Being In My Head

A description

suggestive in its exploit

meant as prophecy

more oft bereft

Fallacy.

 

The other afternoon

when caught

in turmoil’s grasp

would one recall

Travesty.

 

We are ourselves

makers of the storm

we design our fall

how we rise we dwell, this …

Legacy.

 

This notion of an internal measure

Always reminds me of my leisure.

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There’s This Place I Like To Go

In the quiet reminders of how we live our lives

a silent recall will always come knocking

always come knocking

always come

to somehow tell us we are a concept

we remain here forever,

always knocking,

a steady rap of recurring thoughtful

imagined lives that stir our hearts

until all the passion we feel

suddenly spills into the next

time and place

where 

always knocking

a soft moment, 

we might certainly

become enthralled in sweet 

reckoning

because we share our lives

inside the spectrum of some

displaced anxiety,

an autumn sunset

begins a solemn wholeness,

the human condition,

always knocking

on Heaven’s doorstep.

On The Wonder of Age

Today is the birthday of an elder,

a daughter just lost her father,

a young boy,

playing in a culvert,

watching handmade wooden ships

float toward the sewer,

no judgment in mind,

simple childhood,

with an elder keeping his welfare

in mind.

 

We wonder sometime about the truth

in aging, the wisdom found,

the mistakes we wish to take bake

yet now we simply go on living

appreciating sometime

the turn of the coin

where once we believed this,

now we are forever asking for

sweet forgiveness

because with age

comes for some a sense of

quiet humility.

 

Oh do answer the question

that when under the knife

my body shut down

for modern medicine

did I go anywhere

with my dreams

beyond waking again,

seemingly fixed

yet forever drawn

to wondering just why.

 

The age of this my freedom

Will by my silent fiefdom

Wondering Why We Do

I fight this battle,

you see,

it is a visual reality

the need for me

to recognize

my own vulnerability

is ok, it’s alright, it is part of the

game

we all play,

we wake to a different horizon

every morning,

we sleep to a different melody

at night,

or perhaps during the day,

wherever it is we decide

we might wish to land

and resurface again,

when everyone we see

decides upon the rules of

the game.

Walking By Society

I noticed a disagreement

two people in a shot

hard to know as an observer

who is right, which wronged

Standing a little closer

listening words bandied

about with an emphasis on

pitch disregard evidence.

My eyes gave cathartic glance

two views in visual contrast

we look like the parties

that in silence divide us.

Such variables in American society

look while influence reaches the street.