7/8/11

How often times I might confess,
For matters in which I'm employed
I secretly could not care less,
If plans succeed or are destroyed.
Despite how haggard I am made,
By crossing t's and dotting i's,  
This role is just a part i play,
In theaters to which I'm obliged.

7/7/11

The clocks keep stopping on my shelves,
Despite my fawning diligence,
To keep them wound and running well,
In clean, unhindered temperance.
And yet their ticking slows and wanes.
I find them stalled, the hours missed.
Is lack of balance to be blamed,
Perhaps some need of  maintenance?
Or else is this some subtle sign,
The frozen moments show to me,
A caution not to press my time,
But venture forward patiently.
Far better to have moments lost,
Than count each one obsessively,
Lest seconds measure bitter cost,
Of hours which have known no peace.

7/6/11

In troubled times we longingly,
Think fondly of the everyday,
And crave plain mundane, normalcy,
The times between our disarray.
But as such climates come to be,
And our recoveries assumed,
We may crave kindly sympathies,
For well concealed, yet tender wounds.
Alas, the humdrum casts it's spell,
And through it's chatter we must know,
That those who know us wish us well,
And thus tend to forget our woes.

7/5/11

The day was independence day
And yet the time, ironically,
Was spent to straighten and array,
My objects of dependency.
The day intends to celebrate,
Life, happiness, and liberty,
But in persuit of these three states,
Are any of us truly free?

7/4/11

Sinking slowly under, grasping light and gasping air,
Drifting through the sorted shadows left from days gone by,
caught along the current's edge 'twixt comfort and despair,
Singing sorrow's symphony of laughter, screams, and sighs.
When will I emerge from these dark brooding depths i've found?
Can one swim to shore, once so far stranded and estranged?
Or perhaps, not fight the tide nor fear that i may drown,
But let the water fill my lungs and know that I am changed.

7/3/11

An uncoiled, loosened, lifeless spring,
A damaged object of my care,
Oh how I mourned this broken thing,
Which you might fix if you were there.
But then so much to my surprise,
A patient calmness came to me.
As though viewed through your watchful eyes,
Your deftness and your clarity.
I carried out the quick repairs,
And wondered as I worked the parts,
Remembrance conquers all despair,
And mends the clockwork of the heart.

7/2/11

At 1 AM a light went on,
And that which smoldered was put out.
At last a hollow want was gone,
A worried mind made free from doubt.
A broken thing made whole at last,
A fissure finally set to heal,
What once had haunted in the past,
From ghostly visage was made real.
Where all was lost, and swept beyond,
A simple hopeful glimmer shines.
At 1AM a light went on,
And with it darkness from my mind.

7/1/11

There comes a time when we must choose retreat,
Denying every urge to forge ahead.
Despite our wish to press on valiantly,
We must fall back and leave the fight instead.
All pressure, expectation, and desire,
Compels our courage and our steady force,
Yet greater show of strength must be required,
To halt, declining from such steady course.
This life shall never cease it's challenges,
One ending conflict follows with the next,
And hope of finding one's survival is,
In choosing which are fought or laid to rest.
The patience we must learn oft proves to be,
The truest measure of one's bravery.

6/30/11

So wearily wears on the week,
Each step a trudging muddy wade,
Of aching limbs and dragging feet,
Through pointless pinwheel promenades.
With no ambitions, aims or plans,
To foster my exhausted way.
I drone through duty's dull demands,
To reach the far end of each day.

6/29/11

Advisors oft prepare you to expect the very worst,
So if, by random happenstance, Ill fortune should befall,
One might pretend these portents have predicted danger first,
And claim perhaps your losses lessened by this early call.
That is, unless you find success or earn prosperity.
At this, you will be told your gains are solely justified,
By full reliance on the guidance that you have received.
Yet, none may know the future. Thus assume yourself advised.

6/28/11

I've often heard there's no one you can count on but yourself.
I've also heard this called a pessimistic point of view.
The truth, in fact, is you can't count on anybody else,
But none on earth are any less reliable than you.

6/27/11

Overworked, beaten, abused, and neglected.

Not really certain what else I expected.

Maybe some gentleness, kindness and grace,

Rather than ice-water shots to the face.

6/26/11

Now dreading what must come to pass,
Tomorrow morning fast descends,
Return to daily life at last,
Thus my recuperation ends.
I must bear up and soon rejoin,
The living world of active souls,
This earth spins by the weight of coins,
Such contribution is my role.
And so no time for further rest,
Or sympathies be entertained.
Yet doubt surrounds this toiler's test,
Shall I succeed or strive in vain?
Will my revival triumph best,
Or just revive fresh scars and pain?

6/25/11

So many things that we keep in the attic,
Long after all usefulness fades away.
Things we retain by compulsion or habit,
Precious remembrance, untouched day to day.
Memories clung to for fear of their fading,
Scattered mementos keep moments alive.
Yet, for our efforts preserving and saving,
Time erodes all despite how we might try.
Clearing the attic, is therefore commended.
Cleansing the past recommended indeed,
For every time good or bad that has ended,
Space must be left for new hopes to succeed.

6/24/11

Today I woke, invisible,
Alone in deep transparency,
So insignificant, until,
The daily postage came to me.
A letter and a package sent,
Which bore my name and thoughts from friends.
How strange so small a sentiment,
Restores one to the world again.

6/23/11

Who is the woman who sings in the night,
passing my window about 4am,
Veiled in blue shadows and sheens of twilight,
What do her vocalizations portend?
How many times have I slept through her song,
Vague haunting softness which echoes and streams?
Is this the first time she wanders along,
Has she accompanied Countless dark dreams?
Sings she of triumph or true love or joy?
Is there regret in her strange melody
Does she seek at this odd time to annoy,
Envying those in safe comfort and sleep?
Now, in the darkness, again I'm alone,
Growing more distant, her lilting voice leaves.
As she sings onward she shall never know,
What comfort came of her brief company.

6/22/11

Appreciation often lacks,
Amid life's hardships and demands,
Our hopes and fears may oft detract,
The simple shine of routine plans.
The world abounds with heart's content.
And though at times we ache with need,
No less, enchants the rose's scent.
While one is pulling out the weeds.

6/21/11

Rough, severed, strands of muscles mend,
And capillaries reconvene.
Deep bruises, burnish, fade, and blend,
The flesh refreshed, wounds stitched and seamed.
A million cells restore and grow,
Afflicted matter rendered well,
Such healing miracles bestowed,
Yet, as they work, it hurts like hell.

6/20/11

The busiest times when we overextend,
We wish nothing else but more hours to sleep,
Yet when we are ordered to stay in our beds,
We argue like children to stand on our feet.
It seems we're unsatisfied lest we are tired,
Our worth only earned through the strain we exert,
If so, should not injury leave us inspired,
And when we are broken, pride not cause more hurt?

6/19/11

When one endures an injury, an ailment, or poor health,
The caution oft received is that one must refrain from toil.
You're told you must be patient in the healing of one's self,
Then watched with great impatience like a kettle set to boil.

6/18/11

I wind the clocks
And set the time
While medications melt my mind.
And moments blur
And hours bleed,
As time ticks on in mockery.

6/17/11

There once was a man who was able to build.
Employing these talents, his living was earned,
Yet fortunes far greater would his favor his skills,
If only the bridges he made did not burn.

6/16/11

In hospitals, the medicine most commonly applied,
Regardless of your malady or injuries received,
Would be a dose of pure frustration expertly prescribed,
To make you, at your earliest convenience, wish to leave.

6/15/11

Today I became vanished from the earth,
All that I ever was, and loved and feared,
And every moment captured from my birth,
Was in a single instant, disappeared.
The toggle lightswitch of my soul was tripped,
And in a blink of time, my years were gone.
All consciousness detached from life and slipped,
To dangle freely as the world spun on,
Until at once I was at last returned,
Reintroduced into life's waking fray.
So sobering a fact it is to learn,
How tentative a grasp maintains our days.

6/14/11

Tomorrow, I shall fall to dreamless sleep,

Placed far beneath the  plain of consciousness,

While doctors work to fix my injuries.

And on this night before, I must confess,

It worries me to drift outside myself,

And makes me cherish life in newfound ways.

So often times, I’ve hoped for something else,

But now I wish to wake with nothing changed.

6/13/11

Inside my empty house I roam,

Without the aid of company,

But not, I find, at all alone,

For all the ghosts which come to me.

No pretty noise which fills my days,

Sings to avail my solitude,

My sadness, deftly kept at bay,

Is quietly, at last, perused.

I must learn to appreciate,

Life’s frazzled, random, busyness, 

For such distraction insulates,

The heart from woe and wistfulness.

6/12/11

The piano in my parlor,

Every time that it is played,

Shall evoke not the composers,

By which tinkling tunes were made.

But those dear to me who moved it,

Shall be lauded and extolled,

For if not by their endurance,

It burns, kindling for the coals.

6/11/11

There’s a painting of a rooster,

Hanging on my kitchen wall,

And it may seem just a picture,

As you enter through the hall,

But my uncle was the artist,

Grandma hung it in her house,

Patty kept it in her closet,

Uncle laughed and brought it out.

When Michelle had us for dinner,

Then the painting came to me,

So, it’s more than just a rooster,

It’s my love of family.

6/10/11

When I was born, I understood,

All that there was to know,

And I would scorn, if any should,

Suggest this was not so.

Yet, as I grew, each thing I knew,

I questioned or forgot.

And now, one thing alone is true:

All that which I know not.

6/9/11

The flesh is such a strange array,

A dense, immense, complexity,

Where countless vessel threads convey,

The fluid breath of destiny.

Where sinews stretch and fibers shrink,

As liquids quicken, pulsed and squeezed,

While,  pounding , empty chambers drink,

Then let flood outward in release,

As endless webs of ticking nerves,

Ignite all life we know and feel,

For this unwitting passenger,

Who mans the helm without a wheel.

6/8/11

A monarch butterfly with brilliant wings,

Collided with my windshield yesterday,

And taking care, as with all fragile things,

I tried to send it gently on its way.

Alas, the impact was too great a strain.

Its wounds were far too deep for it to fly.

I held it gingerly to spare more pain.

And sought a peaceful patch where it could die.

It’s splendor as I held it in my grasp,

Was striking to behold and to delight.

But still, its loveliness was far surpassed,

By those which flutter free in aimless flight.

True beauty when possessed shall waste and wane.

Yet flourishes afar and unrestrained.