We Hold the Match

I feel responsible

in the quiet dark corner of my life,

I am the problem,

I carry the matches

to our powder keg we call America.

When I read about the color of your skin,

wonder about your safety,

wish you wouldn’t all be lumped together,

I seldom think about me,

never had to,

ever feel any responsibility beyond feeling lucky.

I am a lucky man,

with a lot of flints in my pockets,

ready to strike with my own personal naivety

Or, am I that clueless,

to imagine I cannot contribute to the melee,

the reality of our times,

in America.

The color of my skin,

offers me privilege,

haven’t had to think about it,

24/7.

I simply go forward,

yet, tonight, as I look at the constant protestations,

that disrupt the lives of our good citizenship,

no matter the color of any one or gathering group’s demeanor.

I am saddened tonight,

with the reality of my responsibility

I need to speak,

more often,

with more fervor,

more adamant,

with more unapologetic passion to suggest,

we are the individuals who need to begin to speak,

rather than rest on our own laurels,

believing we are doing right,

by sitting on our hands.

I cannot, no, will not, no, I simply must begin,

to rip my filtered head and eyes out of the sand.

I need to find the solution to extinguish the fires,

smoldering, in my apathy.

I need to recognize you before I can accept me.

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Music To Cry By (Sade)

She is just beautiful,

sleek, smooth, black,

like a midnight sun,

rolling across the ocean’s tide,

I watch her,

eyes that move through me,

when she looks,

when she sees me glancing her way,

I wonder sometimes,

when standing before us all,

if she can feel the passion,

we all believe is moving through her body,

when she does sleek,

melodic with grace, an elegance so defined,

we just cannot understand why,

such wonder really does exist,

tonight before our eyes,

can we just listen all night long,

and melt away the fear, just listen,

again, another song,

and her voice,

her eyes,

her words with her eyes so smooth,

that elegance is a magical journey,

we wish upon ourselves,

each other,

there’s absolutely no way we cannot.

Sade.

Sitting Amongst Each Other

parkbench

We are all here,

together again in the same room,

we walk different paths,

together we need directions,

though if face you in the eye

suddenly that desperation,

fear that mocks our very sanity

steps inside my realm,

tweaks the moment …

where did all the peace go,

that just minutes before exists,

when we don’t, we can’t, perhaps we’re just not ready,

to look one another in the eye again,

If only for a split-second,

a time frame no one can really allow a measure,

perhaps just then,

when I glanced your way,

you might see me,

smiling

Perhaps I am just hoping,

yet, I find it a far better angle,

than to remain terrified of that which

I haven’t any idea

sits nearby,

peaceful, like.

Parallel Shift

Notice the energy surround a moment

could be positive,

might be what the soul decide.

We wonder how we ever got here,

then, do the same thing,

again,

and wander further toward a chasm,

deep and longing,

a wish to have you all to themselves,

for the moment, yet a path changes direction,

you stumble,

upon,

a

new notion with revelation.

Asks how you got here,

when suddenly you remain curious of the same.

How did I get here,

when yesterday I felt completely at ease,

walking in the middle of a dense forest,

shortly before the light had changed.

Morning Glory

11 Mexican Wolf

The rains were cleansing anew forest green

Birds melodic feed on spring magic grain

~

We realize here today we are visitors

In world around their natural dense lairs

~

We might build and structure lives around them

We always know animals eye a gem

~

Stay far away amidst humanity

Instincts speak aloud, no frivolity.

~

We are but simple folk to imagine

We might belong as ours this land lived in

~

Sounds of forest scrapes in trail with bird calls

Above the range we hear nightly hoot owls

~

In nature’s world exists in every breath

A spoken rule to be on task or death

~

Might step in, a bird of prey, or snarl

Deep within the wood we hear the growl

~

I have human instinct to seek early shelter

Let the lands around me quiet enter

~

We will trust those colleague with minds nearby

While in the wood lessons, important simple cry

When I Lost My Way

I won’t really ever recall the date,

Nor the notion,

I haven’t been able to understand,

Just how I ever really got this way,

How it is that when I think about it,

The same questions remain,

I continue to look for some solutions,

In other eyes,

I look to them for guidance,

They give me strange looks,

That pierce my heart,,

As I stand on the corner waiting,

My blood leaves my face,

Until a sallow man stands stumbling,

Unknowing of just how vulnerable,

A glance,

A moment of disparity

In someone else’s life

Hasn’t anything to do with his own.

Yet the light changed,

And progress always allows us to

Walk through the moment,

Take a breath,

Forget about the past,

Because it is not fair to one another,

Especially now, today,

You are still my romantic muse

Years later, I cannot imagine a happier

Encounter,

Back then I did lose my way,

Today, I can still remember,

I wish walking were an easier

Way to say hello

Rather than having to create a new avenue.

While Waiting in the Wood

Just then,

The skies turned grey

Everything I’d said before

Seemed to be coming true.

Even if I tried to lie,

There wasn’t anyway I might

Get you to believe I didn’t mean any harm.

Problem was I did,

And you knew so well,

I hadn’t any idea why I didn’t see it,

Didn’t care I suppose,

Just didn’t give a shit anymore.

Yet, what brought me back,

Wasn’t you,

I didn’t love you, and that’s what you wanted,

It might be easier to just fuck it all,

Push it aside rather than step in front of any moving trains.

I was wishing to be on the tracks,

And you kept pulling me to the side,

Despite wanting to roll me under the wheels,

You held on …