Last Night’s Anxiety

Real.

Made up will not suffice.

Perfection is a model for memory

when lost in the shadow of fear.

Unstoppable.

Passive.

Remarkable in patterned stealth

tendrils suffocation drawn.

Observation.

Callous.

in every waking moment a trapping,

a formidable locksmith might overlook.

Posture.

Presence.

Quite assured no response to time

could offer solution, satisfaction.

Perhaps.

Solution.

In time a drowsy eye could tear

enough to drown self-pity.

Cope.

A Little Billie Holiday for Him

I thought I might listen to a little Billie tonight,

his memory is fresh in my mind.

I ‘d like to think he did a little swing in time,

her words, her melody, a smile.

This is a good man we honor today in dreams

a mover with a heart of humble pie.

if Billy might have heard his words imagine,

the groove she’d create in a cadence

that spoke to his hope for a society in change

they could waltz together in a walk,

a stroll that became his march on Washington,

with her crooning voice led the way.

It is difficult to imagine how one life could change

the masses, cause a people to respond

a certain elegance from her, singing the blues,

a reality of time needing change for him.

We celebrate the man that spoke of a freedom,

I somehow have to think when a child,

listening to Billie Holiday speak to the times,

he began to certainly understand peace.

~

*photo found on cuthroathippiegang

My Bluesy Sunrise

I was looking for that trigger, that motion,

that inspiration, that somehow would let me again,

I wanted to again and again,

I wanted to play my keyboard,

like the ivories that evade me,

my fingertips in a rather svelte state of mind,

wanting to tap the notions, let me unwind,

allow my senses to become an expressive

journey to the eyes of the souls around,

those washing their hands of tension,

in the morning sunshine, basking in an energy

sends them reeling with discovery …

~

I wanted to feel that again,

in a matter of moments I might leave myself,

to let the words come alive,

my tappings,

not just the physicality,

but somewhere, some distant mechanism,

some issue of lost control, with a patterned delivery.

I want to speak to that discovery,

a way to help me find the music

in my mind and express it with benefit.

I only wish I could feel the way I do,

when I can see you standing by my side.

~

So now we have that figured out, I mean,

the real sense of why I have chosen to talk

about this personal discovery. Perhaps we

might then journey together hand in hand,

let the tension of disbelief and fear, strengthen

rather than deprecate our chances to survive.

That energy that exists when I crawl away

from my sedentary selfish ways, that sense

of belonging inside a world with dreams and ideals

That’s the place I want to be today and every day,

instead of wondering just why I hadn’t known.

~

Perhaps then tonight, when we reflect upon our day,

can we feel a little solace in again, finding the way.