If Life Were A Simple Pattern

I remember when a child,

my sister would design her own clothes,

simple patterns,

stitch marks and wardrobes,

mail-order catalogues,

in a few weeks, there

she would be,

she would wear her finest fashions,

all designed in very simple,

yet lovely, remarkably lovely,

simple pattern …

Perhaps there is somewhere in this world,

the design is linear, less abstract,

and we might all fall into line,

cross the threshold together,

or is it the other way around,

do we wish,

would we rather,

the design,  the mold, the expectation,

be altered, broken or thrown.

Perhaps we may,

we might, we could imagine a different

outcome to the same pattern.

If life were (is) a logical sequence,

a simple pattern, if you will,

might you consider,

if it were up to (them)

we might all be a little less anxious

to know we can still believe in the concept,

if life were a simple pattern.

Shaded Tone

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Amid a shelter sun glances my natural setting,

I do imagine only the lightest of notion,

the beauty of the day, the ease in time,

to know our lives were meant to live this way.

 

When the eyes forever see the forest blend,

Is it not a remarkable reality to breathe in,

such beauty in a horizon filled by love,

allows desire, passion, wanton hope evolve.

 

For I am a single soul in the grip of natural light,

expectant only to travel in peace tonight,

watching the world through leaves of July,

knowing the august of my life is near by.

 

Feel the breeze, cool dew lays ground,

coming alive, sweet Nature’s bound.

On Donald Trump and Ignorance

For weeks, perhaps months, no to be sure, for the last two years I have struggled with the phenomena that is Donald Trump. I will secretly admit to everyone that a decade ago, when he first threw his name into the hat as a candidate and then swiftly pulled it out because the powers that be told him it was too early, I was intrigued by the idea. For all the right reasons: a non-political, yet wealthy candidate that could finance his own election, and perhaps turn D.C. upside down. Yes, I realize it his task at hand at present, but back then, I really didn’t understand the depth his brain could transgress his ideals.

His latest tweet or podium delivery or emanation from his incredulous mind has me deeply saddened. We have witnessed the grueling scrutiny of our national police force with tragedy upon tragedy that raises remarkable scrutiny upon their efforts. We have watched one trial after another, where the reputation of the police department’s efforts are caught in a catch-22 of a moral compass because of the damaging actions of a few. We have witnessed heads of police forces plead with the public that their wish is to train their departments to be of the highest ethical standard on the streets as they protect the citizenry of our country.

Trump to police: “Don’t be too nice too prisoners” -CNN 7/29/2017

Time and time again I have watched this man make statements in rallies and addresses with an angry flair that denigrates, discriminates and blatantly insults certain society with complete disregard. This time he has taken on the police force. So now, according to the POTUS, he wants the blue shield to rough up the alleged criminals. What does this say to our society? Simply that it is ok to take no prisoners, and let the melee proceed.

For me, it is upsetting enough how this man has allowed his vitriolic verbal assaults, to literally wake the dead in regards to racist slurs, homophobic slams, and supremacist ideals. Yet, those close to him suggest he is misunderstood.

We live in a world today that can ill afford to walk itself back 50 years and forget the efforts necessary to create a mosaic life in the United States. How can we possibly move forward if our elected President of the United States continues to demean the efforts of many in our society to remove the literal walls we have fought to break down for decades.

There is no easy answer, beyond asking this man to find his integrity, and that will seem to be a long time coming, maybe less than one term. We can only hope.

 

In The Silent Cafe

This body sits alone in silent recall,

the voices, the activity, the monstrous sound

of espresso being ground,

for the hurried and swaggered consumer.

 

They are all bound

for some adventure, perhaps a honey-do

list,

bending forward, and falling backward,

their tastes are measured by those around,

and one solo black coffee

seems far less profound.

 

I will take it though,

and find my corner nearby,

to locate the faces and the expressions

of the many lives

will occupy this favorite bistro’s lines.

 

Rally faith upon the barista,

who holds a smile today,

might groan later in the backroom,

yet the power they surfeit,

they haven’t really a clue,

until one day,

in the back corner,

they might see whose actions

are delightfully true.

 

Today they are certainly coffee shop blues,

where tomorrow’s energy convey fresh clues.

 

What Is Integrity

I’m asking,

not knowing,

I’m believing,

not completely understanding.

I do know this,

a smile, a gracious compliment, a willingness

to step above the fray,

I know there are opportunities likes this,

to find our soul.

Is that it I wonder to myself a loud.

is all I’m doing part of the greater measure

designed to help me find that inner peace,

the road inside the forest,

the one with leaves overhanging, an occasional owl at twilight,

whereby the gravel takes us further into the mystique,

and at any point where might wish,

desire, anticipate, yearn, want with every fiber in our being,

to be swallowed whole in the mystery of the wood.

Is that integrity?

Is that running away?

Is that where this piece is going,

again today,

sitting in the shadows,

watching the sun in complete motion,

move past my windows, changing hue,

accentuating different parts of the room,

much like our words,

expressions, desire, passions,

do change the common need to find goodness,

in our heart.

Perhaps there is a solution after all.

Sitting in my Armchair

I was remembering a time,

when I was younger,

a quiet, reflective, young,

boy.

I think the same feelings existed

way back then,

when,

I would wonder about

whatever might be ahead.

There were different

sets of friends.

Or at least we felt different,

wait …

 

Time delivers chapters

to our daily lives,

when once this chair

felt sturdier,

the painted varnish glistened,

in the sunporch,

with books laid about,

some would call them

strewn,

alongside periodicals and

the evening Telegraph

I suppose.

 

It hasn’t really changed too much,

the same stains will remain forever,

its justifiable reason,

told so many times over to whomever

might listen,

though we do occasionally recall,

back then,

well,

they did,

listen.

The Absurdity of Time

Oh yes,

did you hear about the time …

how often can we,

separate one moment from another,

stretch away from

that time,

to now quickly embrace,

today,

or was it yesterday,

felt better than before,

gave credence to wanting more,

until last night,

when it all hit home,

the shadows, the memories, the crack in the ceiling,

all again seemed to enlarge their

purpose,

in reminding us all about,

that one …

Wherever it is we decide to land,

to suggest this is enough,

to perhaps realize,

no wait a second,

get it,

together there must be a further reason,

to want to define, decide, design,

the accentuate nature of our lives.

Or are we really that able to describe,

in any setting,

the actual reason,

just why,

just when it is we have found,

reached, centered our own

personal

concept of nirvana.

Until then maybe again is when

we pretend there is more time ahead.