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

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We Spoke of Clouds

Ours were lofty plans

no one ever understood

that really was the plan

~

soft sunsets in woods

we lay in one another’s arms

playing with our moods

~

looking in her eyes

seeing clouds in satin skies

long before any lies

~

nature left us bare

with little consequence – love

dance within my dare

~

as a child winter

would freeze – bone chilling icy

clouds would love deter

~

In a still moment

I can still hear her laughter

winter’s freeze lament

~

starry starry eyes

yours would I remember when

I glance toward skies

Whisper Wild Words

When everything seems to wane

we tend to

circle our wagons

we tend to

issues that matter

we tend to

run with the masses

whenever it seems our lives matter.

~

What happens while we forget,

how many miles

of open ground do we cover

how many miles

of indecision do we wander

how many miles

of afterthought do we compile

whenever it seems our lives matter.

~

I lost a friend the other day,

she seemed to be tired,

of trying to meet the needs of a world,

she seemed to be tired

of all the bullshit that crossed her desk,

she seemed to be tired

of trying to meet the needs of the man

whenever it seems our lives matter,

~

Whenever it seems our lives matter

the world around us seems to bother.

Thin Lined Walls

those opportunities

stealing away time

insecurities

an asked for world

sublime.

~

I walked further inside a fantasy,

I usually steer clear of grasping its entirety.

But I just wanted to,

I threw caution a curve ball,

stranded my indecision

while all around me,

the sun continued to rise,

high winds set the tone for

any afternoon, every evening, the next morning.

~

Walking alone again,

after years of reparation,

the sort of time driven self-actualization

we all seem to thrive upon,

yet so rare is our epiphany.

~

He said he had one standing in front of the window,

in the lounge where pain,

every sort of misery,

played out each soul, each memory,

each death.

For that is the true circle of life

we try to live by our standard,

and yet,

one afternoon there we are looking at a streaking sky,

wishful of every cloud, paint drawn autumn leaf,

each indication of a better life,

will set the tone for the next day.

~

Tomorrow is the first time I get to speak freely

about what happened already,

only because, there are allowances for

the human condition,

that mechanical ticking bomb

awaits the next adventure.

~

When we sometime try to bury our ills,

to convey a deeper meaning inside shallow pools,

we sadly forget to recognize

the shimmer,

the grace of a natural reflection,

the beauty that thin lined walls,

offer the free mind,

rather than a poured concrete statue

of the divine redemption.

~

We cannot surely argue with time.

Civilized Agony

Tears are real,

though hidden,

repressed,

we really don’t reveal

fires inside,

we can’t allow others

inanimate reasons

to hold court

in the presence

of others.

When alone,

that ability

to cry out loud

delights the mind,

while sitting alone

without audience

tears will flow free

and yet if we reveal

a sob, a gasp, an awkward

shift in posture,

if we,

allowances are made,

we become free,

we fly inside a dream,

a myriad of emotion

follows …

in there a world

far beyond

a typical day,

a routine need,

a wonderful sunrise,

becomes ironic,

we believe our soul

cleansed again.

Walking Path

We walk rather than run

to remain calm, save energy,

to let those outside our world

recognize our own responsibility

to shadow peace.

Yet when on occasion

I see a path ahead,

I’d like to run as fast,

perhaps like the gazelle

who runs away looking

afraid of his own shadow,

only likely afraid of me.

I wonder if I went for it,

a full out sprint to reach

the other end of the path,

how excited would I be,

to realize when breathless

in a gradual pause,

I’m not quite ready at all,

to reach that other end.

Stand Firm; Lessons Learned

We are an entitled society

yes we are,

we’ve been told,

acknowledged,

been forced to accept

our need for …

validation and anyone gets in my way

I will mow you down in a heartbeat

and bury your soul in the ashes.

Oh, did I say that

again there is a familiar ring,

a calling, a howling,

a fixture of resentment

borne out of the reams

of sympathetic scrutiny …

or is this a hypocrisy that no matter

how we try to be good to one another,

someone will slam your face without fail

Ah springtime is ahead,

the temperatures glean

our need for warmth

for delightful walks,

and summer bike rides

all shared with each other …

My neighbor bought a new bicycle,

come on dad, I need an upgrade,

can it happen today? What the fu …

Where did we find ourselves accepting a society

that rather than earn allows a continuum’s whine.