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We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You go ahead, call 9-1-1. Tell them I'm havin' a fantastic time.
Buddy Wakefield
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Buddy Wakefield
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: June 4
Poet
Shreveport
Louisiana
Tragedy
Call
Tell
Never
Havin
Time
Tragedies
Emergencies
Fantastic
Ahead
More quotes by Buddy Wakefield
How honest is it that we drink until we are dehydrated?
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The future gets no say in who we are.
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If we really do get what we give then I give up, so I can get up.
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You're a free-standing landing pad held together by choir claps.
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...others, with halos shaped like rollercoasters you'd stand in line to ride twice.
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I'm ready to kill something. I'll probably only get as far as my brain cells, but I am going to kill them.
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Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
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What children and the landing of a plane most have in common is that they are best made by a line drive of pilot lights guided through a single tambourine across the day we met in a field of wet metal hands on The Gospel of Lightning.
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I would fall in love with you if you would beat these people out of me.
Buddy Wakefield
The first time my town saw the sky it sucker-punched us in the throat, left us breathless, said, I'm gonna keep you awake some nights without touching you. You'll make it up, the pain, you always do.
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Everybody knows that smiling is for little girls, the gays and certain kinds of fish who are smiling by accident.
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I choose to politely ask myself to step aside if I am in my own way. If I do not get out of my way, I choose to call a friend who will have me removed.
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There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.
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If we were created in God’s image, then when God was a child he smushed fire ants with his fingertips and avoided tough questions.
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Pretend – inside your skin – you've got a friend, who's willing to give you everything you ever wanted in exchange for all you've ever been.
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A trajectory of misery – at this point – seems intentional. We have all the information we need to see clearly. We are no longer unaware toddlers on the landscape of consciousness. It is no longer cute to crap ourselves.
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Everything is out there. That's why they call it everything.
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If you've never been rocked back by the presence of purpose this poem is too soon for you. Return to your mediocrity, plug it into an amplifier and rethink yourself.
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But I still show up for gentleman practice in the company of lead dancers, hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.
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Stop inviting walls into wide open spaces.
Buddy Wakefield