Anything but Dreams
selected poems
by
Eric Nixon
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2004, 2011 Eric Nixon. All rights reserved.
Cover by Eric Nixon
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my father.
He would have been proud beyond words to read this.
Introduction (2011)
Hello and welcome!
What you have here, in your hot little ebook reader (or, on your computer screen if you’re into that) is a whole lot of me; my emotions, my hopes, my fears, and everything in between. Yikes! I don’t even know you!
From 2002 to 2004, I had experienced a range of extremes as my life was radically changed by way of a divorce and the subsequent rediscovery of who I really am. During those two years I poured my thoughts and feelings into my poetry, and ended up writing over 700 poems, 102 of them are in this book (I don’t know how I ended up with that number, it just happened that way).
While I am normally a fairly quiet, and very private person, I’ve found that there’s a certain amount of freedom that can be found with baring your soul to the world. To that end, I have republished this collection, which has often been described as, “Poems for people who don’t like poetry.” I did some very light editing, fixing typos, and general tidying up with this newer edition. Otherwise everything is the same as it was back when I first published this book.
I sincerely thank you, and hope you enjoy the book.
Eric
P.S. I’ll most likely be putting together a second poetry collection in the coming months. Go to EricNixon.net for information and updates.
Some handy-dandy notes from the author (2004)
Thank you for purchasing my first poetry collection!
I’ve broken this collection of poetry down into chapters based loosely on the subject matter. I was originally thinking about releasing a series of books, each one full of one type of poem. Then I got to thinking that most people would probably not want to read a book full of nothing but depressing poetry, so I decided to mix it up and instead put you on an emotional rollercoaster. Here are the categories…
Happy - the happier ones (pretty obvious).
Cautious - these aren’t happy, but they also don’t fit in the sad section. Most of these tend to have some sort of cautionary theme.
Hurt - the bum-you-out poems that’ll tug at your emotional sleeves.
Off - weird, strange, odd and messed up ditties that are a bit “off.”
On – the oh-so sexy ones.
Out - nature poems that take place in the out-of-doors.
The book is laid out so you’ll get a few happy poems, then a few cautious ones, then maybe a stretch of the sad ones, then some of the sexy, another section of happy poems, and so on. The six categories repeat throughout the book so you will get a well-rounded experience.
Each poem is dated and the location is noted. For the most part, they were all written in Manchester, New Hampshire, but a few were written in other places like Atlanta, Seattle, or San Francisco.
At the bottom of most poems are the notes I wrote about each one. I started doing this a while ago after looking back at some of my older poems and wondering, “Wow, what was I thinking when I wrote that?” The notes give me a way to remember what I was thinking, and gives you an insight (although, sometimes weird) into what goes on in my mind. I’ve left them all in, untouched, with the exception that I removed any names that were lurking around.
Once again, thank you, and enjoy!
Eric
Contents
Happy
Cautious
Kissed By Someone in My Dreams
Hurt
Off
Glow Star Stickers on the Ceiling
On
Out
Happy
Only Good Things Can Come Of This
Cautious
Hurt
Off
Happy
I don’t believe in resolutions
New Years or United Nations
Since they’re made to be
Broken and or ignored
All I know is I need to make
Some kind of radical change
Something needs to change
Sometime sooner than now
The hard part’s already begun
Now I just need to keep up
Four days into the New Year
The date is merely coincidental
Four days of doing it right
And I’m smiling like mental
Happy with the knowing
That I’m actually getting
Things accomplished
I’m newly refreshed
From being out west
I’ve set out to conquer
My two main goals
First and foremost
And hey
Everything else is secondary
January 4, 2004
Manchester, NH
They’re not resolutions, they’re goals. I think the term “resolutions” has a negative connotation, especially since no one ever keeps them. I did once in 2003. I made a steadfast resolution to swear more, and I was surprised how easy it was to succeed.
Surrounded in
Submerging into
Happily drowning
In all that surrounds me
In all the cherishable things
That life has picked
That life has thrown
So happily
So politely
At me at this time
At this point
In my life
In my newfound life
Swirling in
Twisting into
Turning with
Enjoying all
Every moment
It’s all so wonderful
It’s all so precious
So much worth
The price of admission
Yes I’ve been there
To amazingly wonderful
Places that people want
To visit their entire lives
And never get the chance
Yes I’ve done that
Participated in the things
That most people only
Dare to dream about
In their wildest fantasies
And still I want more
Because there’s still more
More that I dream of
More that I need to see
More that I want to do
More that I have to experience
So much more than I can
Ever expect to comprehend
And I’ll fill this vessel
That I’ve been given
Fill it until it overflows
With the sights the sounds
With the sum of my experiences
And then some
Because we are not here
Just to work and slave away
Over a dead end job
Over the secondary things
That bog us down in life
Because you know that
I have cherished and loved
What I’ve been given
What I’ve been lucky enough
To experience in my years here
To the point that if today
I should somehow stop
And lie down once and for all
That my last thought won’t be
That of lamenting the passing
Of my soul and my being
But instead I’ll be happy
With what I’ve been able to
Accomplish and see and do
In the short time I’ve been given
And know that I have truly liven
My life to no one’s rules but my own
And I’ll enter into the next phase
With a wondrous smile on my face
As I delve into the unknown
Knowing that I’ll finally be
Experiencing what comes next
And you can bet that I’ll hold tight
Everything I’ve felt from this life
Hold it dearly close
Place my trust above
And fall backwards
Into the unknown
And just like everything
I’ve ever done in my life
You can be sure it’ll be done
With a smile
July 15, 2003
Manchester, NH
Kind of odd, but when I started this one, I had one single word in my head, “delve.” That’s it. I picked it up and ran with it from there. I also have to say, the entire time I wrote this, I listened to nothing but the song “Never” by Think Of England. I think what I’m listening to has the biggest influence on my writings. If I had been listening to a different song at the time, I’m convinced that this poem would have turned out much differently. Just the fate of the random function on my mp3 player, I guess.
For too long I thought
I was too young
To make a difference
In anything
Now I look around
Now I realize that
I'm past my prime
And feel like I'm in
The clearance bin
But I stopped short
Of saying I'm too old
Knowing age has no
Bearing on the size
Of the footprint
You leave on society
I'm putting on my shoes
The big ones
And I'm ready to go
For a nice long walk
November 22. 2003
Andover, MA
I entered this in my palm pilot just before I went to bed last night. I was watching something on TV and it made me feel kind of like once you hit 30 years old and if you haven’t made your mark on life by now, you never will. Then I realized that was just crazy talk.
Starting today
I won’t be able to trust myself
Because those damn hippies
Said way back when
Never to trust
Never believe
Anyone over my age
And yet here I am
More than a number
More like my age
I think it adequately reflects
Who and where I am
I’ve never been more trusting
Of me and my abilities
Walking the wafer lines
Between finding myself
And diving deep in love
And working my career
But still I make it all work
While retaining undeniable
Overwhelming happiness
I’m not going to lie
A part of me still yearns to be
A third younger and still in college
And live in blissful naivety
But the rest of me
Wants to be nowhere but here
Joyful and content
Where I am
I’m thankful for my past
And what it has given me
But the past is back there
And I always want to be
Somewhere up where
I never could have imagined
Being, seeing, doing
Constantly striving
To improve and make new
Myself and who I am
To give back where I can
Taking it all in, in my view
To see
To experience
To capture
Everything out there
Determined to make it all
Part of the growing
And livingly rich tapestry
That’s been the first thirty
I know where I’ve been
I know where I want to go
Don’t worry - I’ll send you a postcard
April 30, 2004
Manchester, NH
A lot of emphasis has been put on turning thirty over the years, with the one that sticks out most in my mind is seeing protest signs from the 60’s that say, “Don’t trust anyone over 30.” I think I might have missed something somewhere, but I didn’t feel any less trusting of myself on my birthday. For that matter, I didn’t feel any different at all.
You sent me a letter
Just when I needed
To hear from a dear
Friend the most
Not just an email
But an honest to goodness
Real here in my hands
Something that you
Took the time
And the thought
To sit down and write
Kind of letter
Making me feel like
The most special person
Who ever existed
Which immediately
Made the same of you
January 7, 2004
Manchester, NH
I wrote the first half of this in Bay Point, California. Every night I was there, I would sit up with my headphones on and listen to my mp3 player while I wrote down ideas in my Palm Pilot. No true events inspired this poem, but it’s still such a wonderful thing to think about.
Cautious
Living life leads to loss
Or so it can often go
I just throw them out
And you can take them in
Mull them over, think and
See if you can relate at all
To some or all of these
Course grains of sand
These cautionary tales
I’m sure you can
Since we’ve all been
The sometimes victim
Once or more in our lives
November 19, 2003
Manchester, NH
Tonight I got the brainy idea to look into publishing my poems as several e-books. That got me thinking that I need to create a web site. While working in Publisher, I got to thinking about cover art for each of the e-books I want to make. I was staring at the picture I took of my friend Kimberly holding up the orange flag when her husband fell into the water while waterskiing and got the idea to separate the e-books into different genres. One of them was full of loss and divorce type poems. One was filled with happier stuff. One chock-full of messed up stuff, etc. I wanted to call the loss one Cautionary Tales and realized that I had to write a poem with that name, so this is it.
Part of the peripheral
Instead of part of the solution
Always on the fringes
Living on the side of it all
Happily observing
Staying out of everything
Part of the peripheral
So easily forgotten
Sadly, no one knew
Anything about you
Always the one
Never having any fun
Part of the peripheral
Way off to the side
You kept to yourself
Up on the back shelf
Will anyone really care
When you’re no longer there?
March 23, 2003
Manchester, NH
This was another one that was sitting in Line Ideas (a huge Word document that I store words, phrases, and partial poems for a later date when I can finish them… a poetic incubator, if you will). I wrote the first two lines back in the summer of 2002 and liked them, but never knew how to continue. Kind of a semi-autobiographical poem but with a message to change your ways or no one will care and you’ll end up being forgotten.
Alone on the highway
Alone with my thoughts
Don’t really know where I’m heading
Keep driving until I find happiness, I guess
Thinking and driving
Isn’t much better than
Drinking and driving
At least I’m not doing
Both at once right now
Just watching the exits pass
In the small time frame of things
In a few hours I’ll pass another state line
Those live in the big time frame of things
The radio is off because it’s all crap
Alone with the hum of the engine
Alone with the buzzing of my brain
Trying to think about what to do
And how I could have done everything
Somehow differently, somehow better
Trying not to think about it anymore
Thinking is the last thing I want to do
But those thoughts slip by my protests
Like the exits slip by in my headlights
What if I realize that I left it all behind
Let too much time zoom past
Between us as I think while
I’m driving under yet another
Overpass that maybe just maybe
Might lead to the direction
Where I’ll find love and happiness
Yes that other way that runs
The opposite way, perpendicular
To my current direction and destination
It wouldn’t surprise me at all
Isn’t that just the way sometimes
I turn on the radio again
For a welcome distraction
Surf the dial and shut it off
Silent contemplation is so much better
Dozens of states to go
Untold numbers of overpasses
All going another way
All possibilities that
Could be the right way
All potential roads that
Could end in perfection
Finally, at last
With every one of them
That I shoot through
I can’t help it as my eyes
Dart off over to the side
As if I’ll see the one for me
Standing there waiting
I think of how foolish this is
But part of me thinks
How foolish would I be
If I didn’t look
And I sped on past my
Perpendicular happiness
July 29, 2003
Manchester, NH
In the car a few days ago I jotted some random thoughts of a guy who was driving cross country. His life had recently fallen apart and he’s forced to deal with it over his long ride. It’s something he doesn’t want to do at all, but he gets to thinking about all the possibilities that are out there…how every road leads to another opportunity. Then he realizes that every overpass is another road, but they lead off in another direction. I know it’s something that I’d be thinking of if I were in the same situation.
Why do I play the lottery?
I buy two tickets
Twice a week every week
On one I pick the numbers
On the other I leave it to chance
And let the machine pick
Scraps of paper
With so much potential
One minute…
And the next
Are just scraps of paper
I often think of what I’d do
If my numbers came up
Wonder how it’d change my life
Wonder how I’d spend it
I’d like to think I’d be sensible
I’d like to think I wouldn’t change
Guess I’ll have to buy that bridge
When I get to it
Going to sleep wondering if
I’m going to wake up wealthy
Beyond my richest dreams
But just as you forget
Most dreams when you wake up
I know that I’ll be the same
As I was today
Only $2 poorer
With two scraps of paper
Sitting on my dresser
June 20, 2003
Manchester, NH
I wrote it over a month ago when I was doing an MOD (manager on duty) shift at my hotel and didn’t have access to a computer in my room. It was one of those things where I wrote it on the little pads of paper in the hotel room and threw it in my bag…and then promptly forgot about. I’ve done this a few other times as well. I’m sure I have at least half a dozen other poems floating around and running rampant. It’s my job to capture, beat, and force them into public life.
Strong vivid dream
The kind you can’t
Forget easily no matter
How hard you try
The kind that when
You wake up you feel
The need to wake up again
Wake up and feel the reality
And make sure that
It’s not a dream
And double check again
Just to make sure…
Four in the car
Roof down, speed up
Talking, reminiscing
Quietly lamenting
About the event
A few years ago
That prevented
The others from
Being here tonight
Ignoring the past
Speeding without
Caring or concern
Maybe it was the subject
Maybe it was the mindset
Driving through the city
Like it was a video game
Approach a huge drawbridge
That’s up but going down
Amazed there was no lights
Or barriers or cars or anything
Hit the steep slope going 100
Up, up, up…then the air
Peaceful for a moment
Suspended up there above
The city the everything
All the lights twinkling
Wishing to preserve this
Picture perfect moment
Then gravity kicked in
Entirely too soon
Interrupting the moment
And sought to bring everything
Back to the way it should be
Lurch in the stomachs
Like a rollercoaster ride
Pulling us down
Pulling too hard
I want to get off
Safety is too far down
And the view changed
From serene to scary
Maybe we can make it down
Like they do in the movies
But I knew nothing ends
Perfectly, nicely like that
The heavy engine pointed down
Showing the way for our
Harry Potter flying car
That was missing the magic
Rusty girders passing by
Even thought it was night
You could see the rusty
It’s weird the things you see
And notice when you’ve got
Just seconds left of life
No screaming from anyone
We all stared straight ahead
Someone quietly said
“It was great knowing you guys”
And we all silently nodded
The ground zooming
Up fast to meet us
More girders now
One of us fell out of the car
And half of him stopped
On a passing beam of steel
A safety campaign popped
Quickly, fleetingly in my mind
“Seatbelts save lives”
Normally I would agree
But it won’t be true for me
Then the world went too fast
The sounds of the street
The blurring of the things
Closer to the ground
Inches away and going mach 2
Intent on going through us
Intent on ending us
From all we knew
Then everything froze
Like God hit pause
On the giant DVD of life
And I was watching it
On a screen and I could see
The car mostly inverted
And at a funny angle
Blurred from the
Per second per second
And the following words
Were across the screen
In a large yellow font:
“…and they were released.”
October 18, 2003
Manchester, NH
This was the second half of an extremely vivid dream I just had. The first half revolved around the group of friends that these guys were friendly with who died in a freak accident a few years ago. One or two of them died, but the rest who were not present in the poem above were changed as a result.
Red hats now in stock
Read the sign out front
Of the little store on a little route
In northeastern Massachusetts where
Modern life seemed to have passed
By years ago for this stretch of road
Nothing newer than thirty years
Almost as if time ground to a halt
Several administrations ago
Everything faded by the sun and age
I wonder how these stores
And other businesses stay afloat
I feel bad for the mom and pops
But I’m too entrenched in today
I need my Target and Home Depot
I find the bright sign for the interstate
Zoom up the ramp and happily drive away
October 6, 2003
Newburyport, MA
I was looking for I-95 when I found myself on this little stretch of road somewhere near Newburyport. There were small shops and stores here and there, on the outskirts of some small town, like at one point this was the commercial area years and years ago. It was sad to see all the faded and dilapidated signs and buildings. I felt bad for those that owned the stores here and I got to wondering how they could stay in business these days when I’m sure there’s some giant super mega-store up the road a few miles.
Feeling the tipsy before I feel the heat
Feeling the coolness of the bottle
As the refreshing comes up to meet
My lips as they do the trip
Down the dyslexic slope
As I stumble over the bit
Giving me heightened hope
Of good things to come
Because it’s easy to be an optimist
When the glass is all done
October 14, 2003
Manchester, NH
I wrote this last night after I had a few drinks and it hit me really hard for some reason. Probably because it has been a long time since I’ve had anything to drink.