In Respect to Anger

A friend of mine

told me the truth today,

said in a matter of fact way,

you are too angry man,

life is too short.

I paused,

put away my defenses

began to wonder about my

starting words,

and came to the conclusion,

I’m always

this or that or why or because or they

yet somehow I’m never too me.

 

Life is too short,

life is too sweet

life is a carnival

and yet we never quite

make it to the

presidential suite

 

Instead we look for someone else

to take the blame,

and so standing in the parking lot

tonight,

I felt my eyes did well with tears

realized my exhaustion has a purpose

allows me to come to terms

with who I am what time I have

life is a carnival after all,

we should remember just how to

enjoy the ride.

Watching Jumpers

a bridge

Driving over the bridge

I thought about the edge,

the lives standing on a ledge

wondered til I felt a cringe

 

Thought of all the lives

a beautiful spring day

turning evening anyway

bicyclists, walkers, drives

 

This quiet sense of wonder

overcame my state of mind

only a silent recall, remind

it does put an end to a wander.

 

Driving by again I returned

this time to lights and fear

there was an apparent jumper

bicyclists, walkers, all turned

 

away from the activity, a quiet

like our lives ever hold merit.

 

Taking A Walk

a walk in the woods

quiet serene streamed light

we listen to silence

rustling breeze

we can hear the sound

begin from across the lake,

until in our world, we sense the true

nature of a forest,

maple, pine, birch,

a history of love in recluse

taking a walk

one day I realize

we are all the same

when climbing our trails

Walk With Me

A ride through hell

night sky invisible

the mind on fire

a slow reckoning.

 

When inside a dream

we might walk alone

finding only silence

her differed mystique.

 

Life happens so bold

is this all there is

again and again

the reputation of love.

 

Tight spaces and weight

the sort of ride we fear

nowhere to go

miles beyond our comfort

 

zone, that place we know

subtle glance vanish

her heart his tears

wondering just how when.

 

Might without an ask

realize this is forever,

though hope again,

a reminder of nostalgia.

 

Step across that threshold,

the battered soul will

always remind always

the surface far and away.

 

Walk with me he said,

she gave a glance,

his favorite moment

her eyes rolling in smile.

 

If two people might

move beyond the status

quo to appreciate real

love, certain passion.

 

When last we spoke,

an icy crest had shadowed

what once was a fire

felt with the scope of time.

 

Oh to have that energy

Speak desire, our synergy

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.

Watching The Snowy Night Sky

I’ve been waiting all day for the snow,

now I glance my window,

it arrives with a light affection

reminds me of my childhood

perhaps a memory that haunts me more than love

the delight of family,

the anticipation of a gathering,

the death of a cousin,

where in my silent fog of misunderstanding,

I watched the burial of a loved one,

while treetops echoed the reminder of snowy limbs,

the sort of day we might play,

but instead we watched a passing of life,

confusion, anger, loss, and tears were rife

on this day I watched my cousin laid into the wintry earth.

 

So tonight, I watch the sky again,

a quiet reminder of how our lives

are sweet in their ties to memory,

of love, of pain, of the loss all so bittersweet.

 

The snows are beautiful though ever so brief

Anger Fed

Spread like a wildfire

in its first inception

simply ablaze

a certain force of reckoning.

~

Will cannot sustain

the deceit of lost control

only we the patient

our human condition.

~

Might we identify cause

rather than toss a stone

catch the ember

so nearby an out stretched hand.

~

For it is the onus of ownership

will allow ash an honest scrutiny.