Seven Years…

March 16^th, 2009

Can I wait for an affair?

Can I wait for him to die young?

Arrive as the rescuer returned

Somewhat forgotten

But never had longing lusted.

Conversations upon confidence.

Your adaptations,

Watching stars from the shadows,

Patiently counseling pride

Believing it to someday bloom prudence,

And eyes to see you.

Can I now confess?

Is time against such words?

Always you have been admired,

For spirit,

For faith,

For speech and thought,

For kindness and love,

You worked to bridge my great divide,

To welcome me to you.

I wasn’t ready for you,

Or I wasn't ready for it.

My watch got away;

Our Time left before I knew.

If such a moment,

Unwanted yet unexpected,

Sounded the alarm,

Distant but true,

I’d ask you

What are your dreams?

What is your future?

What is ours?

When you got a cat,

I was skeptical.

Now I understand.

Too late.

Will I Be Satisfied

May 10^th, 2009

By a Desk Job,

Making schedules and phone calls galore?

A dark room lit by an induced screen?

Paper by brads with phone in hand?

Placing scrims to block light I’ve just purposed?

Emissions to ease lack of sleep by cappuccino?

To further an image of stereotypes, exploitation, impossibilities, narcissism, and glory?

Years of waiting

Clawing

For the silver opportunity

That most never get,

While envy and doubt surmount.

It comes to facts of personal being

Or at least its displacement by bravado

Or earnestness.

Do I like constant warfare to be original?

Do I like skipping several nights of sleep to work on crappy projects?

Do I like driving to subsist?

Do I want to make a name more than a difference?

Community dependency can be found in both

This place and the one called home,

But this one has more opportunity for burning,

And that one less potential for a match.

Do I want to learn something useful for the days to come?

Do I want to thrive instead of flounder?

Do I want space contracted

Or at least thinned?

Do I want to help the ever increasing,

Never to cease,

Dying of want,

By providing the water of life

And fields of plenty?

Money does come near:

Providing time for the page and the world;

Ability to help friends in need

While keeping the level of life you’ve known.

Less creative,

Maybe.

More substantial,

Definitely.

Turning what is held into hobby won’t kill

Like the chase of the occupation will.

Grabbing onto the dream

Gone across town,

Rounding the corner again

Would lift life past limitations

To the path which was

Former and naive

Into remastered Technicolor

With the director calling the cuts.

The Dilemma Is

October 12^th, 2010

My thoughts are dancing,

Mixed and cohesive as light

Bringing viscous tension

And stalled deliberation,

One thought no greater

Than another in the pursuit

Of a direction.

Life stops.

Opportunity missed.

Time squandered.

Work dilapidated.

Realtionships deteriorated.

Death no different

Than a delinquent decision.

Even on the darkest days

When the bucket is near dry

Dabbing the runny nose

And dampening the burn

Will start the brush drawing

To defense of divine dedication.

Death-defying diligence demands

Drowning the daunting danger

That duty is distant or dainty;

Deliver the last light

That has not diminished

To drain the devoid,

Decry the depraved,

Dismiss the years of depression and disregard;

The deluge of detrimental drudgery

Will be dammed.

In this drought decorate

One in definition and decorum

Of delicious decency,

The delicacy of discretion

And delight.

What If In The Future

October 17^th, 2010

Our friends delivered

Our judgments.

Pictures of photographic

Portraits where our faces

Reveal the complete experiences

Of all our actions;

An episode guide to every season.

I'm farther off than I am right

Here, A man finding himself failing;

Leaves falling outside the window

Slowly over weeks

As weather and soil chill.

Tragically we shiver

In the awareness,

Like naked saplings

Fresh from the soil,

Of our helplessness

Which isn't to be

Helped but by one

Who through helpfullness

Has gifted strength to overcome

And break the progression of

Fall to an early rebirth

With the promise

Of everlasting summer

Contained in the deep breath

Of an old red maple,

Boughs rising

In sweet defiance

Of the inevitable

And the law.

Ferocity Is In The Eyes

November 9^th, 2010

Not of a lion

But a man unafraid

Of the imagined predator

And the strength of his gaze.

The stab of a stare in stark salaciousness

Comes easier and deadlier

Than the difficultly of a soul's

Window opened blinds

Letting in what might also fly;

Honesty less sought than needed,

Rarer than an emotion completely shared

Through the glance of the forgotten

Abused

And convicted,

Born from the lost

The abuser

The victim,

Healed from the adopter

The cherisher

And the forgiver.

Bearing watts of emotion

Our sockets charge both poles

Of human nature to their places.

If one is to stay

What current will you send

And let be sent?

If records of rock let ring

Their truths from the depths

Below fathoms beyond time

Then sight lines can switch

From one to another

In our own and to others.

Without wanting of whence it wandered

Or wondering when it awoke,

Wither will your force wade?

The Faces We See

November 8^th, 2010

Come and go with the rain but

One face never leaves us.

Through the hurricane’s winds,

Was your hand with mine,

Battling long and strong,

but torn apart near the end.

Though shingles were ripped

Shutters unhinged,

Windows torn down

The flume left abridged,

Skylights added in new

Pine-wood living rooms,

This face holds on steady

To the day it’s faded

When to all others it

Is hidden unto itself.

In mountains and valleys

Streams run as joys and pains,

Geoclines folded to match.

Hills of trees and vines obscure

And bind the fathomless caves

That had given the depth of recognition

To a plane as uniform as coastal.

Through time it confided

Enlivened

And sated

Now keeps me in view

Of young energy askew.

Without hope to function

In the slow, sudden death

Of independence,

A world gone dead by its doings,

The trappings don’t hold,

Let drain,

Identities, memories, me.

As I stand on the cleft

The earth opens wide

To engulf me at last.

Let the forests burn grey.

Let the magma spew and cool.

Let the plates finish collisions

Building continents, mountains and dunes.

For the outer firmaments

Does the last breath flee

And the view, to infinity,

As the foundations slow

Their gears of metal

Manacles finally release

Setting me free.

Then a new face is found

In fields of tall fescue

Spying faces come back

Among bison, returned,

Numbering millions upon

A land with great breadth,

Water clear as the sky

As defined as ambition,

Lit by fusion’s fresh flirtings

Raising plants by their own

In soil deeper than roots,

Darker without addition,

Charged beyond demand,

On the earth, like new,

Such color,

Where we meet again.

What Drives Us

Nov 8^th, 2010

To People

And People to start

A Relationship

Cruelty

For which it departs?

Out of Love did it sail

But for tides often fail;

An outcome more common than sought.

In Thick Grey Mists

October 5^th, 2010

Lies an object surreal,

A thing both envied and abhorred.

Neither good nor bad,

Essential nor apart,

In society necessary

And to instinct, contrary.

The limited edition was

Narrow in creativity

and time.

Crunching the numbers,

Running the data,

From the rising of the sun

To that of the moon,

Jobs from the boss became boring;

Fall did the stocks all too soon.

Restoring confidence in the stake holders

A new edition was announced.

Prices would be cheaper

To bring in new crowds

But consumers would be happy,

“Perfection” there they found.

Two products on the market

Was surplus, not demand,

“Too much,” said the buyers,

“You never understand.”

First quarter returns so surpassed all projections,

Fat dripped down the rungs on the corporate ladder.

Returns for investors

Were skimmed in the night,

Carbon copies and receipts pointed to the deceit.

Litigation was filed,

The Judge ruled to condemn;

Guilty workers escorted out by the cops.

Restraining orders replaced the office keys,

No chance for employment or place to sleep.

Sought out all too quickly

By youth’s determined brow

Made to furrows by weight

Under one heavy-handed plow.

We drive the donkey

Though fate we exalt,

Manacles to freedom

And suicide, the heart.

Delusions to the masses

To the government, control,

The strings are invisible

To all but the King.

Deep in the will

We find an abyss,

Pining for reason

Emotions suffice.

To enter more slowly

We can follow the way

Of those we love dearly

To on our course stay.

With ears of great hearing

And eyes that are cunning

A trail might be blazed

Escaping fear and confounding.

Walking and waiting

We just want a sign

That with each single step

Brings us closer to find

That which is calling

Men and women afar

To leave light and safety

Seeking words from the stars

While we find in ourselves

No lack of what’s rare.

Now staring eyes see

What’s been there all along

A man is a man

And he truly belongs.

To those whose feet

Never don shoes,

To whom strolling in darkness

Has allure of foul food,

The journey brings respect

While there knowing to be more;

That what can be seen

Is half of what exists.

The world is behind us

Distraction betwixt.