A Little Boy

when I was a little boy

I had no idea

the man

I would become;

inside all of this

anxiety

remains that little boy

screaming

sometimes to not recall

the day

innocence gave its

departure notice

to his only

grasp upon

sweet reality

 

when I was a little boy

I understood

universal

love

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When We Find We Are The Same

Rules need not be broken

to identify our true selves

we haven’t the demand

to walk upstream, to push

the elements aside

for personal gain,

in essence,

it is true that we all

do find the similar grounds

for which

our bodies

strike the earth

as feeling landed, secure,

understanding of time.

 

Oh, we do battle to separate

our lives

from those we disagree,

the them we conclude

are far astray from you and me,

and yet,

who is it we might observe

when the feeling

of not so assuredly confident

might cause dreams

aspirations,

the fantasy of our completion

to become more stirred

angst driven rather

than a peaceful protest.

 

We do,

we can,

we will inevitably

live our lives the same,

if for a moment

we step off the pedestal,

we let go of our divining rods,

loosen our grip on the main-hold

let our bodies, mind, heart

set sail and when we find

we have crossed a boundary

toward some simple freedom,

well then,

be sure to say hello

to everyone whom have all arrived

the same.

Finding A Rhythm

I use music,

depends upon the day,

usually something

upbeat, jazzy, message driven,

something to soothe

my soul,

it is the motive of a rhythm

to move the body,

let the mind follow,

let the whole of ourselves

become transfixed,

designed with the heart in sight.

 

We like to travel,

I

like to travel

go places well beyond

the space I am in,

rather than the physical nature

getting away,

I’d like rather to know

right here, right now,

I can go there, you might come here

in the span of a moment,

in the quiet serenade

of a bluesy melody.

 

‘Talk to me some more

you don’t have to go.’ – Phoebe Snow

 

Something to be said,

without having to find

the answer,

just a listen

follow the beat

listen to intention,

find some meaning

moves beyond the moment,

let’s you settle inside a memory,

perhaps a dream,

a fantasy,

let it take you somewhere

tonight.

If, Again

If

once we

were partners

though shadowed

intimate decisions

drove us apart, our lives

seemingly drawn

in more necessary direction,

would it be possible

to find purpose

in knowing …

again.

 

If

the world

were able to

walk in the shoes

of those they despise

would it be possible then

for each of our lives

to become valid

to such a

degree

we might understand

love,

again.

 

If

the world

were a perfect sphere

and all the polar opposites

began to better listen and hear

each other rather than negate

their contributions,

could we maybe

become

whole

again.

 

If when

the sun were to set

we might all still look inside

each other’s lives could

we finally recognize

the similariites

and love

again.

 

If … again

Conversations With My Dad

People suggest

we ought not imagine

conversations with

the dead.

 

The afterlife we’re told

often speculation

a creation of our own need

to reconnect.

 

Yet if it weren’t true

they’re listening,

then these tears that

fall would not be real.

 

I have conversations with my dad,

the difficult questions,

the hard to know answers,

I know he’s thinking for me.

 

I suppose what he might say

standing here in the room,

is the same answer he gives me

from faraway where he remains

 

Waiting, hoping, wishing are all

positive realities toward doing.

Sweet Albatross

albatross and sailboat

would that we might
seek refuge
in a distance
be aware of our
surroundings
I will guide you by wing
sweeping upon distant
perils and swallows
trust me
for it is my
guidance
would you chance
in the grips of Nature’s siege
upon a
human
whose quiet
fallibility
reveals itself
in a distant
memory.