Tyler Knott Gregson's Blog, page 274

I have been thinking so much of this lately and my heart is sore...

I have been thinking so much of this lately and my heart is sore and hurts so deeply. I don’t want to eat and drink and be merry on Thanksgiving. I don’t want to celebrate a holiday now when the treatment of Native Americans, is, was, and will undoubtably continue to be so astonishingly poor. When there are men and women and children being sprayed with freezing water, with rubber bullets, with tear gas and terror. How can we pretend it’s ok to celebrate a holiday in which the only reason we, we white foreign immigrants, survived, was due to the compassion and kindness of those who were already here, when this is how we repaid them? With genocide and the blatant thievery of all that belonged to them, and only them. I just cannot be ok with this, and it makes me ache in ways I cannot describe and I think how ridiculous that is, me, privileged, so far removed from a half a millennium of suffering and endurance and the tireless fight they have had to fight just to remain a people.

I wish we could go back in time and give it all back. Every blade of grass, every drop of water. I wish we could arrive on those old ships and ask questions, not shout demands. I wish we could have learned, watched, transformed, and became what they were. What they still are. I wish.

Three words just keep rattling around my mouth, spilling out to everyone that deserves it, and they still feel empty. I. Am. Sorry. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough, and sorry is for the sayer. Nevertheless, I am sorry.

Typewriter Series #1700 by Tyler Knott GregsonFeel free to share...

Typewriter Series #1700 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Feel free to share this, as widely as you wish.  I think we need it now, more than ever.

Text for Tired Eyes:

Stitches, we need, across
the wounds of us.  Needles through
state lines, border splits
that won’t stop bleeding.
Don’t we have enough red
in the stripes on this flag?  
Pull these threads tight, yank
from the edges, from the oceans
until we merge into one,
one, again; one, if for the first
time.  Pull it from the mountains,
from the sun soaked deserts,
pull it from the lakes that lead to
rivers, from the beaches
that let saltwater meet
fresh.  Pull it from the bonds
and bold promises we started
from, pull it from the fractures
that formed along the way.  
Stitches, and soft kisses on
the scars of us, it’s stitches
we need, and we must all
give what we have to give.  
I have words, and so I will
give them as I’ve always given them,
only new, only focused.
I will whisper healing words,
or all I know of grace,
and I do not expect
they will be enough,
but they will be honest,
and they will be simple.
Maybe, only maybe,
they will be a start.

"You reading a book,and I typing poetry.I words, and you eyes."

“You reading a book,

and I typing poetry.

I words, and you eyes.”

- Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

I, a tiny sailor across this sea of sheetsaimed at sunrise,...

I, a tiny sailor across this sea of sheets

aimed at sunrise, aimed at morning.

Fall I shall, into inky depths,

Rise I will, over surging swells.

Some of you sassy little sweetbreads have requested I do some...

Some of you sassy little sweetbreads have requested I do some more spoken word recordings of my poems. Now that @instagram let’s you do minute long videos I can help accommodate that request. A disclaimer: 1) I hate the sound of my voice. B) I have no clue which poems you want to hear read, so let me know which and I’ll do it up. 3) You are all beautiful.

Typewriter Series #1699 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Typewriter Series #1699 by Tyler Knott Gregson

"Did you wait for this?Am I all that you hoped for,am I what you dreamed?"

“Did you wait for this?

Am I all that you hoped for,

am I what you dreamed?”

- Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

Up over the crest and into the skyPretend we have wings and...

Up over the crest and into the sky

Pretend we have wings and that we can fly.

Will we ever know if we do not try?

Without knowing low, we cannot know high.

This bodacious beefaroni was Typewriter Series #93 a few years...

This bodacious beefaroni was Typewriter Series #93 a few years back.

.

Tonight, tell me what your favorite type of poems are? What do you most love reading?

Typewriter Series #1698 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Typewriter Series #1698 by Tyler Knott Gregson