(spo-wo) Confidence (V.1.00)

This one sounds better than it reads.

Confidence

How many of you remember being fourteen?

I know for some of you that can be a long time ago and some of you aren't that old yet, 

but I also know you have the imagination to bear with me and picture yourself.

We all know that insecurity, from the high-school hallways to the cafeteria lines to the

ways important people in our lives can beggar like the homeless asking us for change.

Yeah, we all picture it.

I was fourteen when I first had a grown man turn to me and say "kid, you didn't make it" and I couldn't shake it 

and haven't been able to since.

So not every teenager makes his rep hockey team but for me it was the start of something called confidence.

Or lack thereof.

Because I've invested roots in realism, and the evidence I see compiles and pushes me back into bed yeah waking up is hard, when there's a weight on your head. Simple things aren't so simple when we second guess and my gut reaction is to question "hey, what if this is like that other time?"

"What if this is like the dictionary that turned into a love letter that was cut short in its presentation by a breakup"

"What if this is like the sweat that clung to your face after that hard-won 2-1 hockey game, when you pulled off the pads and was met with "Sorry kid, you still aren't good enough.

What if this is like the dust that gets brushed aside, too small to pinpoint 

but it's the details that deflate us when we come up just inches short.

What if this is every time I try to grab life by the throat and I invariably choke and where did my confidence go? Where's my swagger?

Yeah, we all picture it.

So why is it so haunting, I'm shooting daggers of jealousy at those who take their odds and chances to heart and how am I supposed to have confidence when in this desert of competitive capitalism we often forget that there's two sides to the coins we hoard.

Every night's a crusade to find someone to listen and a story worth telling why do I shake when I perform poetry?

There are words and letters from afar saying stay where you are because you won't make it here are along the walls fall asleep to that same low, droning hum.

wake up a few hours late because it's hard, when you wish you had a time machine, had a mulligan on the things that decided what the highs and lows were of your confidence.

Maybe the turning point, is realizing that there's only one person worth lying to, and that's the reflection of your own truths, that messy-haired boy or girl staring back at you in the mirror. Refuse to look at that measuring tape as it goes across your waistline, lose count of how many push-ups you can do in a day, for a few minutes if you can just forget about where you're going and if you'll ever make it there, and just say "I will."

The mindset of the greats is That maybe if for awhile, you can outrun your track record then you never look back and maybe that's why the first fish  came on to land,

because he was tired of telling himself he belonged in the water,

So I'm gonna take a lesson from evolution, and dedicate this to the never-made-its and the people out there who are listening and thinking that their old evaluation of themselves made sense to them because if it did, you need to re-examine. Lie to yourself.

Remember that the only truths are the ones that get you through and to never let the day to day dismal bother you from the facts. Fact is a lie is an apple, only one a day keeps the pessimist away. We all need a checkup once in awhile but the side effects can be addictive so don't let yourself get hooked on a high dosage of low esteem. You are smart enough. You are beautiful enough, you are strong enough and you are enough. Find some confidence in that.

Hook chock full of shock in the brook

Hook chock full of shock in the brook

Hook's book of crooks and nooks

help him look for the croc on the rock who makes hook be shook by

the talk of the croc and the tick tock, tick tock, of the clock in the croc that took from Hook with a crunch and a munch

he gave hook his Hook and a crook to his kooky

cranium crafted in Hook's book of crooks and nooks                       

that sits upon the deck of the shipwreck
caused by crooked contraptions crashing into rocks

on which the croc stalks Hook with a look that shocks the crook
as he smacks the brook

that contains the croc with the clock that goes tick, tock, tick, tock,
tick, tock.

(Spo-Wo) Statues of Snowflakes (V.1.00)

It's hard to get these onto a page, sometimes. Hopefully I'll record some soon.


Statues of Snowflakes

The campus catchphrases are painted into the ground.

It's a clever trick used by the University, you see

the majority of the student population walks with their head down.

I remember the first time I was surveyed by the cement

a simple square of green and blue asking me "where are you going from here?"

Now, the first idea to tickle my mind was natural and literal.

From here, I would go into a building and sit at a table and learn

about John Ruskin's ideas about the rustic, what cannot possibly be artistic

attempts at stimulating the human brain.

But after that class I searched every wall, floor and ceiling.

No one seemed to care where I had come from.

Kitimat, British Columbia. The end of the road, quite literally.

If Vancouver is the moist, inner thigh of British Columbia then I'd say

Kitimat is that toe that got frostbite when you went on that camping trip

It's a blip but don't forget to count it.

My hometown sports a statue at its entrance that says "Welcome to Kitimat".

A statue of a snowflake.

That's right. Welcome to Kitimat.There is nothing unique about this place.

We've even got the snowflakes figured out.

But I'm less interested in where I'm going and more in where I came from

because one traveller's deadsville is another poet's pallet town.

I set out determined to catch all the eyes I could find

make a dictionary out of reactions and prove that this classroom structure means nothing.

Under the shade of Kitimat's stifling branches I went insane, feeding my video game

membranes until I could add up all the binary that these teachers spewed and spit back

Twos against their ones and zeroes until I was a small-time hero.

Where I came from taught me that the sometimes,

the most important thing you can learn from a guy like Ruskin

is that the attractive, intelligent young lady a few rows back is a good kisser,

and doesn't that stimulate the human brain?

So whether you come from the moist inner thigh of BC or its frozen toes, remember that we're all one giant leg up

on those who'd stick their noses into the business known as the forseeable future.

and this limb has a terrible case of gangreen and we can spread until we infest every student body imaginable,

t.ear down these statues of snowflakes and let each voice count itself among a chorus

Where am I going from here? I don't know, but I sure won't forget how I got there.