Same Old Town

Same old town, same old feelings.

Memories kick me to the curb,

thoughts disturbed by bygone days

and ways to keep me at home.

Lockers slam, future plans jammed

into a space too tight for words.

All I heard back then were

insults, putdowns and round after round

of ridicule. Will it be any different,

now that so much time has passed?

Same old town, same old feelings.

I look around and see new buildings,

new businesses, new places to eat dinner.

I was much thinner back then,

thinner of maturity and skin.

I was devoid of internal defenses,

devoid of direction and purpose in life.

Why would I want to stay?

Why would I ever come back?

Same old town, same old feelings.

I take a deep breath and wait

for the right moment to emerge

from my cocoon, my comfort zone.

The rebel inside won’t let me hide

behind the avalanche of anxiety,

the flood of blood I tasted

from all of the time wasted

thinking about the past.

Same old town, same old feelings?

Let’s greet the night with forgiveness.

Brett Mattison

We Breathe the Same Air

We breathe the same air,

yet your vision of the world

is obscured by clouds of chaos

gathering over our country.

Angry voices steeped in conspiracy

resonate with revolution and rebellion,

an overwhelming urge to overthrow

a government standing on

the shaky foundation of democracy.

We breathe the same air,

but your opinions regarding

our brothers and sisters do not reflect

the teachings you espouse every day.

Everyone needs to feel safe,

everyone deserves to shelter from the storms.

Are we past the point of rescue?

Is the damage permanent and irreparable?

We breathe the same air

but we couldn’t be more divided.

Brett Mattison

Tinted Windows

The door opens slowly,

a long creak quietly escaping

into the darkness. One step inside

reveals a room with tinted windows,

windows meant to hide the interior

from any and all inquisitive eyes.

The light from the hallway

dies after two steps, leaving the mind

to ponder the bare walls and

sparse furnishings contained within.

Silence stood where music resided,

touching all corners of a room

with tinted windows, a tainted space

where humanity used to live.

Even the steady rhythms of

the heart have faded from memory,

leaving existence to linger

with its last dying breaths,

looking into a soul with tinted windows.

Brett Mattison

Deep Winter Breaths

Looking into the soul of

the morning sky, the sun is hidden

by clouds and an unshakeable chill.

Deep winter breaths in the calm

of a forest beginning its hibernation.

Deep winter breaths begging for release

from lungs filled with

the dust of memories come to life.

Each flake of snow falling

to the surface covers branches

and causes the inner child

to fall to the ground,

making a snow angel again.

Looking into the soul of

the evening sky, the moon is

taking center stage, surrounded by stars

on display, shining in the solstice.

Deep winter breaths, exhausted from

playing in the woods of yesterday,

but excited for the joy of tomorrow.

Brett Mattison

Stories

What are the stories

we will leave behind?

Will our stories contain

great mysteries for the living

to unravel over the course of time?

Will our stories entertain,

eliciting smiles and laughter

from our family and friends?

Will our stories reveal

cautionary tales filled with

lessons to be taught, lessons to learn?

Will our stories be told

with tears washing away

the memories of yesterday?

Will our stories last

far into the night,

greeting the evening sky and

the stars of the universe?

Will our stories be met

with an awkward silence,

a dearth of dreams fulfilled

fading into the twilight?

What are the stories

you will leave behind?

Brett Mattison

What Will the Night Bring?

What will the night bring?

Will a sense of foreboding

prevent the parting of clouds?

Will the stars twinkle in anonymity?

Will the moon make its journey

across the sky, bathing the landscape

with its gleaming beams of light?

What will the night bring?

Will the rustle of leaves

and the gentle breeze

stir the soul and make the heart

long for the coming of the dawn?

Will space and time combine

to allow the mind to explore

the outer limits of thought?

What will the night bring?

It will bring a welcome chill,

a crisp calm in the air

waiting to exhale the darkness

and breathe in the beautiful morning.

Brett Mattison

Beauty in Imperfection

There is beauty in imperfection.

A smile can still be bright,

a grin can still be mischievous

with teeth that are not straight.

Laughter can warm the heart,

no matter if it howls or cackles.

Grey skies can bring healing rain,

causing flowers to bloom and

meadows to cover the land

with abundant grass to play in.

There is beauty in imperfection.

The search may be long

and fruitless for some,

but the discovery of elegance

in the everyday world

can change hearts and minds.

Looking far below the surface

will yield a wealth of wonder,

a fascination with the inner being

waiting to burst open and

bask in the warmth of

eyes that can see the soul.

There is beauty in imperfection.

Brett Mattison

In an Imaginary Time

In an imaginary time,

social norms and expectations

would no longer exist. In its place

would be promises made to

the denizens of the lower echelon.

Each hand, each heart would

be treated equally, no judgement,

no perception of pain whatsoever.

In an imaginary time,

there would be great anticipation

for two souls meeting, two souls

embracing the light and

walking away from the doubters.

Each moment together would be cherished,

no longer stranded in the stream

of derision, drowning in utter damnation.

In an imaginary time,

sundown would not mean the end

of the day. Disparate worlds would unite,

illuminated by the shimmering moon

reflected upon the river dividing

reasons to leave from reasons to stay.

The journey to forever would begin,

traveling through the gentle mist of acceptance.

In an imaginary time,

life would not end on

an early note played in a sad song.

The odyssey would not be a dream.

Every breath, every step forward

would lead to inner stillness,

a calming atmosphere meant to

move the clouds from the morning sky.

Brett Mattison

Forward and Back

Impetuous youth with time to waste,

yet only knowing one speed.

Too many things done in haste,

every motion, every word, every deed.

Heart always racing, energy to burn.

No real goals are up ahead,

nothing tangible, nothing to discern,

just fantasies and dreams in its stead.

Impulsive youth does not see

the future and all its implications.

No knowledge of who he’ll be

or all of life’s complications.

What was once a blur

is now reduced to a crawl.

Memories transpire, moments occur.

Sprightly summers turn to fall.

The bright eyes of yesterday

only saw what was next.

They were not swayed

by the rhyme, the reason or the context.

The fading eyes of today

see how the story ends.

They see the path, know the way,

every fork, every corner, every bend.

In the days of a teen,

there was no urge to pause

and think about the scene

or any worthy cause.

In the days of middle age,

there is time to rest,

time to put aside the rage

and live in an empty nest.

Impetuous youth of the past,

your time has officially expired.

Middle age will surely last

until the mortal coil is retired.

Brett Mattison

Just Along for the Ride

Everybody has their own life,

a road they travel, a vehicle for the trip.

Sometimes there are passengers

in the car, talking incessantly

and constantly fiddling with the radio.

Sometimes, the journey is lonely,

the silence sitting awkwardly in

the back seat, staring out the window

at the night. Nonetheless, the path taken

is filled with people along the way.

As for me? I’m just along for the ride.

I’m not behind the wheel.

I’m not looking at maps or

asking for directions from someone.

I’m just along for the ride.

I could be in your vehicle,

helping you navigate the road ahead.

I could be the highlight

of the trip, pointing out landmarks

and recommending good restaurants for lunch.

But I’m not by your side

as you travel life’s highways.

I’m just along for the ride.

You can’t see me, you can’t hear me.

I’m not in your thoughts at all.

I’m just along for the ride.

Brett Mattison