Just Taking a Walk in the Neighbrohood

I was listening to a some Tom Waits the other day,

puts me in a certain frame of mind,

if you know, you know what I mean,

you know what I want to say,

so I just listen to the blues and try to find my way.

 

I was thinking just the other day, about a neighbor,

someone I know, they know me,

we all seem to know each other,

especially when we do have that chance,

the rare opportunity to say hello, a courtesy.

 

See it is not as much about the neighbor as it is,

each other, all of us, walking around

today, tomorrow, any other day,

it’s about the wonder of our lives,

whose do we touch, and will they every touch ours.

 

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, still listening to the blues,

Tom Waits kind of sets the tone,

for your day, for some of you the week,

like sitting in an old rusty bar,

and he steps out of the blind with a guitar.

 

We all do walk the same neighborhood, together,

oh we carry our crosses, for some it is

that famous albatross from an old piece of

literature,

I believe it was Coleridge, one of the dead guys.

 

Point is the music continues, the riffs, the melodies,

the lyrics that seem to so mellow, haunt our lives,

so we can all believe in it together,

we do love to feel, to believe, to wonder, to wish,

perhaps walk the same paths we all would wish to choose.

Finding Voice

I walked outside and screamed at the bottom of my driveway,

only because I knew no one would notice,

well, they did, and their doors shut,

I stood in my neighborhood and felt completely alone.

 

The manicured lawns,

similarly styled rose gardens,

the roof repair and invisible fences,

street signs that suggested we all slow down.

 

I glanced around and decided to scream outloud again,

more doors shut,

the street seemed to empty in a silence

more apparent than I’d noticed before my unravel.

 

I stood there for a long time

watched kids on their bicycles take the corner before

having to coast past the man at the end of the driveway,

I realized for the first time I might have been noticed.

 

I walked back up to my garage,

played some music while drilling some wood,

the sweat on my brow, I wiped with my forearm,

I glanced at the street, a squad rode by … I waved.

Tragedy Spoken Outloud

I haven’t an answer,

whether I should,

I can’t really say,

even the notion of trying,

makes me turn away.

I cannot look you in the eye,

with any sort of genuine care,

at least that’s what’s in my head,

though, to imagine I wouldn’t dare.

I speak of your loss,

of theirs, ours, many others,

of the confusion, pain, hopeless

abandon,

the fear, tragic, angry, the unknown

peril of loss, of tragedy.

We lost a neighbor the other day,

there I’ve said it,

I know no other way,

but I do know there is pain,

there is tremendous heartfelt pain,

within all of the confusion.

Next door, they know loss,

yet, they would be the last,

to suggest she anything like him.

We are all fighting the reality

of our fragile humanity.

Instead of telling you I’m sorry,

I only want you to know that,

she, her friends, your … , mom, dad,

any number of names above.

are always blessed with our love.

What is Your Pain?

Everyone wonders aloud when alone

what flavor of fear will it be today?

How soon will the silent shadow I’ve known

come knocking, suggesting, try it my way.

~

How does your own street look this evening

a stroll of coifed gardens so delightful,

pleasing to the eye, soft, alive, soothing

while outside our neighbor screams a handful.

~

Rest your cold life over coffee and ice

Know well our time of reckoning random.

Laughter creating a wave might entice

sweet solace sewn in my marble kingdom

~

Yet, down the way, across the well paved street

A mighty storm builds, smile so sadly; greet.