The Moon Spins While Being Human

Just when – a life – began to know,

the world would turn upside down,

up and down,

the roller coaster of living,

that piece of life,

that living peace,

the part of never knowing exactly why,

why not,

why should we begin

to feel there is a real reason,

it would be so easy,

they often say that in the final moments,

don’t they?

don’t they,

didn’t they ever give you any indication.

Did you know,

did you have any idea

at all.

 

It is in life’s conclusion,

we begin to realize,

forced really,

to know the beginning of answering

questions that will forever

be the haunting edge of wondering just how,

when,

why is it so simple to reason now,

when earlier in the day,

weeks ago,

that one time, that sunny afternoon,

where laughter always seemed to bury

the pain.

It was then,

the indicator

suggested we should all plan our lives

around being together,

knowing we would

always understand,

always be around,

be able to answer the …

there is a certain mystique in

recognizing timing and the essential

point

of no return.

 

She was as simply beautiful as

a spectacular morning sun,

his wit,

the ability for him to carry a room,

he’ll never know just how,

he’ll never know,

it is really too bad,

too bad,

when we all fail to realize

the beauty of life is being able

to face the demons head on.

 

Face the demons head on,

the spirit moves you,

to understand the world is

as simple as the day is long,

left in the hands of a complication,

we all have to recognize

there is a moon held in fashion,

for everyone,

for every one,

every

one person that suggests the same,

the people we care about,

care about you as well,

they all do see the same moon …

 

When simply we wonder

we always carry the same

the same familiar response,

we all can be in one,

holding true

to a realization.

 

We are all in some humane form,

responding to the same moon.

 

 

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.

When Time Suggests Pause

Ready

I was

all indicators explained a motive

a rocky shelf, crags of decay,

unstable to the touch, delightful

in its visual splendor.

This is a place

we all know,

a safe higher ground

where time begins with a pause,

a reflection in that pool of despair.

When all the moments come together,

a flash of indecision,

a step toward …

and suddenly played aloud,

their laughter bouncing off the cliffs,

they peeked around the corner

to see the man on the ledge,

whispered to each other

in wonder,

while watching him walk back into the wood,

leaving only silent imagery.

In Depression’s Grip

I wouldn’t say imagination,

instead, a spiral of twisting metal,

cracked concrete well below,

the shavings of slivers and dust where the legs go.

A night sky that looms in sunlight,

clouded thinking,

to the degree of a natural flight,

over here, this time, that afternoon, one year

in my life.

I sometimes want to cry,

cleanse the rings of deceit around my eyes,

then it’ll be okay.

Though that song plays out its course,

like a top 40

I tire of hoping for predictability

shed some light on

what the hell is the matter with me.

A rant,

is an opportunity,

if we can remove ourselves from

commonality.

I remember the time I was told to stop boring people

with sad old cliches.

It worked,

I no longer use cliches.

I wonder about tomorrow

as fatigue melts away my desire to go away.

Where Time Lays Path

~

If a measure could suggest definition,

Would we cease succession of passion.

While all around humanity play travails

Might we all become a cutting prevails.

~

Search the world over for recompense

Only then discover all momentous tense

Realizations begin only again when slow

Mind unyielding decides somehow show.

~

When in childhood needn’t depend on time

Only marvels and wonder were made of thyme,

A recipe in growth in satisfaction newly gained

When all the others left and just he remained.

~

In writing, the paths we take are all we release,

In knowing, in hoping, in trial we find peace.

In Succession

How many times in a day

must I try to overcome

my mindful traces along the way

those doubtful winsome

~

notions capturing my way

I walk inside a foggy emotion

stuck in some simple sway

I want only to stop the commotion

~

If I listen to jazz on a Sunday night

could it be the muse I speak of

or does that same melody that might

give me peace, release a lovely dove.

~

I want to understand my pain

I do wish only to leave this place

the way I cry at night a refrain,

must somehow leave a sort of trace

~

I want the world I know inside the word

to wish for easier time with life

I would be grateful if beyond the absurd

I might experience less strife

~

I suppose it is foolish to imagine a release

freedom enough in spiritual term is peace