Sunsets

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If in the quiet of a soft moment

We were the Ancient Mariner afloat

Might we wander aimless while then emote

In silent harmony a sweet lament.

 

For is the sea one in quiet recall

This guiding reality, timeless shift

A body where many less gentle rift

Would now decide in earnest Man will fall

 

If in this a sunset we are timeless

Study well the waves remain a current

Drawing history will be their torrent

Leads lives grown fond in conditions careless

 

Oh the gift is deep waters telling time

Mystique as might repeat as does this rhyme

 

 

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When Demons Rise

I’m here,

waiting,

standing in the middle,

I see the society  exist in simple terms,

not idle complications,

just there,

in front of me, around, behind every corner,

I watch the world

become part of the solution,

yet the island,

the rocks have a craggy exterior,

seems rather cutting,

they’re screaming …

words anyone can hear:

‘Feel,

feel so

feel sorry’

for whom you might say,

the rocks laugh like lapping waves,

a constant reminder of their own permanence

in a fluidity I cannot ever understand.

 

Perhaps I would rather not,

possibly, quite assuredly,

perhaps,

I wouldn’t want,

perchance, the telephone might not ring.

 

I walked inside this world

I didn’t feel like an exit would be necessary,

except just then,

someone, I don’t really know who,

perhaps it was me,

somewhere someone somehow,

simply,

in a timely manner,

shut yet another door.

 

The clouds had overcome my shadows,

to such a degree,

I didn’t know if I was standing in the clear,

at least,

perhaps,

I didn’t care,

to know.

 

If only I really didn’t want to know anymore.

Breathing Slow Dreams

It is when we want to cry,

the sound will not come,

its expanse,

fills our lungs to capacity,

short breaths,

quiet realities,

keeps us moving through a storm,

taking a moment,

a gasp,

yet still there is a desire to find more,

know a place we might settle in,

get perspective,

develop a plan,

learn to let go,

let go, let go, let go

of my infernal panic drawn by circumstance,

mixed with pride,

lost in ego,

until someone decides they might listen.

Only, we can never know,

when the right time is,

when the chance to breathe,

becomes the right idea of purpose,

compassion,

righteous knowledge,

entitlement.

Then again,

and again and again and again,

breathe deep the …

another lyric away from

recognizing the purity of our own sweet

sanity.

My First Experience With Survival

It was the summer of 72,

just beyond the previous winter,

I would stay home,

amongst my school friends,

chums, the guys I hung with

all school year.

 

Yet I didn’t know them,

because the 12 summers before,

when I began to remember,

around the age of four,

I’d spent elsewhere

in a different world,

a time zone whose style

didn’t match up

with the hometown crowd.

 

It was there I lost him,

imagine the imbalance in my mind,

a good friend

labeled my survivor guilt one time,

and I haven’t been able

to look past that ever since.

She gave a freedom

to realize life has reasons

and they’re not always mine.

 

So it is then that I reflect upon,

when today, I can barely breathe at all.

Conservative Happiness

I wonder sometimes if they all think,

process, imagine, find futile,

an effort to push a boulder aside.

I feel the clammy stone of a permanence,

both hands taking grip on a monstrous image,

finding the will,

and yet realizing it is not about strength

at all.

 

When forgiveness occurs, we do find a way,

to lean, to count upon, the girth

of our boulders will

hold us up, give us strength,

allow our hearts and mind to know

that though it will never go away,

sometimes the offer

is meant only to be stability.

 

I was walking along the beach the other day,

noticed,

the footprints in the sand,

I could tell by their depth and lift,

a certain happiness in the owner’s gait.

Perhaps a burden lifted

the illusion of the rock,

set aside for now to appreciate another day.

 

Rather than move or alter or deface,

I will continue to cleanse the porous response

the rock reminds us all,

there is a constant reminder,

in our eternity,

to live by a mistake,

is to recognize the beauty of our

humanity.

 

 

Sunsets Will Remain

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While monsters in our midst,

shed sallow contraband upon our mind,

when gathering upon the storm,

seeking shelter beyond the norm,

there is that constant we might recall,

a certain Grace in common language.

for everyone is given cause to learn,

in struggle, sunsets will remain.

 

We fight the crazies by instinct we know,

the candor of survival a goal,

and yet, in the time of forgotten peace,

how quickly do our souls begin to ache,

searching aimless in a cloud of foil,

unsure of ourselves, little left to convince,

the pattern of response becomes reaction,

yet, quite apparently, sunsets will remain.

 

Inside the pretty fashion of calm design,

there instills a certain measure of sanity,

our pulse is drawn within the scope

of humankind, the solace being so kind.

Until the fabric begins to wear, shadows tear

away at the still life photograph of sweet bliss.

We cannot always find a way to piece together

our broken spirit. Yet, sunsets will remain.

 

In the morning, the offer of delight is an energy

we celebrate harmony knowing sunsets will remain.

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.