May 6, 2014—Only The Silent Can See—A Journal Excerpt

Tangled together in clustered chaos, rising from the soil.

No bark alike. No height specific. No two seeds the same.

Are we so different from the natural world, I ask?

Tangled together in clustered chaos, rising from the bed.

No skin alike. No gender specific. No two wombs the same.

Are they so different from us, I ask?

The answer cannot be sung. The answer cannot be heard. The answer cannot be praised.

The answer shows itself every so often, in between the tangled clustered chaos, where only the silent can see, where only the silent remain.

No luck of clovers here

If a man’s to charge me now

I don’t think that I could move

Blinded by the sun

The insects stand aloof

Counting blades of grass

No luck of clovers here

Each day’s a hangman’s pity

Each night’s a cross to bear

The Tides of Mankind

There is a certain understanding

In the misunderstanding of mankind.

And it’s this misunderstanding

that propels us forward, like a ship

of titanic proportions does not idle

but cuts through waves, and flows

with The Tides of Mankind.

Untitled for Ariel & Jack

Oh, how the light

Always manages

To see through

The dark.

Flirting with Death

It’s much easier to lie

in the afternoon light,

steady’s the humming

bird that takes flight.

Oh whispering wind

forgive me tonight,

how flirting with death

has been a delight.

Funny eh!

Funny eh!

How when you put yourself to sleep

like a baby, you sleep like a baby…

A Thought Upon Waking

To live in someone else’s shadow

can be quite the burden,

but to live in your own, well

that my friend’s a tragedy.

A Prayer Before Sleep

Jack searched the neighborhood as if he’d lost something.

Looking up and down the street, crossing sidewalks, he meandered auspiciously as if he’d forgotten where he was going.

Jack found himself in a state of neither here nor there.

The chill of February hung round his shoulders like a thin shawl.

It was his morning walk but to what ends—to what means?

Tires squealed in the distance.

Birds began their daily routine.

Automatic lights turned themselves off.

And what emerged from the tree line? Sure enough, as it had so many times before, the sun.

Jack knew that it would be long before the sun warmed his chapped fingers but at least it shed some light on his path.

Nothing was right or wrong, indeed, it was too early for such nonsense.

But still Jack did all he could to remember what he was looking for and why he’d been so eager to rise this morning before his alarm clock could shout obscenities to his ear.

It was the reflection of the sun off an old car window which caused him to touch his brow, where when removed, his hand revealed a thin layer of blood.

He couldn’t remember how or when he’d received such a gash, which the window now showed, laughingly.

Realizing where he was, he’d found what he’d been looking for, though it was as fragmented, cracked, and littered as the sidewalk that led him home.

Before entering the thought of knocking crossed his mind, but why? He lived here. This was his home.

The house was silent except for Jack.

He laid in bed as if it were the evening and since he wasn’t a praying man, he sang softly to himself.

It was more or less what praying had done for any other man before him, and would do for anyone else who’d find him thereafter.

It was then he turned off his alarm clock and shut his eyes.

THE END.

Forgiveness

I’ve said so many poor things

From a poor soul

Who yearns forgiveness

From no one other than…

Himself—

The Raven

The Raven waits

My answer’s no

Then leaves me with

His knowledge