A Silent Decision

Sat in a room tonight, listened to the wonder,

of the world we live in today.

Hard topics, sad outcomes, hopeful realities,

the horrific turmoil in the lives of young women and boys.


Earlier this afternoon, I took a student apart,

confronting their need to focus on their academics,

made sure the rest of the classroom knew I was serious,

held out until the very last minute,

felt justified until minutes later,

I realized she suffered from social anxiety & depression.

Who’s the tough guy now?


See though these are two seemingly different stories,

they’re really the same,

each one a product of the other,

the initial motives for throwing a young person’s life away,

and the later the end result,

decides just why should we try anymore.


Any more and we’ll fall apart and cry,

yet so often we are told not to respond that way,

too many times, we forget the others,

end up in the trapping of silent decision.

Tribute to Artistry




We walk in shadows while you held the light,

taking us to every region of our mind,

with notes of harmonic beauty, worded genius

while in a visual mystique the looks, the many

different planets you did travel in our own eyes.

“Ground control to Major Tom” who would ever

imagine today your thoughts to become prophetic,

when suddenly we know now you are as mortal

as the next one, as everyone, as anyone.


How would we respond without your talents,

when the music played, you were David Bowie,

yet one movement, one ideal, each new storm,

created always a new you, nothing anyone ever

needed try to catch up with,

we would only love to know this is the latest,

coming from you.


So tonight we grieve your passing, yet even in

new words – of course created by you,

with black button eyes behind a tapestry of shroud,

we do say good night, to our captain, whose endless

search never left us waiting behind. instead when

we did face you, that glimpse did contain a smile.

You were the one to teach us to understand Change

in all its helpless magic. I could ask you to tell me how,

just how did you always know. I cannot believe it was

all resource, and will trust it to be your own instinct.


“Wham Bam, Thank You Ma’am”

every tune would bring new characters to speak of,

all buried in our own heart and soul, we were you,

in the realm of your sojourn – wherever you might

land, eventually would we gather around to listen.


The gold standard, the jewels, the wardrobe, the hair,

we all knew you Mr. Bowie, knew you understood us all!