I Have These Moments …

I forget, I react, I overload,

Symptomatic of a torn life I suppose.

 

A lot of years ago I wouldn’t imagine,

The powerful grip this past might hold.

 

I’ve taught the voices of the future,

Passed on wisdoms and second nature.

 

Though I suppose from the glass you see,

I’m a regular dude, capable of many things.

 

Yet I’m always alone,

Wondering just where is it the light is shone.

 

I walk inside a myriad of speculation,

Always waiting for the cannon to explode.

 

I wonder about the rest of my kind of person,

Do we all contain ourselves rather than lose it.

 

I can’t stand to hurt your feelings, anyone at all,

It grieves me to know that any pain is of my hand.

 

Once in a while life almost seems rather perfect,

The trees, the evening owl, sunsets and sweet breeze.

 

I wish that all of life could hold such magic,

The sort of spellbound love we do so cherish.

 

I would travel the world to find a solution,

Then I realize they are right here next to us all

 

I have these moments I can’t find where to fall

I have these moments I cannot fathom the fall.

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When Ordinary Steps In

Though we step in a path of quiet pause

We remark at the peace beyond our call.

Lives begin, attitude is common ground

We believe our minds change because we love.

A decision is then made to leave applause

On the back of a playing card after all.

While an Ordinary life often found

To be lacking, we reach the sky above.

When in the span seeking for life in Oz

We will all choose to follow thus we fall

Into the trappings of shackle and bound

By their sallow nature shields a glove.

Choose to breathe in a vacuum, simple free

Is our love for each other, meant to be.

We Might Yearn a Child’s Eye

While we ran the backyards,

the slow walk through the dandelions

pollened by summer’s bees,

we did think alone,

the same way we,

the same notions, we may

have today, the same wonderment

of the psychological nature,

compels our being,

causes our heart to swoon,

allows for the time to stand still,

we can all be in love

when we know the answer is

truth in the manner of an eternal Grace.

I do know love, I like to say,

much better than yesterday,

though a child,

I knew love unconditionally

until one day …

 

We wander beyond our lost innocence

a compelling stir

of reality and fantasy,

suddenly knowing why our tears

could last forever,

or at least until

we are told that is

good enough,

life goes on,

time to move forward,

hold onto memory,

but never ever recall the same.

 

As a little boy,

I used to watch cars slip up the hill,

a winter’s night, the street light,

snow filled the neighborhood,

and my ten year old self

safely tucked inside a picture window,

could watch the world survive a winter’s storm.

I would often wonder about the people inside,

if they knew I was watching,

if they could tell even in that stormy moment,

they would never be alone,

lost and frozen in the cold,

the ice of the street

would prevent them from

being in their own home,

the comfort of home,

putting aside all of the day’s

concerns,

having a martini,

perhaps a cigar,

and maybe a little bit of fantasy,

thinking about that woman at the bar,

and wondering again,

did she really smile,

or was that simply nerves.

 

I once left a hillside campground,

the whole walk worrying about fire,

and later ran back up the trail,

crossed the mountain creek

we liked to call it,

a little stream of shale and rocks,

gurgling along Woods’s Hill,

a memory,

when I returned to camp,

the fires had begun to ignite,

I felt like a boy scout

stamping out our ignorance.

 

I remember the day he died,

my world ended just a little bit,

enough for me to know,

reality was a far greater burden,

than the easy bliss of childhood fantasy.

I remember thinking then,

I would never worry about dwelling

on the past,

because nowadays,

there is too much excitement ahead.

 

I never forgot you man,

always on my mind,

I’ve often wondered if your childhood,

was ever so easily defined.

 

If When We Wonder

If while our lives motor along,

we could wonder about what might be real,

if we might recall the vision,

we recalled when wanting to wander,

would we wish upon a clever clarity.

 

We wanted this, said to ourselves,

while the skies blurred our memory,

always positioning ourselves

to carry on, to carry on,

we always do want to remember when.

 

There in this room where the papers lied,

he would smoke his pipe,

on the floor nearby is where I might lay,

matchbox cars, and wild romance,

in the eyes of a ten year old boy.

 

There in the autumn breeze,

clouds create a cacophony of chaos,

delightful to the eyes,

of a childhood filled with wonder,

the questions sweep across a gilded sky.

 

Curious our lives recognize time,

the loss of a muscle joint twist,

a groan, a shudder when night lights

suggest we need again to understand,

the hours ahead will always be the same.

 

Where the body remains a vessel,

the heart continues to allow fantasy,

the emotional plea of desire

became my demand in a child’s eye.

Oh to please the wanderer’s sunset.

The White Out

In a sudden state of conclusion,

a confusion,

an interruption of our

ultimatum,

we were in a stirring rendition,

of love, of fun, of childhood,

when simply in the notice of our soul catcher,

we were told it is time to go home.

 

Now in the quiet of the day,

when laying back in my bedroom,

the familiar walls, the sounds,

static realities of my existence …

Now I can stand alone,

notice hanging on a wall nearby,

a dreamcatcher follows my eyes,

I suddenly do understand why.

 

A multitude of personality

spoke the knowledge of a few,

only to find some solace,

in the calm,

the storm that surged last night,

lays down a peaceful blanket,

a security to know we are never alone,

and instead just part of the circle,

that place where our lives,

measured amongst their lives,

and the lives of anyone whom nearby,

can hear my shout, her tear, his solemn plea,

we are all inside this dream catcher.

 

In matters of the soul,

we can cleanse our hearts in the grief

of our confusion,

in a thankful paradigm,

we might suggest,

perhaps another day,

because tonight everything is so fresh –

there is an ultimatum

in the sweet peace of love.

 

There is a cathartic happening today,

meant to suggest love,

in the confusion of wondering why,

it is his soul chosen today.

For all of our heartfelt passion,

for life and the responsive nature

of letting our lives speak loud,

for the loss of a mechanical truth,

suddenly surreal in His sensual sky,

we do know love today,

and the Creator has sung song today,

in the eyes of this Elder is the compassionate way,

we know love, we know love, is this day.

Sitting In My Personal Space

Getting ready for the school year,

planning lessons,

rearranging books and files,

adjusting to a new physical classroom.

 

I wanted to complain tonight,

my room still needs desk,

35 kids coming in a week,

no ac, the temp was 110 F.

 

I sat out in the hall,

parent and student open house,

lots of people walking through,

new construction, ceilings missing tiles.

 

I joked how I was too exhausted,

the heat, couldn’t touch my room,

decided until tomorrow to rearrange,

as tonight I would surely break a sweat.

 

We have a beautiful new space,

expanding the student opportunities,

new carpet, walls, designs all meant

to enhance the students’ education.

 

The space isn’t complete,

I need desks in my room,

I haven’t got any a.c.

no wireless, and vacant walls.

 

I went home tonight exhausted,

and then suddenly it all became real,

I no longer cared about my classroom,

I watched the news tonight in Houston.

While Sitting Alone

The picture window,

my guide to the world around me,

could be a rainy day,

I watch the slick survival of a city,

might now sunshine cast shadows,

while domesticated bird houses

offer a gallery,

for my child-like eyes,

to always wonder why.

 

Soft fabric of the green sitting chair,

matched the other nearby,

always vacant to my stare,

yet, I could rely upon its permanence,

never to leave me,

always after eyes searching the world,

step back in to my shelter,

and there the matching green …

There’s always something

reassuring

about the static in life.

 

I once was a young,

who only felt tears when

necessary rites of passage,

would slow my way.

Eventually I’d find windows

to imagine, take me away

to different places,

my mind a brilliant coaster,

never letting me stay in one place

forever too long.

 

Sitting differently today,

the furniture rearranged,

wishing all those moments

I wanted to get away,

would somehow return,

I could then seen them both,

sitting with smiles,

the usual way,

because back then,

I never felt that breeze.

 

The picture window,

still remains,

a different set of eyes,

glancing through their destiny,

wondering about the other side,

where the glass is pummeled

by the occasional stray bird

trying to find their way,

child reaches,

and wings drift away.

 

I remember one afternoon,

listening to the rain,

wanting everything

to always stay the same.