by Eric Nixon
I would then have to stand up
Along with all the others
He’s terrorized on the highway
And politely correct them -
That their perfect angel thought
He was too fast and too furious
In his dumb-ass mobile thinking
He was cool like the movie men
And their fast cars and hot babes
But thankfully, now he’s dead
I just have to pray that he didn’t
Take anyone else with him
June 15, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I was very upset by this event, which almost killed me today. Three late-teen boys were going over 90mph and weaving through traffic on I-93 North. I was in the right lane and was coming up on a minivan that was in the middle lane. This little red Honda came zooming up behind the minivan and zipped in-between the minivan and cut in front of me. If I didn’t see them coming up so damn fast in my peripheral vision and jump on my brakes, they would have slammed into both me and the minivan. I laid on the horn and they all looked back at me and laughed. It’s so frustrating when people have such a flagrant disregard for other people’s lives.
July
Endangering Massachusetts
Endangering Massachusetts
For the sake of my writings
Inspiration in the wrong place
Ideas hitting at the wrong time
Scrounging for a pen
Writing on a napkin
Trying to jot the mot
While doing seventy five
Trying to write it right
While I drive the lie home
July 7, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
The first two lines were in Line Ideas for almost two months. On my way back from hanging out with friends, I got an idea and I wrote it down on an empty donut box because it was the only paper I had handy. This is about getting that inspiration while in the wrong place.
Who You Are
If you have to compromise
Then you’re not living your life
You’re living someone else’s
Don’t set aside your principles
Or your beliefs and subvert
Your personality to anyone
Don’t let them take away
Who you are
Because they will, if given
Even the slightest of a chance
Try to make you another generic
Faceless clone of a consumer
Don’t you ever give in
Don’t become one of them
Do what you love the most
Be true to yourself and
Enjoy life to the fullest
July 7, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I Can’t Wait
I wish I could be famous
Then I’d be somebody
Then I wouldn’t be lonely
Anymore anymore anymore
Then I’d be someone
Instead of the nobody that I am
It’d be great it’d be amazing
To have so many friends
To have someone
To have everyone love me
To have everyone say hi
To be noticed when I walk
To have people listen when I talk
I can’t wait to be somebody
= = = = =
I wish I could be nobody
Then I’d be somebody
Then I wouldn’t be lonely
Then I could find someone
Who loves me for me
Not for who I am
Or what I’ve achieved
Then I wouldn’t be lonely
Anymore anymore anymore
Then I’d be someone
Because I’d be no one
It’d be great it’d be amazing
To have a few close friends
To have someone who loves me
To not be criticized all the time
To not be surrounded by strangers
Who claim to be friends
Who want something from me
To have my close friends
Who have always been there
And for once not to be scared
I can’t wait to be nobody
July 13, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I have no idea what brought this one on. I was listening to “Mr. Jones” by the Counting Crows (a live acoustic version) and I opened Word and started writing. Now that I think about it, I guess I was lamenting about being lonely and how if I was famous, I wouldn’t be anymore. Then I realized how silly that was.
Thick Air
Mid-summer evening
The humidity is so oppressive
Submerging, steaming everyone
Beyond endurance, beyond sense
I get out of my air-conditioned car
And my glasses fog up immediately
When I step into the densely thick air
I let out a wet gasp as the heat and
The humidity dump on an drench me
I make a break for the front door
Fumble with the keys and go inside
And shiver as the coolness shocks me
The air conditioners are cranking hard
Cool air never felt so good
July 27, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
August
Constant Glaring Imperfections
Face to face with that guy
I’ve known all my life
I’m so critical of him
I never have anything nice to say
Why do I hate him so much
Maybe it’s him mimicking me
Or maybe it’s his hundreds of faults
So plainly visible for all to see
He needs to lose weight
He needs a haircut
He needs to color his hair
He looks unhappy
Yes I do
The weight of a lifetime
Of negative impressions
Given off by people I know
Absorbed into my conscious
Radiating from the real me
Onto the mirrored me
Probably why I never smile
When I’m standing staring
Here at me looking at me
I’m always happy with
Everything everyone I know
Except when I’m here
Except when I see him
In his persistent state of
Constant glaring imperfections
And I hate me for letting
Him become like that
So far from where I was
So far from where I want to be
August 2, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
Looked into the mirror tonight and this is what I saw.
When Pigs Fly
You two, starting life anew
With your plans and your hopes
But you were surrounded by those
Who said they were “unattainable,”
Some said it wouldn’t ever happen
Some said it would “when pigs fly.”
So, you rolled up your sleeves
And got to work
Building a life
Building a house
Together forever
A lot of hard work
Went into building both
So they would be
Strong enough to last
Any storm that arises
Strong enough to face
Any of life’s surprises
And be a place where
Both of you can live
In love and happiness
In joyful wedded bliss
In the home that you
Built together
Well here it is
Living proof that pigs can fly
You proved everyone wrong
You proved it to yourselves
You can do anything
August 12, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
Written as a house-warming present/wedding gift for my ex-mother-in-law and her fiancé. I couldn’t find any good wedding cards from an ex-son-in-law (or any for that matter). The copy of this poem I gave them had a background photo I took of the woods from their back porch.
Electric Vacation
Why is my cordless phone growling at me
Nothing wrong with it as far as I can see
Oh wait, why isn't my vcr blinking 12:00
Oh shit, I think the power's out
My mind racing, I start thinking
Do I have supplies to keep me going?
I cracked open a cold beer
And rethought my initial fear
Shrugging off the terror angle
I kicked back and started reading
And occasionally found myself thinking
Wow, it's really hot
And catching myself reaching
To turn on the fan
Silly stupid me for falling
For my habits
Instead of being smart and realizing
Duh, there's no power
After a while it got too dark to read
And I looked out on the street below me
And saw the almost unimaginable
Of the calm excitement of a city
In the middle of an electric vacation
And for a night we were all free
From our computers and our TVs
Enjoying each other's company
The silence was wonderfully overwhelming
As it was happily lulling me to sleep...
I awoke to a start
With the sun in my face
And all over my place
Were the hungry appliances
And other electrical things
Just waking up from their
Unaccustomed sleep
Yelling at me
Vying for my attention
Wanting me to reset them
Swimming in a storm of hassle
I think back how nice and simple
My electric vacation was
And how I wish I could go back
Just for one more day
August 17, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I wrote this one based on this… https://www.oddtodd.com/message146.html - “The Oh So Nice Blackout Of 2003” on OddTodd.com. The phrase “electric vacation” just struck me and I had to write about it. This is the third week in a row that I’ve been Monday’s Poet. Oh the link for it is… https://www.oddtodd.com/monday57.html
Continual Constant
The life that never changes
The ones who live entrenched
In the continual constant
And are unwaveringly steadfast
In their desire in their need to be
Living the perfectly straight line
Are the ones who are stuck on
The road that others paved for them
The road re-driven over and over again
Never wanting to drive off that road
Never thinking about what else may
Be out there because they’re scared
Of the unknown of it all
Of the chance they might fall
Off the road they’ve known
Off the road always traveled
In a way I feel sorry for them
The ones who won’t deviate
Or change their sameness
Not even for something new
And wonderfully amazing
Because it’s different from the
Laid-out organized orderly life
They’ve known since whenever
I used to kinda be like them
Back when life seemd almost
Perfectly predetermined for me
But I’ve since broken free
And I’m living life just for me
August 23, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
The title of this has been in Line Ideas for more than half a year at least. I just ran with it tonight and got this. Kinda my commentary on those 100% straight-laced people who are determined to make sure their lives never change an ounce.
Dead End On A One Way Street
Dead end on a one-way street
And we’re driving the wrong way
We’re driving the wrong way yet again
And you won’t listen to what I say
The chance we’ll survive is getting thin
But you’re oblivious to the oblivion
That you’re speeding us into, aren’t you
Never doubted your driving abilities
Let me out so I can be the one who sees
As the car we’re in and the lives inside
Are totally wrecked right before my eyes
I want to see it from every spectacular angle
I want to live it from every vantage point
I want to stand back and watch me fly
Right though the windshield and die
Be the one who’s bleeding
Be the story that’s leading
On the six o’clock news
Adding to the media’s monopoly of fear
Just because my friend was slow to steer
No more 15 minutes of fame
Now it’s compressed into one
Since attention spans are gone
And sound bytes are more fun
August 23, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
The first three lines of this have been in Line Ideas for over a year. I finally got the whatever to finally write the rest of this from those lines. It started out as something much different than it ended up as. I like the concept, but it’s too rhymey.
September
Woodstove?
Still somewhat summer
When I noticed the
Distinct smell on the air
Puzzled, squinched,
Pondered tilted faces,
Thinking, trying to guess
Burnt wood wafting
Nice aroma, but wrong
Very wrong for the season
It takes us a minute
To smell it
To figure it out
The aroma finally
Clicks at the same time
Meant as more of a question
Than an exclamation
As we both say in unison
“Woodstove?”
September 7, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
A few years ago I was walking with someone and we smelled this smell. It took a minute or two to figure it out and we both said it at the same time in the same questioning tone…, “Woodstove?” Last night I was at the Target in Salem, NH with my boss and we smelled this smell that seemed out of place. He thought it was pot at first, but I said, “Woodstove?” and I laughed out loud to myself. He thought I was weird.
Quiet Oxidation
Quiet oxidation
Rusted undisturbed
Not bothering anyone
Nothing all that fun
Slowly eating
Metal sheeting
Of that old building
Slowly browning
Making frowning
Of those seeing
The blight around
But I find that
Beauty abounds
And want to draw it
In its stark perfectness
In the comparing
And the contrasting
Of the area and the rust
Something that I must
Capture and record
Too bad I suck at art
September 11, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I saw the phrase, “rusted undisturbed,” today online and it inspired me to write this. I honestly think there’s a good amount of beauty in rusted buildings. When I l
ived in Chelsea, Massachusetts, every so often I’d take the long way back home to get to Route 16 West and while waiting at the light at the intersection of whatever street and Route 16, I’d sit and look at this abandon rusted green-painted metal building which I always wanted to come and draw it because it looked so neat. The light always changed before I’d come to the realization that I suck at drawing.
33336
33336
Was what I saw
When I stopped my car
Shit, I missed it by three miles
September 28, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
This happed last week I think. It has to be because I’m over 34,000 miles now. When I left a friend’s house last Sunday morning, I made sure to tell myself to keep an eye out so I could see the odometer reach 33,333 miles. I just think it’s really cool to see stuff like that…and I missed it by three lousy miles. Geez.
October
Moonlit Contrails
Driving home kind of late
On an early autumn night
Mistingly damp out there
With a sharp cold bite
The type of night where
Halloween would feel
Creepily at home and right
I steal a glance to my left
And briefly see the moon
Peeking out from the clouds
After a few more miles
I catch the bright from
The corner of my eye
Up there somewhere
To my left in the sky
A quick look up
Off the road showed
Most of a moon with
The shooting arms
Of several appendages
Looked like a moon in action
Tossing, throwing,
Reaching, grabbing,
Projecting something
Eyes back on the road
Thinking wondering
About what I just saw
Empty highway ahead
So I take another chance
And get a longer glance
At the intriguing interesting sight
Widening and fading
Moonlit contrails
Almost intersecting in the night
Why didn’t I realize what it was
Before I considered personification
Of the rock hanging in the sky
As I drove on towards home
I tried not to look up to my left
Sillily thinking that if I did
I would see the long arm
Of the moon looking reaching
Not up like it was before
But this time down
Towards me
For me
October 5, 2003
Manchester, New Hampshire
I worked from 3-11pm tonight at my hotel as the manager on duty. On my way home, around 11:30pm, I looked up and saw the moon just starting to poke out from the clouds. I thought it was creepy considering that it was raining up until a little while ago and the air was still misty with dampness. The moon slowly broke through the clouds, which added more to the creepiness of the setting. A few minutes later, I looked up to see that it had cleared up enough around the moon so it was completely visible…and I saw the contrails around it, which, at first glance, looked like arms. It was like the moon was throwing something or reaching out. When I got home I wrote this.