The Circle of Deceit

I can’t listen anymore,

I’m a citizen of this country,

I believe in my freedom,

the welfare of my neighbor

the peace of mind of a stranger.

I want to understand the peril

that one family has overcome

in order to help another find peace,

find hope,

find their own sense of freedom.

 

But the circle of deceit

two parties battling one another,

a constant rubrics cube of

smoke and mirrors,

Pollyanna and Slaughterhouse Five,

they’re all the same,

all told before,

all recognized to be contributors,

to our own incessant

Catch – 22

of hit and miss, ugliness.

 

I suppose I will turn to fiction

once again,

the result of years of twisted reality,

I’d rather just …

Imagine.

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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.

I Would Wait For This Moment

If it meant two people from opposite sides might smile,

I would wait for the final moment,

if I could know it was coming soon, we might lose denial

to recognize the beauty of Man,

beyond the animal, far and away we might know

the human condition,

it all of its fervor,

trying forever to recognize the places

our minds might go,

but if in the moment,

I measured race to be an entity

of sharing love and passion and a compassion

for the well being of the misunderstand,

then certainly it might be the classroom,

the place where lives we touch,

could smile again,

look upon each other in a sea of clouds,

both distant and frankly above,

and through that atmosphere

of a certain unknowing,

might we then,

remember where this all began,

in a place we might call love,

yet,

understanding beyond the mystique

does lay the real,

we would then shout from the rooftops,

we now know how to look one another

in the eye,

sharing a pleasant catharsis.

is it as known as the love we might have shown.

To Know Who I Am

I struggle sometimes,

with the right words,

perhaps an easy phrase,

a greeting of some kind.

I want the world to understand,

I am my own being,

I’ve fought a war perhaps,

nothing like a soldier’s wrath.

 

I listen to what is real around me,

the smarter speakers

those meant to be listened upon.

I wait for revelations,

I want to know,

where is it that I shall go,

with my next adventure,

just a simple morning away.

 

I’d like to think I’m right,

but there is such wide expanse

of narrative to discredit

anyone who might disregard

the reality of fear.

Instead we live in a constant,

of idiosyncrasy and wealth,

the sort that leaves a waning.

 

See it seems we are a society

built upon certain hypocrisy,

and if someone argues,

another might step in

when the originator

is walked out of the ring,

a towel over their head,

to hide only that embarrassment.

 

Yet, what happens to the winner,

when it is realized,

there is a far greater fight ahead,

than anyone might imagine,

Or perhaps they did,

just in the blink of an eye,

when were all told a no,

we might find agreement instead.

 

I wonder what it is, where I’ll be

suddenly when asked to know who I am.

The Last Time I Checked

There was purpose in my day,

a willingness to share,

yet the constructs of a certain way,

would often interfere,

well, just my luck.

 

I often walk away this way,

the drive home,

a long enduring road,

looking around to see,

if anyone else might be my way.

 

I lack the fortitude

one might easily say

to perhaps whether the storm

may be the cause of me,

or certainly the human way.

 

There always is that possibility

of just getting past all of the

hypocrisy, the second guessing,

the idiocy inherent

with wondering just where we are.

 

I walked inside a world

why, just the other day,

where a little girl would cry,

her story breaking the hearts

of everyone inside her day.

 

And then, I wondered again,

while walking away,

is it just me,

or is life meant to be compelling,

in whatever manner He choose.

While Wandering Many Years

I remember,

when as a child,

I noticed for the first time,

beauty,

the sort that remained with me,

for the rest of my life.

 

Oh it came in a smile,

a long and enduring hug,

a remark

a passerby whom might notice,

or help or assist, or wonder,

rather than showing

some practiced

ignorance.

 

For many years,

I’ve wandered through doors,

often wide open, without a need,

for a knock, or a password, or a latch key,

all evidence of the freedoms

I did feel as a child,

a young teenager,

an aspiring and hopeful

adult.

 

Along the way, I discovered,

race.

 

I remember the first time, well perhaps

there were many before,

a friend of mine,

in a fit of laughter, his own,

helped to shield my embarrassment,

we were talking iconic,

a Hollywood star,

I named the wrong person,

and he chuckled and said with clarity,

‘no the other black guy.’

 

See, I’ve now wandered for years,

found many stories,

heard a lot of different controversy,

created

of course a few of my own,

and in all that time,

I look around the room tonight,

and that oyster,

that metaphor,

that penchant for society to suggest

we all own ourselves …

that responsibility,

does let me breathe I suppose.

 

Yet I want a little bit more,

so in the years ahead,

perhaps a vocal sojourn

is merited,

to show the beauty and grace,

inherent in a wonder,

in the human condition,

in the freedom,

in some spiritual reckoning,

suggests,

we do, forever,

wander together.

I Have A Broken Heart

I watched my world unravel tonight,

I believe in love,

I understand pain and indifference,

though cannot recognize ignorance.

 

This night I listened to voices

familiar and strong

speak with certain agonizing

reactions to simple insecurities.

 

How soon do we lose ourselves,

when hiding inside a square box

incapable of having corners,

unaware of angles of reason.

 

When one person believes in rage,

the others follow suit,

When once a person tears,

the others make choices

for themselves.

 

We wonder sometimes,

if the tables were turned,

were they turned on me,

or did I make it all up.

 

I walked around,

looking for a variable,

searching for a purity of reason,

I couldn’t find an alternative.

 

Walking alone in confusion,

I’m supposed to laugh but I cannot,

I’m trying to hide but I cannot,

I listen, but not to hate justify a desire

for themselves.

 

I realized tonight,

its in my world,

everything we believe is not,

is actually real and certainly designed

for themselves.

 

For themselves,

for their own needs,

for the sake of no one else,

only themselves.

 

Only themselves.