10 thoughts on being fully alive

1. Okay, so everyone's technically alive. Except for all the people who have died already. But even some people who are alive aren't really alive.

2. Some people are cowards. They don't dance, they don't raise their hands, they don't tell people they love that they love them.

3. It's possible to be shy and still be alive.

4. Do scary things. (I'm not talking about drugs or jumping off cliffs. I'm talking about love and poetry and goosebumps and talent shows.)

5. Be aware that you're dying.

6. Make mistakes and take risks and make more mistakes. If you know how it's going to turn out then it's not really a risk, is it?

7. Be reckless. With your status, not your body. With your pride, not other people's hearts. With the rules, not the law.

8. Art.

9. Try not to be a phony. I mean, we're all fake sometimes. But if you're fake as often as you're asleep, that's a problem.

10. Sit at the kids' table.

dessert

Maybe my soul's all right, but my body's all wrong
We hit the club all night, every day the same song
Same song, same verse
New kids, same curse
What's worse, you say boo-yah
and we live in Utah
woompa doobadee dop doobadoompa
woompa doobadee dop doobadoompa
Murder that, Murder that dance floor, dance floor

My soul's right
My body's wrong
and I'm caught in the middle

A custody battle that began in the pre-existence
My body got visitation
and I only see my soul every other weekend
he lives in a one-bedroom apartment across town
all we ever seem to do is fight these days

Maybe it's this beard
Maybe God didn't like the look of my face when he saw it.
Sometimes a big dog looks right into it.
Sometimes animals can sense danger.
Sometimes they can't.

Sometimes I catch my oldest son staring at me
like he's looking into a mirror
like he's looking into the future
like some day we'll only see each other every other weekend.

 

sunday poems

i'm sick of sharing old stuff / 2016 stuff / I'm 36 and I still have things to say
games to play / I've been telling you how to write for 8 years, so what

Holler if ya hear me / I'm just stealing Tupac lines / I can't write to this music

I check e-mail and Twitter so I don't have to write / this is too hard

How to write if you're not inspired / just write / I played basketball tonight
I have nothing to say / nothing to say / nothing to say

a new song / let's start over

My daughter lies / My daughter cries / My daughter lies / My daughter sighs
omigosh what am i even saying, I give up.

I haven't eaten all day and it ain't even fast sunday

This is an anti-slam poem.

Look, I just want my English credit. So shut up and give it to me.
Talk with your hands
Do the Helen Keller
QUIT QUOTING SONGS don't you have anything to say?

Maybe I've already written about everything.
The moons and the stars
the birds and the bees
what else is there to say that hasn't already been said
by Shakespeare and Mojgani

I've written more midnight poems than anyone in this room
come at me bro

The longer you're here, the more this place feels like the M.T.C.
You'd rather I teach you Spanish instead of English
Scriptures instead of poetry
You want to listen to the spirit, not your heart
I'm done listening to Lamanite poetry.

I'm not asking you to break any commandments,
I just want you to fall in love.
Have one last fling before your plane leaves
I want you to hold hands with adjectives
and send late night texts to that nice metaphor you've been eyeing from across the room
that provocative title you wrote on page 29 of your notebook
it's not too late to be voted cutest couple.

It's not too late, it's not too late

I'm listening to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata right now and I'm telling you it's not too late

Call me blasphemous
Tell me we should be reviewing MLA format
How to write an essay
How to write an essay
Call me blasphemous,
but this is your last chance to fall in love with language.

She won't find you at 22 because you won't be looking.

She won't wait for 28 because you'll be married with two kids and there's no poetry in children.
There's no poetry in children.

Unless you count the stars in their eyes
or the thunder in their laugh
or all the possibility in their hands
My daughter laid her head on my chest last night and said she couldn't hear my heart.

And I don't know if I can blame her.
Maybe she needs hearing aids, or maybe the truth hurts.
I hope she wasn't listening.


And.I.don't.know.if.I'll.ever.be.the.same.

mortar

keep building your walls, but know that one day they will fall

far as your childhood
long as the future
quiet as a photograph
angry as a hail storm
brief as a compliment

and no one will notice

why the top 5 sucks

Just because my voice is the oldest, doesn’t mean it’s the clearest. I don’t know everything. You keep waiting to get noticed, but I don’t see everything. I’ve had these contacts in for too long.

Listen to your own heart, listen to your own heart

Quit eavesdropping on everyone else’s.

My heart has a lisp anyway

And most people’s hearts have nothing to say because they're too busy just trying to stay alive

Punch the clock, punch the clock

Don’t worry about where you sit during lunch, just eat

And punch the clock, because your shift started a month ago, and it’s never gonna end

Destroy the clock

Break all the mirrors

and it doesn’t matter if they call it likes or favorites - they’ll never bring peace to your stomach

I know the panic is real

but it’s tough to compare yourself to others if your eyes are closed

so close your eyes

know that nobody’s ever seen the inside of your eyelids quite like you

even when I tell my oldest son he’s smart and my youngest son he’s funny, my youngest son wants to know why he’s not smart and my oldest son wants to know why he’s not funny

you’ll never measure up with a 12-inch ruler

you’ll never make it to the end of the rainbow before it disappears

and nobody can keep their eyes open during a sneeze. nobody.

so be smart AND funny and ignore your father because even though he says he used to be in your shoes, you’re only half him

and his shoes haven’t come back in style just yet

into the woods

I'd rather be anywhere else.

I know that sounds harsh. I'm not a negative person, I'm not a negative person. (Yes I am.)

Like Kanye once said, nothing but positive energy.
That's where I want to be.

Call it Paris, call it yesterday, call it home. The blinds are open, the sun is shining, and my ringer is off. I have nowhere to be, I have everywhere to go. I want to go into the woods.

Where the trees don't know me, nothing but positive energy. I want to make things and live forever. I want to be alone, I want to be in front of the world. I want everyone to see me, I want to be invisible. Into the woods, into the woods.

Where Thoreau writes poetry and girls get murdered. Nothing but positive energy, positive energy.

Two roads diverged in the yellow wood and I turned around and walked home. I logged into Netflix and kicked the Lazyboy all the way back. I told my wife I loved her and asked the kids if they wanted popcorn.

yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Nothing but positive energy.

old journals and goodbyes and holy crap

Let's call this a goodbye letter.

I'm not talking about break-ups or suicides or death or even graduation. It's January and we'll always have the rest of our lives. I'm just trying to say goodbye. 

Goodbye 2015. Holy crap. I still remember when I used to party like it was 1999 and I remember Y2K and it's like every year I just get older. I was born in the '70s and I wonder if you even know what that means.

Goodbye sophomores. All I teach is seniors now. And a couple of juniors who, if we were playing little league baseball, I'm sure someone would ask to see their birth certificate. #compliment

Goodbye my continually receding hairline.

Goodbye football. You broke my heart too many times this year. #LonePeak #sicTackticians #Utes #Vikings

(This next section is for me, not for you...don't bother reading it)
Some excerpts from my personal journal:

Saturday, 9/15/15: "It's movie night! We're watching Edge of Tomorrow. PG-13. None of our kids are 13 yet, btw. ... Things are going really well right now. Maybe I should knock on wood or something. ... THIS IS WHAT HAPPINESS FEELS LIKE."

Saturday, 10/17/15: "Holy crap. Varsity is undefeated (9-0). ... and the Utah game (they're undefeated too, and ranked #4 in the country). ... My fantasy football team is also undefeated, HOLY CRAP - is this the best year ever and I just don't know it yet?"

My fantasy football team lost in the playoffs on a Monday night when Ben Watson caught a last minute touchdown, and Blair Walsh just missed a 27-yard game-winning FG for the Vikings today, and I'm not even going to mention Lone Peak...

Who knows, maybe this was the best year ever. 

Football is just a game. And school is just a game. And creative writing is just a game. And love is just a game. And everything's just a game when you think about it. All that really matters is that my kids want to watch Once Upon a Time tonight, so I need to finish this letter soon.


I love my job. I love creative writing. When I see former students and they invariably ask me "How's creative writing" I say "Good" and I mean it. I'm not just saying good like when people ask me in the hall how are you and I say good and I'm not really good but I just say good so we can keep on walking our separate ways. I ACTUALLY MEAN IT.

This isn't a poem, this is a letter.

I'm sorry for not teaching you how to write. I just taught you to write. There's a difference. I don't know how to write. But I know how to write. You know what I'm saying? I know how to sit in front of a blank screen and type how I feel. I know how to write a screenplay. A play. A poem. I know how to write the first draft of a novel that I may never finish. I know how to write a blog post. A Master's Thesis. A business e-mail. I'm sorry if I didn't give you the cheat codes to whatever you wanted to write this semester. I promise they're everywhere if you look for them. You'll find them in college. You'll find them on the internet. You'll find them in the library.

I hope you discovered magic this semester. I hope you felt inspired. I hope you tried not to be a tourist. I hope you'll try to keep figuring it all out.

And so will I.

Sincerely,
Kyle Nelson