Leaves they fall in autumn

Everyone has problems

More elaborate than my own

Like these they fall in autumn

Their limbs are all exposed

I want to tell them something

Assure they’re not alone

Still leaves they fall in autumn

Sometimes to live you’ve got to die.

Some say the world’s worth saving

Some say we’ll never know

Like a corn cob pipe and button

Left in the melting snow

A fireplace can warm you

For a while from the cold

Still a child holds his coal eyes

And now he knows.

It’s not his fault that his friend must go

Either way he’s gonna cry

You’re beautiful so it’s logical

This season’s just a state of mind

If I could save you, you know I would

But even I know that’s a lie

See summers change and then grow cold

It’s no longer up to me to decide

broken leaves at sundown

broken leaves at sundown

set fire to the trees

drinking from the heavens

of nature’s crystal spring

yellow jacket bumbling

curious honey bees

as blades of grass we tango

bound for eternity

Seasons Change

I found you in the dead of winter

We grew as one in the light of spring

Our passion climbed in the heat of summer

And we fell like lovers on autumns leaves

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

I was nothing more than excuses,

a great big ball of disappointment

which she tried desperately to employ.

At the bottom of it, I was fragile and weak.

In the pits of despair I looked to love,

but could not fully know love without

loving myself, which by terms of engagement

were cut like beautiful red ribbons from her hair.

Give me death, I’d beg.

Give me peace, I’d scream,

unaware that there was any difference between.

Still she’d try, day in and day out, pushing forward

like an endless train car of hopeful desire.

We’d even escape together too

with nothing but the wind to guide our path

and the rise and fall of the sun to persuade us forward.

Knee deep in the escape of journey we’d prevail,

until of course the final push where and when

like a wrecking ball of fate our souls would wither

in the crest of the sun upon the blind horizon.

Even now, I still turn my sights inward

reminded of her beauty and strength,

channeling it outward where I can walk

head turned high among the many shapeless eyes

who know nothing of my past, care nothing of my future

who’d rather see me not than to judge.

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

And like all those many times before I know

even if we were to change(our minds) we couldn’t.

Though my count of crows is high

I know that one day it will be but one.

Until then I’ll keep this in my breast pocket

along with my sunglasses, where I reach for them sometimes

when my heart is heavy

where I can’t bear to look away

where I gaze into the distant clearing

and watch grasshopper spring

from golden stalk to golden stalk

blissful in the quiet light.

One Philadelphia Night

I took off my clothes

my skin suit

and rattled my bones

clicked my heels

and down the hatch

I went spiraling forth

into a bleak oblivion

where not even the dark

could hide, I

stood staring into nothing like

a Mona Lisa replica

my conscience hung midair

like a wine stained sheet

pinned neatly to dry

and there were no bones about it

I had completely lost my mind

stumbling down West 4th and Pine

crossing line after line, every time

after time just me, myself, and I

delirious in my delusion

picking homeless men off the street

with tears in both our eyes

I’m no different than you my dear friend

neither are you from I, he said

you’re going to be all right, he said

as for me well, I’ve lived a storied life, he ended

with a reassuring glance as I handed him two dimes

for it was all I had

collecting my clothes

skin suit and conscience

brave the winter, he said

spring needs you

the naked and clothed

If you can manipulate life into a form

that suits your needs then wear it.

Or walk naked if you have to.

Either way,

Winter is cold. Summer is warm.

Spring is boundless. And the Fall is inevitable.

In this life

the naked and clothed

are one and the same

some just get lucky

while others wear the blame.

pain and suffering

If all you have learned from pain and suffering, is pain and suffering, you may not have been paying close enough attention. It’s easier than not to be distracted by pain in the midst of true suffering. And true suffering can come and go like an univited guest whom you immediately tell to leave, but pause for a moment. Instead of shunning, try welcoming it. If you can listen long enough, you will understand that all your pain and suffering is valid, and in turn more valuable than a room full of welcome guests. It can teach you many things but first you must learn how to listen and that in itself is yet another form of pain and suffering, one that with patience, and practice, can be somewhat managable. It all just depends on who’s speaking because your pain and suffering is not mine, and mine is not yours, but if you listen closely I believe you’ll see we aren’t so different, we aren’t nearly as alone.

harbored resentment

It is always evident
that harbored resentment,
like the sharp bite of a cavity
it comes and goes depending,
and like a hole in the tooth
digging deeper, it spreads
into the root like a cancer,
with no more reason than
that shit happens, and happens
and will continue to bloom
like the wakening of Spring
or an Autumn river bed
so isn’t it evident, when
it is time to let that harbored resentment
set sail back into the open vacant sea.