can in the woods

but where would you be?

who would I see?

this poverty is riding me and

madness surrounds the hour

with our reactions and I miss

flowers and bees and the

first signs of spring

I write cuz I can’t take

the night when I’m sleeping alone

I write because I can’t stand the 

fight when theres no where to go

I write because Allen Ginsberg pointed 

me to Whitman, to Pound, to W.C. Williams

LeRoi Jones, Henry David Thoreau

I write because Rich Quatrone  told me

I have to keep writing 

I write because The Dissenters

saxophone notes and lyrical quotes 

gave me direction and hope

when I was just fourteen,

I write because other people that have

written in the past have inspired 

me to be a better person,

I write because children in the future

will need inspiration to become better

people. To love more, to give more,

to care more about it all.

I write because bombs are going off

every single day

I write because rich people have 

million dollar yachts and poor people

have to decide whether their gonna buy

diapers or food or soap or their pills

I write because I have a lot on my mind

I write because I fear death

I write because everyone I’ve ever

known is gonna die

I write because no one else 

tells my story in this sea full

of stories,

I write because spiritual seekers

are creating the new world in their

minds

I write because the ancestral   

winds bless this rhythm.

My body the instrument 

universal beat these words

I write to reach the future,

make love with the past

I write to capture love

to know that it will last

I write just to write

to not think to fast

I write to excite 

because

thats 

my

path.