[Blast from the past! Written sometime in 2006, this might be one of the last/best poems of its kind. Before I took more writing classes that next year, this was written when writing for me was just a side hobby, falling under illustration and other miscellaneous things. I was the kind of writer who would only write when inspired, and I was very comfortable with that.

Then, one day, I was cleaning my room and I found a box full of potential that I had lying around, ideas that I was not articulate enough to formulate into words that built a piece of art. This is when I decided that writing, much like illustration, was a practice.  A painter cannot only paint when a muse or model arrives. You need to perfect the technique before you can perfectly recreate the idea, so you suck it up and get a bowl of fruit.

This poem, “If I Were You” is a perfect example of when I only wrote after discovering a gem of inspiration, then found I was lacking the means to fully complete the idea. One of the hardest things for me to describe, in a very vulnerable moment of mine, I ventured into this poem with a lot of gusto about my original idea but lacking an idea of exactly what I was doing. This is pretty visible in my semi-tacky rhyming scheme, which became my main focus as I lost concentration on what the heck I was trying to say. If I had practiced writing in rhyme and meter before hand, my point could have shined through.

Someday, I may rework this piece, because the person that inspired carries a good story, regardless of the fact that my feelings have since then changed. I’ll probably scrap the entire framework of it and just write about what really happened in an open form. One of my many weaknesses as a writer may be that I tend to over-structure abstract content, instead of just saying whats on my mind…

See all the wonderful things you learn when you save your shit? Enjoy this crap. -J]


If I were you.

I remember how he stood, i remember how she sat
Leaning to whisper in my ear, the little gossip brat
“Oh isn’t he annoying?” I ignored, I didn’t care
Too busy trying jokes to break him from that stare

I remember how he stood, one hand on that can
As if it were a beer, and he an old man
But he was a boy, not a day over thirteen
But he’s seen more then anybody his age should see

His eyes drew a circle on the floor, a portal into space
There they built a window, searching for his mothers face
If he still remembers, I mean its been six years
My bet is, by now, her laugh has disappeared

But he still searches the floor, and he’d travel space
To find a single memory, time hasn’t erased
Its a scary thought, but one has got to wonder
What would I do, If I were you?

Sit straight up in a strange bed, panic at the phone
Everyone’s bad with words. Dead, on vacation, and I’m alone
Can everyone just stop a minute! This is happening to fast!
How can I plan a funeral? I just woke up from the crash!

Its a scary thought, but one has got to wonder
What would I do, if I were you?

She froze at the doorway, she’s never seen me so upset
I’ve never had a reason to be, but sometimes I forget
That there was a life before this, more importantly
There’s still life after, or that’s what she told me

She also said she’s here for me, which made me both glad and sad
Grateful, because I have her, Upset, she’s all I have…
I guess in a way its a half full half empty sort of thing
But my glass is bone dry, or I have an hour glass I think

Because as time goes on, all begins to heal
Fast Forward six months later hope has been revealed
In the form of frequent visits, bored games with the nurse
I learned to laugh again, as bad as it is, It could be worse…

Its a scary thought but just imagine, just think
What would you do if you were me?
I learned to appreciate, and I got a second chance it seems
Her sharp poke on my shoulder pulled me from my dreams
She asked if I was listening, I absently nodded my head
As I searched his expression, could his mind be read?

I remember he sat slouched, elbows on his knees
That story, that boy not a day over thirteen?
They matched I thought, the two must fit
Probably as much as anyone could fix it
And they cant.

I learned, only time can heal
Just like he learned to laugh, like he learned to deal
No matter what you believe, I know he’ll see his mom again
In the after life, in pictures, or the faces of his kids

So take your time in your hands and spend it wisely.
Enjoy as much as you can, but more importantly
Don’t even waste your time, with scary thoughts and wonder
Well that’s what I’d do, if I were you…