Listening Out Loud

Watching the news,

hearing the words,

imagining the time,

wondering about just

right now.

 

Reflection in the way,

causeways toward truth,

the ignorance of time,

we all want to find,

a happy place.

 

Chapters in reserve,

there’s no way back

to resolve the issues

we knew way back when

we had no idea.

 

Grew up far too quickly,

forgot childhood pranks,

laughter in innocent appeal,

the world simply occurred,

I stepped in the way.

 

I often imagine taboo,

and then I want to cry,

I realize the storm is heading

clearly my way, and no matter

the time, it will sway.

 

Quiet the temperate fog,

the shadows will remain,

just the sunlight in its

delightful intensity,

still will rise.

 

I spoke loud one afternoon,

the world listened

and a million men

joined in a shattering chorus

of shallow regard.

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When Ordinary Steps In

Though we step in a path of quiet pause

We remark at the peace beyond our call.

Lives begin, attitude is common ground

We believe our minds change because we love.

A decision is then made to leave applause

On the back of a playing card after all.

While an Ordinary life often found

To be lacking, we reach the sky above.

When in the span seeking for life in Oz

We will all choose to follow thus we fall

Into the trappings of shackle and bound

By their sallow nature shields a glove.

Choose to breathe in a vacuum, simple free

Is our love for each other, meant to be.

We Might Yearn a Child’s Eye

While we ran the backyards,

the slow walk through the dandelions

pollened by summer’s bees,

we did think alone,

the same way we,

the same notions, we may

have today, the same wonderment

of the psychological nature,

compels our being,

causes our heart to swoon,

allows for the time to stand still,

we can all be in love

when we know the answer is

truth in the manner of an eternal Grace.

I do know love, I like to say,

much better than yesterday,

though a child,

I knew love unconditionally

until one day …

 

We wander beyond our lost innocence

a compelling stir

of reality and fantasy,

suddenly knowing why our tears

could last forever,

or at least until

we are told that is

good enough,

life goes on,

time to move forward,

hold onto memory,

but never ever recall the same.

 

As a little boy,

I used to watch cars slip up the hill,

a winter’s night, the street light,

snow filled the neighborhood,

and my ten year old self

safely tucked inside a picture window,

could watch the world survive a winter’s storm.

I would often wonder about the people inside,

if they knew I was watching,

if they could tell even in that stormy moment,

they would never be alone,

lost and frozen in the cold,

the ice of the street

would prevent them from

being in their own home,

the comfort of home,

putting aside all of the day’s

concerns,

having a martini,

perhaps a cigar,

and maybe a little bit of fantasy,

thinking about that woman at the bar,

and wondering again,

did she really smile,

or was that simply nerves.

 

I once left a hillside campground,

the whole walk worrying about fire,

and later ran back up the trail,

crossed the mountain creek

we liked to call it,

a little stream of shale and rocks,

gurgling along Woods’s Hill,

a memory,

when I returned to camp,

the fires had begun to ignite,

I felt like a boy scout

stamping out our ignorance.

 

I remember the day he died,

my world ended just a little bit,

enough for me to know,

reality was a far greater burden,

than the easy bliss of childhood fantasy.

I remember thinking then,

I would never worry about dwelling

on the past,

because nowadays,

there is too much excitement ahead.

 

I never forgot you man,

always on my mind,

I’ve often wondered if your childhood,

was ever so easily defined.

 

Observing Humanity at Ease

Driving along the highway this morning, I came upon a woman walking alone on the side of the road. I found her to be an odd sight, it was raining, there wasn’t a sidewalk per se, and she was walking away from an industrial region of the city. I looked around to see a stalled vehicle, or something to indicate why she was walking in the rain, with a phone to her ear, not looking particularly stressed but out of sync with her reality.

I then wondered how I might possibly know her reality, what her life was, why she would be walking in the first place, and finally why I would be wondering about this stranger on the road in the early morning hours. My first immediate thought was this was a woman walking by herself in an unfamiliar area. The first thing that went through my mind was she was vulnerable. I thought about whether or not she was safe. My next thought was I had no idea what her life was, and perhaps this was a daily routine she employed to walk to work, and she was just on the phone occupying her time on a typical walk. I then thought about my own world.

How often do I walk alone in an unfamiliar area to get from one place to another? I usually have my car, and if I’m somewhere that is not routine, I’m perhaps on my bicycle exploring, or vacationing with a purpose to go wherever I do happen to land. I wondered about the routine of our lives, how compact and determined our lives may be, without a lot of risk for adventure beyond planned events. In my eyes, this woman was on a journey of unusual circumstances, and perhaps I was making my noting of her presence far more impactful than it was.

I couldn’t help think about how purposely safe our lives are in today’s society. Though we have anxiety in our choices, our risks, and our opportunities, in general, I believe our lives are fairly preserved with always familiar protective boundaries. We are not often found in places of risk, or spontaneity that might upset the natural scheme of things, we call our reality. At least that was the overwhelming feeling I got when encountering this human being, walking in the rain, talking on her telephone, along a busy highway feet trampling the gravel where no walkway existed.

I wonder sometimes, what are the circumstances of our lives that help create the burden of anxiety we sometimes carry around with ourselves. For me, I have the opportunity to recognize addictions to be a major piece of what compels my inner thinking when contemplating my decisions. In the case of the woman on the highway, there was a time when I might be compelled to stop and ask where she was going, part of a ploy to find mutual attraction in the moment.

I wonder how it is we find ourselves in the trappings of creating visible shields to protect our lives from the society around us. We don’t wish to be judged or thrown into a category of miscreant. We wish only to be seen in the best light, and though this person I encountered on the highway probably lives an extremely normal life, in this one moment I placed her in a completely different world, one filled with a bounty of suspicious analysis that helps us the observer feel we are doing right in our own lives. At least that was my takeaway for myself on this rainy day in autumn.

Perhaps a sunny day with temperatures in the 80’s might have presented a more plausible observation. Today though, I am reminded just how sheltered our lives have become where it is an abnormal sight to see a human being walking along a busy highway with no visible means of explanation beyond their existence.

Fortunately, I have enough gasoline in my tank to get me from point A to B, preserving my stake in this societal machinery we plan our lives around.

If When We Wonder

If while our lives motor along,

we could wonder about what might be real,

if we might recall the vision,

we recalled when wanting to wander,

would we wish upon a clever clarity.

 

We wanted this, said to ourselves,

while the skies blurred our memory,

always positioning ourselves

to carry on, to carry on,

we always do want to remember when.

 

There in this room where the papers lied,

he would smoke his pipe,

on the floor nearby is where I might lay,

matchbox cars, and wild romance,

in the eyes of a ten year old boy.

 

There in the autumn breeze,

clouds create a cacophony of chaos,

delightful to the eyes,

of a childhood filled with wonder,

the questions sweep across a gilded sky.

 

Curious our lives recognize time,

the loss of a muscle joint twist,

a groan, a shudder when night lights

suggest we need again to understand,

the hours ahead will always be the same.

 

Where the body remains a vessel,

the heart continues to allow fantasy,

the emotional plea of desire

became my demand in a child’s eye.

Oh to please the wanderer’s sunset.

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.

The White Out

In a sudden state of conclusion,

a confusion,

an interruption of our

ultimatum,

we were in a stirring rendition,

of love, of fun, of childhood,

when simply in the notice of our soul catcher,

we were told it is time to go home.

 

Now in the quiet of the day,

when laying back in my bedroom,

the familiar walls, the sounds,

static realities of my existence …

Now I can stand alone,

notice hanging on a wall nearby,

a dreamcatcher follows my eyes,

I suddenly do understand why.

 

A multitude of personality

spoke the knowledge of a few,

only to find some solace,

in the calm,

the storm that surged last night,

lays down a peaceful blanket,

a security to know we are never alone,

and instead just part of the circle,

that place where our lives,

measured amongst their lives,

and the lives of anyone whom nearby,

can hear my shout, her tear, his solemn plea,

we are all inside this dream catcher.

 

In matters of the soul,

we can cleanse our hearts in the grief

of our confusion,

in a thankful paradigm,

we might suggest,

perhaps another day,

because tonight everything is so fresh –

there is an ultimatum

in the sweet peace of love.

 

There is a cathartic happening today,

meant to suggest love,

in the confusion of wondering why,

it is his soul chosen today.

For all of our heartfelt passion,

for life and the responsive nature

of letting our lives speak loud,

for the loss of a mechanical truth,

suddenly surreal in His sensual sky,

we do know love today,

and the Creator has sung song today,

in the eyes of this Elder is the compassionate way,

we know love, we know love, is this day.