Sightings and Photographs

The other day I noticed a friend had disappeared,

she’s a funny sort,

who takes life by the day, in a peaceful mellow sort of way,

it’s caused that smile to stay with her forever,

since the first time we walked past one another,

in an iconic wooden hallway on the East side of town.

Now when I say she disappeared it was in a comical sort of way,

posing with a world beyond her own,

yet one of such humility that allowed a moment to be shared,

yet she disappeared, the only visuals that remain

are the entertainer and her friend,

but we all know she’s there – she’s our friend.


National Fatigue

I only speak for myself,

call it a selfish uprising,

I’m confused, battered, saddened, hypocritical,

burdened by some, mocked by the rest,

certain to be the brunt of many wisecracks,

disrespected for my ability to protect, serve,

less thoughtful then I’d like to be,

given the nature of this scrutiny.

I was once proud, held allegiance to many,

began a movement that created a freedom,

recognized the beauty of inclusion,

and even that simple truth,

no longer exists on the streets, in the classroom, at home,

because we are all wrapped up in the chaos,

I worry about the future, not because of my strength,

more due to my self-esteem, my need for validation, my responsibility

to hold up our confidence in global liberty …

The leaders of my dream, I’m curious,

I don’t even know who they are anymore,

Where am I,

this is not my United States,

Where is my America?

While We Await Outcome

I live in a country of freedom,

I walk outside without fear

at least not your fear,

I can stroll along the avenue

embrace the fall of summer’s warmth,

I can look beyond my quiet reality,

without concern of a sudden tragedy.


and then they say its relative,

we handle what it is we can,

we jump to conclusions about the Man,

and everyday we have a new demand.


I was upset the other night about a man,

whom I do not love but I understand,

I watch as life treats them with pleasure,

their smile will be rewarded perhaps forever.

I wondered about my state of mind,

if how many times, will I allow my life’s remind

of a difficult circumstance where I feel exposed,

while in the classroom I teach them how to behold

the beauty of inner strength,

to recognize their lives do always matter.


Tonight I watched a couple of mouths at a bird feeder,

the seeds flowing freely for both to prim each feather,

yet who would believe that either animal survive

if without our freedoms they were simply cast aside.


So while we fester upon the ills we might rather avoid,

let’s keep in mind there’s always love to help fill the void.

The Morning Solace

Did we wake in peace always to know today is the day is in wonder is happy in play or are we that simple common sort of way whose bounty is beyond our stay. I wonder if time were allowed to replay the moments in our mind when something ran astray could we then believe that in some sort of way our lives might find a newly found way. I do believe that prose has a certain style asking to say the right words with the right lead inside the proper syntax of our play. Yet today, I walk inside a dream of certain imaginative creative sound, to discover everything I have ever searched for is already found.

First World Privilege


while a city burns,

the many mouths we don’t perceive,

cry again to find some ease,

it is me that questions my reality,

what is my pain,

my travesty,

the burden of my own personal reality.


Someone suggests it can be measured,

I can give myself a break,

while the temperature in my room stays balanced,

the television sparkles in the corner,

so I remain comfortable,

in my voyeuristic tendency to follow

the horrific terror of others beyond my dreams.


I do wonder tonight, how we find our relative

coping skills, when I am feeling a stress,

that so many others would give their lives for,

instead of the balance of their own soul,

lost inside the evil response of the human condition.

I’m stuck, trying to find the words,

I’ve lost my rhythm, you can tell can’t you,

because I’m forever seeking an answer.


In the meantime, I’ll shut down the electricity

in my veins with a quiet distraction of naive complicity.

Awakening Dreams (Remember 9/11)


There is a silent warrior exists

in the minds of a planet of media,

we are all a part of a phenomena,

life-changing, philosophically tragic.


Do you recall the day?

the smoke, the gnashing metal, the acrid reality,

the day our lives became a media event,

the time the skies melted a quiet relent.


We could all witness the unnatural cloud cover,

the terror of running lives made for Hollywood,

yet real, so unimaginably horrific is life,

when caught in the swallow of pure evil.


We awoke to a changing landscape

forever altered in the eyes of human terror,

we cried, we found little solace, we died inside,

knowing so many lives were simply … gone.


So today, we celebrate the lives of a nation,

defined by terrorism, refined by hope,

we stand before our flag today with attitude,

yet let’s forget ourselves just for the moment.


Can we remember the innocent, ultimately brave

souls lost to the mystique of evil’s victory,

so today we do recall events so horrific,

and measure our lives inside a sunlit elegance.


Let’s not forget, and let’s stand together,

not for ourselves but for all of the others,

the deplorable nature of true tragedy

merits no statement beyond a supportive stance.


Celebrate our world, celebrate our people,

celebrate the love of our humanity, together.



The Autumn Winds

I stood outside today,

the wheat fields were my gentle sway,

there was hard rain fell all morning,

and I figured it to be tears for our mourning.


I imagined a corn field in the midwest,

where a little boy has been laid to rest,

not with tender desire,

more the actions of a liar.


I have periodic crying spells

when my heart in the silence of my home swells,

I think of all the children

lost in the chaotic evil of this cauldron.


This morning I chose to return to the fields,

to feel the breeze sway the crops, the august yields,

I was thankful in the most horrific manner,

to know such a beautiful young boy did matter.


In the horror of Satan’s grasp upon our soul,

there is this field, in Jacob’s life, his spirit whole.