Sunday, November 12, 2017

Monolith


Monolith
Running laps around the carousel 
Blitzing at American Dream speed
No time to think of why
Just churn out numbers until I die
I run straight smack into a monolith
It suddenly appeared right in my way
So massive, so resolute 
So beautiful 
I hit so hard my mind just stopped cold
I feared for my sanity 
I lost all semblance of bold
All thoughts stopped 
The words would not come
Silence allowed me to hear
The rhythms of the entire universe 
The ringing in my ears
Still screeches from the impact 
I hear the slumber of others
Their soft snores ebbing as the oceans 
I hear the cries of witches, warlocks
Selling their impotent potions
To the most delusional highest bidder 
But most of all I realize I have never been still before
I’ve never paused to realize the meaning of the floor
I’ve never seen such clear blue sky
I’ve never sensed the rain
I think the most disconcerting thing
Is I never felt my pain
This is why I’ve been so alone
I toss aside my humming phone
Looking up to the folds of granite 
I pause, I linger, I fold, I panic
At the thought I have to scale this
Yet even though I consistently fail this
I put all I have into the ascent
Which all I have is me
The fireflies begin to flicker, burn 
They begin to light a pathway
So though there fades the light of day

I still climb, I still ascend 

Especially when I am still 

Saturday, November 11, 2017

The Hope


The Hope
Poetry shouldn’t be forced
I’m not sure anything good comes from coercion
I’m so impeded, the words won’t come
They are there in my mind, in my soul
Yet there is this dark blockade
Anger, fatigue, self-doubt, irritation, impatience
These are the bricks in the wall

I so often wait around for inspiration
Inspiration is too fleeting, too fickle
I might be sitting on this rock for ages
Moss growing all around me
Growing on my face and eyes
While waiting to be mesmerized
The sun completes all its seasons

So I search for more, I look for reasons
Why all this is the way it is for me
Instead of resting along the trees
I wander off into the bramble
Thus the reason I mumble, ramble
Along the sidewalks of the mysterious plodding way

I still don’t know quite what to say

I still don’t know quite what to pray

Or how

I must go deeper than my brow
Maybe I must go higher
My skin has tired of these annoying briers
That daily scratch my skin
I wonder if my past, the lives of my kin
Have gone these overgrown life ways?

No, I cannot go backwards, that makes no sense at all
I set my eyes for the ambers of fall
Knowing there will be a winter

Christmas is coming

Thursday, November 9, 2017

The Way



The Way
I can feel the poems within me
Growing, moving, churning
Not yet ready to see the light
Yet building the light within me greatly
Sometimes I feel volcanic, ready to burst asunder
Sometimes there’s simply quiet, undercurrent
Moving the continents
One millimeter at a time
These senses are so subtle, sublime
Yet also they can be a sudden torrent
I don’t have my container ready to catch it all
The drops disappear into the warm, rich earth
Something will grow from them later
Something that creates a vast, deep crater
Too deep to see the bottom
Too wide to know the expanse
No droning lore or circumstance
Can describe or tame it
I can feel the poems within me
They grow, they move, they delight
They torture, they tense, they torment
All at once
All in a day
This is the way

Of the poet.

10/17/17

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Upriver



Upstream
I do not like walking around my neighborhood
It reminds me of how far I have not come
I never imagined my life to be this way
I lived the life of academic success,
Hard work
Be kind to everyone

Where am I?

Not where I was told I would be

Or maybe it is the way I’m looking at things
Maybe I’m not looking at what is really there
Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see

I do not know

That should be the title of all my poems

I do not know

That in itself is a place of panicked unfamiliarity
When I was young I knew all
I learned all
Everything was scientific fact
Not a speck of mystery in any of it
Though there was great wonder and order and beauty
No, not one speck of mystery

Then the oceans rose
The rivers came rushing in
Sweeping all of that away
I look back upon that memorable day
And wonder if I should celebrate
Or curse it
There seems to be nothing that can ever reverse it
The waters are always now shifting within me
Like the winds

So here I am
Another member of lonely land, the wilderness of millions,
Wondering why I’m here
What have I done
To be so fortunate, yet to be the one
That seems to never hit the finish line of destiny
Maybe there isn’t one
Maybe it’s in the running
The walking, the crawling,
Doing whatever it takes to continue moving forward
Never still

Never still

For in the moving waters, still is always moving backwards
Or forward if one simply yields
To the rhythms of the undercurrents
That flow within my very soul

I do wonder what is the definition of whole

I wonder more what it is like to experience it

I wonder if I'll ever know

I think I will, if I will only keep moving

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Embrace



Embrace

I am not your savior for the day
Nor am I an expert in anything
All of these experts
I hear the future laughing at them
“Those thoughts are ridiculous!
Everyone knows that isn’t so!”
I just don’t want to be there
I don’t want to be in that group
Known for not just it’s ignorance
But for it’s obstinate arrogance in it all

I also do not wish to be amongst the ones
Who refuse to believe anything at all
Just to not be wrong
I cannot waver between correct and not
Trying to avoid the extremes
I must take my stand
Yet so it seems
The most reliable foundation of them all
Is the foundation I cannot see or feel

Can this be so?
Can this be real?
Do I set my life on something that is so bizarre
Instead of the universal comfort in ritual?

I don’t know

I cannot think clearly with all this noise
People blabbering nothings
Phones playing videos 
The Facebook and Twitter accounts brimming
Over the edges of the known universe
The trolls and horrific tales scream the lies
So loud no one knows the truth anymore

But yet there I go on a rabbit trail
No rabbits have been along here for decades
Only wandering, mumbling schizophrenics
Looking for their next doses of medications

I look up toward the sun’s rotations
And wonder when the next wonder will be
Will I even be around to see it? To know it?
Or will I have fallen asleep in the murmurings of my questions?

It’s been a long time since I’ve use any punctuations
I think that is a great sign
A sign I’m beginning to pause
A sign I’m beginning to pause and ponder the purpose of it all

A sign that I’m ready for the borderlines of an embrace

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Autumn (Change)



Autumn
An introverted poet
Often it is an inanimate life
Filled with avoidance
Loneliness
Introspection
Questions
Doubts

People seem more like interruptions
Than the gifts they truly are
I can sit all night and wish upon a star
Yet if there is no one else to share it with
What does it ever really matter?

But reaching out is so hazardous
So much energy
So much risk
So much potential for pain
So much potential for love

I’ve reached the point of my abyss
Where I must choose to take the risks
Even if it is moment by moment by moment

Lots of slips and falls
Lots of angry retribution
Lots of cursing others
Much more of cursing myself
Yet I must get up again
Looking up toward the sunlight

I must not walk along the river
But through it
In it
Going along until it runs over my head
I pick up my feet and let it carry me instead
Of constantly fighting to keep my balance

Every step is a choice
Every choice is a step
I’m not sure why I’ve even chosen this direction
Other than deep within me my being cries out for me to

There must be something worthwhile at the end of this
Or maybe the treasure is scattered all along the route
With this thought my heart has a quiet shout
That is the first I’ve felt since my childhood

I must pursue the beauty, I must pursue the good
All while the good pursues me

I see the changing tree

10/7/17

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Petting Pixie


Petting Pixie
When one can write about everything
It can be hard to write about anything
I could write about penguins and naps
I could talk about brie cheese or traps
There could be all sorts of adventuresome meanderings
Or I could simply sit here and pet the dachshund
Otherwise she would go on one of her infamous barking rampages
Looking up and around at only God-knows-what
I assume she sees the world that lies beyond
For otherwise there is nothing there I can see
I do know that living in this simplicity
Enjoying the moment with her head against my calf
Rubbing her ears as I pet her gently
Makes me wonder why we make such a bother
About things that 20 minutes from now won’t matter
So instead of trying to solve the world’s greatest mysteries
With what I have of my brain and what I have of my pen
Instead of bypassing the joy of this brief moment of Zen
I will pet the dog, look out the window at the mountains
Being thankful I am fully alive