Beautiful music plays
while I remember—the worst—
most beautiful days.
Beautiful Days
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When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room…
When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room to watch his television.
He’s four years older than I am and, well, I thought he was really cool.
One, for having a TV in his bedroom. And two, for probably knowing I was there but not saying anything.
Whatever he was watching didn’t really make a difference but it was comfortable there, on the carpet, with the blue light flashing.
A dark bedroom can be pretty scary to a child, especially during a thunderstorm.
Now that we’re older, we speak when it is necessary, but not all the time.
Probably less than either of us cares to admit.
He’s a busy working husband and parent while I’m pretty much all over the map.
Though when we do talk, it’s a meaningful talk of mutual reflection. He provides me with information from four years down the line and I remind him that I’m listening by offering whatever small insights are on my mind.
I thought he was great then and I still do now. No matter the distance the bond between two brothers is strong and unwavering.
Basically what I am saying is I look forward to the next time we’re able to watch a little TV, crack a couple jokes, and just hang out—without any pressure—even if it means the carpet or floor, that’ll be enough.
The world spins for you
When the world
seems, to be
spinning without you—
just listen
breathe and remember
the world spins for you,
as it does that perfect stranger
who too is listening.
I allow the teachings of the past to help guide my future.
After a good, long day of self reliance, sleep, and in depth personal analysis, I am left with this thought.
What you do from here on out is your own cross to bear.
Though like a broken record I’ve continued to circle in place.
But why?
Einstein said, “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Well, though I agree I’m no Einstein, I’m not insane, I’m just a bit of a slow learner.
See, the hardest pattern to break isn’t necessarily the pattern but the mission so to speak.
We’re all on our own personal mission, aren’t we?
And whether or not we choose to accept it, it exists.
It’s taken many years through trial and error, deliberation, and self reliance to understand.
Carole King said, “you’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face and show the world all the love in your heart…”
Carole also had two children by the time of her divorce and continued to create with love and compassion.
So what’s my personal mission? And what’s yours?
Will we rise tomorrow with faith and gratitude in our hearts or repeat the same patterns that no longer serve us?
Olmec said, “the choices are yours and yours alone.”
But of course we all need a few humorous anecdotes to help us get through.
And I will, as will you.
Tomorrow, reach a little further than you did today. Try something new and show the world the love in your heart. The choices are yours.
And I’ve built my cross, one which I’m willing to bear.
It’s a heavy son of a gun, but I assure you I’ll be walking, hand over foot—that which does not kill us, makes us stronger— like Nietzsche once said.
Miraculous People
What I saw that day, my mind insisted were people,
running back and forth—silhouettes—they were equal.
What I saw that day, I just couldn’t conceal
their shape was mine, it almost didn’t seem real.
See original thought comes before the prequel,
because the love we’re born with exists before evil.
What I saw that day, sure I know they were people,
while my beginner’s mind worked, I couldn’t help but feel
—their heart’s skip beats—my heart was healed,
by what I saw that day on a beach filled to equal:
coexistence at birth, we’re miraculous people.
Her guiding light
What I cannot see
in the dark of night
within myself
is another’s plight,
she finds me there
her guiding light
my luminance
in the dark of night.
When Butterflies Were Band-aids
Look me in my heartache
And tell me there’s a cure
When butterflies were band-aids
Where fact and fiction blur
Speak to me in virtues
The one’s I’m pickled for
When only field’s were diamonds
And playgrounds left you sore
Hold me in your sorrow
With hands so soft and pure
When bedtime meant tomorrow
Was absolutely sure
Hear me as the willows
Send shivers down your spine
When fluff was just for pillows
Where wonder’s in the pine
Sense me in my mourning
For those yet to be fed
When fear meant it was pouring
Where Rover was still red
Send prayers if you still got em
Though mine have long since fled
This well’s filled from the bottom
Where sailboats are led
it’s dark living in shadows
Living in the present
got you long lost in the past
now there are only memories
but how long will they last?
Like waiting for a moment
that since already’s passed
it’s dark living in shadows
of those which fear has cast.
Do spells exist you wonder
indeed I’ve seen a few
that stranger in the mirror
the stranger he is you.
So tell me of your sorrow
belief is up to you
you just grow older darling
regardless of the truth.
the times I’d lost my mind.
The only time
I was ever certain, were
the times I’d lost my mind.
But even then,
I never had a clue — I did.
stop, relax and wonder.
I know people
far too busy
to stop, relax and wonder.
And it’s quite sad
in a way
to stop, relax and wonder.
If they knew I
had the time
to stop, relax and wonder.
They’d probably scoff
like nobody ought
to stop, relax and wonder.
Until the sordid, morbid day
they stop, relax and wonder
perhaps it’s I
who’s mourned the day
one too many times over?
