Craven Something

Driving

2012-01-03T12:09:00.000-08:00

Living life through the rear view mirror
is dangerous and can end with a crash,
but at the end of the day,
I drive back to that rear view to home.

And I've never been unhappy with home.

My day

2011-10-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

popped a Valium,
grabbed a bottle of wine
and camped out on the couch to watch some television
because you can't
violate a probation violation
more so than getting sentenced to jail time in less than a month.

we all hear about the "now"
and how the past is irrelevant to the present,
but the past is all we have.

the clock never stops,
so I live in regret.

regret that red light that cost me a DWI,
regret not leaving my wallet in the car that cost my a felony,
regret not appreaciating the ones who had loved me in the past,
regret ending up in a mental hospital
and I will regret doing 20 days in the local jail.

but most of all;
I regret this instant
because it proves
I'll never get it back.

Awaiting the fall

2011-09-27T21:57:00.001-07:00

Admittedly,
my life has come easy
outside of the obstacles set out by my own doing.

Came from a broken home,
but the grandparents and uncles
and a step dad that most believe is my own
made up for that in spades.

My college was paid for,
my cars have been paid for,
my bail has been paid for,
as have
lawyers
oil changes
date nights
and haircuts.

I have yet to want for anything.

I graduated with a degree in psychology,
yet,
I have risen to heights in the sports writing field
without ever taking a class in journalism.

At 26,
I have been given awards,
raises
and my own radio show
despite many shortcomings and legal troubles.

Girls seem to enjoy my company.

Never been alone, minus this calendar year by choice,
and they seem to want me for the long term
despite my temper,
selfishness,
and feeling that the grass is greener on the other side
of every piece of pussy.

But I am afraid for the first time in my life
because success is a horrible mentor.
It seduces into the feeling of impossible failure.

I've never had to climb a hill.

After October 6.

That will all change.

Fear

2011-09-21T15:42:00.000-07:00

scared.

not of jail
because six months is nothing.
I'll put a grand on my books,
get through the first week
and then kill time gambling
on card games and bones
while catching up on some much needed rest.

scared.

not of my family
because short of murdering puppies
the group I care about
will support through anything I put my body through
because they love me
and just want me to get better and be happy in life.

scared.

not of losing you
because as anything more than a friend
I did that myself two years ago
when I decided drugs
and not waking up to an alarm clock
was more important than
giving you everything you deserved
for me to give.

scared.

of myself and the future
because in 15 days a judge can take away my freedom,
my career
and everything I have to lose.

If that happens,
I am very scared of how I'll behave
when they finally let me out of the South Side cell
and put me back into a world
with drugs and no reason to avoid them.

It is hard enough for me to do right
when I have every reason to do so,
imagine when I am broke and out of work.

be scared too.

Growing up

2011-09-19T18:35:00.000-07:00

As I've aged,
the big stimulants matter less
and the small excitements in life
awake me in the morning.

Ten years ago,
it was about Christmas morning,
a birthday gift,
three-some,
a ball of raw,
kegger parties,
a grand in Vegas,
a wedding day,
grand slam,
perfect game.

Today,
I'll settle for a sunset and a glass of wine,
hitting more green lights than red,
a solidly timed double-entandre,
a smirk on the face of the one I love,
a good first sentence,
book,
REM sleep,
a sacrifice bunt,
or an 0-2 fastball.

I'm only 26,
so maybe in 10 more years,
you'll matter even less.

As of right now,
I can't get your eyes
off my
mind.

Art

2011-09-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

Anyone who views the world differently
should write.

Writing is not a choice.

A real writer has to shit out of his brain
or the constipation will drive to insanity.

Words are the fiber.
The pen and pad are the toilet bowl.

And yes,
some times it stinks,
but it feels good
to be able to
flush.

You

2011-08-25T18:33:00.000-07:00

But I don't really care how you're doing
or who you're doing
or what is going on.

I want to dig a spoon into your brain
and eat the matter that actually matters.

I want to KNOW
how you're doing,
who you're doing
and what is going on.

that is my crux.

Words are words.
I understand more than most.

But to chew your thoughts
and swallow your dreams
would allow me to sleep
without worry
for the first time
since the first week of January.

Title

2011-08-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

want to leave,
pack up my desk,
shut down my computer,
put away all the notes,
pens,
pads,
schedules,
rosters,
staff meetings
and just run away.

anywhere,
nowhere,
somewhere.

just not here.

same coaches
same players
same stories
different titles
different quotes
different corrections

just not here.

the view now boring,
the words now stale.

just not here.

suggestions?

Hidden Results

2011-08-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

The devil hides in the details.

Most logic looks good on paper;
love should be easy,
a playoff should happen in college football,
athletes should be paid market value when adults,
presidents should work for the people,
war should be last resort,
taxes should be fair,
medical care should be birth right.

Yet,
most of these things do not work or stand true
in practice.

People get in the way.

Lost on my iphone

2011-08-18T12:49:00.001-07:00

Can't struggle a woman into love,
so if you love someone,
let her go,
and if she sticks around,
she is yours.

if she flies away,
fuck her.

We only squeeze things we love
if figure of speech.

We don't tightly hold onto puppies
or babies
or an ice cream sandwich
or a cock.

So, no, I
don't mind if you go out with
the girls,
hunny.

I was planning on hitting up
the strip clubs
with my friends that you hate,
anyway.

Today

2011-08-16T11:43:00.000-07:00

no time to write for pleasure,
my job soaks up all my words
these days.

youngest sports editor in the state at 24 years old,
top-four sports section back-to-back years,
top headliner in the state at 26 years old,
new radio show.

not bragging.

ask my lawyer,
I know the drill.

still facing charges,
still posting bail,
still have the lawyer on retainer,
still have mug shots and finger prints to process.

the drugs still call my name,
but I switched up the game,
and only answer to CMC these days.

happy,
I guess,
so the poems are on mute
and the smiles fill the air around me.

disappointed?

me too.

Going Up?

2011-08-11T15:45:00.000-07:00

sadly,
there isi clarity and peace
to be found at rock-bottom.

knowing all that awaits
is upward movement
is liberating in itself,
but it is the vanishing of all expectations
from the outside world,
and yourself,
that allows the heart beat
to stay at a steady rate.

I can't let down anyone anymore than I already have.
I can't put myself in a worse position.
I can't lose you twice.

it is what it is.

whatever that means.

Recovery

2011-08-09T17:51:00.000-07:00

ten years of drug abuse
has left my mind numb
without the injection
of some stimuli
born out of substance.

eyes stare at a blank page,
unwilling
or
unwanting
to speak back for the first
extended period since the urge
to murder trees for a living took hold.

not much wrong with drugs
outside the legal battles,
burn of the bank account
and the disappointment it causes in others.

it was an even trade.

the drugs allowed me to write,
and I allowed the drugs to dominate my every thought,
emotion,
action.

I was a writer.
I was an addict.
I was a something.

now what?

Color Wheel

2011-08-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

Don't drink purple,
the yellow is much better,
especially if you soak a black and mild with it
and pack it with green
after a long night of white
that may leave tomorrow's tissue red.

I have Crohn's so I see plenty of brown,
but the pill bottle is full of blues
so no grey clouds today.

Bars

2011-08-04T17:41:00.000-07:00

let the doves cry tears
because if the eyes start leaking
behind this steel gate,
the animals will eat you up
without cuddling afterwards.

this is not a life for anyone but
all walks stroll through the holding tank -
a businessman caught driving while blind,
a thug with a parole violation,
a new father with a suspended license,
a large man on a domestic abuse charge,
drug addicts,
gun holders,
thief's,
trespassers,
curfew violators.

all in the same box -
metal on the walls,
concrete on the floor.

not a scary place for a frequent flier,
but is is boring as hell.

I miss the grass,
the clouds,
and type of edible food,
a pretty girl in a dress.

all extinct in the county jail,
just us zoo animals who did wrong
and the keepers of the lost souls.

please,
just let me
out.

the rats chase the cheese

2011-08-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

get arrested,
pay the bondsman,
then pay the lawyer to prevent a bigger bond,
lawyer makes a deal with his friend on the prosecution table,
they go get a scotch,
go to probation,
then pay the county that originally made the arrest.

the wheel keeps spinning.

feel safer?

Just Words

2011-07-28T14:03:00.000-07:00

promise I'm happy,
just out of practice,
so the smile fades
and the smirk is all that is left to let others know.

this notebook is my therapist,
so of course it is dark.

don't need a psychiatrist for the good times.

so no worries,
have a great job,
great friends
and an even better family.

take off the kitten gloves,
just a man
overcoming habits.

all I ask -
just don't give me a hug.

Yep

2011-07-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

painting pictures with these words
even Ray Charles could see
not into the small talk baby
so if it ain't about my dick
no need to holler at me.

ever been so low you can smell the dirt?
I have,
and if you take a good look at my pupils
you can see how much it hurt.
a couple of mistakes have left me lonely as fuck,
don't need to hear the name
just back up that butt.

a smile on my face,
not blinking out my pain,
taste my colon for a second
and cut the red tape.
I'm allergic to the drama
got enough on my plate,
but there is room for seconds on my tongue
so can't tell that I ate.

only 26,but I control a state felony,
so the district court is where you'll find me,
check the elevator to see what I see,
fuck the judge and the DA
I'm just searching for a plea.

back on the street,
the law sacrificed my feet,
so I'm walking towards the peak
while they're aiming for defeat.

my first 10,000 poems came with residue
in my veins,
been clean for a minute
so blame the rest on my brain.

haven't met my match yet,
so when I do I'll quit
lying to these hoes
like they're the only bitch.

no flinch in my jaw,
just watch out for the right hand,
you were protecting the liver
but I'm ahead of the plan,
more money in my hand,
so be careful,
the world was promised to me
but I don't care to
be a walking dog on a stick -
I'm too bashful.

keep the urine cups coming
you can't catch me for something I no longer do,
your job is to watch my dick,
my job is now to avoid you.

Paul

2011-07-26T10:40:00.001-07:00

the fact that I am here
and you are in the sky
proves the good die young
and the lost are here to search
for the new land.

days do not age people,
it is the experiences fielded
that push the thermometer
up to the red.

a couple of problems on my plate
and I want to say fuck the world
but I hate wearing condoms.

up and down with the words,
moving east and west,
so to read my words outside of English
I'll catch a flight to Germany
to see the translation.

The evil one

2011-07-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

I was well,
off the hard and on the doctor's orders
until one night when my anxiety overwhelmed
and no one picked up the phone.

I ended up at the hospital
and then at the mental hospital for a few days
until a new doctor put me on new meds,
but this time for depression instead of anxiety.

It all crashed down after that.

My mind went numb,
I had no feeling,
no happiness,
no light,
no real life to live.

So, I looked up the white girl
I used to party with in college.

It helped,
too much,
and a few months later here I sit,
awaiting my fate.

It was not my intention to be a criminal,
to hurt anyone,
to cost my mother peace of mind and 10 grand in bail money.

I just wanted to feel better,
to smile,
to have the energy and need to see my friends.

As soon as I stopped taking Lexapro
the need for the girl was gone,
but I figured it out too late I think.

And as the greatest American poet once wrote,
"There is nothing worse than too late."

new outlook

2011-07-22T15:36:00.000-07:00

made plenty of mistakes in my life,
avoided death a few times,
the jail cell for 10 years,
lost loved ones,
friends
and respect for myself.

but, I was turning it around
when the cards came crashing down around me.

Guilty?
maybe, but this system tries to trap you underground to keep you under lock and key,
hope low,
and your bank account even lower.

this country, and court system,
run on the criminals money,
either from probation and court costs
or from the tax money to house us in the county jail.

they want me to fail,
but I finally figured out the best way to fuck them back
is to avoid the law all together.

seems like a very easy concept, but I think backwards.

I'm done.

no more jail,
no more sniffles,
no more clogged lungs,
no more calls to a crying mother for bail money.

I was given too much
to let these grownup hall monitors
make my life miserable because all they could do with their life is check another person's urine
for drugs.

I am clean,
and I will stay that way,
so if you have a negative vibe,
or can't deal with that,
forget my number exists
and keep on walking the other direction.

What's on my mind

2011-07-21T16:45:00.000-07:00

they say I'm crazy,
but I'm sorry baby girl
I'm just living how they make me.

caught with less than a G
so the DA is pressing a case
for a state felony
but the bag was empty
and according to my lawyer
it is all gravy.

in the county and I'm mad as fuck,
the south side of the jail sucks but
these guys keep looking at me sideways
and a punk will have to duck.

not breaking down because I'm too proud,
but it is hard to get my bond
when I'm the phone
and these guys are talking so loud.

open the doors and I won't come back,
but the last six times that has been my pact.

on the street, soaking up the sun,
but living in the fear
that one more charge and your boy is done.

so underground is where you'll find me,
calm your never momma I'm not digging my grave with D.
the battle is now to stay clean
and stay free,
same group of love around me
but I've failed before,
so I'll guess we'll see
just pray for me.

Biography

2011-07-18T11:40:00.000-07:00

Me?

born in an Austin hopital,
raised by a colony,
so if you haven't been to my grandparents
for a family poker game,
or at least met my mother,
you probably don't mean shit to me.

childhood in Dripping Springs,
elementary in Houston,
teenager in Cedar Park,
college in San Antonio,
so I can get you directions.

only 26, but unless it requires a needle,
there is nothig you can tell me about drugs.

been in a mental hospital scratching invisible spiders out of my skin,
so a few call me nuts,
but in a debate,
I'll eat you alive if you underestimate my sanity.

I wear Chuck's everyday,
hate to shave so I trim down to scruff every few days,
cuss a lot,
hold nothing sacred,
can recite rap lyrics but love Bach,
do not wake up before 9 a.m.
and would rather be by myself most of the time.

been in county a few times,
but do not think I am hard
because I carry a probation card.

do not enjoy authority,
do not trust government or any person with a mouth and microphone,
do not like church,
cops,
bad drivers,
loud children
or reality television.

I do enjoy a good sacrifice bunt,
bounce pass
or crack-back block.

my stomach usually hurts.

That is about all I'd like you to know.

So, there is no reason to ever ask.

Mine

2011-07-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

forever and a day my rubik's cube,
but I've yet to find the solution on google.

I have been trying for eight years.

seen me through heartbreak,
seen me through disease,
seen me through abuse,
seen me through addiction,
depression,
isolation,
overdoses,
deceit.

but,
there were good times as well,
smiles,
all-nighters,
Kansas,
the Gabriel,
Red Scoot Inn,
the zoo,
scrabble (I'll never play again).

the fact is most of it was great,
but one action undoes mountains.

one drink
ends a battle with sobriety.

one line
ends a battle with addiction.

one murder
ends the battle with humanity.

one more girl
end the battle with happiness.

I still see your face in the moon,
smell your hair in the wind,
hear your laugh in a song,
feel your warmth in my blanket
and taste your love in a good dream.

I am still here,
and believe it or not,
you are too.

even,
if you rest on the other side
of the
world.

Truth

2011-07-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

Introduce yourself to a writer
away from the pen and paper
and you'll find yourself
in the throng of the madness
that created the habit of murdering trees.

the art judges the art.

a critic of the word
is a pompous, self-righteous
reader with a degree in english.

using words to judge other words
from a lecture desk in suburbia;
probably clean and sober with a tie around the neck.

writing is the art of undressing your mind
for anyone who is willing to read for a few minutes,
and the picture lasts generations.

the stiffs can never suffer long and hard enough to become truly creative.

biggest fears,
wants,
desires,
failures,
all on display for anyone with internet or a library card.

I've lost sleep,
friendship,
trust,
love,
sex,
all for what I've jotted onto the pad.

how many would stick around you
if every thought was open for public consideration?

yet, it is my best friend,
my only friend.

the release felt at the end of a perfect sentence
rivals any at the end of great sex.

the rush of transferring a feeling into a poem
rivals any drug (I've done them all).

this is me.
this is you.

these are words.

and we've never invented anything
more powerful,
more dangerous
and more useful.