Plane-ing through Hindsight

Each moment we find ourselves at another crux – a six-way lane change that cluster bombs out into an infinite range –


Perpetual potential possibilities present powerful plans, possessing mis pensamientos,


Gathering speed while moving forward is the most logical direction, but this multi-dimensional intersection has me sometimes traveling through space-time, second-guessing;


With every new open door is the draft that slams the last one,
Shutting out the doubts and tribulations from yesteryear’s thick fog, and dark clouds.


We don’t look back that much, that’s why the rearview mirror is so small,
But at times we do look back again and see things a little differently, a perspective updated,

With these previous moments’ emotions expired – examining experiences end up expedited, prorated.


Taking off back to the now, elevation is the growth, and the speed is the effort, we’re the pilots of our own narratives –


Journée-ing toward a new day, and as our lives fly upward, forward, we can’t help but check our six
to see the airspace behind and below us where we used to be.


Forward is still the way to go, the brave steps we put our feet towards, even when we feel at a loss for words, we can’t let past what-ifs or regrets have us hesitate to smile with love upon the open skies ahead.


Hindsight is a weeping angel, a stampede that gets closer every time you look back at it, hoping to touch your mind and send you down your own pasts’ never-ending rabbit holes.


The pedestrians on each crux of your life’s choices can overrun your mind if you don’t use your right of way, right away;


Let each quantum intersection be part of the breeze you feel as you fly forward – let hindsight be a record of lessons learned, a pilot’s manual to guide you to a higher plane as you fly on. – RSM

The S.S. Ital O’Pram

I feel, hungry but full, and just a little bit dull,

my, pupils are a bit bigger, saliva a little thicker;

No longer on a short fuse or a quick trigger,

and, my waters are calm now, I can see my own picture –

reflected back on the water’s smooth surface quite clearly,

the lake’s waters are still, but the sky is so dreary,

It’s the same day, different shit, just all square and swell, bro,

but my boat’s hardly moving cuz the water’s turned to Jell-O,

and I wave to the other captains, cruising along,

but, It’s a bit heavy lifting just to say the word “Hello.”

I sleep steadily, heavily, keeping it low-key, mostly,

my boat’s engine’s going slower now,

so I’m just posting up along the coast, B –

Just trudging along in the thick, slow waters, and,

trying to go with the current, currently I’m not faltering,

my course has been altered, though; GPS – I’m not following,

the fastest route I threw out, just hugging the shore and admiring the clouds,

sailing a lot smoother, but this new fuel got me a little mellowed out. – RSM

An Ode to ‘Surface Pressure’

I, shoulder the loads until the day gets old, I’m sold

on the idea that good deeds are better than gold,

the surface pressure got me under it,

get the 5 donkeys off my back when the storms are straight thunderin’

I’m wondering who else relates to Luisa from Encanto,

squatting triple digits, 60-hours-a-week and damn, bro,

I’m holding it all up like a hydro-powered dam, so,

I dance it off, cycle it out, rhyme it down as I write this down-

David and Freddie said it best, I guess, folks,

Rest is just a luxury, and we’re all dead broke,

conditioned by society to hate to love ourselves

and pack donkeys on our back until our eyes twitch,

Capitalism is the pimp, and worker burnout is the main trick,

We have it so engrained that in order to hold grains

our bottom line has to show a gain for us to be worthy

Of just a few minutes when we can enjoy some fine wine

from the local Trader Joe’s and just vibe to John Coltrane.

But, under the surface, coin don’t define us, mane,

We forget how to breathe while pushing to succeed,

so, I take a page out of Luisa’s book and dance it out,

cuz creativity is the antidote that clears the clouds,

and, self-care is the activism of the masses now.

Resist the gas-lit guilt and take time for your health,

Find ways to not have productivity define oneself. – RSM

Chicago Weather – Without Using the Word ‘Cold’

Coffee cools a little quicker in the Windy City –
petty arctic air for-ces people indoors, it’s,
my park-ing spot I-called-dibs-it’s-not-yours, since,
I-dug-the-whole-thing-out early this morn-ing,
I coulda sworn only the poles would have these snows,
Sub-zero ice collects on my windows
as double-digit temps in the negative show
on the local weather reports, I’m mad out-of-sorts,
I’m daydreaming of the times I hung out in sunny-weathered resorts
and when people ask me “How bad is the weather out there?”
I kinda wish I had a more-better retort.
Icicles on my eyelashes, double-sweatered, for sure,
but you’ll still see at least one white guy jogging around in little blue shorts.
But apart from that one, brave soul, defiant of the day’s low,
everyone’s glad to shelter in place, and just stay home. -RSM

It’s a Catch 1920×1080

Right now, as I write this, my

Eyes get narrow, and focus in – with a

Tightness. A fight-or-flight response, my

Irises and pupils embattlled in a day-til-

Night war, they spar with bluelights

And UV and bright screens, galore..

Deadass, I’m stuck between

A nine-to-five and a lifestyle that

Makes it hard to look away from

A series of bright rectangles each day.My

Glasses are shielded, but my

Eyes still feel it …just another long-term health thing to deal with.-RSM

Fresh Air.

I’ve been trying to follow the rules, cuz at the day’s end

I’d rather end each day in good health, not laid in

at an ICU, or self-quarantining at the Day’s Inn.

I’ve been going on long walks

and having long talks with my most

loved souls as I stretch out my soles.

My glasses get frothy, my vision has
me fogged up,

trying to breathe fully with a mask on makes me feel all clogged up,

But on a walk last evening, I had a several block-long window of space

where no one was around, only my mask and fogged glasses were strapped to my face,

So I pulled down my mask and fully inhaled –

It felt like diving headfirst into an ocean’s wave,

Like the crusted cage encasing me was unlocked,

my lungs were unshackled, all chakras unblocked-

I felt free.

I grabbed a hold of mother nature’s hand as it reached me,

and exhaled, audibly as the sidewalk scrolled beneath me.

It made me so happy, with a smile so candid

to breathe a full breath of fresh air,

something we’ve all taken for granted.
– RSM

Happiness is Practiced, Not Pursued.

Tranquility is not a place on a map,

Not a thing you can only achieve with a trendy new app,

or a 6 month deal, half off on the media

that you read, hear, or watch to establish mindful criteria.

I’m writing this as a PSA to myself,

so for you, my way might not be the best way,

But I prefer to close my eyes at any time or breathe deeply

instead of pointing at my calendar, looking forward to my ‘best day.’

Destination addiction is the baseline of the rat race,

the ‘pursuit of happiness’ is a road to nowhere but an exhausted, sad place.

Happiness is a state of mind. You can’t search for, dig up, and literally ‘find peace,’

rather, find some time to unwind,

just a few seconds to reset your second-guessings,

Devote some time to breathe, and watch your fears melt, anxieties evaporate, wash away your stresses.

The outer battle goes on, and even if you didn’t ‘get it all done,’

when peace of mind is the mentality you practice,

No matter the battle, the war is already won. – RSM

sdrowkcab

nehW I saw gnuoy, ebyam ekil thgie ro enin sraey dlo,


I detrats gnikool ta sdrow, dna dluow rednow


tahw ti dluow eb ekil fi hcae drow ew daer saw delleps morf thgir ot tfel.


I thguoht fo yreve drow I daer ni esrever,


ti emaceb os citamotua-


ti saw ym og ot gniht ot od elihw gnidaer gnihtyna, emityna, tsuj a modnar tibah;


gnikooL kcab, ti saw a citsiugnil tfig fo ym nwo doohdlihc noitanigami.


oS, s’ereh a peed kcabworht,
ot nehw I tup nwod, deppilf, dna esrevered sdrow ni ym elttil daeh os tsaf,


dna t’ndid ezilaer ti saw ytterp ssadab. -RSM

Along The Crescent Moon

As my physical body rests I find a dope lunar crater, as my astral self walks along the sun drenched moon.

I manifest my favorite skateboard, and do a nose grind in a goofy stance along the outer rim.

I feel a sense of clarity as the sun’s rays bounce off and shine through me, a warmth so rich;

The moon looks like a crescent shape from Earth tonight, so it makes sense,

that i look back at a certain spot on Earth, reflect on the very recent past and begin to reminisce…

I’ll remember gazing along the gold crescent moon and finding the hanging star.

I’ll remember the nerves that possessed me, until I realized I wasn’t the only one with butterflies, not by a long shot.

I’ll remember the way I felt when I saw them all, family, old and new, emerging in their Sunday best.

I’ll remember how love lit up the room, a warmth like the sun-a chamber of collective radiance across the river from my mother-metropolis.

I’ll remember having the best view in the room, as the master of ceremonies often does, and before I knew it, my job was done.

I enjoyed it so much, the one thing I forgot was where I put my nerves-they seemed to get lost in the rain and clouds as the bridal party, groom, and the bride walked out.

I’ll remember when the dance floor swelled, and food and wine surfed along as every tune on the soundtrack was somebody’s favorite song,

A certain kind of magic was created as we celebrated, the kind that compels the crowd to just know that this night would be truly special.

Only magical nights like these stay true, as we look back in the years to come.

I won’t remember this dream I describe, nor most others when I arise,

But as I slip further into a deep sleep state, kickflipping on the moon, doing a lil’ sleep-skate,

I look back at that spot on Earth and rewind, to the 1st of December, 2019, to one of my most loved memories; one of my life’s best keepsakes.- RSM

Seven Haikus About Life, And Stuff.

‘Beauty’ is the air

between your eyes and the things

and people you love.

Important moments

pass by so quickly, that we

replay them ’til death.

Intimate moments

with oneself are works of art:

Powerful. Priceless.

Life is a dancefloor,

ballroom dance moves are the norm.

I like pop-and-lock.

Staggering to think

how many realities

we’ve made, and destroyed.

It’s hard to maintain

a peaceful flow, like water,

but fires are no match.

Understanding you

is your most important skill.

You are worth your time. – RSM

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