We Belong To Each Other

We wonder sometimes,

a natural scheme,

I mean, a dream,

the right or wrong

of knowing,

of deciding.

I speak to you,

your response,

I imagine,

while perhaps

yours,

that visual reminder

might cross paths

with another memory

some other reason,

a previous need to

understand,

and yet,

in all of this

confusion,

remains the same tie,

the bond,

the reaction

to once in awhile

simply

knowing each other

as similar beings

with different paths,

only the same.

Looks Define

When listening to music,

it piques the state of mind,

if in a moment,

we might be inspired,

by a sound, a coined phrase,

a certain lyric,

oh so that’s all just fine,

though,

it is when the voice takes flight,

when while listening,

suddenly I’m drawn to a distant place,

somewhere I’ve never found,

yet the angels do bring me there …

for that single moment,

I’m lost in the world of song.

Racism, Hate, Evil, Bigot … Reality

I want to wrap my head around the pain,

because that is where we belong,

we cannot forget the horrific loss,

the tragedy of humanity at its finest,

buried within the wild constraints of evil.

Where does it lie, just waiting?

I know myself when I walk into a room,

a certain baggage wrapped underneath

a well defined mockery of who I am in the moment,

yet no pistols, no hate, no racist bigotry

anywhere near my body, completely vacant

from my mind, I am left tonight only feeling tears.

~

I don’t understand where we are going,

when I was a child, I used to remember

hearing about the bad things,

having to listen to the news, and searching

the expressions, my mom’s distant looks,

my dad’s confused head shake as the meal prepared,

we were all a family just trying to get along,

trying to figure out a way to understand

only just then what was happening in our home.

~

We weren’t worrying for the moment about

Vietnam, Kent State, MLK, Malcolm, RFK,

we were singing Beatles songs and now recalling

the beauty that JFK provided for those few short years.

We never had the chance to see what life would be like

when MLK would finally turn 64, when Malcolm would speak

further, when the world’s leaders weren’t gunned down,

because some crazy assed american could make it happen.

I won’t give you crazy assed american the honor of capitalizing

the first letter of our proud nation, the one you desecrate

with all of your base, and evil, entitlement.

~

I want to say, well, to get to the end of my notion,

which cannot ever really end, because the dialogue,

the spiritual freedom, the positive balance,

well that piece of our hearts that allows us to return

to our homes as a family. That piece of sheer humanity,

allows us to live, well that’s the piece we need to get back to.

~

I’m going to cry tonight because I know not what else to do.

When Moments Cry

Heart felt emotions

strong, lumbering, deafening.

Body frozen,

time on a pendulum

swings away with little accord

or any matter of poise. That comes

in the morning when

the measuring stick

awakens the soul to a new reality.

Even if one can cry

to release the tension of hurt,

to unsheathe the weaponry,

turmoil in the moment. Even still

is the icy region of shattered dreams.

~

I wonder sometimes whether it is a

state of mind. I think perhaps

it is my own, nothing more.

Yet so powerful is the energy

drawing me away, telling me that it is

ok. That somehow, lies a reason,

some new adventure moves me beyond

today’s cry.

Tomorrow’s cry will be stronger

I can fight with it all

anytime I am asked,

~

What is it you say?

There is a thoughtful notion

captures my heart in a

free-wheeling mesmerizing

fog of indecision,

lost on the rocks,

waiting for the waves,

to come slap me around,

never hurts enough,

to step back onto the grass.

~

I might have to forget

about anything that really

mattered in my life, if

if only,

if when and only,

if there ever might be a time,

when my life becomes little

more than playing the piano

on my keyboard.

That’s easy enough, if we could just stay here,

let the world continue,

let time be its own measure,

I politely ask the seconds

to ignore my needs,

I don’t want to be

measured today,

by my lack of tears.

DIscreet Empathy

That is when you wonder

about the person on the other side

riding in public

they’re traveling in a world

unlike our own

yet, vastly different,

probably, more likely

we can ascertain only their look

their frame of mind

discreetly empathetic

to everyone around them

their world their own

not yours, not mine, not theirs

everyone together can somehow

realize, recognize, reconcile

and go public rather than rely upon

discreet empathy.