A Living Metaphor

Shall I compare an insecurity

to a riptide when caught in blind

faith thinking our reality

has gone beyond ourselves.

 

Oh to know what course our lives

take when beyond the mechanics

of humanity, now a sail,

a delightful journey pretend today.

 

In life, we choose to fail,

caught inside the mire of our worth,

unable to move, a drawn out remain

of sweet remedy.

 

Give me peace while around people

that my life might have meaning …

Watching

Earth

moon

Have you ever wondered,

a crystal night, stars amaze our eyes,

we walk the pavement of our lives,

in contemplation, where next.

 

Oh there are places we might see,

the visionary sense of certainty.

 

She looks upon our world,

amass of humanity,

living on channeled ice,

melting in flooded waters.

 

While everywhere materials

bought and sold and destroyed,

lay the ground speaks humanity,

burning the flesh of our lives.

 

She will watch forever you know,

long beyond the cellophane blues,

before we ever might realize,

how critical is the ground we soil.

 

The simple notion of carbon gases,

evaporating the core, delightful

is the prize of immortality

if while we cry emissions will allow.

 

An emotional plea is Nature’s wrath,

the ice caps change in form by day,

at night while asleep we dream,

She remains aware forever aglow.

 

Oh there are places we might see,

the visionary sense of certainty.

Beyond Moments

If in breath, a gasp, an eye glance,
worlds interact with indifferent realities,
only to provide expression,
if only then might we understand.

While a horizon away,
a family struggles to recognize
the wealth of their local dream,
while on the other side, a smile.

If during some compelling summer
we all recognize theirs is an august,
might we in that brief moment,
give certainty to everyone’s value.

While walking toward the sun,
a fellow or perhaps her inclination
might be to know truth is love,
could all possibility turn virtuous.

We listen to the dreams of the others
oft beyond consideration of our own.

A Silent Decision

Sat in a room tonight, listened to the wonder,

of the world we live in today.

Hard topics, sad outcomes, hopeful realities,

the horrific turmoil in the lives of young women and boys.

 

Earlier this afternoon, I took a student apart,

confronting their need to focus on their academics,

made sure the rest of the classroom knew I was serious,

held out until the very last minute,

felt justified until minutes later,

I realized she suffered from social anxiety & depression.

Who’s the tough guy now?

 

See though these are two seemingly different stories,

they’re really the same,

each one a product of the other,

the initial motives for throwing a young person’s life away,

and the later the end result,

decides just why should we try anymore.

 

Any more and we’ll fall apart and cry,

yet so often we are told not to respond that way,

too many times, we forget the others,

end up in the trapping of silent decision.

A Silent Facade

It is when a streak of cirrus vapor 

PAints the auburn night sky,

The man stood alone on the worn asphalt,

Wondered whic direction might he look.

Where to glance, who to ask

How to define the very nature of being.

Wants suggest we be like him, her, them,

We all do it, yes it is true,

All of us waitvwith curiosity,

Hoping no one might notice,

Nobody sees him, no one

Can see his eyes,

Where the real story lives,

The true reason of constant agony,

Always knowing, always looking aware,

Aware,

Someone knows he is convinced,

Waiting, patiently, philosophical,

He might ask,
When will the other shoe drop. 

No, no, let each other figure it on our own …

We will all be ok 

Sometimes I Stop

There is that occasion when the world evolves,

and I, for the sake of I, stay static,

I stop,

I don’t smell  the flowers, or even walk in the humidity,

instead,

I am frozen in time, wondering just how many hours

will drift past my eyes before I can

know,

before I might understand,

why the motion of my mind seems to be

in a perpetual state of idle.

 

When these episodic windfalls of clarity,

reach my sub-conscious,

I sometimes wonder about perception,

not about yours or theirs or anyone beyond my world,

but more about them,

those I love, the children, the voices, the people

that all know where I come from,

they all know the

affliction,

the seemingly easy out I have in my lexicon of words

to justify just why I want to cry.

 

It seems though,

in the silence of any room, any vacant space,

it is apparent, that I will stay here, forever.

We Are Here, Again

When I was a child, I remember well,
the gathering of family, all indeed similar.
In the early morning anticipation, a spell
of wonder, love, then all arrived from afar.

Conversations were readily heard inside
the walls of a gathering of similar soul.
The children played a sweet naive pride,
allowed adults to know love, and be whole.

Tragedies occurred, stories of love replayed,
throughout our lives a similar world in now;
we are the eyes of elder, those who stayed.
The evolution of time, we are here, somehow.