"Enough"

Not swimming
Not sinking
It's enough to stay afloat--to
     stay topside the salty ocean
     of our briny, swelling times.

And it's enough to draw this one
And just wait to draw the next
When we're speaking of the drawing
     of just one more ghostly breath.

Not fighting back,
Not losing.
It's enough to just stand up--to
     stay upright and stagger back
     into the aching, blinding fray.

Enough, for now, to weather blows
And wait 'til you can throw your own
When we're speaking of just staying
     in the fight 'til it should end.

No thriving, no, nor dying.
Only striving to exist
There's no shame in just surviving
When that's all the room there is.

Watered Down Ideals

What's missing, this week
     from your calendar of compromise?

It is lukewarm discussion
or was it watered down ideals?

Under fractured concentration
and sunburnt by attention,
Do you finally abandon the excuse of
                                 "best intentions?"

From a point
On a line
     (of sheepish half-admission)
Almost imagine you can see the whole figure
          Good show, Pythagorus--
Cut your losses.
Take your B-minus and run
    back into the familiar arms
    of your C-average effort.

As your excuses echo loud off every wall,
does it frighten you?--like a room
          empty of targets does the gunman?

Introspection on the rocks--
         an acquired taste, sure.
But, diluted too much, one surely
     Has to wonder, "why bother?".

Weakened past intention--
Or even recognition--
As you are.

Scattered Musing

It was Spring and
I broke out...

     You stayed (but kinda left)
and somewhere in between we found
ourselves.

And amidst emerging problems
     we'd just drink 'til 2 or 3
And in the middle we might meet

          with some kind of understanding
or perhaps an emptied cup

     And if I'm dead
     by tomorrow
     I just hope I meant
          something

          To some kid
          where I was
     back when I was still his age

*******

And if my father isn't like me, I still think he might be proud
     of bloody knuckles
     and fierce smiles on the face of his lone son.