Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Not a Game I Wish to Play...

Why is it called the Game of Survival
when there is nothing to win?
Struggling to keep your head afloat
working double shifts,
to these tired eyes,
therein lies the sin

"To earn a living",
now there's a phrase
that has always caught in my throat...
Another game, another shame,
though we all know the lines by rote
The questions we've been taught to answer,
the proper tie, the proper coat...

The inundated, automated world,
the refugees all crowded into one boat
hoping the sea won't turn sour,
hoping for the Governor's reprieve
at the last hour...
Is there anyone in power
who truly gives a damn?...


Home Port (Wayward Sailor)...

The ship is returning to port,
     sails billowing in the wind...
Eyes that searched the horizon
     through salty tears
explode in a burst of color and light,
     like the first fireworks of the year
at a traveling carnival,
     amid the laughter and screams
as if in a waking dream
     as the cars file past,
one by one, on their way
     back to hearth and home...
Alone is a state of mind,
     remember it is the heart that is kind
that brings eyesight to the blind,
     if they are willing to see the light
and believe with all their might...



From the promontory
shall be told the rest of the story,
overlooking land and valley,
in the Crease of Time...
Memories collide,
sometimes just want to hide
and i have found myself beside myself
wondering if these dreams are mine...

Walking somehow familiar paths
i cannot not help but laugh
(out loud and to myself)
though sometimes the crooked smile,
almost dizzy,
it may take a while
to compose myself
and compose a poem
to try to explain myself to you...



A fledgling's wings,
the song Dawn brings
to the throat of the morn's first born...
The light cascades on this Soft Parade
as the soil and the air remain warm
through the Still of the Night
when eyes reflect light
and only the bat and the owl fly
past the blossoming Moon
Let the clouds sail past
let me grab the last one
and float far away,
free and clear
look down and see where i stand
and perhaps understand
what i want the most
is also my greatest fear...


Beginning to See...

As the morning light
creeps across the screen,
i look east, between the blinds,
and feel the morning, soft and kind,
return to me a semblance of peace...

How it never ceases to amaze me,
how most of my friends think i'm crazed
You would think i had been better raised
in that sheltered non-existence...

Persistence is the key in what you strive to be,
depending on what you see from where you stand
but also honesty about yourself and the wealth you may possess
if you look deep within yourself and come up lacking...

Don't forget to keep track of your mistakes
for it takes plenty of them to learn one Truth
sometimes the lessons taught in youth
take years not seconds to understand...



What comes to light
isn't always right
though you may pray
with all your might
it won't be so...
but not,
how things are forgotten
when one feels misbegotten
and isn't payback a bitch?

It's like an itch you can't scratch
you can't sit down,
you can't relax...
don't bother about the facts,
just fly by the seat of your pants...
But after the dance is over
and the fiddler holds out his hand,
i hope you understand
it takes two to tango...

Book of Jubilation...

There is jubilation in creation,
in cessation of hostilities
There is sadness in the madness
of how thing are
and how they aught to be
There are tears shed on the sand
on distant shores and remote lands
but few come to understand
the Lagrima Mundi...
The angst of being and seeing
and trying to deal
with the welter of emotions,
and the going through the motions...
How sometimes you get a notion
for and instant...
then it's gone
Can you capture it in song,
can you harmonize and get along?
Are you honest enough to admit you're wrong
when you've struck the wrong chord?...


Family Farm...

Sometimes the Truth is glaring,
written in pen you cannot erase,
Staring unblinking, unthinking,
as plain as the nose on my face
At other times,
it is a wisp of smoke;
a subtle twist, a gentle joke,
a sometimes not so gentle poke
to startle us awake...
and just what does it take
to make you see what's right,
how obstinate can you be
or do you just like to fight?
Is it Ego that makes you ball your fist
and try to take control
but when the barn is on fire
it's time to let the animals go...


Sunday, December 25, 2011

Singed Wings...

Icarus fell in his arrogance,
daring to reach for the sun
Gods scoffed at his petulance
asking for help when it was said and done
Too late, too late
once the deed is done,
fall into your own trap
when the web is spun
For who can you blame?
The answer is no one,
your deeds are uniquely your own
Icarus fell reaching too far
Watch your feet, realize where you are;
when a misstep could cost you all
it's best to heed the warning's call...

Friday, December 23, 2011

Start and Stop...

Yesterday is a pale shadow,
fading from the here and now
Tomorrow never comes
for we are trapped within today
Moments are all we have,
how to make the most of them,
when we can't change the past
and the future is uncertain?
Draw back the curtain
and peer into your hopes
or look back and reflect,
different ways we choose to cope
Is living in the moment
what we all must do
when seconds tick
and alarms clocks click
in the seconds before the bell rings?
Waitng for a sign
can leave you falling behind,
while dreaming your precious dream
isn't quite all that it seems
Where, then, the happy medium
between breathless anticipation
and the boring tedium
Where does one find the strength to go on?...

Thursday, December 22, 2011


Thoughts turn,
the soul yearns,
the ache of life,
turmoil and strife...
What do you follow,
what stars guide your way?
Circumnavigate your world,
then let me hear what you have to say
It seems i'm forever struggling
to keep my head up above the waves
sometimes my lungs feel as if they'll burst
from so long holding my breath
till the next short gasp of salty air
before the next wave hits
sometimes the ship of my life is a schooner
and other times a wind tossed skiff...


Mall Rats...

Alone in a crowd
when he goes that far,
it is a test of will
Hurried footsteps,
headphones on
so he cannot hear
the maddening crowd
as they stumble forth,
the happening crowd
as each king holds court..
To each his little kingdom
with vassals and captains
imparting their wisdom
wearing tassels, passels and rings...
as the Ladies in Waiting won't be waiting long
perhaps just to the end of the Minstrel's song...


Van Winkle (II)...

Sleep took him,
if you shook him
he would not have woken
for the world
or its end...
Deep imaginings,
distant travelings
into far flung galaxies
he was hurled
or was he sent?
Keep on dreaming,
waking seems like
remembering the past
Old soul musing;
what's the use in hurrying
if we are all where we need to be?
i'm just asking...


Seeking the Summit...

he looks down
and feels the tingle in his shins,
the breath quickens
as the Little Fear kicks in...
Suddenly he remembers
he's been holding it in;
releasing in a burst of warm air,
letting the fresh air in,
forgetting what he can't control
and setting his mind to task,
less he lose his grasp
and take yet another
but perhaps the last
of countless falls
but you know what has been said,
perhaps the third time
does pay for all...


Time Enough...

Time does not move,
each moment is a moment
complete within itself
belonging to nothing else
but themselves...

We move forward
through each bubble of time,
bursting in iridescent splendor,
as we wonder where
the next moment will send us...

It comes down to a matter of trust
the things you want to do,
and the things you feel you must
but don't forget the human touch
for the simple things mean so much
live this life well but what is the rush
when you see Time is on your side


Feather in the Breeze...

Lifting slowly off the ground,
the breeze carries me,
floating, gently, without a sound
as i clear my head, open my heart
and take a look around...

And what do i see far down below
in this world that will continue spinning
without me, don't you know?...

The whirling and the machinations
of someone's Grand Design
the scheming and conniving
towards a dream that is not mine...
The world is full of tourists who climb,
determined, towards the summit
never seeing the sights along the way,
focused on what they have been told
This, the same sad story that has unfolded
so many times, so many crimes
committed in the name of complacency...


Looking Back in Sadness...

A wave of sadness hits me
and i know not why
so i turn another page
and write as i cry
sometimes it's as if
there is a mote in my eye
i have never been able to remove...

If the Truth will set you free,
what will that release?
We do not seek the same peace,
we are not of the same mind...
All i have ever wanted to be is kind
and receive kindness in return
but it is the gentle soul,
who reaches as a friend,
with only pure intentions
and without pretense
that is all too many times burned...

Little wonder all the jaded,
now perhaps you see
how your soul has faded
for all the years in the fire
have only scorched your soul
and hardened your heart
Let go of Anger, let go of Regret
for truly what you reap is what you get
Forgiveness is pure because we truly never forget
but we can change the memory...


Sunday, December 18, 2011

Light of Day (Seen the Light)...

Questions remain,
little has changed
nothing new under the sun,
i've been told
There are more things
in Heaven and Earth, Horatio,
than you can ever dream
or have time to behold...

Time is not Master,
Light moves much faster,
let yours shine that brighter still
The sun sets and it rises,
each day is a surprise
the Present, the gift,
is waking each morning
to wonder at its glorious array...

Of colors that swirl,
of leaves that unfurl,
of cat's sneaking on birds
that laugh and fly away
Of dew drops like crystals,
of morning's magical and mystical,
when you take the time to listen
to what the Earth has to say...


Omens, Portents, Myths and Legend...

Look out the window
and i'm lost a while...
in this dream,
the boat approaches shore
Two figures in the swirling mist;
one standing near the prow
and looking out along the sand
No words are spoken
and none are needed,
as each knows what to do
they have been here before
but no one heeded
that nothing changes is all too true...

From the shores of Avalon
give us what we need to go on
Lord knows some of us have waited so long,
hoping to hear the victory song
When Excalibur returns
will all your hopes and dreams be burned?
if you've been living close to the edge
watch your step, my friend...

Deep within a pyramid
a hidden door slides open wide
Two hooded priest come walking out
the regal splendor, the self assured pride
Once before they walked this land
as their footsteps made diamonds in the sand
they tried to get us to understand
perhaps we will this time...

When the Sphinx roars your name
will you look to hide in shame?
Will realization come too late
and will you all accept your fate?
i can't say i'm prepared
but i can say i have cared
and maybe that's enough
to get me to Heaven's Gate...

In My Own Shadow...

After you have given all you have,
after the tears that began
as hysterical laughter,
after you find what you sought,
what you were after
was beside you at the start;
what is left to give?...

The heart has many stories to be told,
wrinkles set in time
as the memories unfold
that bring you back the Lost Flower of Youth
when the Power of Truth
was all we needed...

The Lines of Life unravel
as you travel down your road
amongst the favored and the rabble
Who decides,
who bangs that gavel?
When did i give you authority
over the only thing i have;
My time, my space, my life?
About all else you can decide,
call it stubborness or pride,
but i will choose my own footsteps...


Out the Door...

What is my life
but a dream I have chased?
At times it seems
i have wasted the years,
been awash in the tears
of frustration and pain,
embarrassed and ashamed
at not being able to do
like some instructions say,
"So easy even a child can do"
Where did i find solace?
From within and without
has been my search for silence
from echoes of doubt,
from the cries and the shouts,
from the maddening crowd,
from all the loud voices
And the hundreds of choices
you have to make to just get out the door
For there is so much more
than what you believe,
there are so many little things
that might help you to see
But the first step,
however timid and shaky,
is still the hardest part of any test...


At the Chapel Gates...

Cyrano, after all;
i had hoped for Quasimodo...
He had the better view at least,
high above the City of Light,
a Gargoyle living like a shadow
or a Ghost, if you will,
leaping from spire to spire
But his love died,
as did he in the catacombs,
for her heart was his home....

But Sunday Mornings,
the loaf of bread,
a slab of cheese
and the sharp blade,
with bread held between the knees,
a few poems,
and some tunes sent on the breeze...

Life's grandest moments are made of this;
the tragic and magic of Life as it is...
the wondering, the wandering
the pondering on
when we know what is the Truth
the moment it's gone...

Till the sun ceases shining,
till rivers hide underground
till the birds stop their flying
and uttering sweet sounds
(in case you didn't know)...

All one can do is try
and not bother in the why,
for what is the motivation you need,
what would put the gleam back in your eye?...

After the Nightmares and Horrors of Life,
after the cruel Truth of Death,
after the world is heaped upon your shoulders
and you can't catch your breath...
A walking Crucifixion,
stigmata, you can't hide
but we make our own Heaven and Hell,
deciding in which realm to reside
Choose wisely, if not quickly,
for Time always helps you to decide...


The Weather Outside is Frightful (Indeed)...

Winter approaches on cold toes
and with an icy stare from the rising sun
Rime splayed across car windshields,
while lovely to look upon
in its pattern of frosted beauty,
does not stand against the chill
you feel in your hands, raking the ice scraper
back and forth, back and forth
With no snow to delight in the morning light
it is just cold and barren,
a concrete and asphalt Ice Age
revisited upon the modern cave man
without furs to wear
or a fire to warm his hands upon...


To Thine Own Self...

Once familiar, now foreign
     a different kind of quiet
typing to fight the boredom
     as Memories float past
let us see where this line is cast
     as Echoes of the Past
dance to melancholy tunes
     shimmering like heat rising
in waves from the pavement
     Wondering if this is what is meant by
you can't go home again?
     For while Time is but a concept
Histories do come to an end
     All the epilogues and Happily Ever After
can be real or just pretend
     depending on how you write you your Tale
or to which gods you commend your Spirit
     Get on with it but get over it,
don't just sit and surely don't quit
     for Life is what you make of it
Ol' Billy was wrong, not that he was often
     but our fate is not in our stars
our fate is ours to decide
     in spite of them and our own faults
and then we must live by our decision


Saturday, December 17, 2011

Wishful Thinking?...

It is said absence make the heart grow fonder still
i say it takes great strength of will
to not go charging through the gate
with the fear that you may be too late
Though fondness borne is no great weight,
shoulders may sag when in a troubled state
wondering if the next moment is the last
and good times and love might be in the past
To doubt yourself is not to doubt love,
it is in your own faults and the fates above
For who can bear too close scrutiny
or doesn't doubt an idyllic destiny?
To have that which you have dreamed
can never be as easy as it seems
To have your cake and eat it too,
a dilemma, a dream we all aspire to...

Friday, December 16, 2011

Shine On...

The twinkling lights of Night;
     the man-made ones below
and the Celestial ones above
gleam and glitter
to fade with Morning Light
      but the ones in Sky
hold a different Meaning,
     give me different Delight...
Let the Stars point the way,
     let them give me the words
i search for but cannot say,
     let them twinkle in their special way
and never go out in my Heart...
     How long have they shone,
how many Poems have they inspired,
     how long have they hung upon Sky
never fading, never growing tired?..
     Did Caesar wonder upon you as well,
did they whisper Secrets to others,
     casting different Spells;
did they grow in luminosity
     or were they always clear as a bell,
shining in mute testimony
     with their silent story to tell?...

Bridging the Gap...

A wooded night comes calling,
may the shooting stars be falling...

Will the hoot owl sound mournful
in his forever asking?...

the tasks are set but not yet met
a few things here and there to do
the wood is gathered, the tent is set
there is still time for some relaxing..

The spirits sense me,
they give me their intensity,
this union was born of the necessity
to understand my feelings
and the senses that reel
upon the meeting of the two worlds
i stand on the Bridge of Sighs,
forever wondering why
even though it is not important
for that is not the message being sent,

nor do i always know what was meant,
i just give in and relent
and allow the voices to comment
upon the folly we all see
but few notice...


Between the Seam...

Yonder comes the morning
with a bounce to her step
and arms open in a warm embrace
as the night slips away
with a resigned and sullen look
upon her pale yet beautiful face
Here sit i, caught in the moment,
with another memory only Death will erase
as the new day begins
just as another is gone without a trace

For how many millennia has this taken place,
before it was noticed at all
by the silly human race?
When did conscious thought
and love of all things wondrous
come to us, replacing
the hunting and gathering?
When did grunts become babbling
and talking just to hear your voice?

The choice is yours as ever
to take take the moment whenever it arrives
for these surely are the Days of Our Lives
and not on some pixeled screen
for we have become obscene in our knowledge,
what some learn in college
will never do this Earth any good

The World has becomes a foreign place
and it is time we erased
all our mistakes that are now so plainly apparent
and treat Mother Earth like the parent she is
Respect your Elders, for they have survived
it takes more than breathing to stay alive...

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Fond Farewell...

The changing of the guard;
leaves that fall from the family tree...
Remembering times long past
and bouncing on parent's knees
Lessons learned
and times you paid no heed
but in the echoes of growing up
we hear the love that sprouted the flower
from the mustard seed
The simple things;
the arm that held you back
when you came to a street corner
not paying attention;
the knowing smile and loving looks
left no question in your mind,
you would never be left behind;
that words both harsh and kind
had a reason we may never understand
but we felt it, it melded us
in the holding of your hand
and we know you have done your best
that you did with best intentions
looking up into your eyes
gave us each a sense of positive direction
Be at peace in the knowing
that without you
there would have been no growing...


Record Breaking...

In the swelter; is humid better?
it 's hard to tell whether it's good or it's bad
As if moving through curtains of moisture,
perhaps i should seek The Cloisters,
where the thick walls of stone
keep the cool, keep the calm

The urgency of heat
when it is felt beneath the feet
The hurried footsteps
and harried missteps
when the heat affects the brain
Keeping an even plane
so very hard to maintain
when your too aware of your environs
and the fire all about

But this too shall pass
in New England the weather lasts
longer than you want
but less than you desire
So perspire but don't tire
don't let the weather conspire to beat you
the heat you curse today
will be the cold you curse tomorrow...


New Toy...

The first of the morning
how without a warning
one thought turns to another
becoming something else,
the toy you were playing with
going back upon the shelf,
if only for a little while...

But for the chance of a quick smile;
a glint to the eye,
a little harmless guile
playing word games like a little child,
just to stretch the synapses
so there will be no lapses in memory
(after i'm gone will my electricity go on to infinity?)
In all of us there are trace of divinity...

We all could truly be saints
but they ain't what we're made for
though some are meant for so much more
than the parts,
less than the whole
as the straining of the muscles
and the tugging of your soul
brings you closer,
but no wiser,
to what you need to know...

Life's learning is a process
and Progress,
as you know,
while always assured
if you give it a go,
is often times seen as slow
then again,
Patience has never been
if any,
of the Virtues i may hold...


Seven Wonders of the World...

At my desk again
and my favorite time of the day...
in the stillness of remembering,
in the quiet rise of Dawn,
in the glint of light upon the leaves
as the morning dew sparkles on the lawn

Before the earliest of birds
begins his morning song,
the Rockin' Robin awaits his bath
and the Cardinal will soon be along
to bathe, then lightly dry
spreading his wings in the gentle morning light,
catching the warmth as it arrows down
between the pines,
lighting up the maples
in bright green and shadows
and what would be the matter with you
if you did not find wonder in this scene,
in this vision, another dream?

Sometimes Life is just as simple as it seems;
the sunlight's angle,
the lean of a tree
with, somehow, the magic number seven
finding its way in between...
Seven clouds go circling,
seven hawks gliding on,
seven maples stand
seven tears trickled down
in wonder at the beauty i behold
but will never understand...

The Quest...

The Quest begins each morning
as for the rest,
it comes without warning
for you'll not see the storm clouds forming
behind these darkened lens
The furrow to the brow
seems forever in place somehow,
the consternation at the Idiot Nation
and the Children of Entitlement
again, wondering where manners went
and let's not dare speak of refinement

Am i such an anachronism
to be one of the few that sees the schism,
to see the cream has not risen to the top?
The rules are for fools
who believed everything taught at school
meant to keep you in your place
that they determine,
(the ones without a face)
who view from on high
in the world of thieves and spies
but the glint in their eyes is not inspiration,
it is greed

And just how much do you need,
at which table to you feed
or do you sit begging scraps
at the Master's Table?
We are all able,
some more than capable
given have a chance
by some lucky circumstance
or just perhaps by happenstance
but surely not by some Grand Design,
for the good continue to resign
in droves to fall off the Grid,
tired of being led by the blind
Let them search for me there,
in the wooded glen,
let us take our chances there
and begin again...


A Child Asks...

The Questions of Youth,
the honesty, the truth
when you're not afraid to ask
and you're not afraid to know...
Tomorrows are not worries,
never, ever in a hurry
except when the Ice Cream Truck
is heard playing it's cheery song

Come along,
be the child again
Sing along,
remember way back when,
when thoughts were of the moment
and dreams were for the night
Back to Knights in Shining Armour,
is there really any harm in the dreaming,
in the believing the magic of love for it
means believing in evil as well?
While the spells and incantations
and the OtherWorldly creations
are more like pleas and supplications
that some good may come our way...

So believe in what you will
but believe in your life still
for what else is there when the book is closed
and you return to this world?
If the pages stirred your heart,
when is it you will start
on your Journey,
the Second Part?
...for you have already made it here...


Digging in the Dirt...

A sparkle of light among the dirt
and another treasure in unearthed;
a piece of an old china plate
someone broke long ago...
Where did they go,
how long did they stay,
how many at the table
for supper every day?
A few more steps
and a cast iron shell
miles from the shore
by laying forgotten just as well
Did it have a stand
or was it in a recessed wall?
Was it part of the Garden of Eden
and lost in The Fall?

Old things and the thoughts they bring;
imagination is truly a wondrous thing
for i have traveled in Time
and the proof lies in my room
things lost, past and forgotten
are like a beacon in the gloom
drawing you near to wonder and question
and that it the wonder of antique things;
Age does bring some lessons...

Moleskine (Modo et Modo - Italia)...

White, graph lined pages
between two simple covers
connect me now to The Ages,
a wondrous gift,
unlike any other...

To mingle, rub elbows
with my heroes;
to duel with Edmund Dantes,
swap verse with Cyrano,
or sit on Papa's knee
as he tells stories of the Sea
and all the Mysteries
printed word invoke and evoke

Even before a word was spoken
i think there was Writing on the Wall
This gift beside me
will be alongside me
till it is full of words
and another takes its place,
my Cave Paintings,
if you will...



A pencil sharpened by a knife
in a copse lit by the rising morning light
as a yearling buck walks past,
coming slowly up the hill
between Tree and Rock
as he crests the ridgeline
and Time stand still again
Now i am the Savage Man
looking from whence he came
and marking the path he takes
before the rest of the World awakes
but not before the Site Trucks shake
rattle, and roll with the loads they hold
or rumble to the Excavator
to wait for the load yet taken...

This is the Nature of things
between Earth and World
is of what i sing
The catch of breath,
as simple thing
to set you straight again
for morning does not always come electric...
The days move on,
one must be selective
for one must remain alert and protective
of what sanity remains
for in spite of all the Change
Progress, Culture and New Age
every day i fight a rage and sadness
at what can only be perceived as madness
and this is no way out of this Grand Mess
there is only dealing with it
or not...

So show me what you've got
and i'll share with you mine
maybe the sharing and the caring
will help ease both of our troubled times
and the climb,
always ahead of us all...


Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Step Out of the Shadows...

The Dawning of Man;
the first morning began
when realization took us,
conscious thought shook us
out the the Family Tree
and down on the ground,
pounding our fists in the sand
on our hands and knees,
wondering if what we received
was really a gift after all...

Haven't we paid the price
after The Fall,
held accountable
and taking the punishment
for mistakes made by
the Mother and Father of us all?
It seems to me
Knowledge was both Crime and Punishment
and the curse of self realization
has lead to countless acts of desperation
cries of exasperation
and sins of degradation
but also acts of incredible kindness,
curing of blindness
and moments of complete elation...

In thoughts lies the Universe;
change your mind,
put your World in reverse
You control your stars that shine,
Fate is Faith and Fortitude
and leaving doubt behind
to take a chance,
to fail again
to despair, rant and rail again
but when the moment,
the weakness,
has passed
go back and work on your strengths
and to the things in Life that last
Forget the shadows.
those cast and those past...

Janus (II)...

Raison d'etre...
Say have you two met?
Let me introduce you to my other half,
the even more quiet side of me
who can sit for hours
but not in line,
who would sing for his supper
but not take a dime
for putting on price on his passion
has always been hard for him to define,
almost a waste of time,
for that was not what brought me here
in the first place...

Yes, i've developed a taste for the attention
but haven't i already mentioned
mine are only but the best of intentions?
and you've heard where that can get you...
And what do you do
and how do you do it,
how does Life come at you
how do you get through it?
for some it's so easy to just do it
without ever wondering what else there might be...

So is it ennui or is it envy
of those who can so easily
do the things that paralyze me?
But do not criticize,
you may theorize
but will never realize
what lies behind these eyes,
nor will i,
but the bottom line
is we all try
each in our own way
and it is in the trying and attaining,
sometimes reaching but not gaining,
not the slowly dying and complaining
we find our own little peace of Heaven.


Breathe Deep...

Like a ton of bricks it hit me;
i had not been living,
i had been dying slowly,
waiting for the end,
sad and lonely
and wringing every bit of Pathos
out of the crying towel that i could...

Would it were not true,
but i think it has happened
to more than a few
Just another one of "those things"
i've heard we all go through
though for some the wall is too high or too strong
or the road is too lonely, too rugged or too long
Sometimes you cannot tell the wrong
until the mistake is made,
then you must adjust your line...

Life is indeed a climb
and at some altitudes the air is thin
keep your breathing to a minimum
don't expend your strength
or the strength of your convictions
for one thing that gives distinction
is remaining true to yourself,
despite what comes your way
and not to fall sway
or leap blindly into a fray...

Emotions are a caution
to remind you that you do think,
for in the blink of an eye,
if you are not careful,
all could be lost over the brink
or down into the briny deep
where Atlantis waits,
flags at the gates
still fluttering in the current...


It's Not Dah Heat...

In the steamy mist after a light rain,
not enough to dispel the heat
rising up from the pavement
it almost visible tendrils of steam
the fan moves the tepid air
laden with moisture,
to be wrung out like a towel
your shirt has now become
and you legs stick to the wooden chair
as the sweat trickles down your calves...
ah, late July on the East Coast
Where would i rather be?

Some Things (Really Don't Change)...

Thoughts always turn
to that now familiar cul-de-sac
such a short distance
but such a long journey,
the remembering,
the going back...
To begin again
after all this time;
to remember when
we were two of a kind
and nothing seemed impossible,
our motions were almost lyrical,
fits of laughter,
almost hysterical
to laugh away the fears

Nothing has changed deep inside
there's so much to share
deep within where your soul resides
The difference between keeping to yourself
and finding a place to hide
is thin enough, my friend...
There is nothing you can't do
as long as you believe in you
if you never give up,
you never lose
you just adjust your battle plan...


Tuesday, December 13, 2011

On A Dime (Spins not Turns)...

If i last the day,
     what will have gone away
and what will remain,
     as ever?
if i make the day,
     what will that make go away
and what will remain,
     as ever?
If i survive the day,
     what will i have won anyway,
another day for more of the same?
     and the shame is i try,
Lord know, i try
     but sometimes the world
and the people within
     gets the better of me
and i'm hurled to where i don't want to be
     sometimes, i just have to cry on my knees
at the misunderstanding
     because i have never been a planner
i'm the needy child trying so hard to please
     who never pleases anyone,
least of all,
as ever...


High Plains Driftwood...

The first cool morning of summer
reminds me the year is moving on,
leaving me to wonder
what progress has been made
on this journey i am on...
My resolve has not faded,
don't think i have become jaded
and i have not traded my heart or soul
for a place in this World,
that to me,
seems to have lost all control
but none of it's nerve...

This World, it seems, i see as if in a dream
or a nightmare you can believe
where the wicked rule
and the good don't receive what they deserve
i am still such a child to believe in fair,
when i have seen with my own eyes
there are still people who care
who are willing to be there
when the moment comes?
Heroes stand and fight,
sometimes die,
but never run into the night,
they fade into the sunset,
always heading towards the Light...

In the land of sagebrush and cactus
is where you will find us,
after the hurley burley is done
after the battle is lost,
for it is never truly won...
There we will begin again
and try to undo what we have done,
remembering the cool of the morning
and the warmth of the noonday sun...



Sleeping World, rising Sun
it feels, sometimes, that i rise
long before either one of them...

Lately, i've been going back
to lie in bed or write
after i catch the sunrise
and trap the memory in my head
but this morning,
after a cool night shivering,
perhaps from my first dreams
in nearly twenty years,
i rise, not refreshed
but humbled,
not amid the roar and the rumble
but where, if you listen,
you may hear the bumble bee,
the leaves rustling and whispering
among the trees
It is as if you can
almost hear the seeds growing...

I'm just sharing the moment,
not saying i'm knowing
but sometimes others can see
what you can't
and knowledge comes from the sharing,
and becoming aware
of the dualities
and commonalities,
the ties that bind
and the fears that blind...
There is cruelness unintended
and thoughtlessness rarely mentioned
as well as kindness without thought
and time can never be bought
and after all the years i have sought
i have found so little


Status Quo...

Sweater night and Shadow Moon
as the sounds of the night
call to me from the darkness
Harken back to the time
when the setting Sun
brought darkness to the World,
except those by the fire,
letting the embers inspire them
as thoughts rose like the heat,
electrical impulses crackling
towards the Heavens
Years pass and tears flow,
parents age and children grow
it does not matter where you go
the Truths of Life remain...

So stay the same
or accept the need for change
if it does not work
then find what you need to rearrange
this is not earth shattering news
nor is it strange
and it ain't rocket science
But it can be a struggle
just the same
So many good souls lost
to this foolish game
to me the taint, the sin
and the shame
is for the most part
we all play along...


I'm Willing (How Able?)...

After all these years
     the morning calls to me still
as i listen to the songbirds,
     the chirping and the trilling,
for if you are willing to listen
     the world is not only alive with sound,
it sparkles and glistens
     and if you walk hurried along
you won't even notice what you're missing;
     the rainbow in a dew drop, the robin's song...

     morning is where i belong;
in a secluded dale,
     where the deer trails cross
not the Concrete Forest
     where so many have become lost...
If the Cost of Your Freedom
     is too high a price to pay
then you have no right to complain
     about how things don't go your way
for when you see and have no say
     when you think, "tomorrow" and not "today"
so many simple, good things can quickly slip away
     into the Shadows,
so many good souls lose their way
     with that simple phrase,
"it doesn't matter"
     when it does,
and there's the sad laugh
     at the obvious gaff;
forest for the trees...


Ghost Dance (Bittersweet Price)...

A beautiful heart,
     but a tortured soul...
isn't that the way it always goes?
     The dream within a dream
with the dreamer lost between
     the Living and the Dead,
this Ghost haunts the day instead,
     searching for the potion or the magic
to break his bonds
     and free him from the spell
he has been under,
     looming over him
on this strange, sad journey he is on...

Lost amid the Ocean of Civilization,
     just now coming to the realization
how far off his course has been
     for it has always seemed sink or swim,
fight or flight response to the horrors and terrors
     both from without and within
and just when you think
     your dream has come true
you wake with a start
     with someone shaking some sense into you..


Phone it In...

Just our conversations
     give me no small measure of elation
to hear your voice on the wire
     inspires me, never tires me
like a puppy perking his ears
     when he hears familiar footsteps on the walk
Sometimes we talk about nothing,
     just foolish word games
but all the same it gifts me, lifts me
     above any clouds of doom
or the grey of gloom
     it's as though your presence
fills the lonely room
     and squeezes sadness out
This is what it's all about,
     souls intertwining, combining
into a greater whole,
     how love takes control
replenishing the soul
     All it takes are a few kind words,
to know i've been heard
     that someone listens and cares
for only love can takes you there...


Seems like everything i reach for
     turns into sand
and slips through my hand
     Can a life of Job have any hope?
What is there to understand
     when the odds seem insurmountable,
when you wear grief and near madness
     as if it were a mantle about your shoulders
weighing you down?
     What if Atlas did shrug?...

There's too much to sweep under the rug
     can't go blaming unseen gods above
just how does one recover
     when you can't discover the sickness unto death?
The loss of a single breath is too much time lost
     and there, again, is that concept;
Time and the sand in a hourglass,
     time runs out, your world turns upside down
and you must start all over again...


Nimbus or Cummulus?...

Grey day, misted morning
     in the distance, thunder...
are those storm clouds
     swirling and forming?

How the blue behind grey
     tries it best to light the day
but, then again,
     it is but a pale reflection
of the Sun we circle 'round,
     leaving us again
spinning ad ifinitum (i hope)
     with feet barely touching
but knuckles scraping the ground

Sadly funny, after all the centuries,
     how little we have found
to keep us truly happy;
     or when we find it we don't believe it
for how could we achieve it,
     flawed as we are?
Just the distractions
     slowing the reactions
so your emotions don't overload
     so, once again, not really learning
just burning longer fuses
     before you implode...   


Sunday, December 11, 2011

Missing Moon...

Waitng in vain for an outcome proclaimed
     standing on tiptoes for nothing
Therein lies the shame
      for what is awaited then becomes hated
as if our contempt will nullify our disappointment
     When the reality of changing emotions
is the search for parity, an even plane
     on which to stand and become whole again...

So let the sun shine down,
     let the moon rise high,
let the winds blow where they will,
     let the seas send tides
Man will recover, he has always discovered
     a way to reach out and reach beyond...

Saturday, December 10, 2011

You Know You Know You Know...

Stars collide,
     leaving glittering constellations
sparkling in the blue-black sky
     Silver-tipped birds fly,
showering a rainbow of gossamer feathers
     The breeze glides past your face,
caressing your cheek as it calls your name
     in a throaty whisper,
soft and at the same time insistent
     Angels perch on church rooftops
gaze with cherubic calm,
     but with the strength of their convictions,
as they gaze upon a world
     they love but don't understand...

All this and more i feel
     when i take you in my arms
There is nothing more real
     nor harder to define
as when our lips touch
     How does one explain
the sunset to the sunrise?
     How does one describe
the light i see within your eyes?
     How could one disguise,
how can i get you to realize
     that nothing else matters more
when i am alone with you?...

Friday, December 9, 2011

See Me...

Sometimes, it seems i live my life
     holding my breath,
walking on tip toes;
     the master of stealth
afraid to wake the sleeping world
     and envious of its dreaming...

The man who rarely dreams
     when he sleeps,
dreams in a moment;
     while walking, while riding, while crying,
while fighting the demons
     making this World seem a dream
but isn't it, really?

Ever the altruist;
     the dog waiting for his pat on the head
surprised, as ever,
     when he gets the point
of the boot instead
     Taking another lesson
that somehow still leaves him guessing
     wondering if it was the question he asked
that was wrong in the first place...

How to explain your good intention
     when deeds should speak tomes?
How many times does one not mention
     what is plain to see
and not for just my eyes alone?
     How many bitter memories must fade
before there is room again in broken hearts?
     Trust dies first, it dies of thirst
When one cannot swallow pride...



Heat Rises...

Quest for Fire
the warmth it inspires;
does one ever tire
of staring at the embers?...

How the heat and the color
seem to help you remember
something lost to the Collective
in the long ago past

Too fast lost to memory
in the search for a different Destiny,
wondering if the runner next to me
is in the same race at all

Was it Before or After the Fall,
the biggest mistake, the utter gall
to question before you understand
just exactly what you're seeing?

For all too often we decide
or in some cases just run and hide
before we really look at what we're facing
or for that matter, what we're chasing
sometimes the blackboard needs erasing
and the game plan has to change...


Canary in a Coal Mine (II)...

The moment may not be inspired
for you to do what is required,
though sometimes the Soul is tired
it still knows Right from Wrong

Tell me, truly,how would one get along,
complete the journey
on this long and at times lonely
road we all travel on
if not for the help you receive
along the way?

For i have found just as you give of yourself,
it is true, so it does return
again, the matter of perspective;
what is fair as you perceive,
what lies hidden there that you now see
in the coming to believe
in the wanting to believe
in the goodness deep within us all?
This we did not lose in The Fall.
it tumbled down with us
like a bouncing ball
down the crumbling steps of Eden...

Tortoise Races Still...

Sometimes i gaze into the mirror
and it becomes no clearer,
no matter how near i bring my face
The chase it seems,
as in most my dreams,
is to look into my own eyes,
a chance to spy upon myself
in that moment of clarity
if it ever does come to me
for questions and not answers
are what i bring to the table
then, perhaps, the both of us
may be able to make some sense
or better said, some use
of the things we find to be Truth
and those we know to be Fables...

Quasimodo (II)...

Behold the Sentinel;
watching from on high,
lost among cathedral spires,
sliding on telephone wires
watching the world and his heart's desires
far below the dizzying heights
It's as if sometimes he might
take the Leap of Faith;
plummet or to take flight
fall into the Darkness
or rise up into the Light
of the New Day Dawning...

He is is a constant state of Becoming,
his senses heightened
you can almost hear his body humming
the electrical, the quizzical
the comical, the oh so physical
and his sense of lyrical
it something of a miracle
forgive him, Father,
he knows not what he does...

He just goes on Love
and goes on looking
reading signs and thousands of books
wondering at times
why it is it took him so long to realize
the lights within and without you
sparkle the same within your eyes...

Drum Beats in the Canyon

Moments pass,
memory is fleeting
but how can i forget
the sound of your heart beating?
Straining my ears to hear the distant drum
echoing in the canyons
in the Altar of the Setting Sun
as the Shadows play and have their way
with our imagination
and the thousand wonderous creations;
electrical impulses and other sensations
tugging at my heart
but not my patience,
for the one thing there is always is time
What can i give you but time?
Time will tell,
so they say,
perhaps tomorrow,
if not today
One must have faith,
there is not much one can say
just see the Truth in my eyes...

Sons of Adam...

A rock wall,
pines are swaying gently
as the Morning Shadows dance
Given half a chance,
what could be the choice
when i could gaze forever
on this simple morning splendor?
What's this,
are you telling me that there is
more to life than this?

Yes, and no
ain't that how it goes?
Life's give and take
and sometimes things break
Six on one hand
may mean nothing on the other
So what did you discover?

Seeing so many things
for the first time;
almost like my first breath
Somehow here,
amid the roar and jumble
i have found some peace,
some moments i can step back
to realize that there are many gifts
for which you never send the thank you card
What this,
is that Pride going before The Fall?
but Man always rises above it all...

Rain Song...

The muted light of a rain soaked morning;
Dawn comes stepping lightly,
the hem of her skirt wet and muddy,
leaping over puddles
keeping no reflection
as the droplets of water
scatter the image in ringlets,
little waves in little ponds...
The water bounces,
if you will notice;
one last leap heavenward
in an attempt to get back to Mother Sky
as the steady patter,
the splash and splatter
give a different rythm to the day
The Music of Nature;
the Earth sings,
can you hear the tune?

I, Camera...

Never mind if your mind goes wandering,
in a moment it will return
You may never know unless you let it go;
you might be surprised at what you learn
in the blink of an eye...
Is a moment ever truly lost,
Time is gained, but at what cost?
Long hidden treasure brought to shore
guided by the beacon's light
in the blink of an eye...

Why do they say thoughts are scattered?
sometimes i think they stand milling about
waiting for the chance to grab your attention
to see what the two of you might dream about
in the blink of an eye...
As the mist swirls,
in the forest the fronds uncurl
and the sleeping World stretches and yawns
Somebody wonders as another one slumbers
on this rock we live on
in the blink  of a eye...

Another morning is no closer
but neither is it further away
somewhere in distance i hear a calling;
let me try that way
in the blink of an eye...
Night falls but morning rises
Life surprises me every day
i can't say that i know
but i can say that i grow
becoming ever still
in the blink of an eye...

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Cloud Pirates...

Mountains of clouds
     billowing in the grey tinged sky...
a thousand masted schooner
     with seven crow's nests
slices the robin's egg blue waves
     where sunlight still hides
as ghosts brandish cutlasses
     giving their battle cries,
gliding by and leaving no wake

Neither booty or swag can they take
     their three hundred year thirst
never to be slaked
     as they continue on their cursed journey
chasing the sunset's burning
     into the distant horizon
as the day turns into night yet again

They are no older and no wiser
     just shadows of their former selves
living and reliving their sad mortal existence
     but by not having given in to death
you almost have to marvel
     at their persistence, their insistence
on keeping a semblance of life
     long after the thrill was gone
as though they are still trying
     to get it right...

Of Fogs and Bogs...

A fog shrouded afternoon
as the raven glides from out the mist
in the air you can feel as the breeze blows past;
particles of water as fine as dust
floating among the currents,
dancing on the air,
a sparkling, diaphanous veil clinging,
just barely,
to your clothes and your hair
while the grass soaks you feet
practically in the second they meet,
man made of water
and the soil smelling of peat...
Like in bogs of long ago
where still reside thieves and sacrifices
thrown to the primordial ooze
sinking back into the crevasses of Time
returning the clay into the clay
as the Milennia slip away...

Farmer's Almanac...

And now the Heavens open
and the Deluge begins in earnest
the Sky is crying
but the Earth is sighing
for so long it had felt the thirst...
Now slaked, refreshed
and newly awakened,
the grass will grow quicker
in the days to come,
the wetness will seep
the moisture will keep
as approaching Autumn
washes down the hill
mingling with leaves already fallen
the harbinger of color to come...