Taken from Amtrak’s Keystone approaching Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station.
*Re-written August 25, 2019
From the bottom you can prove a great birth.
Running in the city; love after one step I made it look pretty.
My struggle — so be it I’ll run past constitutions so empty; a statue of past times which state misery.
Yeah they were here; imputing rules for blissful fools, as if we’d get here to continue the unfair.
But I think that’s bullshit.
By day one my detector alerted me we’re in a world of cruel shit. The best ones fail in front of many — the magnificent don’t give a shit.
The move after failing plan one, unthink to figure out plan two, and the third becomes a beast of a nerd.
Creating the new from the view of a bird. Eye’s view as the voice in them churns.
It’ll create the unreal story that you cannot converge.
I’m not a poet yet the inspiration in me turns — somehow rhyming so I run to calm my nerves.
I’m no writer but the words create a story; of brotherly love and how pain is the sister of glory.
Don’t believe me? Just watch as I unthink at this poetry.
Leading me astray because more people think low of me. I’ll meet you there as Kane wasn’t Abel you see.
How we compare but I want everyone to know my story. Watering rocks in faith as life gets blurry.
Heartbreak writer she’s no longer of my worry.
Never label me I may not be educated enough to speak so free.
Hiding behind labels for recognition and so I let anxiety be.
When to stop is the pot calling the kettle to drop.
Keep judging your brother Budd, 2020 is when a book will free.
The thinking of many but love is the unseeable language I speak.
Thank you Philadelphia; here’s a hot August run for a poem you all read.
To be a part of my story is a childhood dream; I’m pleased.
Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd