Saturday, November 26, 2016

Thanksgiving 2016

Thanksgiving 2016
Sometimes it’s simply good
To relax
To do nothing
But listen
Listen well
Listen to classic Christmas songs
Enjoy the sound of rain on the rooftop
Hear the joys of warmth from a fire

These are the things that make life, life
The things that aren’t gotten with violence or storm

Or maybe they were

Maybe my moment of silent repose
Was paid for by another long ago
Maybe it was
So in all of this perusal
Of what was and what could have been and what is
I will be thankful for the stillness
Thankful for the one who withstood calamity
So that I could be a poet

In the here and now

Friday, November 25, 2016

Black Walnut

 Black Walnut

These trees have stood for over 100 years
Producing fruit
Emanating a stalwart beauty
Year after year they give
Because year after year they take
They take water in all its scarcity
They take the minerals, the dirt
They take the light, the dark
Then give out food and shelter
Beauty and strength
Wonder and amazement
They grow to great lengths
They do all this from this same, small plot
Year after year after year
Without one single complaint

I think I might just do the same

Fallen Leaf

Fallen Leaf
These water worlds
Juxtaposed by concrete and infamy
Often completely overridden by the modern day
In our hustle and bustle we go on our way
Missing the universes at our feet
When will our drudgeries ever meet
With the magic that lives just below us
Just above us
We hover in that deviation called normal
Missing all that was meant for our dreams
I understand what privilege means
When I ponder the stillness of the waters 


Sunday, November 20, 2016

The Swatter

The Swatter
Last night I swatted a yellow wasp
On the curtain above my bed
He instantly disappeared from my view
So I assumed that he was dead

Not so

This morning I found him near the door
Mangled, wounded, but crawling
He was trying desperately to move outside
Despite his legs and bent wings were sprawling

He had spent the whole night struggling to simply survive

I knew his end, his ultimate demise
So once more I took the swatter
With significant might
Two swats to end his bitter fate

Now I feel like Hitler
Like Stalin
Like Mao

Why? You say,
It was just an insect
Just a nothing
One amongst the millions

Yes, that’s what Hitler, Stalin, and Mao
Said also
See life is just too intricate
Too beautiful
To be snuffed out because of fear

See, I was afraid of being hurt
I was afraid of experiencing pain
So therefore I exerted the power in my domain
To exterminate life

To terminate the wonders of biology

Now I wrestle with guilt, with shame
My theology is nothing but a cold, hard stone
I wonder what life would be if life could go on

With just a little admiration and a wonder.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Droplets on an Autumn Tree

Droplets on the Autumn Trees
Water droplets cling to the branches
As the rain tumbles down from the sky
They cling there like iridescent stars
Lighting the path to truth
Though the truth seems to stretch beyond infinity
Such small worlds in such small spaces
Crystal clear, luminous, without any traces
Of this angst I feel, this angst I see
These water droplets on the tree
Seem to be speaking something
Something to me
Something that I can’t seem to understand
I am often overcome by this mortality man
Who is always reminding
I will never, ever know the all

Welcome to fall

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Slug Trail

Slug Trail
I was walking along today
Quite consumed with myself
My needs, my wants, my lists
As I stepped along
Almost oblivious to all
I saw a shining random chaos
Atop the beige-white sidewalks
Serpentine, candescent
Reflecting the sunlight from above
In no inapparent apparition
This glowing wandered everywhere
Unending, eternal
As I got outside of my little world
And entered the reality of this one around me
I realized the snails had been out for a walk
They, instead of being so self-consumed,
They left a little of themselves behind
A little of themselves to be a marvel
Or to simply be stepped over, ignored
Yet either way
Still, in the process 
They created a wonder

And so can you and I

Saturday, November 12, 2016

The Oaks

The Oaks
I cannot pour out
What I do not contain
I cannot give away
What I do not possess
So why do I continue
Shaking this empty vessel
As hard as I possibly can
Trying to get the last drop
Out of something that was empty
So very long ago
What am I doing?
Don’t I know that I will tire in the shaking
To the point where I drop my jar
Shattering the ceramic everywhere
Scattering the good afar
Time to rest my vessel beneath the rain
Time to sit beneath the ethereal flow
Time to place the acorns in the earth
Water them so they will grow
For fruitfulness has never come
From awkward and vicious consumption
Of that which was meant to glow
I feed on everything that doesn't matter 
I discard everything that does
This one thing I know
There must be a vast reversal
There must be a complete and total overhaul
I must place my busy-ness in the ground to rest
And allow my rest to grow
In this way I will see and know
The wonder of the oaks


Saturday, November 5, 2016

Diamonds and Trees

Diamonds and Trees

I’m a whisper on this planet Earth
Here for a breath, then gone
So why would I want to be placed
In a rigid and frozen plot
A place where memory fades?
I would much rather be found in
A place where the blues and jades
Greens and hues
Continue on
Bringing beauty to the earth
Beauty to the skies
This is where I want to lie
When all my breath is gone
Here in the place of heat and stone
In the place where all my fallacies melt away

Now go and live this day

Do not worry about tomorrow

Simply Grateful

Simply Grateful

I could sit here in this pendulum hammock
Staring at the sky
I could sit down with my profound philosophy books
Asking the questions why
I could sit in front of my television screen 
Watching touchdowns and interceptions 
I could walk around like a homeless man
Seeking everyone's perceptions 
I could go and walk the mall and shop
Easing my pain with stuff
I could hitchhike my way to Washington 
To tell them I've had enough 
I could grow old in my rocking chair 
Pretending to be free
Or I could be grateful that in whatever I do

I am simply being me

The Deserter

The Deserter (of the American Dream and more)

I can only describe what is going on within
as a Civil War
Bloody, tortuous, hand-to hand combat
Me against myself
Not knowing who is who
Bayonets fixed
A full head-on charge
Fire, smoke, death, chaos
A battle hymn
A rebel yell
And all of this for something evil
All of this for something good
All of this for something beyond me and my little world
I am a mere statistic, panicked here on the death grounds
Yet I am told this is the staircase to glory
All I know is that my simple story
Is I came, I saw
I cried,
then died.
There is nothing glorious at all in that
Nothing glorious at all
So right here in the midst of this noisy din
This noisy din of impossible demand, command
I drop my gun
I drop my sword
I refuse to kill my spirit
I refuse to bury my soul
in the soil of greed and human selfishness
I look and see three geese, honking, flying toward their home
I believe I shall go there for my very own self
For I refuse to roam within this land of death and prison and hate
As I drop my gun, I see the gate
On the outer edge of the battlefield
And amidst the cries of the dying, anguished
I take my steps 

To freedom