Practice What You Preach

A couple of years ago I had a conversation with a young man (a very precious young man whom I love and whom shall remain nameless to protect his identity - but he knows who he is). I was inspired (or frustrated) to write this poem. Thought after yesterday's blog, it was appropriate to post.

Practice What You Preach

Advice can be like a dirty old smelly sock
That someone throws at you when you’re not looking.
Advice can be spewed out of park fountains at
Family picnics as you watch the chicken cooking.
Sometimes, advice can be as painful as the secrets
In our hearts themselves. . .

Listen closely! Here’s what you should do.
Remember to keep what I tell you between me and you.
In my opinion and in my experience,
I know the error of your ways
Even though I can’t get through one of those “Just For Today’s”.

No, I know better and I may not walk the way I talk
And true they almost outlined my body with that nasty white chalk.
But enough about me, you know all there is to know.
You know where I come from and you know where I go.
So what! Big deal! I can still give good advice.
So what if I’m still out there paying the price.
Your problem’s a no brainer, a tease at best
So before I solve your problem, give me a rest
I have to head downtown to feed at my lover’s breast
Yeah, you know the one

You think you’ve got me all figured out.
We’ll one day I‘ll think clearer and hear whispers instead of shouts
But for today, I know I can help, it’s all about you.
If you want to come with me, you’re welcome to.

Man, I can show you some things you’ve never seen before.
I’ll even show you my favorite place to score.
Trust me in twenty minutes you’ll be saying “what problem”?
And I’ll be too fucked up to remind you that I solved them.
I know I can help you, stick with me.
Two hours from now, free from freedom you will be.

Yes, advice can be like a curse or a poison
And disrupt the imperfect life you were born in.
Advice can snuff out the best of our voices
And cause us the continuum of wrong choices.
Advice can perplex the calmest of hearts.
Advice can kill our best efforts at fresh starts . . .

Yo, you think you know what I need?
All’s I see is a man chosen to bleed.
You want to give me advice about what I should do?
First take care of that shit on your shoe,
Or that plank in your eye or that spot on your soul.
Don’t give me advice until you’re in control.

You said “In my opinion and in my experience”, please
That my “problem’s a no brainer, at best a tease . . .”

If I want advice on where to score
Drugs or a whore
Armani off the truck galore,
How to slip into a coma from the rip roar for sure
How to steal a couple bucks from your Pops top drawer,
How to be on the outside only 50% cool
And be on the inside an empty lost fool,
How to use and abuse and manipulate,
How to never persevere and procrastinate
How to look down my nose at everyone
And lie to them all and say its fun
How to have expensive taste with no money in my pocket
To lie about my mad car, while at home I ride my rocket
Of hypocrisy and blind confusion . . .

Oh, I truly know where to go.

And thank you for showing up and offering me blow
Or whatever narcotic you’ve chosen today.
I’m sorry now, but I don’t play.

And next time wait and see if I ask
For advice on a subject or particular task.
I’m not interested in your twenty minutes or two hours from now.
I’m not interested in your k-hole or PCP pow wow.
I’m not interested in your blow or your slow death,
So save your advice and save your breath
And get out of my face.

Go do what you do best.
If you don’t know what that is,
You’ll find out like the rest.