When a short walk
feels like I road trip
you’ll know.
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the shores of freedom’s water
Let breath become the ocean
each inhalation I do see
the shores of freedom’s water
are washing over me,
and with each exhalation
the ocean starts to breathe
I open my eyes gently
to gaze upon the sea.
With all stones cast
With all stones cast
There’s a pot still boiling
And a kettle left black
There’s a house still standing
With thinly cracked glass
There’s a kink in the line
With a reel still intact
There’s a spell in the ether
Waiting to be cast
With all stones thrown
There’s a hole full of flesh
There’s a crack in the arrow
There’s an angry protest
Each body a story, color, and time
Each arrow head sharpened, pristine, and divine
Each voice becomes voiceless, estranged, and unkind
With all stones turned
There lies not a soul
The truth is but squalor
Results are annulled
In a garden of daisies
Rest youthful and old
A graveyard of rubble
for silver and gold?
In the house I keep
In the house I keep each wall shall be
A coloring book for poetry
Where colors burst in harmony
Where war and peace succumb to paint.
In the house I keep each window sill
Shall only bear the daylight spill
Where succulents hang with free will
Where laughter’s never faint.
In the house I keep each lock will turn
With open ended thoughts to churn
Where no one line deserves to burn
Where honesty is quaint.
But when fear knocks in the house I keep
There will be no reason for which to weep
My hands dipped well within relief
Each wall we’ll finger paint.
In the house I keep my only wish
To deserve and serve this simple dish
Where forks and knives grow strong and rich
Where no wall goes untouched.
Calm is the passing storm
Calm is the passing storm
from shelter’s mouth I view
Winds that whip the wrestling sea
from shelter’s mouth anew
Are waves which roar like lion’s breath
from shelter’s mouth I coo
How calm it seems the passing storm
from shelter’s mouth I view—a dinghy
in the water struggling, it’s a sailor
so uncouth—a sailor I once knew.
the air of my ancestors
I fill my lungs
with the air of my ancestors
knowing my purpose
is their peace.
Rain Shower Souls
What happened to that rain shower soul?
The sun’s still shining but where did it go?
And all those sidewalk chalk talking dreams
came loose like a button torn at the seams.
What happened to that day dream tune?
The song’s still playing but how bout you?
And all those streetlight coffee shop blues
aligned like the sun eclipsed by the moon.
Did it help to regret all that came too soon?
Like skipped rocks reflect rippled waters in June?
Cause that honey was sweet so I tasted it all
aware that no one dear could break this fall.
Did it help to indulge in the depths of the Eve?
If Adam were blind don’t you think he’d still see?
Cause more often than not two stars in the sky
do cross one another in the blink of an eye.
What a trip to be youthful, dramatic and bold
To walk just a block with those rain shower souls
But age without reason can make you quite old
I’ve stitched my last button, when you’re ready I’ll go.
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.
Artistic illusions
Make my bed
Spread the sheets
They are white
They are clean
There’s a nestle of bird
Who sing softly and sweet
There are bills
To be paid
Overdrafts
To be made
But I’m conscious today
Knowing that rot can wait
I have given enough love, I’ve wrestled with the thought
Spared quarters like rain to a cynical saint
I’ve got no time to spare
All this death in the air
Has me feeling quite good, transcendentally great
Forgive me but truth is
Artistic illusions
I’ve no cross to bear climbing trees and it’s clear
That I
start to see past
The sun and moon
The sky opens up
There’s nothing left to do
This closure’s my mantra to you.
Wash my face
Clean my teeth
Knock on wood
Once a week
There’s a pub inn Philly
Where I dug my own grave
Comb the depths
Of your hair
Try and act
Like you care
I’ve been watching your play
Mixing tonic with pain
You have given enough love, so much work to be done
Put your suitcases down, for a while and remain
Like a park bench in autumn
Or leaves that have fallen
I’ve got proof there’s a cure, you just gotta find yours
Forgive me but truth is
Artistic illusions
It’s a tale to be told, when you’re young and your bold
And now I’ve
Got to go back
To the way I was before
And now you’ve
Got to go back
To the way you were before
This closure’s my mantra to you.
freedom’s many son.
Whenever
I am here
I am freedom’s
many son.
I am open
and aware
now
of my choice.
Words Of An Average White Male 