My life is a meadow
Is a meadow a meadow
My life is a meadow
God strolls through
I tickle the sky
And cradle the sun
I long for time
To heal small wounds
My light is a shadow
Is a shadow a shadow
My light is a shadow
God shines through
I hug the horizon
And swaddle the moon
I long for time
To heal small wounds
Paint a piano
Play it by ear
The sad shall
Inherit the mirth
Draw a breath
Trace an echo
The sad shall
Inherit the mirth
Little by little
Brick by brick
The sad shall
Inherit the mirth
Time after time
Mind over matter
The sad shall
Inherit the mirth
I heard about a man
So terrified of bridges
He refused to leave his house.
He had developed a fear of bridges
Many years before he decided
Never again to leave his house,
Which wasn’t a bridge, contained no bridges,
And stood on solid ground
Far away from any bridge whatsoever.
When it came to facing his fear of bridges,
He wouldn’t cross that bridge
When he came to it, because he’d never
Set foot anywhere near another bridge
For the rest of his life, so long
As he limited his existence
To the confines of his house,
Which wasn’t a bridge, contained no bridges,
And stood on solid ground
Far away from any bridge whatsoever.
This man afraid of bridges
Went from fearing bridges
To fearing his fear of bridges.
This man: call me
Ricky T. Bridge.
I once knew a person
Named Ophelia
She worked for United Airlines
She was a stewardess
Or a flight attendant
She was many different
People at the same time
Ophelia refused
To become the pilot
She was born to be
She was too tired
To follow her dreams
All she wanted was
To sleep in the womb
Of the deepest sleep
She’s an angel now
I have her wings
Welcome to the Motel California.
The Eagles have landed.
Joan Jett is leaving John Denver
On a Jefferson Airplane.
Rainy days and Mondays
Always get Karen Carpenter down.
Why do the Byrds suddenly appear
Every time Don Henley is near?
Welcome to the Motel California.
The Eagles have landed.
If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear flowers in despair.
Snapping turtles
All the way
Down
Time to drain the mainframe
Time to shave the whales
Time to make the donut holes
Infinite repression
Edge of chaos
Circular guilt
Endless breadsticks
Free Wi-Fi
Surf and turf toe
It’s the summer of sixty-nine
It’s four-twenty somewhere
The rent is too damn high
I’m a bipolar bear
Eating fish
Out of water
My name is
Wet Willy or is it
Lazy Susan?
While I blow wads of cash
On free Wi-Fi at Motel 6
Wet Willy dry humps Lazy Susan
In front of a dumbwaiter.
While I blow wads of cash
On endless breadsticks at Olive Garden
Wet Willy dry humps Lazy Susan
In front of a dumb waiter.
My name is Sir Real
Or is it Miss Fortune?
Welcome to Motel 6
Or is this Olive Garden?
Whirlpools in a rushing river
No man’s land
This lamb is your lamb
Charlie McCarthy rides
Mister Ed Sullivan
Harder than Woody Woodpecker
Carnegie Hall wasn’t built
In a day it took practice
Practice practice
Let’s all go to Hobby Lobby
And grab ourselves
Some Chick-fil-A
Cigars! Cigarettes!
Cigars! Cigarettes!
This is not a pipe dream
A rooster
Eating crow
Pets a cockatoo
Mister Ed Sullivan
Leaves a jolly rancher
For a factory farmer
Tomorrow looks
Cloudy with a chance
Of mothballs
I’m itching
Like a beagle
In a fuzzy peach tree
Mister Ed Sullivan
Has left
The building
Too many cooks
In the kitchen sink
Too many forks
Too many knives
Too many forks
Spooning knives
Too many spoons
Forking knives
Too many bowls
Of rice cakes
Too many cups
Of sugar cubes
Too many soy
Milk Duds
Too many frosted
Wheat Thins
Too many green onions
Or are they chives?
Too many
Legs of lamb
Not enough hands
To pass the thyme
Vegan cheese?
No fucking whey!
Green onions
Give me hives
Sir Real says
There’s no place
Like home
Confinement
Miss Fortune says
I make a better trapdoor
Than a windowsill
I’m depressed
I’m an atheist
I think I’m God
I don’t believe in myself
Sir Real hits me
Where the landlord
Split me
Miss Fortune rubs me
The wrong way
I spill my guts
I spill my seed
I cry over sour
Grapes of wrath
When Sir Real slams
A trapdoor
Miss Fortune shatters
A windowsill
All I want is relief
From the burden
Of being me
All I want is relief
From the burden
Of seeking relief
From the burden
Of being me
All I want is relief
From the burden
Of being free
To choose my own
Confinements
Wounded healers
Accept we can’t
Ease suffering
Without easing
The suffering
Within ourselves
I’m a wounded healer
Practicing the art
Of suffering well
I see people in pain
But I can’t help them
Ease their suffering
I’m afraid I’m not
Strong enough
To help people heal
I’m afraid I might
Further wound
Those looking to heal
Wounded healers
Accept we can’t
Ease suffering
Without easing
The suffering
Within ourselves
Wounded healers
Taught me first
To heal myself
I’m a human being
Practicing the art
Of healing myself
I refuse to become
The person
I was born to be.
I’m too tired
To follow
My dreams.
All I want is sleep.
The deepest sleep.
All I want is to sleep
In the womb
Of the deepest sleep.
All I want is sleep.
The deepest sleep.
All I want is to sleep
In the womb
Of the deepest sleep.
Every midnight
At the crack of dawn
My rooster yelps
There’s a monkey
On my back and a donkey
On his ass
I suspend
My belief
In gravity
Still I rise
Bound to fall
I ride my high horse
To the kitchen
For a bag of crumbs
And a sip of thirst
He draws me a bubble bath
Tells me I’m no angel
I’m a bird of prey
In a house that rattles
All I want is relief
From the burden
Of being me
All I want is a ceiling
On the floor
To rest my wings
A poet swallows
Butterflies
Tied up in knots.
Not real butterflies.
Unreal butterflies.
Not a real poet.
The image of a poet
Tied up in knots.
I told a poet tied up in knots
To listen for a caterpillar
Swallowing butterflies.
Not a real caterpillar.
The word caterpillar.
Not a real poet.
The image of a poet
Tied up in knots.
Same shit
Opposite day
I mistake a deep breath
For a panic attack.
Same shit
Opposite day
A repetitive poem
Repeats itself.
Same shit
Opposite day
A repetitive poem
Repeats itself.
Same shit
Opposite day
A history of trauma
Repeats itself.
Same shit
Opposite day
I take my life
One panic attack at a time.
Stand in the place
Where you work
That’s me
In the corner office
Losing my reflection
It’s the end of this ode
As we know it
And I feel fine
Kurt Cobain said
Everybody shits
Michael Stipe said
Everybody squirts
It’s the end of this ode
As we know it
And I feel fine
It’s the end of this ode
As I wrote it
And I feel divine
Thinner than a sliver of hope
I asked a sensitive soul
Walking on sunshine:
Which came first
The chicken
Or the egg on my face?
Which came first
Chicken wings
Or eggshells?
Which came first
Chicken fingers
Or chicken tenders?
Which came first
Hot wings and cold cuts
Or hot sauce and cold turkey?
Which came first
Walking on sunshine
Or walking on eggshells?
The weight of the world
Rests squarely on the shoulders
Of a sensitive soul
Still I rise
Thinner than
A sliver of hope
Every night in a house that rattles
I suspend my belief in gravity.
Every night in a house that rattles
I take two pills and call
A priest in mourning.
Every night in a house that rattles
I mistake a pinch of salt
For a grain of sand.
Every night in a house that rattles
I sell sex toys and Tupperware
To hot moms in yoga pants.
Every night in a house that rattles
Alex Trebek answers my prayers
In the form of a question
Fats Domino and Little Richard
Play chubby checkers
And I mistake a grain of sand
For an hourglass.
Every night in a house that rattles
Popeye eats Olive Oyl
And a pound of spinach
I clutch my pearls of wisdom
Take two spills and cut
A rug on the ceiling.
Empty mind
Of thoughts
Not mine
Empty reason
Empty rhyme
Every day
I take my life
One decade
At a time
Empty sky
Of sun
Not mine
Empty moon
Empty tide
Every day
I take my pills
One half-life
At a time
Empty ego
Empty pride
Empty mind
Of thoughts
Not mine
Every day
Uncertain
Still I rise
Full of life
Every day
Night falls
Still I rise
Today I told my worries
Nothing light is heavy
If we take our time
And bear our burdens lightly
And I introduced each worry
To another worry
And I loved each worry
In a kind way lightly
And I told each worry
Nothing light is heavy
If we take our time
And bear our burdens lightly
I’ve been writing the same thing over and over for the last 15 years, and I’m tired. Today I feel less motivated to write anything beyond grocery lists and notes to myself. This is fine.
Next month I’m going back to school to become a Certified Recovery Support Specialist. I’ll get to use my lived experience with mental illness to help other people in their journeys through hope and healing.
I won’t update this blog much going forward, but readers can still find my favorite poems from 2019-2022, along with links to buy my books on Amazon.
For now, I want to close with the testimonial I wrote for the mental health center that changed my life: “I feel less ashamed about what happened to me in the past, and I’m excited to embrace my future.”
Update: On September 13, 2022, I changed my mind and made the entire blog public again.
Lonely is the life
Of an anxious mind.
I take my clock out
To unwind
At the stroke
Of midnight.
It’s been forever
Since my first crush
And her girlfriends
New to S&M
Melted in my mouth
And in my hand
At the stroke
Of midnight.
One way
In a poem
He didn’t
Write
To think
About death:
Wherever he is
Or isn’t now
Robert Frost
Can’t say
I’m alive
Because
He’s dead.
Another way
In a poem
He didn’t
Write
To think
About death:
Wherever he is
Or isn’t now
Robert Frost
Can’t say
“I’m alive.”
Because
He’s dead.
From head to toe
I cover my shame
In baby oil
Close my eyes
And make a wish.
I haven’t been this hard
On myself
Since my first crush held me
In the palm
Of her hand
Closed her eyes
And made a fist.
Forgiveness,
In her infinite wisdom,
Sighs.
I tell myself:
“This is a moment of suffering.
Suffering is a part of life.”
God’s shadow responds:
“I, too, am suffering.
Suffering is a part of my life.”
We admit
We are powerless
Over time.
I cradle
God’s shadow
In mine.
Forgiveness,
In her infinite wisdom,
Sighs.
I once knew a person
Named Ophelia
She worked for United Airlines
She was a stewardess
Or a flight attendant
She was many different
People at the same time
Ophelia get me to a nunnery
I’m an unruly poet
Writing nonsense like:
“naked and afraid
up all night
weep all day
Big Brother said
Kilroy was here
watching Big Brother
man versus food
man versus nature
man versus man
god versus god
good versus evil
poet versus poet
verse chorus verse”
To be or not to be Ophelia
A stewardess or a flight attendant
There’s no question
Our trivial pursuit of happiness hurts
Thesis Antithesis Synthesis
Id Ego Superego
Client Therapist Transference
Cash Credit Debit
People Places Things
They’re Their There
Mind Body Soul
Underactive Thyroid
Overactive Superego
Netflix Hulu Prime
Facebook Twitter Pony Express
Myspace Napster AOL
Anti-Poems Made Of Non-Sense
Like This One Called
Trivial Pursuit Of Happiness
Thesis Antithesis Synthroid
My Reflection Is The Shadow
Of My Not-So-Super Superego
How’s It Hanging?
Little To Left?
Too Far Right?
Low Testosterone
High Blood Pressure
Intensive Care Unit
Rock Paper Scissors
Duck Duck Goose
Skin Tag You’re It
Naked And Afraid
Up All Night
Weep All Day
Big Brother Said
Kilroy Was Here
Watching Big Brother
Man Versus Food
Man Versus Nature
Man Versus Man
God Versus God
Good Versus Evil
Spy Versus Spy
Where Do You
See Your Selfie
In Five Years?
Great News
Your Windows 10
Machine Meets
The Requirements
For A Free Upgrade
To Windows 11
Nothing’s Gonna
Change My World
Across The Metaverse
When You Fall Asleep
You’re LYING Down
Not LAYING Down
Let’s Eat Our Feelings
Bacon Lettuce Tomato
Sloppy G.I. Joe
Uh-Oh SpaghettiOs
Leggo My Superego
Alfred E. Neuman
Ate Too Much
Chuck E. Cheese
What, Me Worry?
Billy Corgan spoke in class
Today he said is the greatest day
I’ve ever flown an airplane
High with Eddie Vedder
Over Wrigley Field
But don’t call me
Shirley Temple of the Dog
During the in-flight movie
Monsters vs. Aliens starring
Reese Witherspoon
Dr. Seuss put Paul Newman’s
Fig Newtons all in one
Basket of deplorables
Next to the incredible edible
Fabergé green eggs and silent
Ham radio of the lambs
So let’s go Jodie Foster lock him up
Tomorrow on The Morning Show
Starring Reese Witherspoon
The Incredible Hulk Hogan’s Heroes
Celebrated Halloween on Good Friday
The thirteenth day of Christmas
When the Grinch lost his marbles
Playing Hungry Hungry Psychos
With Hannibal Lecter
And the Hogan family minus
Valerie and Jamie Harper Lee Curtis
And the star of Legally Blonde 2
And Legally Blonde 3
Reese Witherspoon
Dr. Phil Donahue told Maury Povich
I’m not the father of pop psychology
I’m Ryan Phillippe and I know
What you did last summer in the Ozarks
You laundered the color of money
And killed a mockingbird
Named Marty Byrde
Thanks to your cruel intentions
Cat Stevens was up Schitt’s Creek
Without a paddle after crashing
Eugene Levy’s Chevy
But I said hold on to the night
Because sweet American
Apple pie dreams are made
Of jumbo Dodger Dogs like this
One with red hot chili peppers
Sergeant Pepper told Petula Clark
It’s getting better all the time
Since you’ve been mine
Things will be great
When you’re on Downton Abbey
Say goodbye Norma Jean
Here’s a candle to blow out
Under the bridge downtown
I gave my life away
Billy Joel Armstrong
Sang us a Green Day song
Elton John’s the piano man
I’m Maggie Smith
Little Orphan Annie Lennox
Read a book to Richard Marx
While Daddy Warbucks sang
“Imagine” in the dark
With a little help from my friends
At Central Perk the day
John Lennon died
It’s been sure nice talking
To you but it’s time to put
Little boy blue and the man
In the moon to bed you see
My new job’s a hassle
And the kids have swine flu
But it’s been sure nice
Talking to you Don McLean
Bye-bye Don McLean bye-bye
Charles B. Snoad 