Cloistered Men of Dark

You cloistered men of dark. I turn to you and all you give is opinion. I am now done with this and forever shall remember the words that you spoke. The ones that turned the throngs away from the kneeler and the poor in spirit from the blessings that abounded. I now go to read the pages of fortune and face-to-face speak that births knowing and thought. I now turn to the gritted filth of the unkempt and tell them of my intentions. Intentions that are good even if not kept. For, what more can one desire than for another soul to simply offer themselves?

...for a while.

To: Anyone who has ever read this blog.

From: Me

I am thankful that you have, at one time or another, found your way here to read the things that I felt called to write. As of late I have been thinking more and more about joining together a collection of my works in an attempt to publish. I am unsure right now as to what that looks like exactly but I am excited about it. So, due to this new venture, I will no longer be posting any new writings here (for now). Thank you for reading. Thank you for thinking. Thank you for believing.

- Jake

Please visit my new rants at www.tumblr.com/blog/homelessson

French Fries on Sunday

French fries in my car

on a Sunday afternoon.

My radio on.

Listening to a trumpet play

along with a piano and a clarinet.

This is a good day.

What was my name?

How long have I known you?
For how long have we spoken?

Was there ever a time that I watched you work?
Was there ever a time that I looked upon your face?
Have I known your voice?
Perhaps a time when my entrails would no have
wound up on the grass from the sound of it?

What was I like in the "Before time began"?

Did I listen?
Was I polite?
Did I use my ears and eyes well?

Did I sit at your feet when you told stories of dreaming up stars?

What was my name?
What did you call me by?

When you looked upon me, what did you see?

When I looked upon you, did I squint?
What did you think of me?

Were you well pleased with me?

Do you remember me?
Can you recall my breath?

Have I done well?

Have I been brave enough?

Am I the man that you thought I'd become?

Sometimes, I wish I could remember.
Sometimes, I wish we could sit and catch up.
I suppose you don't need that though.

Posture.

Sit straight you fools.

slumping over books and screens and mugs of coffee.

Sit straight.

He's coming.

let him know you expect it.

Wastes of time.

I'll drive my own car.

And when the skeptics ask i'll assure them that the best writing tool is a freshly sharpened pencil.

I look away from the screen as much as I can.

I need to save my site for the mountains and for my future child's face and elbows.

Staring off into the sky.

That is no waste of time.

Buying things that are built for dumps.

This is no form of longevity.

Buy to last.

Build to last.

Live to last.

How I Was Made II.

Dark.

Light.

Hands.

Dust.

Man.