About My Pain

I trained for my own pain
believing it would be relieved in success,
such so to override the pain it took to get there,
yet never realizing that I trained for my own pain.

I am who I am. And it will be what it will be,
but I can’t see beyond the misery.
I made the me I am, for the dream of who I am,
yet unaware that I trained for my own pain.
The pain is freely given for those on this road, need no tarots for this is no

Simply and shamelessly gullibly ignorantly oblivious to my training for for my own pain.
Not enough paint can paint the painting to my pain.
Can’t point the finger knowing I was the master of my slavery.

I trained for my pain to become a slave–unknowingly.
I’m the me I am that created the slave I am,
unnoticing the grave I’m digging for where I’ll lay one day.

Not sure how I didn’t realize that I was training for my own pain, yet a pain I didn’t train for, but no less adore.

On Earth

Hard pressed to
find a pretty dress that our mother can wear
But pressing harder to unscar that surface she wears
it’s been far too many years of our arrogance
we should fear it
not adhere to it
we are the feeble ones
I’m declaring it
that our actions lack perspective of nexus
to our own demise
it’s our selfishness

But it could be that our Mother can handle all that we do
and it could be that we’re just annoying
like in our terrible twos
Our mother will out live us all
and we’ll likely be the cause of our own downfall
and take others with us
hoping our time won’t go unnoticed in forever
from atoms we came
or dust
years spent pillaging and searching for lust
depleting all we can
not worried about the next man
we’ll be lined up together as sand
to the dust we return
dealing with a woman’s scorn

Maybe the lord’s or other bad fortune of the heavens
we should pray for benevolence
our mother spins hard in rotation
much is her flotation
and patience
let us learn from the world we’re in for all the clues are here
embrace it, take trips, and get there…
finding the why…

Here on Earth


Finding Infinity

Your Quran, Bible, Zen and Torah….
Can’t explain the pain
Infinitely…pained by infinity
The Holy Trinity….
has yet to make sense of and make it make sense to me what it is that is…..

My mind can’t get beyond the pain or the grain…of sand on beach that is the Sun’s equivalence…
No truer sense of pain is my insignificance….
That floats through unremembered, unthought of, uncared for, and unnoticed…..
in infinity….
Infinitely Infinite infinity.

Lawyers’ Lament

You know you aren’t special.

But you’re special to them.

From the tv shows and movies that glorify the struggle, it’s not too many that can’t do what we do.
Your success comes from skill draped in luck.

Did you make enough A’s in school?

Or pucker up enough to be the right person’s tool?

A keen ability to know what to say to people

And a vivid imagination

…enough to play people.

We’ve come a long way from burdens of 1L, to fearing some shit we do will land in us hell, or jail–even worse.

We live in this world. It’s what we know too well.

Angered that our work gets undone or another gets the credit

all to have 4 closets of Zenga and Hickey Freeman suits each tailored

and not worry about credit.

I wanna pull up to the golf course

in my Porsche

sharing war stories over a stogie, after hitting the back nine.

Lobster rolls and wine,

for lunch.

Never mind having a house with a pond and marble columns. We’ll settle for a McMansion with a private drive way.

Professorial to others in a quest to be greater

but there’s a power struggle too great we can’t dare to presume to wrangle.

Should’ve been a doctor, or businessman

not a paper pusher, argument crafter, contact drafter or killer, loophole finder, reg dodger, all for another’s profits

yet relish to share their dollars.

Your personal injury is our win
we guarantee,
please believe me,
I got kids, an aging wife, and a secretary

…associates, and paralegals to feed and please.

So please

work with me.


…Percent commission of any wins.

In one city there* 80,000 of me

but I’m better than them who don’t have the name of my law degree.

And I’ll squad up with those just like me.

I’m in a town where all they know is me

take your business and live where u can’t even reach me.

I’m in a big city where dollars are everything,

I gotta get those dollars so I don’t feel like nothing.

Far removed from pain of 2L or boredom of going to class to learn nothing!
Unapplicable info learned during 3L, a forced philosopher and all I wanted was a trade to get me paid.
These bar costs keep coming and hope I do things straight to escape the hammer of disbarment.
How quick we forget the agony of hiding out in books for 3 months to take a test for 2 days, or 3, to wait on results for 5 months praying and willing to dedicate your first child so that you pass.

I forgot about doing right.

I need to this cash.

150k so not to be considered the same

150k so there’s no need to have game

150k gotdamn what a shame

I mean sham, not enough money can pay us back for how our souls’ slain.

Just honor and respect us

at least the best of us

I can only imagine the love I’d find if I never thought this way

Can’t unlearn or spurn it. I bought this me I am. I worked for this me I am. And learned to be a killer…
for this me I am.

I promise I won’t thwart another effort by tipping off the opposition.

Hoping they may offer me a higher paying position.

I promise not to lie and say it can’t be done or we can’t do it. Fuck it

i”ll do it,

you need the help and I’m here to. I’m before God and the courts

but they should know lying out your ass is par for the course.

We take shit personal…fuck business. I been in this for the wins, it is personal, you bitches.

An argument, I could lose, a strategy seen from miles away, it’s chess at its best. But there’s always another day…

and another fight to get right. Even if its at home. The effort never stops. It’s like time, it doesn’t.

A competitor’s spirit finds the motive in their soul, not a paycheck.

But fees, a mortgage–god forbid–school loans will check your dreams.

Don’t be fooled, money, power, respect, sex, and people relationships

and the the chance to do and see shit you’d never expect…

is the driving force.

I wanna save the day, so one day, I can say, I did that for you’all.

it’s time to pay me, b/c I can’t forget the face of my daughters and sons when they thirst and hunger or desire

and they should have that b/c their parent’s a lawyer.

Working hard for the money

taxes better not come take it from me.

Hide it out in he Caymans and have a nice vacation.

I deserve it,

I structured your license agreement perfect.

Lost sleep, hugs, and kisses from the Miss. Mr. Mrs. or Mistress.

Made millions and can’t give it up

too much love for the game…and perks just the same.

What else am I gonna do, but be a lawyer?

Until I die or they take it from me.

I’m still gonna be a lawyer.

An Ex-Athlete’s Delight

Wake up with the pain of a prior day’s work recalled as your feet shockingly touch the floor.
Resent waking up…well, the process.
Love waking up to carry out your night’s dreams in today.
Begrudgingly start your routine of push ups, sit ups, squats, toe raises….
Willing to do whatever to get that advantage on your competition–wherever they reside.
Gotta make it.
You wake quick, to get to the next step.
But, the daily grind wears on your mind,
takes a physical toll on your body, and thrashes at your soul.
Being an athlete has it rewards in the fleeting moments they come, but it’s all work, but some say its tons of fun.
Essentially, athletes keep playing for the chance at “the glory.”
“Thank God if I make it.”
Blame him for having another plan for me if I don’t.
“It can’t be me. I work too hard. Sweat too much.”
Why do I even do this? I’m tall? I’m strong? I’m fast? I’m quick?
My friends, family and expectations?
Is this love or lust?
I know I can have minions to keep feeding my overgrown ego that i wouldn’t have otherwise.
It’s only because my name appears in the paper; or, my image flies across YouTube;
or, your HDTV.
Do I do it for the day I hit the Shine of a Spotlight?
Do I do it for the day I can really get paid?
Do I do it so that my good looks are profitable
or bad ones and skin color become irrelevant?…
I love the game.
It defines me.
I enjoy winning.
The losing is motivating.
I see God, and the good in both.
I spend all my free time in a gym,
with or without people.
It’s my religion.
Sorry, God! (I think).
I sacrifice:
Academics, love life, social experience, other life joys, jobs and money.
I’m different for my ability to sacrifice.
But, I’m not honored or given my due unless I win and keep winning.
So how can I really appreciate a loss?
Fans can love or hate you for what they can’t do.
Future employers can love to gloat about your past accomplishments, while longing for the day to berate you….”I’m your coach, now!”
What it is to work for love and passion–neither can be replaced by money or trophies.
It’s great to have it all, but better to have your sport.
You grow to love the pain, agony, triumph,
and defeat, and saddened when you’re liberated from it all when…
On the one day it stops.
Death over dishonor?
I gave so much to the game and now it’s gone.
With it, my youth and spirit.
How to care beyond something you have given more than half your life to?
How to carry burdens of burned friendships in pursuit of a bigger dream?
I love the clicks in my knees, toes, elbows and neck.
It’s what I have left from days achieving without having
to look at old stat sheets, clippings, or trophies.
Artists at their finest is an athlete.
Those you’ve never heard of and those we all adore.
We all have this in common: a lot of pain and love and muscle memory.