Tag: judgment

Haunting Dissolve

It began with those …

an icy depth

of years; not knowing

wondering each day.

The wall had been erected

and suddenly the

last brick

placed with careful

reflexive muse.

The door seemed not enough.

How to make a statement

with no recourse;

a fight wouldn’t happen

too much knowing judgment.

Put clothes on and walk,

downstairs confusion.

How do we react

when in minutes

our body engages in a tightening grip,

have to release

all of this angst.

Understanding fully well

we aren’t alone today.

We only need step forward

with all the energy we can

There are so many backsteps

well ahead of this day.

Years ago,

Then reflect on that time,

what it meant to hold someone,

to want to hold that someone.

Where did the time go

when suddenly

we forget,

There’s a lost history with

coming to terms

answering questions

that would describe its demise.

Wondering out loud in the moment.

Fighting Chance

It’s one to lose hope,

to walk alongside fate,

we all imagine a vanity

keeps us penned to the ground.

When told it’s all right

we would rather

deny ourselves

any judgment.

Yet, speaking of all

there always seems

a penchant for remorse

when coming to terms.

Asking along the walk

what if we decide

our live’s importance

relies upon worth.

How do we find it?

Always we are told

there is a light to seek

over the next body

of quiet silence.

We would rather sometimes

remain desolate,

we’re good at it,

at least I think I am.

Silly Little Hangups

I used to worry a lot

about tying my shoes,

the correct way,

did my laces lineup properly

or did I have too much excess.

I used to wonder

about how I was

stepping in my shoes,

was I making straight motions,

or sort of a pigeon toed action.

I used to wonder

about the color of my shoes,

would they be judged

or discriminated

or censored

or could they just

have the freedom

I wanted to let my feet feel.

I used to wonder about life

and my perfect fitting shoes.

Silly Little Hangups

I used to worry a lot

about tying my shoes,

the correct way,

did my laces lineup properly

or did I have too much excess.

I used to wonder

about how I was

stepping in my shoes,

was I making straight motions,

or sort of a pigeon toed action.

I used to wonder

about the color of my shoes,

would they be judged

or discriminated

or censored

or could they just

have the freedom

I wanted to let my feet feel.

I used to wonder about life

and my perfect fitting shoes.

A Circular Rhythm

We draw circles around a mask, our lives.

Each path we give another sweet facade

however might surmise such actions odd.

For we do covet a straight line that thrives.

 

Such is a world built as linear lines

meant for a passage without a defense.

acrid is a shelter by those who whence

internal facade sooner discard vines.

 

We stand inside the realm when given time

see such are the eyes of judgment are held

accountable of course our lives do weld

shapes and forms would eyes accept on a dime.

 

Oh strike us down in fraught shallow schism

It is such absurdity upsets rhythm

 

 

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.

Whose Fight Is This?

When did the word respect become

a distant memory.

Whenever the wind blows a certain way,

do we have to only comply.

While a thought crosses the mind of a quiet soul,

we might think of another’s low.

~

The other afternoon,

I noticed them gathered together,

realized their fortune to be each other

only for that moment,

nothing more,

once the time passed, their world

belonged to whomever decided to accept

or perhaps continue to circumvent.

~

Do we know each other,

do you understand my peril,

have you any idea what we feel,

on any given day, even Saturday.

For how long will you wreak

havoc upon your state of mind.

When might the time arrive,

when suddenly you compromise,

how might a heartache benefit

from a moment of compassion,

nothing agenda driven of course,

yet only certainly an element of love.

~

I would give you my world if only

your smile would be real

if only,

if when you realize there is beauty

in understanding pure humility.

I do get it though, ‘check your ego at the door’

is such an exhausting reality to live by.

Much adventure ahead while you release

your venom within a community of peace!

About People

I wonder sometimes,

probably far too much,

about people and their reactions

to me.

Well there’s a starting point to hell,

imagining I can figure out

just why

someone chooses to scrutinize

me.

There is evidence

to suggest without ceremony.

the majority,

that is us in one line together,

we do stand

to wonder about each other

all the time,

just more noticeable

when it truly is all about

me.

~

I walked directly past you today,

and your eyes averted,

were challenged to say hello,

when my greeting,

was the first issue.

Then it was a forced harmony.

~

I get that a lot,

usually just me.

Losing Faith

When unwrapping the sheer plastic skin

surface shield

a film we all seem to carry around

we only release it when the time is right,

we feel safe,

compelled to take the next step toward independence

from that which confines our resilient

human condition

~

How quickly can we rush to the water’s edge,

that place that lays before our security,

runs amok,

takes our heart away to be battered

upon the rocks, crags, undertow of an angry world.

How often do we allow a misstep

to further define the natural wall exists between

beauty and failure.

~

In the church I chose to attend this morning,

I looked at the men and women about me,

coiffed and preened in their ‘Sunday best’

and wondered about what their lives are like,

once the wardrobe is returned to the cleaners.

I thought perhaps the industry

survived upon hypocrisy alone, for without the defeat

of natural thinking, our lives might actually matter,

beyond the orthodoxy bent upon suggesting,

we feel this way

because society says so, not because we believe it to be true.

~

So, today, I’m not losing faith,

I still believe in genuine truth,

I won’t hide behind a facade of protective shield,

that though seemingly transparent will not allow our hands and fingers

to dirty themselves,

to touch the core of that which our humanity has designed itself

to recognize.

I cannot be ever recognized beyond the mask of deceit.

I choose to feel the direct energy of the sunlight.

~

I do truly cherish the radiant charisma of love.

Sad Lives

These are the strangers, we pass them by,

and teach the children,

while they are still sequestered to hold our hand,

please never speak to the

strangers,

yet, while we stroll by,

look and stare, and judge and define,

like mom and dad,

so that when you grow older,

you won’t nearly have the same trepidation,

toward judging those around you,

because your value system has gradually,

over time,

milkshakes, animated cartoons, muppets,

Sesame Street letter, numbers and cookies,

all lessons bringing our reality together.

~

Forget about what’s inside,

at least while someone is watching,

especially a stranger nearby,

sad lives.