Hummingbird Sway (Tokubetsudesu #50 one-bun)

© Max Bradbury Photography

© Max Bradbury Photography


always will I be humbled by the sheer beauty in quiet repose your presence might turn my ever vulnerable existence


… and yet father visits in shadowed frequency …



Feel For Others

Inside this cavern of empty notion,

forever drawn by a mystery,

some landing point I might not reach

even in my wildest dreams,


surreal again, that visual desire

to know just why world events occur

with patterned philosophy.


When I do listen to the news,

a horrific shooting, some random loss,

a question of terror, simple reality removed,

certainly outside the realm of my own …

sheltered, safe, serenade.


If I were to take a bullet tomorrow, and lay dead on the street,

I would be like you, nameless, miles away, yet having an impact

on those nearby my side, those that once were, minutes before

postured, standing with me, smiling, laughing, living.

Yet now we lay alone, opposite worlds, similar outcome.


Then why is it that when life appears so remotely barren,

that depression wreak havoc upon our well-being,

suddenly allows all of the realities around us be forgotten.

How can love become such a shallow, low-grade fever.


Live for this moment with certainty and a delicious verve,

perhaps that onset of true compassion speaks to your serve.


Our Pedestal

If whenever we reach out to one another

really ask to be noticed,

without using words,

just the simple expression of our eyes,

cannot tears alone provide the answer,

will we only allow ourselves to feel compassion

at the heels of natural pain, long after the actions

of hurtful angst have knocked us off our feet.

Our pedestal

We live by sight,

in glamour, prestige, adorned in history,

that broach she wore just the other night,

could represent a Victorian amulet seen only by

the rarest eyes.

Those looks, those moments of judgment

we today might never know,

yet will still emulate to the best of our ability.

We could be a society of fakirs,

misrepresenting ourselves to feel like yesterday

has been brought back to life.

What if for a moment instead of finding the correct linens,

of knowing the proper stance,

of elocution and charming dialect,

what if we’d rather just be the person we are,

and stand before that moment without trying

to be what we are not and may not ever be.

What if just alone,

a compassionate human being

… if love we begin to share our ware.

Summer Peace (Carpe Diem #766 departing summer)


Oil on panel, 12'' x 9'', 2009.

For more information about the artist, please visit


speak love summer

waves will wallow while we

idealize virtue



It did happen, and we said hello,

and shared memory.

we even reminded each other why it mattered.

we wanted to go back there if just for a moment,

but the time was too …

well we never really figured out why.

Yet we are the same human beings we always were,

same thoughts inside I suppose,

just more compartmentalized.

I swear to God if someone ever says that to me again,

I might strike them on to the  ground,

and lean over them and suggest,

all those compartmentalized files are all laying in a heap


Matching Inside

We do have a choice to make it work,

or maybe not,

some of us choose to struggle, its how we live,

how we like to believe we are sort of making it.

while others seem to get it,

with their brief case tucked nicely under their umbrella,

carrying a laptop that defines their lives.

at least for the moment.

What happens when the rains come,

the torrents of life-changing currents.

What happens when the music no longer

speaks to the words that suggested last week,

was only a memory, and today, we could still be the same.

What happens when you looked in the eye in high school,

and she laughed instead of ever understanding why.

I remember sitting on the corner, well after midnight,

cars would stream by, and I kept waiting for you,

hoping the next set of lights might be you,

and then the light just changed and everyone continued,

left the man on the park bench under the street light,

never really hidden away always exposed.

Whatever happened to that guy that was just a stranger,

we drove right by and four or five of us noticed,

but only one took the time to wonder further.

Don’t Try Again

I decided it might be pointless,

though I’d been told that so many times

before while always refusing.

I just kept searching for that moment,

when tears would just come,

nothing forced, only real.

Then came the pause,

when we think about is it really the cry,

or instead are we wondering just why,

there seems to be a need to cleanse our soul.

That’s what it is I believe,

whenever I get close to understanding

just how happiness floats around my mind,

well, it often seems it is then that I

do falter again, and ask for more.

See as I write these words tonight,

I suppose you might think they’re about you,

and one time they were, a long time ago,

yet, damned if I couldn’t have known then

how simple my freedoms would be now.

I’m listening to Judy Collins,

she’s singing Amazing Grace,

and I haven’t any reason why,

but I will cry. I will want to cry.