Thinking the Essence of Man

Who are we

he said

over a beer with a friend,

troubled by the circumstance

of a gender bending

authority

in his mind,

yet

in another’s

an opportunity

perhaps to find Grace

between man and woman,

to know some

spiritual guidance

will take our lives much further

then simple rejection.

 

Oh, but simple is not truth,

this analogy

seems a convenient

escape beyond our

self-described realism.

 

Man is not alone,

in a sweet testament

could if found

embark upon a journey

perhaps a sojourn

of forgiveness

to know only that

she

might, may, could, will be

a savior

in the fault

of human pride

the human condition

as it plays out

ego.

When Walking in the Wood

I noticed tonight,

a deeper darkness

filling the mysterious quiet

of the wood, a forest of our mind.

 

We choose now today to be afraid,

we could walk freely

when in the stone castles

a moat our greatest fear.

 

Oh certain there were evil

lurking inside the shallows,

yet vulnerable as we might

have been, then it was so rare.

 

Today, and every day now,

it is not simply the forest life

watching our every move,

yet it is a jungle of lost humanity.

 

Such is a definitive cry of woe

to know our lives in a technical

brainwash of social embrace,

we forget a silent walk when alone.

 

Oh to know that forest of old

a place whereby our lives so bold.

Silent Moment

When just a glance

offers no chance.

 

When a quiet remember

ignites angry ember

 

While offering some solution

quickly dies our absolution

 

With every offered ideal

there seems a ready deal

 

I walked inside a mirage the other day,

I thought i had sort of found my way

yet I was schooled

nobody fooled

there was still some recompense

to help me certain not make any sense

of the world around me

the choices astound when we

 

lose our way

step away

 

for the light of some distant thoroughfare

would shadow reality if their own fare

were an ultimatum that offered choice

an opportunity to personally rejoice

while the other, the saboteur seems an outlier

quickly thought to be just that suggested crier.

 

While in truth the merits of one

would that we were never done.

When A Child Dreams

I would dream summers

running through hemlock

brush scratches naked calves

the moment, lost in its mystique

 

When we were kids

we were ushered out of the house

play until you drop

play until you drop

 

We didn’t mind

being ushered out

we were in our element

children of summer

 

When I was a child

I didn’t imagine barriers

there wasn’t a risk of

seeing a friend bloodied

 

We didn’t walk around

waiting for our parents

who were never to be found,

unless of their own volition.

 

When I was a younger boy,

I could run for hours,

feeling the heat of summer

knowing the thrill of joy

 

In my wildest dreams

I was never sought, ushered,

told to stop my scream

for justice beyond my dream.

 

Today, the children of summer

are everywhere and far away

from the beauty of love

the compassion of a tender tear.

 

Today, I do recall freedom in my childhood,

I weep alone for the children of summer.

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.

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.

Our Violent Humanity

GettyImages_830617844.0

Samuel Corum/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images

 

It would seem we haven’t had enough,

Watching our neighbors fall to the sword,

The world around us eschewing the evil

Of a nation lost in a swirl of self-pity.

No one to blame but ourselves,

Yet that never comes into play,

We are soon to discover some outlet,

Easy to say we may fall personal prey.

In looking at the news today, I saw

Real lives being struck down, a society

Lost in its own pitfalls of insecurity,

All of them wondering, remaining alone.

When we might raise a flag to equality,

Shudder the notion that fire might stay,

The real burden of proof is our own lives,

Lost in the façade of believing in truth.

There is a Christian belief in humanity

Spouted from every possible pulpit,

Always with the best intentions, they say

The world will be better without evil.

Yet is it some times the very cross carrying,

Honorable, parishioner borne out of fear,

Might wield the weaponry of utter hate,

The rhetoric of painful prejudice begotten.

Pitfalls occur with anyone’s desire to change,

To make change, ask for change, demand change,

The local grocer suggests we use credit instead,

Yet it seems everywhere, fake news still relents.

I watched today with an ill heart the display

Of a humanity lost in the perils of bigotry,

Lost on themselves, lost on each other,

Drifting aimless in a world beyond reproach.

We might only reflect upon where we came

From in a society that once believed in love,

Today is seemingly hell bent on the otherwise,

The ability to act without a conscience so unwise.

Oh, to find love again – to breathe.