Tag: mortality

Aging Abandon

I’ve watched their bodies change

while I try to recall just when

I began to notice.

I often wonder if while

my own world begins a

natural decay,

if that resilient nature

in understanding why

continues to grow,

or when does it wane.

How purposeful is our

inherent decline, and when

do we know it is happening,

or can we fool ourselves

right up to the end of a journey,

sort of similar to crossing the trail,

at the river’s edge.

We cannot remember

just how slippery the rocks

became that day we

finally decided to help

ourselves to the natural

surrounding woods.

Model Reaction

Our constant reaction

mortal reality speaks


a decidedly drawn


might remind,

may call out,

might we spill our hearts

with angst,

a certain qualified

divisive, derision,

we all might only undertand

in the shadowy glare

of hidden complexions

We Live Human Lives

© Ester Rogers  Photography
“Dreamy” © Ester Rogers Photography


We live human lives.

Together we define how society might perceive our world,

their natural abundance is imagined through his eyes, her ideals designed

to speak to someone else who might just well,

be the same,

have a similar internal sketchpad on how each perception we suggest,

choose to live out, imagine, fantasize, provide idyllic scrutiny,

how all of this really matters to one individual or the many.

We live human lives.

Today, there are mechanical realities that would suggest our human condition

is vulnerable, saddened, horrified even, in that eventual mortality.

We find ourselves left to imagine, to speculate, to memorialize

the beauty, grace, that sheer elegance of being so very, completely

real in the eyes of everyone around our own privy.

We live human lives.

Discover the truth in knowing there is attainable mystery

with allowance to give genuine love, provide earnest support,

create some pedagogical force to be reckoned with only due to that

resonate ability to fashion the wisdom necessary to be vulnerable.

We live human lives.

We cannot rhyme nor reason nor calculate a hypothetical truth

without at least trying, without removing our fear driven hypocrisy

suggestive of perfection in the eyes of those whose soul we wish to

engage, those we love, those we are all bound upon to, there it is again,

those that we choose to love. Why then shall we not choose everyone.

We live human lives.

Every Day

We are blessed with opportunity,

we live and speak and listen and feel,

we are a world that communicates,

yet we recall we live inside the surreal.

Every day, every moment, every breath

we take has a purpose until that last gasp.

We will be the one that inspires another,

we can be alive in our spiritual energy,

we must allow ourselves fallibility.

And then,

there came this diagnosis,

this ultimatum that suggested,

just go toss that idea down the river baby,

because your human condition just checked out!

We are a strong animal with weak resilience.

We have not determined how to beat the odds,

so instead, we will love one another,

we will love one another,

we can give each other hope,

we will love each other

let our hearts be bold with beauty and grace.

be elegant in one,

be delightful in everyone’s

I’s every day.

Playing Silent Chords

Every sound begins a sermon

tells me where I am

what I have become,

where the next adventure lies.

I started with a ticking clock

symbolic of our borrowed time

always a reminder

that our lives do hang in the balance

when suddenly drowned out by machines

those that run our lives when we awaken

from the silent revery of our destiny.

Distant in the background

the ticking remains

yet now I am alone

listening and trying to hear

that word, or phrase or natural light

that indicator of why I do exist in the moment

why right now as I lay here on my couch

my life has purpose

and everything around me,

is part of a design

a greater vehicle of fortune

that I might ever imagine.

In the silence I hear my children’s voices

laughter and innocence

when neither they or we

concerned ourselves with the next day.

That’s different now,

when we think about what is next

much like the chords on a guitar

waiting for the next ballad

there’s always a ballad

looming about during moments of reckoning.

What is the music that played when silence

began the spiritual journey toward humility.

When Mortality Wreaks Havoc


We live our lives in a constant vacuum

Energy sucked dry by outliers needs

How does this happen every continuum?

Each opportunity a conscious soul heeds

This will be

The last


I allow my heart

To be broken by the reality of life

Being taken away

Begin again

Belittle our real life fortunes

And you will be struck down

Like a bolt

Sudden and apparent

Purposeful God-like strength

If God really does exist …


The natural consequence of a patch of ice

On a winter’s morning altered her life

When suddenly a day at school became

A new path that would carry her soul

Beyond the horrific scene on the avenue


That night he played with his options

He inhaled vigorously as his friends

Always told him

Let it smack the brain

Then sit back and quiet the ride

Hold on with your mind

For your physicality won’t hang out

For a few hours, in fact your heart might …


Last week I was playing with beauty

Recognizing every curve

Every notion of seduction

All the right embraces of our desire

A sensual roller coaster of confusion

Drew my every moment of attention

And then today happened …


Our mortality wreaked havoc on the week’s results

Everything that mattered become inconsequential

Fodder, frivolous, fragmented, fucked up again.

Lest We Forget We are Human Beings -prose-

human condition

There’s a famous line in the relatively obscure movie Freedom Writers that has stuck with me since the first time I heard it in context. ‘You know what’s gonna happen when you die? You’re gonna rot in the ground.” – Erin Gruwell. The context speaks to a young African American student wanting to be recognized as an original gangster – instead of living by society’s standards. I’m struggling with this statement today as I recognize the loss of another young man in our community to drugs. I want people to remember him. I want people to recognize the value of genuine beauty he brought to the people he interacted with in his world. I don’t want people to remember the mistakes he made that cost him his life. He was just growing up, and he made an egregious decision that effected his well being, and it ultimately tested his mortality and won.

I have spent a lot of the last week pouring over his Facebook page looking at the commentary from his friends that supported his recovery; a constant barrage of positive words in countless threads offering hope and prayer for this delightfully idyllic young man. Those posting are gradually moving to quiet and heart-felt memorials, as people begin to recognize his hours are now seemingly limited, perhaps reached at this writing, and people are now asked to remember his spirit and the moments that he touched their lives with his remarkable energy. I glance back at that opening comment in the movie, and I realize it was delivered harshly to drum home an important point. We cannot, no one in fact, overcome the grasp of our human condition’s mortality.

The time for this young man to depart may very well have been far too soon for those closest to him; indeed, also for those whose love for him goes well beyond an occasional encounter, those who knew of his positive spirit at parties and gatherings, those who remember his dynamic upon entering any room of people. Yet, today I wonder if this might be God’s plan. Are we not often asked to face our important decisions when we experience a major crisis? Does that moment often not change our lives, or at least put us in a position to start to actively make healthier choices? Perhaps we need to really grasp the reality of this occasion and recognize that this young man’s early departure is meant as a harsh learning tool for those closest to him, beyond the agonizing family, and more directly to the people in his social circles that likely carry on similar lifestyles.

So when I speak of the beauty of a young man, I also ask that all of you, young people and old please respect the diligent nature of artificial stimuli that is not meant to interact with your human capacity. I ask all of you to speak to each other, and help one another know there are other healthier departures from the daily grind, than the insidious gesture of testing your mortality at the hands of an illicit drug of choice.

I am my own example of the harsh reality of drug and alcohol use. I am standing here today with an addictive personality. I am realizing how vulnerable we all are to our own selfish pursuits, even when we’re not aware of how quickly these ideals may turn our lives upside down. I have experienced consequence, and am perhaps fortunate that my actions did not sacrifice my own humanity when as a young experimenter I thought I could beat any challenge. Today, I know I cannot and know I have to take a higher road, and acknowledge the damage that drugs could very well continue to wreak upon my life. I now look towards my children, my students, and anyone that feels they have that ticket to escape the fragile reality of our mortality and I plead with all of them, I beg all of you to take a pause, be grateful, and go forward with your life in a healthy and respectful manner.

Rest in peace and Godspeed to our good young man of smiles. Others will certainly join you very soon on this fast course to immortality. Eventually we will all be there with you as the natural course of time calls out our number. I hope that your example can help a few fend off that early departure from life as we know it today.

Journey to the Black

Perhaps he was aligning the stars

On a cold winter’s night

The crowds had gone home

Holding hands

Playing sweet melodies

That defined their lives

The snow had begun to fall

As any other day

While hours drifted by like quick minutes

His mind moved towards a solution

Certainly not one we might all pick

In fact, few would

Yet sanity had drifted away

Much like a windswept notion of love

That became a distant memory

She did play with his urges

Engaging, pretty, searching

Notions of grandeur would not get past her

Own ability to recognize futility

Dance his driven desire to bed her

Eyes broke their slow tease of passion

In the night ahead steps leaving one trail

Walking to that hallowing ground

More alone than minutes earlier

Stand upon this elegant mortality

Holding court with this brief fantasy

Widening Mystery? Mortality

How do we control

Our dying elders last days?

Why the mystery that

Leads to finality

Of a person’s spirit

Their ability

to give us hope while

a certain knocking occurs

and each step in that direction

we try to control

we try to justify

to indicate our own soul

remains reliant upon their

quiet repose.

My confusion

Is constantly reminded

By the actions of God

We can’t decide when

Our moment is upon us

We can only pretend to believe

That it doesn’t happen yet

And when it does

We are left feeling afraid



All over again

Wondering what key

Remains to resolving


Now the sky is darkening as clouds

Journey across the horizon bearing shrouds.