Will We Listen

He

would suggest we

love one another

a smile,

a gracious host

he always gave you the last peace,

the first chance to realize,

a quiet reminder of how a man

could be gracious

at any

cost

 

His cost

our decision

a lot of indecision

inside the spectrum

of constant scrutiny

versus

a positive outcome,

inside the machine,

he would use

different tools

to provide allowance

a natural course of love,

perhaps our

loss.

 

So now today,

we remember him

his legacy

as brief a time

as God gave our

heart and soul

to understand

the magic

of his quiet

direction,

still a strong suitor

he assured us all

he came to

heal.

 

His legacy of love

sweet positivity.

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Life Is Not A Ploy

Though there would be

immediate disagreement in one,

quiet satisfaction in another,

in the final hour,

one would realize if they did stop

to glance,

a world beyond their own device,

would, might

still exist,

and in that social fabric ignored,

a pain,

a fighting soul

whose rapture not found

might emulate

the sorrowful nature

of a discompassionate ploy.

 

Yes, simply a game,

beyond the reality of our terms,

defined by the human condition,

a banter of

despondent disregard

favors

only the regarded one …

or two, or three, or miles of more,

so difficult it is to understand

the lemings at my door.

When The Rains Fall

prince-profile-illustration

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We all sort of band together,

a community,

suddenly we want to feel like we

believe

in similar ways

the grief of the day,

or in contrast,

the delightful nature of a

calm spring day,

when last night,

when the horrid reality of life

in all of its shapeless mortality,

suddenly did reign upon us

with passion,

a vigor more relentless than ever we might

Imagine,

and yet now this morning,

sun streaked skies allow our hearts to breathe

in natural elegance,

we will recall the Purple Rain of symbolic legacy.

Until later on, when beyond the intoxicating allure

of a glorious spring evening,

we do sleep again, only to wonder

if when morning returns

will we listen to the soft coo,

When Doves Cry

Second Chances

We’ve all had them,

known them,

witnessed an account,

wondered about our own.

We delight in opportunity,

look for an opening

a way to move our ego

beyond that of nature’s

sacrificial lamb.

When witness to change

our actions become an exchange

for the former self

hoping an eventual transformation

might give our hearts pause,

beyond the scrutiny,

a lesser adamant cause,

to find peace,

imagine a world beyond

the ugliness of …

needing a chance.

When World’s Collide

Severe variables

immediate collossal

pathways merge

energy driven

passion aligned

We have these adventures ahead

with our own perceptive dreams

Decisive ideals

Value begotten

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Outlier Definitions

While our lives are interchangeable

where is it the stopgap of indecision

I once knew a woman

who whenever hurt or pain

announced their presence

she could still smile, still smile.

~

How do we know when the correct moment

can suggest we collide with a resilience

rather then

squirm away

in fear, the deception  of our reality

playing with that spiritual edge,

a quiet reminder in the back of our mind

reminds me, us, when we need to seek

outside of ourselves,

with willing anticipation

the answer is always nearby,

love is always holding the key.