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.

When Yesterday

When we start to think about

our yesterdays,

we get scared, well some, me, suppose

the words need only be self-directed,

if validity

is the goal of my game.

 

I contemplate my day before notions,

those of consequence and reward,

I try to recall the best, when especially drawn

into the abyss of the mess.

 

A hundred years ago, my embellishment

landed me in places I couldn’t defend,

only wished I had found a way to mend

the indifference,

self-righteous patterns of wanting everything,

my way, my game, my gamble, my favorite

addiction.

 

I lost at every step, remembering when leaving

fearing skid row might be my home address

in six weeks or less,

less the confidence, less the support,

lest I drag my ass out of the gutter and realize

there is a life ahead.

 

However, there is always the readiness,

not choice by personal desire,

but the savior whomever that might be in our lives,

the one and only,

Grace,

the epitome of letting go,

realizing we cannot, and will never need to do this on our own,

alone.

 

Yet today, I do think about my yesterdays,

and wonder if I might ever step away,

to enjoy the beauty of this,

namaste.

 

* Lost Generation

Love, Time & Death

Central Park

It’s New York,

of course,

where lives do happen,

cross through Central Park,

onto 7th until we find ourselves,

sitting on a bench,

wondering where everyone is coming from,

hoping that we might find peace.

 

We keep looking in their eyes,

sometimes the notice is true,

others,

they walk by searching themselves

for some resting point,

a place they can call home.

 

He is that man alone in a world,

where everything exists,

and he’ll ride his bicycle all hours of the night,

because he can,

he can maneuver through the masses,

and always,

he can still eat his dinner alone.

 

She might be that woman living different roles,

walking through the park,

with a certain flair,

an attraction to the masses,

yet, in her mind,

no one really notices,

because she has felt alone.

 

I took the day off today

because I needed rest,

seems that has been a necessary event,

while the world continues to glow around me,

I center my eyes upon tears,

for it seems they are always near,

waiting for some answer,

a reason to suggest there is purpose,

even when nothing seems to matter,

only time continues to measure.

 

When that moment called me,

I stood before an audience,

Strangers all of them so cold,

the bitter icy winds of discontentment,

without notice walked away,

while my body wondered about time,

the descent, how far, how chilled, how quickly.

Then she became the moment,

amongst many beyond that walkway …

 

she is love.

Inside are the Valleys

With velvet landings our bodies float

Across a horizon built upon time’s nature.

That is the sordid truth of patience today

To know to ask to suggest we all reveal

A desire to give regal Her personal moat.

To celebrate King and Queen will insure

Our lives a pretty fare, a blossoming May

Where lives led become our society real.

 

Inside the deep resounding depths of true

Love is the answer, the stated Grace is

Our lifeblood, a chosen reason to release

The burdened storms craggy hill in blue

Sky, a temperate response to all of His

Doings, plans, desires, in valleys of peace.

Elegance in Shadows

When in a distant harmony

could imagine a spiritual agony

While the world exists around me

I think of you to know you’re free

 

No longer is a romantic tangle

draw upon your heart’s sweet mingle.

For I am only a memory, one that

could certainly bring slow reckoning.

 

She walks an eloquent step in grace

without the night her sweet embrace

can draw my eyes to a prettily wed

wardrobe includes signature red

 

Will always protect her from the rains

that city wise routine with refrains.

We would share love together than

allow our lives be separated often.

 

I am reminded of the shaded mystery

her mystique would carry so worthy

I only want to see her walk again

tonight in the foggy rain of memory

 

If only short a dream in Parisian eyes

would I set her free to show my wise

 

 

While Understanding Matters

In speaking out loud,

one suggested,

there is little that matters,

mixing paint,

the blend is a natural course of

a process,

one that’s surely been in place,

long before our own,

personal reaction.

We sometimes play with dye,

adjusting colors for our own

benefit, philosophy, comfort zone.

For when the artist,

will display their work,

their pigment will be the final product,

not their initial choice perhaps,

just,

when the paint dries,

the tempered mood in tone survives.

Knocking On Doors

I choose to navigate the open walkways,

a common thread

similarities in typical days

places I dread.

I wonder sometimes about certain choice

if we might know

just why it is we find the time to rejoice,

however swift hearts grow.

When a decision in retrospect is made

we sometime slow realize

that memory that conscience forbade,

will leave our wonder wise.

When a lift in melody caught sweet attention

the very source of gallantry

spoke aloud with strong desire to love, mention

in all its chivalry.

Welcome the moon in familiar tonight’s pattern

while the sky awaits morning light

a beautiful life we swift acknowledge in turn

when covering shadows in the night.

When only the naked mind is given allowance

In simple virtue our humanity’s bliss is chance.