When Voices Speak

So much easier is the quiet,

the peace of reflection without

an internal buzz of prophecy,

the constant of the mind.

 

I woke today to realize my prom

decades beyond this my reality,

yet tonight, students who walk,

they talk, they all believe the same.

 

We are not that far apart from ourselves

when reflection allows our lives

to know the same, to believe

Janis with ‘At Seventeen’ prophetic.

 

Tonight, celebrations do occur,

perhaps rites of passage that frighten

the moms and dads and older

siblings, having known before.

 

Yet tonight there is also the human

condition, remains home, perhaps

isolated, lonely wondering,

listening to sad songs.

 

Whichever choice, option,

desire or passion,

whomever responds to this

our quiet, our silent voice.

 

We might wish for love

to embrace every aspect of

child and friend and adult

and companion … human.

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On The Occasion of Equality

What would happen,

to jealousy,

to envy,

to wanting more,

to wishing that one were less inclined,

understanding the difference

between yours and mine.

 

What would be said,

when questions arose,

about the ludicrous nature,

of those with a nose

for finding fault in their neighbor

rather than

atoning their own yard.

 

Where would we go,

if no one would regard,

we are the same …

oh wait –

that’s where we have been

for so many years,

so how is it we finally find

some avenue to recognize

respect is a word,

not simply a thought,

a word we can listen to,

practice, believe with a buy in,

that settles all trivialities

those incomprehensible

travesties

keep us yards apart

from unity.

It Is A Beautiful Day

cometogether

Beatles


How so do the moods define our day,

we wake to a sunlit morning to defy the odds,

or perhaps we settle in selective pods

stepped away we did from society’s way.

 

A certain lovely attraction is contained in smile

circus acts and normalcy all find sweet balance,

life becomes less of form, tossed beyond chance

might we interact open heartedly in the while.

 

We speak of a world that exists based upon because

spirited within an altruistic desire toward freedom.

Yet somewhere along the way began a kingdom

begetting perhaps – there begs the question of laws.

 

Sans the trifle, sense the spirited nature of release

We shall find resolute Love internalized in peace.

MLK Jr. – 50 Years Ago His Words Began

MLK Jr.

photo courtesy Bustle


I knew this man,

well, my mother,

she taught me

to know this man.

 

i remember when he spoke,

his voice was beautiful,

a rhapsody of passionate

words to speak to everyone.

 

A scared nation,

completely aware

of what really is hell,

what was this man’s tell.

 

I remember my mother

saying to me one night,

Martin Luther King, Jr.

means love, he speaks love.

 

I remember being fascinated

by this preacher’s voice,

he kept returning,

he wouldn’t go away.

 

Despite bricks being thrown,

a society being scorned,

he basically smiled, stated,

‘I have a dream.’

 

I knew this man,

50 years ago tonight,

right around the evening

hour, we lost his voice.

 

Jesse Jackson, described it

like the clap of his hand,

the bullet was immediate,

and MLK Jr. was gone.

 

I love this beautiful man I never knew

but I believe I do, he did truly love you.

When A Mass Shooter Commits Suicide

I feel lost and helpless, out of control,

I cannot fathom the pain that is now endured

by the family, the friend, the community,

the loss of life so random and unexpected,

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I’m left in a fury of angst and simple confusion,

I know the emotional drain of being human,

living out our purpose and striving to be,

and like Hollywood, just when we realize …

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I think we all think about how a person’s day begins,

the same as yesterday, perhaps a sweet happiness,

or even probably the angst of having to be the machine,

another day of social squabbles and night’s end purpose.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

All of these moments we’ve all felt together,

we know the sense of sunshine in the morning,

we understand the beauty of a co-worker,

the laughter of a memo, the reality of our family.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

There isn’t a day when we are awoken

by the silly notion of our mortality, when thriving

seems to be our goal. There is no reaction

to the possibility our life will be taken with random …

…. AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SHOOTER!

 

THIS PART has everything to do with the shooter,

because those lives, those people that were so important

to everyone far beyond the trigger of your cowardice,

deserve an opportunity to COME TO LIFE AND WATCH,

WATCH YOU SUFFER INDIGNITY, YOUR FLAWED PURPOSE ON DISPLAY!

An Easter Sunday Prayer

I would wish we might all love,

if only for the hours of this day,

turn to one another,

the fear we even imagine in doing so,

be put aside,

for we are all wanting to show effort

toward recognizing our own

sense of balance

in knowing

there is a special bond,

a reality,

a certain wanton risk perhaps

answered when

in unison

together,

looking in each other’s eyes,

we might know love.

For I haven’t the foggiest notion

who wrote the book,

beyond the letters, the words,

the sayings, the famous and infamous remarks,

I haven’t any knowledge beyond

my own response,

my reaction,

my longing to understand

when humanity

might let themselves

touch

upon the beauty of each other

without the urgency of reward,

oh then,

there might be grace in the certainty

of celebration,

for we are

one love,

we are

one.

 

Happy Easter everyone! Please, peace!

There’s a Song About It Too

IMG_1082

I think it’s the Counting Crows,

well now I know it is,

just being stylish,

setting the tone,

the moment when everything matters,

inside the look of a photo.

 

I woke to this image in the morning,

it represents something,

a journey I suppose,

where all eyes come together

to find some peace,

waking only to see ‘Omaha.’

 

I went to sleep with that last night,

having visited our future,

a couple of kind young souls

that inspire my chances

to watch them grow,

seems silly now, they’re both young adults.

 

I woke up this morning,

looked at the sign out my hotel window,

remembered how blind I’d been

the night before to purpose and reason,

and suddenly came to terms with a world

far beyond just my own sense of matter.

 

To them, the two students I cherished,

one being certainly the breath of my oxygen

with an energy driven toward happiness,

a positive soul,

a wonderful heart.

 

And he,

a magical young man,

with talents beyond the norm,

pick up a guitar,

stand in for a character,

draw a line and give it purpose,

 

They walk the sands together,

shaping the mold of steps

left behind for others

to notice, to understand, to wonder,

their’s is a special opportunity,

the human condition in genuine smile.

 

I drove miles to observe and then wake to Omaha,

and tonight I’m at peace, a sweet simplicity in awe