My life in vintage colors Memories of simpler times Silver robots; red wagons Silly neighbors; street parades A life of unhinged laughter Amens before the altar Real Santa’s; make-believe friends Rabbit-like cars; in-car phones Within the Heights of Richmond On a Terrace named Highland Dreams wake; reality sleeps The imagined; magic reigns.
Havin’ my second party
You came
Cryin’ when she had to leave
Mom shame
Sittin’ with my grandparents
No blame
Openin’ my next present
New game
Quittin’ on the party NO
Dad claimed
Headin’ back here as soon as
Paul named
Eight Fourteen: The Theiss B-Day
Bro frame
Happy birthday, bro.
Stop crashing my party.
-j
I wish I were a skylight; a lamp atop the tallest building in my city; I want to look out from my lookout; I want to be urban; not sub but above urban; apart from you yet a part of your experience; not a subject, but a mere object; individually insignificant, collectively brilliant; just like you, but not like you; I want you to notice me, but not see me; to light your way, while staying out of it; eradicate shadows, yet staying in mine; my facade, faceless; your afterthought, thinking about you; extroverted travel to you 299,792,458 meters per second, from the introverted refuge of my bulb.
Volkswagen Rabbit
Copper
Mom’s at school you made
Supper
Broke your arm playin’
Soccer
Still home to kiss “night”
Stopper
You raised us up right
Proper
Pops Nasty, can you
Holler
Love you dad,
-j
What’s your impression of depression;
A compression; or a repression;
An ingression; or a repossession;
An obsession; or an expression
Of feelings of happiness, questioned?
Thanks for reading.
-j
Staring down into a glowing abyss
Ever uncertain of what I might miss
My eyes are averted, my head affixed
To the ceaseless racket, drivel so crisp
To my eyes betrayed, the antithesis
Of a life spent free of its endless mist.
I liked blocks as a kid
So, why’s writer’s block bad?
sigh…well,
I have got it right now
But I’m writing, somehow.
shrug…so,
Like back when I was young,
Playin’ with blocks is fun.
Thanks for reading.
-j
The irony of social medium,
That thing which makes it such a tedium,
Is that the effort required to post
Subtracts from the moment which matters most:
The present, that which is ever fleeting;
Time we should wish never to be leaving.
Stay a moment longer in it will you?
Post later, when the moment bids adieu.
Elderly man strolling alongside the street
Wearing your sweater in this oppressive heat
Where are you from; what do you think; while walking
Back and forth, to and fro, forever stalking
Where do you go when you’re not walking here
Do you live far from where I see you, or near
Peering down at the sidewalk, you plod along
No headphones, no music, to distract with song
Your purpose so mysteriously thoughtful
When our paths cross, I’m struck my you: beautiful.
I saw you,
But didn’t see you.
I knew you,
But didn’t know you.
I felt you,
But didn’t feel you.
I held you,
But didn’t hold you.
I heard you,
But didn’t hear you.
I told you,
But didn’t tell you.
I sought you,
But didn’t seek you.
I liked you,
But didn’t love you.
theisswriter: typing things. for me. for you. 