Consciousness

If you’re not sure

then pause, wait

and listen to the sounds

of conscious—nothing—ness.

Muse

A walk in the park

What looked like yesterday

out a kitchen window I saw

tomorrow and everyday

moving forward

as carefree as

a walk in the park.

Key West Florida, 2020

An open question for the one’s still reading.

What is it that makes you Tik? And I’ll tell you what makes me Tok.

(But for real! What makes you get up in the morning, drives you through the day, and helps guide you to sleep?)

I’m curious to know more about you.

I’m all ears…

A kick in the head!

I will always be curious

and allergic to cats.

Ain’t that a kick in the head!

The simple things we choose.

Hate is easy.

Love is hard.

Truth is the only thing

that will set you free.

Freedom is man made.

Man is weak.

Women are God’s strongest creation.

God is love

and love conquers all.

I would never hurt you.

I will always honor

and respect you.

My love, there is no room

for anything more.

Love’s the only cure.

I don’t wish to have the answers

for any questions of concern

just know that I am working

my hardest in reverse

to tame the wild memories

once thought of as a curse

those now that are a blessing

from the backseat of a hearse,

cause friendship it has shown me

like the calm hand of a nurse

the answers to the questions

where love’s the only cure.

Heaven here on earth.

How curious it is that I

no longer beg or question why

but rather like the naked eye

accepts the sky is blue—

with honesty and strength that I’ve

been granted through these tales of time

woven as one as you are I

accepts the ancient truth,

for like the moon and sun decide

to shed or shield eternal light

with arms spread thin wide opened eye

keep mine closed now to see,

what beauty lies beyond the pine

is neither up to you nor I

it’s always been like time gone by

regardless of the proof—

in truth it’s curious that I

could feel so pure estranged from life

whose meadow in the golden light

is heaven here on earth.

a loneliness grave.

I spared him a quarter

alone where he stood

next to the Madonna

as if she’d do him good.

He gave me a blessing

gentle and aware

the wind it was violent

messing both our hair.

While Girl Scouts are selling

cookies for the troop

a week ago maybe

someone died on that stoop.

But don’t tell their mothers

as if they would care

no you don’t get the badge unless

you’ve sold your soul there.

My eyes they grow weary

still I can’t look away

at the hummingbird dancing

a loneliness grave,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

At the cafe I buy coffee

either iced or cold brew

the barista he tells me

nothing’s ever new.

But still I ask questions

like how do you do

and she recalls my name

it’s the least she could do.

I don’t mean to sound faithless

I’ve just seen enough kicks

see the old man he died, well

some things never make sense.

It’s slight of the hand, it’s

a scam with three cups

you follow the ball then

it’s gone where it was.

My eyes they burn red with

the heat of the day

it’s winter in Burbank

what more can I say,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

Now I take to the bar, where

Happy Hour’s till 6

Scott the tender he knows me

pours my whiskey then gin.

What’s the good word? Pal, tell me

do you think that you could

spare me knowledge like change would

do me some type of good.

I don’t stay past the hour

happiness never lasts

after shame there comes flowers

then of course there’s the past.

You’re a good guy he tells me

see the pain never lasts

I assure you it does, Scott

he just nods then he laughs.

See there’s beauty in living

it’s just hidden by stars

who illuminate sidewalks

like two subtle hearts,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

it’s an obvious cycle, one I’ll never break.(?)

Am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

His final farewell

I recall the calm

as I recall the storm.

Lead foot hesitation,

the slamming of doors.

Endangered are many

who’ve less stayed for more.

Excuses are fatal,

not ours anymore.

See I recall quiet

death and coffin smell,

his mustache, beard shaven

estranged from the crowd.

Was I the unwelcome?

The burden? Expelled?

His name once my keeper

I’ve written it well.

Yes I recall freedom

wished upon a star,

a second floor window

alone in the dark.

The price no one bargained

unimaginably hard,

his soul like a raven

still blackens my heart.

A kid and a coffin

for now I recall,

the parlor room floor

dead silence in awe.

While tears spill to carpet

and jittering jaw,

echoed through the parlor

with no sign of God.

I recall the calm

the storm never ends,

it grows like a Cancer

bad thoughts fill my head.

His final farewell

is my cross to bear,

how no son of mine

shall feel such fear.

Look at me lovely

Look at me lovely this here is I guess

a mixture of meanings which help to make sense

of the past which gave us nothing but suspense

with fearful longing and a mother’s defense.

Look at me lovely with eyes in full bloom

now imagine a child alone in his room

the covers are pulled tight warm as a womb

his head full of static his heart thumping doom.

Look at me lovely take into account

these present day feelings are years gone without

comfort or closure confused full of doubt

exchanged for composure now deep underground.

Look at me lovely two decades gone by

and please ask yourself to whom do you cry

an eye for an eye I used to imply

now I want nothing more than to sleep through night.

Look at me lovely with infinite jest

this smile is armor for that I confess

in daydreams I make up reasons quite complex

for nightmares which haunted that boy in his bed.

Look at me lovely it’s lovely in fact

walking down sidewalks avoiding the cracks

though sometimes it feels like breaking your back

the pain that defines us with love cannot last.

Look at me lovely with harlequin eyes

for we are not wells that dry up inside

and take with you this last line then decide

his failure’s your lesson, her nurture’s your pride.