Conversations Again

I’m sitting in my local coffee shop,

listening to Bjork shout angst toward

human behavior,

and I have to pause, listen to the words,

watch the lips move,

‘same as it ever was’

a lyric David Byrne gave us years ago,

and yet,

the conversations are still the same,

people trying to make each other,

make each other believe,

a promise, an idea, an ideal, a plea,

a necessary tool toward their own

imminent survival.

It is this human condition,

causes all of us,

well most,

to somehow indicate we can communicate,

participate, challenge, inform, suggest,

repeal,

what a God-awful reality,

when our luxuries of communications,

fall into the trappings,

the attitude, the ugly, the incomprehensible nature,

of human hypocrisy.

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.

When Healthy Battles an Excuse

While it is surely our own decision

to find the cure for the ailing sentiment,

it is certainly our own decisive nature,

can find neutrality in forgiveness.

 

Might we choose to be forsaken,

mistake ridden, guilt driven,

… shame …

while the rest of the world motors on.

 

I once watched as my world walked away from me,

a simple turn of the corner,

and the park opened up to accept their energy,

leaving me to be the observer,

still wondering why yet knowing,

I could only answer rather than

cry.

 

There is little difference between

happiness and tragedy,

an emotional roller coaster

when appreciated,

we can ride throughout the night,

weather the storm,

and breathe in the rays of sunlight’s

everlasting energy.

 

We are so simply drawn,

by choosing either or,

that when it comes time to forget,

we simply remind, regret, respond

with memory of

the terrible times,

we wallow in the mire of our own remorse.

 

It is happiness,

and that is so valuable in our lives,

a normal saying

would suggest,

let happiness take on the battle,

and hope their is a safe place to land.

Purpose With Addiction

Oh there are these walls,

you can’t see them.

frankly I can’t either,

we can always feel them,

walking through a crowded market,

and the eyes,

the many faces that seem to know you are there,

and we wonder,

are we as obviously noticing them as they are,

realizing our world isn’t alone,

but rather,

we are all together,

fighting this machine,

goes far beyond who we are in the moment,

that’s when it all began.

 

The moment,

that clarifying incident,

the time our hearts hurt,

and yet,

we hadn’t realized the pain was not ours alone,

the world,

that local planet shit,

that place where we suddenly come to know,

the love and reason for living is suddenly,

questioning,

why,

we don’t know really,

not even now,

only real piece to hang onto,

is goodness,

we come to realize it does exist,

our hearts are capable of love,

the real thing,

the imagination once tested with artificial

stimulants,

has suddenly been taught to feel,

we do visualize beauty again,

the sun rose this morning and remarkable as it seems,

I …

I noticed.

When in Sallow Form

Can you see me, a suggested expression,

one that does’t expect any reaction,

except to say,

go away,

for I am of another dimension.

 

It is in the faces of our population,

the happy troubadour in position,

the contemplative activist,

they’re all in it

together,

to suggest a mind has imagination.

 

Yet why write songs about a flower’s illumination,

is it to pretty the subversion,

that piece of our lives,

we tend to ignore,

we walk away,

only to later suggest we are under observation.

 

We design ourselves upon the brink of a nation,

all of us a part of the imposition,

that sacred knowledge,

the world exists together,

sometime forgetting the notion of compassion.

In Dark Corners

There are these manners,

they exist,

meant to offer some respite

for our inability to communicate.

 

Perhaps if in that sheltered

concrete, fabric, wall of deceit

we might discover some reason

to associate.

 

The honest gentleman in the corner,

holds a smile as genuine as love,

yet there is fear in the eyes

of anyone’s beholder.

 

While on a sunny afternoon,

a stroll appears to the eyes,

we can probably count on the

human conditions humor as wry.

 

I wonder about dark corners,

when fear emits its own suggestive tone,

how is it possible,

that I might feel compelled to hide.

To Know The Right Way

Oh, to go beyond the grasp,

the tangles that keep reminders alive,

there is the mystery of the mind,

what to turn off, what to feed, what to settle in,

so that moving forward seems a reliable

resolve to the repudiating repulsion of time.

 

Yes, without speaking in tangible terms,

leave it to the eyes to interpret,

disclose, determine in words,

what shall be thought to reserve judgment.

 

When standing on the street,

look into a man’s eyes,

is he relaxed, skeptical, terrible

in this seeming expression on a hot summer day.

 

While sitting in a local cafe,

she buried her face in paperwork,

a bomb goes off nearby and she doesn’t twitch,

for in our world we don’t feel explosions,

we only create war inside our brain,

that is the place we store the fuse, the powder keg,

the nuclear option to saving grace.

 

Oh, the notions of moving forward,

to know the right words,

to recognize complete action,

beyond simple presumptuous fiction.

How can a world determine,

peace,

when locked into the tenets of this

seemingly societal scrutiny,

makes allowances,

to suggest the human condition,

is flawed.