Getting Older in Autumn

sunset

pinterest – sunset

I read somewhere today about recognizing positive energy,

wonder came across my mind,

am I, can they, do anyone I know,

is there really a measure,

or are we all simply kidding ourselves.

 

I would glance around the room during times like these,

see all the different faces,

are they feeling the same,

maybe not now, or could we, is the

same solitude as impactful for her,

as it might be for the other guy

nearby wondering what lunch will be,

later on.

 

Is it really that simple for those that would rather complicate

the reality of our lives,

are we all, is it this, did you, I said it again,

I keep trying to stay out of this argument,

yet somehow I find I’m in the middle,

always trying with little effort,

or perhaps it is the other way around,

I might really exercise a certain bizarre discipline

toward accentuating

the negative nature of the human condition.

 

I do know there is a measure of truth

in the reality of a giving spirit,

I can see it on their faces,

the fresh affect, beautiful demeanor

of those whose smile is as real

as a wonderful sunset on a cool summer’s night.

 

That visual caused just a little bit of happiness … right?

Advertisements

Different Moments

Recently, there were two,

lives we might call the same,

yet probably, more obviously,

vastly different lives,

worlds apart,

yet their outcomes,

well, we can probably imagine,

the same.

 

The meaning of which,

hard to explain,

yet, we want to know,

we ask the questions,

sitting together alone in our lives,

wondering just why,

when is this the time, when others

might still wander aimless

wondering only

about their next hour,

perhaps tomorrow,

even possibly a year ahead,

yet, these two …

 

Oh, to walk inside the mind of the dead,

to understand the next level,

be able to comprehend,

not likely to mend,

accept the truth yet I would

recommend,

the answer might be less

an epiphany,

more a sad reality,

but the question remains,

we all wonder about it together,

we wander the same streams,

the winding current of our lives.

 

The one, a musician,

his time came when the pain,

over came his emotions,

and later his family in the grieving period,

had to speak to the response

of his audience,

you and me,

the ones that miss him less then

they might ever possibly comprehend.

 

Yet the same,

the reality of the game,

out of our hands,

we just show up to

exclaim.

 

The other the choice is their own,

forget the others nearby,

find the solution today,

yet, that is the confusion,

we all would like to know,

now,

just why,

what fortune brought upon such pain,

and how can we all possibly

living,

not imagine its misfortune,

his misguided

solution.

 

We all do seem to have or hold or imagine,

these our different moments,

yet for me, they sometimes seem the very same.

The Last Time I Checked

There was purpose in my day,

a willingness to share,

yet the constructs of a certain way,

would often interfere,

well, just my luck.

 

I often walk away this way,

the drive home,

a long enduring road,

looking around to see,

if anyone else might be my way.

 

I lack the fortitude

one might easily say

to perhaps whether the storm

may be the cause of me,

or certainly the human way.

 

There always is that possibility

of just getting past all of the

hypocrisy, the second guessing,

the idiocy inherent

with wondering just where we are.

 

I walked inside a world

why, just the other day,

where a little girl would cry,

her story breaking the hearts

of everyone inside her day.

 

And then, I wondered again,

while walking away,

is it just me,

or is life meant to be compelling,

in whatever manner He choose.

What Rally Cry

Standing alone,

choosing alone,

no dial tone,

seems the last moments

will bend forever

the opportunity

to glance ahead,

beyond the scrutiny

deeply laid inside the victim’s head.

 

and then …

 

There is the question of whose hurt

is more measurable,

the choice,

or the outcome,

the afterward,

or perhaps it is the originator,

who by virtue of the human condition,

isn’t given any allowance

to return the favor of knowledge.

 

We just know the outcome.

What’s Really Happening

Ever wonder,

when you look them in the eye,

if their response

is a genuine effort to lie.

A mean-spirited man once said to me,

if you wait around, you die.

 

Ever wander

through a day and sigh,

just not sure how to complete a moment,

instead letting it pass,

by listening to the tick, a steady reminder,

of every lackluster effort

we decry.

 

Ever wonder,

what it is like to

find the answer

without actually recognizing why,

said the man,

to the other man,

who thought of the man,

to be lesser than

the Man.

On Waking the Soul

We carry ourselves,

a part of the said society,

the local groove,

where be our means,

we define who we are,

why we do,

where it is we belong,

based upon the couple next door,

the family down the street,

the look of the vendor,

when purchasing ordinary.

 

We measure our lives,

in respect to the tone of voice,

our own ‘pardon me’ provides,

when we mean it,

or certainly when we don’t

and the recipient

does realize,

we do surmise

to disguise,

rather than look in each other’s

eyes.

 

It is the Is

they speak aloud

when walking together

in the street,

sitting in a gathering of

many souls,

when in the moment,

we all seem to share

the similar goals.

 

So how is it we can in unison,

even begin to understand,

we all have similar souls.