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She packs a shoddy bag and covers a broken heart,
Her ruby slippers weathered and dull. Heels bent and broken from acid sidewalks, Her scarecrow; burnt and scattered to the winds. Her lion hunted down and mounted. And her tin man, of no further use, recycled into bumpers for 69 buicks. Nemesis now immune to water, The monkey celebrates the demise |
This isn’t Kansas January 13, 2009
Each of us May 4, 2008
Each man, and each woman is worthy of ascension,
Is worthy of the fulfillment of their dreams.
However, we must want it, strive for it, and work to achieve it.
Let those who would stifle your course, and destroy your compass…
Let those thoughts and those perpetrations be damned.
Nevertheless, let us Love them for their views, and respect them for their fervor,
For in their minds they are just.
Who am I, who are we to determine who is right or wrong?
We can each of us, only determine our own paths with the knowing that is laid before us in the present.
My knowledge as a child was not that of when I became a man.
My knowledge now will not be that of when my tooth lengthens and I become gray.
Opinions will always fall just as the rains,
Frequent and torrential.
It is up to each to weather the rains, and ascend green towers,
To harvest our dreams, to attain our fulfillments,
Yes,
Each of us.
The Man you left behind April 20, 2008
I am not the man that you left behind.
That you left to cold rooms and empty cupboards.
That you left to cold rooms and empty cupboards.
I am not the one who sent you on your way.
You left of your own volition,
The alcohol,
Pulling upon your strings much stronger than I ever could.
I remember crouching upon the floor
Weeping for you,
Weeping for us.
But Knowing,
That little voice inside my head saying,
“All will be OK, all is well.”
I reeled in self pity,
I reeled in dreams and thoughts of playing in traffic…
I crumbled neath the weight of it all…
But I rose, like a flower in spring,
refreshed, renewed, stronger than the year before.
I healed and forgot, somewhat…
No,
I am not the man you left behind.
I am the man that you never should have had.
I am the man with a heart that could have been yours forever,
That would have died for you.
But now,
You are just a wisp of a memory,
The fleeting stench of odor.
I am not the man that you left behind,
A life full of blessings has blown in,
And cleared the memory, the pain of,
You.
Farewell and blessings,
May you find your healing,
May you find your sobriety,
May you find your serenity,
It did not lie with me,
And never will,
Farewell to one I once loved
But nevermore.
Farewell.
Windless Moons April 14, 2008
Windless Moons
A passion play,
of guns, and white roses.
of guns, and white roses.
Petals dyed to crimson.
Roots pulled, and splayed,
Under the angry Sun of War.
Where the screams of children can be heard,
upon a windless moon,
a million miles away…
O to find a vessel of rescue,
to find one of hope,
engines racing,
To free the besieged, and forgotten.
And bring to these windless moons,
the seeds of blue skies, and peace.
Desert stardust, uncaring,
Uncaring as molded lead and brass…
depleted uranium shining in the blood of the innocents.
And countless,
Windless moons continue their deadly orbits,
revolving in their summation of hate and pain.
Days when I say,
”Stop this ugly ball, and let me off!”
But I continue,
going round and round,
in endless, lethargic, dizziness.
Ashes and Insight (opinions of a lowly poet) March 23, 2008
Perseverance in the eye of ourselves
“Free will” is the downfall of man.
When left to our own devices, we screw the proverbial pooch every time.
We adhere to our subjective truths, and function in a predominant world of “Micro” thinking. Each individual is responsible for the existence of evil and injustice in the world. To what extent they are, derives from ones ability to say no to it.
Seldom do we cleave to, and embrace the “Macro”; the larger view, to be more like God,
to follow a more spiritual path. Aye, therein lies the challenge,
therein lies the salvation, to transcend ourselves, and become one with God.
Alas, there are those who will never recognize it. In addition, even sadder, those that do will be too fearful to shed their earthly robes and walk a spiritual path.
Perseverance in the eye of ourselves, meaning even though we know we are mere and weak mortals; the attempt to transcend that malady should never wane.
We should never surrender in gaining our footing to higher paths.
Why then, do so many of us survive in this “Micro world?”
We are an adaptive species. Our peers insist that we fall in line, and keep pace with this societal march down its dark roads of self-absorption, greed, and hate. Like large, two legged lemmings, stampeding towards an open abyss of self-import, and a pre-pubescent need for acceptance. Like children, we struggle to understand.
But then again, let us surmise that “Free will” is a tool. That it is our ability to use this “Free will” to reason, to learn and make informed choices of whom and what we are.
That by exercising it, we are slowly brought to the “Macro”, albeit through fits and starts,
Replete with mistakes and emotional pains and regrets. That through the grace and wisdom of our higher powers, we come full circle to our beginnings, and we are privileged to reflect upon them.
Is Man not meant to transcend this human condition? Are we left then to suffer from our mistakes and continue to repeat them? I think we are destined to journey, we are destined to learn and grow, and attempt to transcend to a higher path that may, for our purposes only exist beyond the grave.
The effort and that which becomes known, our inherent abilities as human beings to discern right from wrong. The question that I have always posed to myself, do I have the strength and the fortitude to travel in a world where the Micro rules and the Macro is worshipped, and dreamt about only on Sunday afternoons? The answer is “Yes”, I have survived the ashes, and I have found peaceful, reflective insight. That each day is a blessing, filled with the gifts of God.
I Hypocrite
I lie to myself,
when I say I am not a hypocrite.
We are all stricken.
I have two faces.
My idealistic and my earthbound.
Convictions do not always convey themselves through actions.
Yes, I lie, I am a hypocrite.
Too weak minded to truly ascend the ladder,
and greet them, these convictions with open arms.
“If man is an adaptive being, why then can he not adapt to peace?”
We live in a “Survival of the fittest” world.
We are all fit to survive, and to thrive in this world! We should not confuse our existence with that of wild animals. Once we do, we will become as they are.
Grazing, wandering, eyes glazed over in Cud chewing complacency. After all, if the Lion kills the Zebra, what effect does that have on us?
We have become unconscious with our eyes wide open.
Man’s perpetrations against his Brother and Sister have wreaked havoc in our societies.
To the extent that we have instead, reverted to an animalistic survival mode. We take offense at the slightest intrusion, a car horn, a derogatory name called out. We feel slighted; feel that our pride and sense of self worth has been put upon.
As a result, the existence of peace vanishes. Our sense of internal peace is disturbed and in some cases, this leads to breakdowns of societal harmony. People, governments, and races lash out. We create wars only to then win the existence of peace. This garden has been tended, and abandoned repeatedly. Vigilance must be the watchword when tending the garden of peace.
I believe that in many aspects. Peace is still just a concept. Yes, we know what it is, what it means to have it, or experience it. This takes me back to my initial question however, why then can we not adapt ourselves to living in peace?
How can one truly love another without peace? Therefore, like Love, we must evolve to a point where peace becomes an emotion, rather than just a state of existence. How sad that peace just exists, it might just as well be a lamp or a piece of carpet. Peace should be celebrated and nurtured. Why is it that we do not fathom the implications of peace and instead, seek war?
Recently, I shared this thought with a friend and colleague, Mr. Richard Browne who is a journalist and was a war correspondent. Richard’s response was a clear insight to the subjectivity of truth. He stated,
“Where would we be without contrasts? Cold needs hot in order to be understood.
Left needs right. Without food, how would we know hunger?
Without hate, how would we know love, without water, how would we know thirst?
Without death, how would we know life?
And without war, how could we ever know and appreciate peace.”
Simply stated, it is these “contrasts” that allow us to make comparisons concerning such things as peace and war, love and hate, or hunger and sustenance. I am however, still stuck on the concept of peace as an emotion. If man openly practices the emotions of love and hate, we might then surmise that peace would be the precursor to love and the resolution to hate. Yes, it is all so simple for some, but this is not written for those that have an understanding of this subject. It is for those searching like myself for the answer to this question.
I am a mere poet; I wager that there are more learned men than I, those who might render a better explanation of this subject. Therefore, our individual opinions to this subject or any subject for that matter rest in, and with our experiences in life. Those things that we have come to know as our individual truths, and convictions.
I gaze upon a shattered mirror,
My reflection tangled.
I gaze upon my body, weary,
Weary of blood and hate.
I gaze upon bodies dreaming,
That peace will hither to come,
That the days of war and hate
Will die, and finally be done.
I gaze upon a shattered mirror,
War torn coffins staring back,
I gaze upon young faces,
Silent now,
Forever.
O peace,
Visit thine brethren in this,
Their final repose.
Let me wipe this shattered slate clean.
And reflect upon brighter days.
Yellow Dog
A yellow dog lies
in a yellow field.
Thinking of greener days,
legs twitching in canine dreaming.
Of fresh water, and tasty kibble,
a special stick thrown by its master.
Rusted stripe down his back,
a flag of sorts, dogged wisdom.
Ten years old, he still has some spry,
a spring in his lope, a point yet to fang.
Eyeteeth seeing all, pink nose knowing
the smells of this field.
Where the rabbits burrow,
where squirrel makes it home.
The far off lament of distant freight trains running.
A yellow dog sleeps in a yellow field,
a small white cross marking his bed.
He will run forever in yellow fields,
Running, and dancing amongst the golden stalks.
A poet’s opinion regarding the soul Nature is not man’s enemy, but it could care less about our demise or survival.Nature is a constant, in spite of our deaths life rolls on un-abated. We are but a universal flash in the pan. The universe is the environment of man and beast. It is where life’s successes and failures play out on the cosmic stage. To be human means to be mortal. Yes, a simple truth. What then becomes of the soul and, what is the soul? Our thoughts, our intellect are the essence of the soul. Those things that we have learned in life measure our depths. Our mentalities will not be different from what they are now, save for our transcendence to perfect understanding. Our questions will be answered. Only then will we be able to throw off our preconceived ideas of the after life and glory. That change of state from the physical to the spiritual will reveal to us the true essence of our souls. What we do in this life; these self-perpetrated chains that we bind ourselves in, have nothing to do with our souls. They have everything to do with our worldliness and the misguided, selfish emotions that we all cleave to and for. The soul is the core of our existence. It is truly what we are and what we will ultimately become. Physical life blinds us to this simple concept. The dull haze of a chaotic world allows us only to view and be conscious of those happenings below the clouds. It is only when we break free of these chains, that we will truly understand ourselves and understand the motives of God. Our physical deaths are a given, the inevitable. Our souls are constant, and unmistakable. When that moment arrives, when we shed these coils of skin and bone,We graduate to another stage, a more permanent classroom where the learning and insight will be much more enlightening than that of mere man and his didactic ramblings and theoretical musings. The acts of the body have nothing to do with the soul. For the soul is pure, the acts; those perpetrated in life are riddled with mistakes and ignorance; and it is those acts that will be thrown away, and forgotten. In addition, it will be the soul forgiven and washed clean. It is that, that will transcend the dark clouds of this earth and rise to a brighter day of insight and forgiveness. However, the physical life in itself is a gift from God. We walk this path for a short time. This physical world is our primer, our preparation for better things to come. We are tested and baptized in the fires of ignorance, and from the ashes, we will rise to a clearer realization of whom and what we are truly meant to be. This cocoon earth our birthplace of the physical and our transcendence to the spiritual.We who walk the earth have yet to bloom in the light of Gods gifts and grace.However, in time, we shall.
