The problems with simplicity are as follows:

We waste no time figuring a       way out
             because the path rests rightinfront of our feet,
and we're  amazed when
  the pages of instructions   lead us to the   complete,

but isn't that exactly what they're for?

The simplest of designs can portray
the exact    same     messages
that   are     hidden   amongst
      some of    the   most controversial and  complicated    presages.

and complicated doesn't run our planet earth anymore.

We're   trapped inside  an    age    of simplicity,
         starting at    A          and   landing at  B,
connecting dots     that were   so obviously   layed before us,
 because  we want things A.S.A.P.

 it's   a struggle just to try   to paint a    picture.

And if we fall out of the flow          with no  simple mindedness,
    we run   out   into  the world   with   extreme  eccentricity,
and we, at often times,  find ourselves,
         falling into the  simpleness of   simplicity.

Is there a problem?

    the simple    brilliance of a   simple man,
can   simply drive him      to  finish   what    he   intends,
with   a whole new outlook, and  whole new  eyes,
just      so        things        will      be    easier   in the end.

Are we  in   an  age  of laziness?

Or are  we  just   simply   brilliant.
because there are  thousands  upon   thousands  of ways,
to  complete      simple   tasks, and there are       easier     ways,
      to complete them, so  the   complex  mind will  appraise.

And this is          where       complexity  stands  strong.

   with    what   we  know,  we can play out every outcome,
and   we  can   shadow  the   easiest and more  efficient way,
but   by  opening  up   our   minds   to the  complexion of every situation,
and realizing        that  we   don't      have to live   in  dog  days

anymore.

and   realizing   that  the  most  difficult   of tasks,
can be tackled with   new eyes  and  we can  clear away  the haziness,
and  discover  efficiency over the old   ways
and we can exercise every place in our brain and know that it's not laziness

but simple brilliance.

Simpleness is the world I’m growing up in,
and i plan on making my contribution simpler,
by tackling things with brand new eyes.
and walking life a little easier.


© 2011 the still air

Get In the Car

Transgressions and transformations.
Reincarnations of tattered souls. 
Remember what dreams are composed of,
Remember we are only fools.

If we don't accept changes,
And live strictly off of hypotheses,
The only change we could undergo,
Is end of friendships and new enemies.

You see our mind has a mind of it's own,
And within it is our functions,
And we control our functions,
So change is all part of that motion.

Openness is a saint. 
We cannot conduct energy,
Unless we accept all transgressions,
And become the transformer for the enemy. 

Everyone is the enemy,
And we are all due for new formation,
So please don't be scared,
when the lights touch down in new motions. 

Keep the car running. 
Keep the engines purr,
To be heard from a distance.
To be heard. 


© 2011 the still air

Body and Soul

"Do you believe in angels?"
She said,
As she placed her hood,
Upon her head,


And let the rain fall,
All around her,
With an umbrella at her side,
Embracing the cool water.


"Do you believe there’s,
Someone watching?
Someone who knows,
How were moving?


Someone who knows,
Every last sway,
And every last footstep,
And every last day?"


With that I said,
"Close your eyes,
Listen to the sounds,
And realize,


That with nights we have left,
There’s just so many thoughts,
To let run through our heads,
To run us overwrought."


"I was curious,
Of what its like to die,"
She said, "for every person,
There's not enough stars in the sky.


If we were meant,
To be alive,
I’m sure the angels,
Would make us realize,


That a star,
Has no conception,
To our,
Person."


So I took her hand,
And placed it over the moon,
To show her how dark,
The world could be soon,


And I said, "we’re all the moon,
We’re not the stars.
The angels are all flickering,
Guiding us through who we are.


I know the way,
You feel right now,
And I know the world,
Turns up somehow,


But in these dire days,
Please don’t separate,
Your body and soul,
Don’t contemplate,


Just step outside,
And breathe the air,
And realize,
That life’s not fair,


But it’s the people,
We hold close and dear,
It’s the people,
That we hold so near,


It’s the angels,
We all have in our hearts,
It’s the angels,
Who have grown to be a part,


of us


that make this life
worth living.


I do believe in angels,"
I said,
As I removed her hood,
From her head.


And let the rain,
Run down her face,
"Those are the angels,
washing your tears away."




© 2011 The Still Air

moonlight

The best i can be
only comes with moonlight
so it seems,
that sleeping isn't right.

It's the one time i'm useful,
so to let it go to waste,
is like pretending i don't exist,
like pretending my home's not a place.


© 2011 The Still Air

not what i hear

why should someone like me,
deserve something so great.
why should someone like me,
have to sit and wait.

last night, there were signs,
loud and brilliant and bright,
and they were hidden in the sky,
and i slept right through the night.

i'm here because you want me here
not because anyone else wants me here.
if i was meant to be alive, then truly i would be,
but that's not what i hear.


© 2011 The Still Air

If only I wouldn't miss you

If only i wouldn't miss you, 

It would be so easy to dream constantly for weeks.

It would be so easy to disregard what life is.

It would be so easy to just disappear

And then reappear in silence.

If only i wouldn't miss you,

It would be so simple to slip away,

It would be so simple to let myself fall,

It would be so simple to let go of the railing

And catch on at the last second.

I would miss you,

It's not easy to dream at all, because you're so real,

It's not easy to think for a minute that i'm minuscule,

And it's not easy to know that leaving would mean leaving you,

And that's something i'm not willing to do.

I still can't wait to reach my home in the sand,

But i'm happy enough living in my home with you.

© 2011 The Still Air

When lost at sea

location isn't key,
when you're lost at sea,
it's not the first thing to come to mind,
nor is the time.
You simply feel your way through
without fear of whats in front of you,
and in the moment of despair,
you'll remember you're still here.
No matter which way you steer,
you'll eventually come near,

the shore.


© 2011 The Still Air

we're all the same, we're all uniqiue

we're all composed
of 206 bones
layered with skin
layered with sin
we're constantly told, "we're all the same"
blood cells, muscles, tissues, brain.
we all contain similar physique,
so why are we told, "we're all unique?"
our insides, in a way
are all the same,
though some pieces are missing,
hearts are still beating
pumping blood at intense pressure like some sort of perk,
brains are functioning even if they don't work
and we live the same life,
find our meaning, and then die,
so if we're all so unique
why are our days on repeat?
the outside is where the differences are.
we're labeled like we're in boxes and jars,
and sub-categorized for our own terms
even if we don't affirm.
if we looked in our mirrors,
would we see any clearer?
or would the question ponder
would we even slightly wonder.
are we all the same,
or all unique in different ways.

or are we all the same because we're all unique?


© 2011 The Still Air

The Train

A thought train leaving a station
appears to be heading to the little town of reasoning
instead of the city of facts.
Neither is more pleasing.

The train scheduled to leave at a quarter after four
reminds me that there is no rush this quiet morning.
reminds me that there are no more facts.
reminds me that everyone's thoughts shut down in the evening,

while mine just started its engine.
I fed it. I gave it coal.
and this reasoning that i should hate,
lacks all control.

and having no control,
                  just happens to be something I love.


© 2011 The Still Air

a creature in territory

There are moments when I am just simply
                                  a               creature
wandering aimlessly among animal       territory
                       without proper understanding of the measure .

Countless operations
              seamless excavations
curious explorations
              no restorations.

the creature I am in that moment of time
                wandering among animal territory
makes me realize, perhaps just for myself,
         how much the animal I actually am, in theory .


© 2011 The Still Air

Wake up

Wake up, wake up,
Youre wasting somuchtime.
Theres a world to hide from
When youre less than fine.
Slow down, slow down
And make the clock count
Spend time on what you know
Because falling asleep is barely an amount.
Slow down. Youre getting older.
Wake up. Sleep is a crime.
Slow down. The hands of the clock wont do it for you.
Wake up.
Sleep is a waste of time.


© 2011 The Still Air

When was the last time?

When was the last time you stopped for a moment,
forgot      what time was,     forgot what  movement was capable of at best
   and just focused on  you,     blocked your    mind from    being potent,
listened to yourself   breathe,   listened  to  the   heart inside   your own chest?
       when was the last time you even noticed your own existence
   noticed that  you are   a human being  wandering aimlessly along    this planet   earth,
but   noticed that you     are not just a human being  wandering aimlessly looking for   assistance
but   realized that you   are    something    worth  talking   about.   you   are    something   with   worth?

     when was the last time you listened to your own breathing?


© 2011 The Still Air

one thousand pictures

the  words    begin  to      s li p

   right   offyour   lips,

         from       yourprettyface.

   the th r e e   word      confession

       f lls in every         question

    with   oneanswer in           their place.

   The    words     melt      into my   s k i n,

   and my       heart      op ens    up    when,

 the pictures   begin to           BLOOM

      because

                    A pictures worth a      t h o u s a n d    words,

  and I know my                 own standards;

                           onethousand picturesfollow                     ‘I love you’

© 2010 The Still Air

don't blink.

don't blink for a             second,

you'll  miss   everything;

your   m nd   w ll   not   f ll   in,

the    things   unseen.

don't    lose   track

when  lost  in   a    mo ment,

   but  fall   into   it

rather   than   falling in   resent  ____

© 2010 The Still Air

The dream

The dream is staring into stars,
wishing they'd  stare back at it

the             dream is
   waiting   in the airwaves

mingling amongst   the     otherdreams
waiting       for an   imaginer  to    open

their     mind    and    let things     exist
the        dream  can   onlyexist   in the beholder

if the beholder exists in the dream.
the beholder only exists in tragedies.

© 2010 The Still Air

responsibility

it was not forced upon me
it forced itself upon me
ruined me, shaped me
it is why i am me

it is shattered, and it is concrete
and it has shattered its concrete
till the initials and prints in the concrete
are shrapnel of concrete

i was not born for the events,
so why put me through the events?
i am a major part of the events
but what was the point of the events?

i do not think i am who i could be,
but i am glad i am who i should be
rather than who i would be
if i was not shaped into me

© 2010 The Still Air

I'm not

I'm not the type to set the world on fire.
I'm not the type to walk along thin wire.
I'm not the type to try my luck with fate.
I'm not the type to ask of anything great.
I'm not the type to think of any question.
I'm not the type to wander into a lesson.
I'm not the type to decipher the answer.
I'm not the type to infect like the cancer.
I'm not the type to burn the surrounding.
I'm not the type to bring about buildings.
I'm not the type to design and construct.
but i am the type to become an abstract.


© 2010 The Still Air