Thursday, June 22, 2017

Shadows on the Parking Lot

Shadows on the Parking Lot
I walk along during the late afternoon
The sun still high enough to make it like mid-day
The geometric shapes of shadows line the bay
They have changed
But yet they still are patterns
I wonder why all these patterns
All these equations
All these predictabilities 
Come from One Who is unpredictable
From One Who has no form
No shape, no patterns that He would ever fit into
I wonder what would I say, what would I do
If I ever had the chance to meet Him
Right there, in my face, in my person
What would that be like?
I’m sure it wouldn’t be like these dark and quiet shadows
Shifting with the angles of the sunlight
I’m sure it wouldn’t be predictable
Though likely predictably incredible
Awe-inspiring, shaking, thundering
These geometric shapes have changed
Yet still there is a pattern
Maybe there is message here
That the methods can change
And change with time
Yet there is always the pattern of love

The geometric shapes of shadows line the bay
Yet the sun is still high enough to make it like mid-day

Wednesday, June 14, 2017


I have sensed the poetic
Yet I have yet to engage it
That delight seems to flit around in great whimsy and flight
When I try to approach it with determination and might
It surely just whisps away
Or possibly I might squash it like an annoying ant
Under the padding of my thumb
I cannot enter the world of numb
I simply, simply cannot
I must feel the joy along with the pain
I must imbibe the sunshine along with the rain
Because both are essentially life-giving
I’d rather hurt in the land of the living
Than be eternally numb in the realms of the dead
I touch the fear, I feel the dread
Yet this fire within me will consume it
I will not take it for granted, nor will I assume it
To be ever present, though it always is
I rather yield to the waxing flames
I listen for the lightning names
To sound off in the dark distances
In dark divorce, in stark romances
There is ever still the light, the heat
The love that sits on supremacy’s seat
It is love that will aways guide me
I am sensing the poetic

Thursday, June 8, 2017


Sometimes I just try too hard to be poetic
Trying to turn every little detail of the day into something profound
All the while life stands there beckoning in all its grand simplicity
A conversation
A smile
A beautiful face
The clouds
The mountains
The rain
All these things in short refrains 
That don’t require any histrionics at all
They don’t require any deep thought or shame
Just simply a moment of pure joy
A seed
Which grows into a giant redwood
Something of eternal depth and height and weight
All from the living of life in the day
Within the day I’ve been given

Friday, June 2, 2017

Call to Arms

Call to Arms
There is nothing quite like the emptiness
Of a poet’s mind and heart
Staring at this blank piece of paper
With an even blanker mind
The heart numb
The spirit still 
And though my heart and soul and will
Long for a deep expression
The minutiae of the day 
Have drained it all away
Is this really any way to live?
Is this really any way to live at all?
A whim, an act, a curtain call
Then a glass of wine to wash the day away?
Listless sleep, a restless slumber
Then the agonizing buzz of a raucous alarm
The same damn time, the same damn number
To announce it is time to pretend again
Is this any way to live?
Is this really any way to live at all?
Is this even really living at all
Or is it merely cheap gyrations?
In the midst of all these frustrations
There’s nothing quite like the emptiness
So I, determined, pick up this pen
This is my sword
This is my dagger
And with the glory of a warrior’s swagger
I will stick it as deep into this slumber as I can

Just to understand what life and love can be.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


Waves of anger and depression
Slapping against my being like gray waves
On a black sand beach
Too hot to walk on
Too dreary to sit and watch
So I’ll move along and check the swatch
Of this new satin and silky fabric
This stuff that is supposed to hold it all together
This stuff that brings happiness in any kind of weather
Oh look, the moths and the worms have left their say
I cannot speak, I cannot pray
Or I can but I’m afraid of what I will speak
Everything I’ve loved, I seek
But have found this place of dark derision
I have come to the point of stark decision
Do I jump into this mosh pit that I can see
Or do I wait for these things I cannot
This waiting is hell, it seems to go on eternal
This silence is torture, this noise is infernal
When all that my soul longs for is a sound
A sound that casts all to the ground
All that is not beauty, down

I still cannot hear it.

Maybe I should move
Maybe I should change my place
Maybe I should change my face
Like all the other superstars
Maybe I should join in the farce
Known as jaunty superstition and hype
Known as virtual expertise, so ripe 
Is the fruit of all our monstrosities
Painted to appear like lovely charities
We mock what we cannot know

I look to the mountains and see the snow
I long to know its cold, pure light.

I have wandered far, I have wandered here
I have left the wheel and refused to steer
The course that every other person seems to go
They ask and ask, I answer “I don’t know,
I have no idea of which way to go
And I’m not sure anyone else does either.”
I pause for a moment to enjoy a breather
And everyone else perceives it as ignorance
Simply because I am not speaking
They leave me standing there with the answer in my soul
So, that’s ok, I’ll just walk to whole
I’ll just meander myself off into the distance
I’m told I need a guide, a companion, a help
Yet all of these have seem to go their own ways
I look to stars, I lift my gaze
I decide to follow the whisperings of the wind
This wind, the last of my unseen friends
Begins to dance along the river
This place is good, my spine does quiver
In the knowing of nothing at all
In the understanding of almost everything
I feel a song, a dance, I sing
To a song that only the dogs can hear
A song I know and love so well
A song that makes the gray waves swell
Until they crest into a blue-green sea

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Beauty Among Us

 Beauty Among Us

Amongst the earth
Amongst the stones
Beauty blossoms
And carries on
The truths that we all know within
A simple saunter, a gentle whim
Is often the only thing we need
It’s good to know
It’s good to succeed
Yet the only thing we really need
Is to love and to be loved
Love is really our only way
And love always shows up in beauty
It always shows up with hope
Amongst the earths
Amongst the stones
Amongst the anger
Amongst the drones
Beauty blossoms
And carries on
There is always a beauty amongst us

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Sense Eternal

Sense eternal
there seems to be a place where I live
yet I cannot seem to dwell there
I cannot seem to breathe the air there
all the while smoldering in this sordid heat
and dryness, dark and dust
I live in a land of angels and oceans
Streaming rivers, birds in flight
Mists dancing with the mountains
Where words are never enough
You have to breathe in the beauty
For it just becomes a part of you
I feel it in the depths of me
I know I am there
I can feel the colors, the sounds 
The movements of the symphonies eternal
yet I can still smell the dust, the heat
Instead of running through golden fields of wheat
I simply sit here and yearn for more
I refuse to live in an unending chore
But rather dwell in the beauty
Knowing that it must flow forth from me
Water for the trees
Healing for the nations
Joy and hope and deep libations
Of all that is good and real
there seems to be a place where I live
I simply have to dwell there
or maybe rather let it dwell in me