Saying Goodbye Sucks

The world
Smaller than it was before
But big enough to forget
That time we spent

Slow enough to sit back and reflect
Fast enough to absorb your attention
Safe enough to confide
That even good things sometimes subside

Saying goodbye makes people want to grasp
For a sense of control
In things they think will last

But to move on, you have to let go
The world keeps turning, soon you'll know
Flow the time, over years and seasons
At the end you'll realize reasons

Joys shared make it hard to change
But without change there is no intention
And you live life in a stream of inertia
Never knowing what could have been

Saying Goodbye
It sucks because
It implies a value judgement where none exists
Like you weren't good enough to stay for
But take a step back

Slow enough to sit back and reflect
Fast enough to absorb your attention
Safe enough to confide
That eternal things forever will abide

No distance topples stones stacked in faith
No time swallows years and weeks and months
Some of the things we did were great
Now I'm moving on for a different fate

So send me out
Into unknown
Adventure is calling me home
Goodbye for now but never can we know
What future winds of change will blow

grateful

grateful

i am sitting

on a beach

with a joy

faithful

He is sitting 

over me

with a smile

My Second to Last Post (Unless, of course, something changes)

I am tired of being myself
This recklessness is exhausting
These wounds
Are self inflicted

Rule breaking is fun but also tedious
So much time spent conspiring
So much brainpower diverted
To that warm tingling feeling
Behind my neck and between my ears
That sense that I am doing something wrong
That I am bound to be caught

There was a time
When the world seemed enormous
Like how could you ever see it all?
Like a lifetime would be a long time
But weren't those just the daydreams of a child
Who had only seen the world on TV
And wanted nothing more than to explore?

But what is a life valued on exploration?
At what point is your goal achieved?
And if seeing the world is the a self fulfilling joy
At what point will you be able to say "I've seen it"?

Here's the thing:
I think that trying to understand foreigners speaking another language is a chore
And I am beginning to think breaking rules like "don't walk on this beach" is too
The thing that really gets me excited
Is spending quality time
With good friends
Who love me the way I love them
And in whose company I would be content
Whether here or on some other continent

My apartment is the new Paris
Come, all you ex-pats
It's a place built on friendship and love
Pleasures you can never tire of

My last post

No hard feelings, but this is the last time im posting here.   I will certainly remain interested in poetry.

I gave this thing a few years, and in a few years it was pretty much just me...

I am a person who is very critical, either by nature or nurture... and here are my thoughts:

None of you were born in Los Angeles like I was.   None of you went to Beverly Hills High School.  And none of you have spent the last two years in rural America to reflect on life in southern california.

LA has a strange effect on people.   It makes them feel important.  

You might think your ambitions are humble and wholesome, but you wouldn't have stayed right in LA if you did not secretly desire some combination of money and influence that only LA offers.

I love when people pursue their dreams.   But what are those dreams? 

Good luck!

And last and most importantly:  Christianity and the story of Jesus dying for my sins and my father's sins is about as irrelevant and bogus as any other religion I know.

Sorry to be bitter.  thank you for reading my posts here, and I will be back in your city for a few weeks in August and September before i go to spain hopefully (unless something changes)

Mike

Ignore Everything Else

I'm sure your life seems important right now, mine does too. I have lot's of important stuff to do also, believe me.

I am sure your mind is playing its usual game of juggling and sorting tasks.   But let me say that it doesn't matter.

Let's return to what you really care about:  Your story!

When people look at you!   When people think about you!   When you think about yourself!     That's what it's all about.  

How did he make so many good decisions?  How does he do it?   Was it luck, talent, or hard work?

Don't forget that you are the greatest.  If you search deep inside yourself you will find that shining ruby of greatness that only you possess.  

You are a winner.

Now look around at all the other winners.   Who denies that there are many people greater than you?  Great people with a good heart, who love their careers, love their wives, have more charisma, and will forever have a greater impact on people.

Nobody cares about you and nobody will remember you.

my outlook

Food doesn't interest me.

I am not on this planet to indulge myself. I am here to learn and make an impact

i know you like different things, i know you would like to feel different, but honestly...

how different can you be? Don't you eat, sleep and think within the same boundaries as everyone else:

You want a bakery, a business deal, a movie deal.....

I am no better, no more unique, nope... My beliefs, my nature of being is echoes of society...

Sometimes its a prison that requires drugs to escape.
Love is not real, though people do become enamored with each other, and dependent on each other.

I will never depend on anyone. Who will be there in my most frightening moments?

I am tired of being brainwashed.
People take me seriously at the wrong times

My confidence comes and goes.
When i doubt myself it goes
When i feel capable it returns, even if it is a false confidence and everyone knows it


Who cares about me? who really cares about me? Really i hardly care sometimes. i just want to not suffer. and i dont want pity, i would prefer that no one help me.

i dont mind offending people, i dont mind pissing people off. Inside me is a timid little puppy that never gets to show its teeth.

My teeth are sharp... my life is in the making... my life is meaningful... but time will tell

This world is clueless. from the slaves to prime ministers.

Why is self-interest justification for one's behaviour?
Why do people risk their lives for money?
Why do people settle and compromise on the big things?

It is because we are a weak, lazy, fragile, and stupid species?

Why Im done with school

Homework is bullshit.

To have to carry home the burden of needing to do something. To go home and leave school behind, but to still drag it with you and feel it gnawing at your ankle.

The burden of due dates, and evaluations and endless expectations of better work.

The only thing school has taught me is that I'm a B student.

A's still feel like B's and C's feel like B's. F's feel like B's. Everything is a B when you are a B student.

Just give me my B and let me go home.

me and my beliefs

Let go of your expectations and your pressing concerns

if only for one minute

Enjoy this brief flurry of alien thoughts

as long as you can

Try to recognize you inside you and try to free yourself from yourself

if only for another 20 seconds

Try to pretend you are a Martian (even though they dont exist) who understands English mechanically, not emotionally

Be martian so that I can relay this interplanatary message

___----beep beep, incoming MESSage from planet UR-tH---___

"Believing something doesn't make it true"

___beep beep-----__"""""end TRANSMISSION---___---------

Now return to yourself. Return to everything that comforts you and empowers you to face the chaotic world you live in.

Cling to your beliefs. Hold on till the end!

the battle

so we start the clock

of my patience and your patience

of my spirit and your ears

My mind is incredibly fucked up

And it is most apparent in my thoughts

If you could capture my thoughts on the big screen.

Clockwork nightmares. Regrets buried beneath oceans of shame.

Torrential rains that I caused.

Playgrounds of happiness demolished. Memories of simple joy set on fire by me.

I am standing in front of ten thousand clones of myself.

They are all giving me that look. They are all angry. And they are all me.

I have no idea what is gonna happen.

desert

in a tent
naked
joy
falls
down
like
stars
on
me

in life
anxious
stop
joy
falls
down
like
stars
on
me

"I called you by name"
on my hand, written: "the Lord's"

in my heart
naked
joy
falls
down
like
stars
on
me

i don't look back
I am the Lord's

oh yes

Oh yes

It is today. And the problems have gone off to wakiki, paradise. My life is instantaneously okay.

Instantaneously I am proud of how far I've come. And for this moment I can say that I am less than a loser.

I better anti-up again and put on my game face.

Cuz shit aint gonna be easy

the wall

you see the wall

i hit it every day

i can show you the x-rays

my strength is tested, daily

and i know how others see me, I see right back

I have told you nothing of what i am, just of what i believe.

Mine is a life where no expectations have been met. You see my years and you make projections. check what you thought of me three years ago. and check it again next year

Because mine is a life that you cannot predict,... it will be great and it will be painful

obese

is it okay to be content to be obese??

I think that is a phenomenal question

when should we improve ourselves? how? and when should we be accepting of oursevles.

Does contentment lead us to live less-fulfilling lives?

I don't have the answer to this question.

The answer to the obesity question should have nothing to do with how many people in this world are obese, but more on statistics of what proportion of obese people successfully lose weight and how that affects the quality of their life.

My guess is that there is no good reason to be content with one's weight. There is no good reason to be content with one's life. There is no good reason to not continually strive for something better.

pessimism

you probably dont want to hear this

shloob, i am immune

Wowza, suck my fucking penis organ

I will say what appears to be the truth from the perspective of one man, 26 now.

And my perspective will be straight truth like you don't want to hear. I will shatter the think glass that forms your bubble of satisfaction.

Firstly, I think you sense the dissapointment, I think you know your parents had greater hopes for you

And in all but probably one odd facet of life you are a true disappointment...your very denial of this, your aversion to contemplate how mediocre you are, you fear of considering how short you have fallen of the target... your a disappointment Pal.

the target is well defined in the Book of Deuteronomy: Beautiful wife and Humorous children. The target is lavish home with backyard basketball court... and if you don't agree, then take your head out of your fuckin ass and look around. You aren't in Turkmenistan anymore. You are in Barack Obama Land.

Look around at your unsatisfactory life and stop being satisfied. Start being furious.

Can you not handle this? Then I will change the subject to something more politically correct like Charlie and his chocolate. but in the end Charlie becomes CEO of the chocolate factory and you aren't shit.

Your life ain't shit. Ain't Shit.

dont lie to me

And dont think this is my journal...is it?

Whatever... can you even pay attention

I have your attention

Gone to some distant thought about measuring up.

Measuring up to him, to her expectations....to what you thought you could suck out of this life

Settling...settling....settling....that is your job

Your role on this planet is to settle for whatever they give you. And always complain when they take something away.

After settling, your job is to half-ass it. Saving energy is something you know all-about.

SAve energy says Mrs. Krabopple....and I will save energy with my ass on the couch, remote control in hand, potato chips and beer within reach..

I save energy when I sit in a machine that goes a mile a minute.

I save energy with my ELECTRIC CAN OPENER.

I still have nightmares about this ridiculous device and I wonder what kind of lazy fuck my mom was to keep one of these in the kitchen.

Speaking of journals, people are liars. All of you lie through your teeth until you hate yourselves.

Stop lying and stop the passive aggressive remarks.

Diary of a wimpy kid I suppose.

This one rhymes

I’m taking each moment as it comes

But my moments are riddled with obsession

My thoughts are the sounding of drums

By a child with little discretion

I hesitate to say that I’m ailing

But these thoughts evidence many wounds

A mind cut by its numerous failings

And unsure of a future that looms

I can play for myself a sweet song

And vow yet again I’ll improve

But this old brain, just as clever, has caught on

And taunts me to make the first move

It’s been 6 years and I feel just as lost

And the drumming I cannot abate

A great life, on schedule to take off

Now a shuttle from runway to gate

Beliefs and emotion, they dictate my time

And though friends may be a quick fix

When the lights go down, reemerges my mind

And it deals in well-sharpened sticks

So for now, here I am, putting thoughts to a page

But soon I’ll emerge from my cave

To a world I hate where self-esteem takes the stage

In the tragedy of “Master and Slave”

They say, to succeed, that first one must fail

So I really don’t know what I’m worth

But until the winds of change hit my sail

I will shuffle my feet through this earth

the flaws of thought

My brain sucks. My brain is so bad, it recognizes that it is broken itself.

If my macintosh told me every day, "Im a shitty computer" I would believe it.

Fuck these fuckin walls. And fuck the people on the other side of them.

What is this compassion bullshit we all preach when deep down we hate each other.

We are stuck in a world full of sensitive, egotistical, annoying, predictable fuckin fucktards.

I don't want people to be better than me, but I want them to be less annoying.

and I want the right to murder a person or two on my way to work.

Compassion: what a crock of bologna. People just pretend and pretend and then go home and bitch and moan to anyone who will listen.

People, according to Kepler's law of planetary motion, are not where they want to be in life. Either too old, too ugly, too fat, too poor, too much themselves.

The shear laziness of people knows no limits. A laziness that leads us to waste our lives in front of LCD monitors, stuck in traffic chasing the one thing that seems to add dignity to our meaningless existence: money.

Oh how I despise this fucking currency. Why must our existence revolve like Einstein's law of relativity, around the quantity of local currency that we posses.

This family can fly to Poland, but this family never will. You can eat steak and potatoes, but they will have rice all week. You will die of malnutrition but they will tip the attractive waitress 30 Euros so that they can feel like winners.

it is insanity, and their is nothing that can be done at this point.

Call me an old-fashioned guy, but....

I can spot a knock off with my eyes closed

I can smell a salesman a mile away

And you can too...

so for the sake of saving time, let's cut to the quick.

I am in the business of writing poetry that assists me in gathering my thoughts and encouraging myself to pursue my ambitions.

Some write because they like the art of it and they wish to please the audience. I keep the audience in mind, but the poetry is for me. And maybe I'll get a shloob from Justin every time (I think its Justin), but I welcome it. I hope you write, "this poem sucked" and I respond, "suck a dick" and I bet life will go on.

I have met some of the most sensitive, fragile people... and it disgusts me how much they care about really stupid shit.

People think they've seen it all. But they've only seen television. People think they are veterans at the game of life, but they've always lived in one place. People think they've faced adversity, but they haven't.

Adversity is real pain. Adversity is lasting pain. Adversity does not entail acceptance, it entails surviving intact. Finding your feet again after the brute force of life knocks you on your ass.

I have tasted adversity. I have witnessed adversity. I have seen that it leaves a mark as deep as it wishes. Sometimes adversity leaves us in a coma, and sometimes it leaves us dead.

Love seems to be this focus of so many. Everyone wants the acceptance and companionship of another person. Everyone seems so desperate to sacrifice so many of their liberties for a friend they can have sex with.

But I don't know love, and my criticism is often unwelcome, and my poetry is just my train of thoughts, and my life is a story of .......(to be continued)

why do I think Im so great?

why do I hold on to these fantasies?

I know they give me hope, but why do I believe them.

I think I believe in a future michael herold

FY fucking eye: If you are skeptical that michael herold can change then please don't read, cause I do believe.

Those that don't believe humans can make major changes are very much a part of the problem and not the solution.

The solution is change. Internal change.

Problem solving, planning, and ACTION.

I will change. I know why I do what I do. I fall for the same tricks, but I am recognizing them. I am confirming and recognizing. I am catching myself. I am seeing myself.

I am looking objectively at my own life even though I let emotion move me.

But emotion is what moves us all. Lifelong relationships are BUILT on emotions, and thus hence as a matter of fucking fucking fact we are emotional creatures.

Here. right here is a man. not a kid. not a kid. An adult. A human who can hold a conversation with world leaders and doctors and scientists. A man who can show a classy woman a good time. A man who understands government, economics, history, medicine and language.

I have a long way to go. and I see many traps ahead that I may very well fall into.

but the story of this man is far from over....

Youth

The street where Jake lived was a cul-de-sac. A quiet place, purposely far enough outside the city so that it would be safer. The lawns there were always green, at least in the spring and summer. There were so many trees! In October, leaves of every color would cover the ground in piles. The neighbors used rakes and leaf blowers to pile them up, and fill black plastic bags with them. Some leaves that stuck around long enough would get to stay all winter, covered in snow. Every morning there was enough snow that Dad would need to get out the snow blower and clear the driveway before leaving for work. The snow banks on the side of the driveway made for great caves and snow forts. The house, with its purple-red brick walls, rose behind the snow forts like a castle. Its windows were always lit up, and during the holidays, there was always something in each window: a candle, a wreath, a bow. Spring came slowly with rain. The family would stay inside and watch TV in sweaters. The sun room was always comfortable in March and April showers. The windows were all around, from floor to ceiling, and you could see the rain streaking down the window pains in the dim, cloudy April light.

One April morning, the sun was out so Jake decided to go out in the yard to play. He took out his set of Jarts, and his nurf guns, and his croquet set. The grass in the front yard was still sopping wet and spongy. Jake set up the Jarts target first, then he carefully counted out 10 paces to mark off the line to throw from. The grass was tall, and his shoes and the bottoms of the pant legs of his jeans were getting wet. Jake was 5 years old and an only child, but he always found ways to enjoy a Thursday morning, or a Sunday afternoon. The first round of Jarts was not good; all his throws were substantially too long, and some of them were rolling down into the neighbor’s yard. Jake collected the Jarts and walked back up to his throwing line. “Maybe if I throw them higher in the air”? Jake gripped a jart by the tail and swung it around and around in a windmill motion. With a yell, he released the jart at the apex of its swing. How high it flew! The jart whistled, like a firework, sailing across the blue sky. Blowing with the wind, the jart soared past the yard and past the sidewalk, landing in the street. As the jart rolled down the street and towards the sewer opening, Jake stood and stared for a second, then he took off running into the street after the jart. It rolled all the way to the opening of the sewer with Jake a few steps behind. Suddenly a pair of shoes jumped in front of the sewer, and a pair of hands scooped up the jart. “Is this yours?” She was wearing a jean skirt and a purple t-shirt with pink bows on it. Her hair was tied loosely in two pigtails. “Yes, it’s mine. Do you live here?” Jake was feeling shy. Ashlyn was smiling just a little “I just moved in to that house across the street” “What’s your name” “My name is Ashlyn , but my friends call me Ash” “Do your parents let you play outside a lot?” “I go out when I want to, as long as I’m home for dinner at 6:00” “Well nice to meet you Ashlyn , I’m going to finish my Jarts game now” Jake turned and started walking back towards his own yard. Ashlyn watched after him. Jake stopped, feeling a bit like he was being watched, he turned back to Ashlyn and said “Do you want to come play Jarts with me Ashlyn ?” Ashlyn stood there stretching her arms downward, holding her left wrist with her right hand. “Ummm... I don’t know how to play jarts” “It’s easy, I can show you how, come on, my yard is right there, and you said you can play outside as much as you want.” “OK I guess I will come; I’ll watch you play” Ashlyn followed Jake to his yard and she watched him play Jarts and Nurf guns and croquet until it was time to go home.

***

The kitchen table was cluttered with flowers. Jars of stuff. Toaster. Butter dish. Outside, a red hummingbird feeder was weighed down by the perch of several finches and the occasional opportunistic squirrel. Ashlyn and her mom sat on the couch, finishing the last few pages of one of her favorite stories. “And Streganona ate all the Spagetti in town... The end”. Ashlyn bounced off her mother’s lap and walked to the table, climbing on top of a chair, she reached for a slice of bagel sitting on a plate. As she delicately buttered the bagel, Ashlyn asked “Mom, did you know there is a boy my age who lives across the street?” “No, I didn’t know that. Which house does he live in” “He lives in the purple brick house with the big yard. His name is Jake. Today I met him on the sidewalk, and he let me watch him play with his toys.” “And did you get to play too?” “I could have. Jake asked me to. But I was scared.” Ashlyn’s mom picked her up and sat her down on her lap. “Mom, would you brush my hair?” She took a small purple brush from the coffee table next to the tv remotes and started gently brushing Ashlyn’s thin hair. “Ashie, I signed you up for swimming lessons. Your brother is quite the fish in the pool. We’re going to go up to Bemidgi next month for his swim meet. Maybe you and your sister can tag along.” “I don’t want to take swim lessons” “It will be good for you Ash. You can meet some kids your same age so you have more people to play with in this new neighborhood” “But I already have a friend” “Who is your friend?” “Jake.” “But you only just met him, there’s lots of other kids out there who you can have fun playing with.” Ashlyn twisted in her mom’s lap so that she was laying on her back, looking up at her mom. Ashlyn’s hair, straight, smooth and thin, cascaded gently around the couch. “Mom I like Jake, and he is my friend.”

***