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Tag Archives: poet
The Skeptical Administrator
Ever do we wonder,
if the joy really is about,
playing the game,
getting the right answers,
or at least providing a speculative
reason.
I rode a bicycle home the other day,
and each thread of pavement,
let me realize
exactly how far I needed to travel,
just by the sound it made,
in that region of my neighborhood.
They all look the same,
when we travel at high speed,
but it is when we slow down,
ease into things,
we begin to see the real nature
of every human being
standing nearby,
wondering why.
So what is it about taking the lead,
makes us all want to be
powerful
unrelenting and undermining
even at our own expense
because it feels good
feels good,
feels so very likely we are
on top of the world,
while everyone else
seems to listen
less and less,
they are cringing at the notion of making any decision on their own,
haven’t gotten very used to,
listening,
over and over and beyond the realm,
the fall guy,
the one who always answered,
whether we wish them to or not,
seems a rather skeptical outcome,
don’t you think,
or do you rather choose
a different response.
Fallen Shadows Still Rise
We might think of them as a memory,
the pain of losing them,
the loss of heartfelt passions and laughs,
we might imagine them a memory.
Yet, their shadows can still rise,
it is where we left them,
forced to say good-bye,
we remembered how they stood against the wall.
Oh to have the fortitude,
of those quiet souls,
the bodies left behind,
and yet still, the strength they show beyond.
We wondered out loud,
why should I be left alive,
who’s the lucky one,
who’s the recorder of their sweet mystique.
I wander sometimes quite a distance,
before I land,
I recognize my shadow always remains,
it is a spectacular sunlight.
Oh, to hold the sweet caress of yesterday,
to know the beauty we have all a reveal,
to touch the universe in one short life,
is to know the serenity of time …
It is inside the mystery of time,
when our shadows rise again.
Breathing Slow Dreams
It is when we want to cry,
the sound will not come,
its expanse,
fills our lungs to capacity,
short breaths,
quiet realities,
keeps us moving through a storm,
taking a moment,
a gasp,
yet still there is a desire to find more,
know a place we might settle in,
get perspective,
develop a plan,
learn to let go,
let go, let go, let go
of my infernal panic drawn by circumstance,
mixed with pride,
lost in ego,
until someone decides they might listen.
Only, we can never know,
when the right time is,
when the chance to breathe,
becomes the right idea of purpose,
compassion,
righteous knowledge,
entitlement.
Then again,
and again and again and again,
breathe deep the …
another lyric away from
recognizing the purity of our own sweet
sanity.
Purpose With Addiction
Oh there are these walls,
you can’t see them.
frankly I can’t either,
we can always feel them,
walking through a crowded market,
and the eyes,
the many faces that seem to know you are there,
and we wonder,
are we as obviously noticing them as they are,
realizing our world isn’t alone,
but rather,
we are all together,
fighting this machine,
goes far beyond who we are in the moment,
that’s when it all began.
The moment,
that clarifying incident,
the time our hearts hurt,
and yet,
we hadn’t realized the pain was not ours alone,
the world,
that local planet shit,
that place where we suddenly come to know,
the love and reason for living is suddenly,
questioning,
why,
we don’t know really,
not even now,
only real piece to hang onto,
is goodness,
we come to realize it does exist,
our hearts are capable of love,
the real thing,
the imagination once tested with artificial
stimulants,
has suddenly been taught to feel,
we do visualize beauty again,
the sun rose this morning and remarkable as it seems,
I …
I noticed.
Dealing With Lovely Realities (A Thank You)
In recognizing attitude we might choose a Lovely expression,
the ability to manage the world in words.
We do interact,
settle disputes,
determine outcomes,
creating smiles to combat the disdain.
Oh to have Lovely words suggest positive outcome is always the goal.
In business,
in welfare,
in our present reality,
a certain energy exists bound by internal expression,
emanates an absolute in kindness and empathy,
called doing her job,
yes, we’d call her Lovely.
(this piece inspired by a customer service agent with the very namesake)
When Time Seems Immediate
It is those hours as a child,
as a young romantic,
in the throes of a miscreant’s goal,
when time seems forever, to be still, to not move,
to shadow the moments ahead,
it is in those quiet seconds of reality,
we seem to venture forth to discover our resilient nature.
Is this a valuable tool in defining our
human condition,
or are we simply running our lives by
the second hand of our existence.
For it is a question of time.
