5/29/11

The reconciliation of a feud,

Today occurs between two friends estranged,

But, puzzling is, one party never knew,

The other harbored bitterness and blame.

It was indeed a grievance justified,

Although a silent anger, closely kept,

A poignant fury never vocalized,

A thorn the heart ignores but won’t forget.

No declaration of offence was made,

With no rebuke and no rebuttal hence.

But remonstration seldom satisfies,

Remorse is far less common than defense.

Forgiven are transgressions of my foe,

Thus ends this quarrel fought within my soul.

5/28/11

Sometimes it is through gossip that the truth becomes revealed,

Like pieces of a puzzle found, which solve a mystery.

Perhaps, therein exists the source of hearsay’s large appeal,

For idle words will oft preserve the paths of history.

5/27/11

The windows are open,

The heat of the day,

Is carried on breezes and transferred away,

As warm currents cleanse settled cobwebs and dust,

Which hold the stale imprint of long winter months.

The shadows are broken,

By gold, supple, rays.

Dark corners, forgotten, are brightly displayed,

As birdsong erupts through the wind’s gentle gusts,

Restoring the weary to temperance and trust.

5/26/11

They say that we are never meant to fully understand,

The secret purpose and perspective of life’s mystery,

But if all mortal suffering is part of God’s own plan,

In place of worship, should we not demand apology?

5/25/11

Cutting the grass in the yard once more,

Only to stand by and watch it grow.

Trimming it like countless times before.

Waiting for next, when it must be mowed.

Why does this ritual act console?

Is simple vanity our only drive?

Must living things somehow be controlled,

So we may make ourselves feel more alive?

5/24/11

When one is being medicated each and every day,

It tends to lend the world a veil of fog as you’d expect.

The interactions that you have, the things that people say,

Are like an image out of focus as a film projects.

Yet, maybe then, one’s acumen is actually enhanced,

And if the world seems skewed and garbled, making little sense,

You truly see reality, within your walking trance,

And now appreciate the pointlessness of most events.

5/23/11

Each person has a little bubble which they float inside,

And know the world as it exists for them as seen within.

This bubble holds their lives and loves, their passions and their pride,

And all belief in what they see is filtered through its skin.

But often in adversity, their bubbles turn opaque,

When they are shaken up just like a child’s Christmas toy.

Now blind to others, their fine bubbles swerve, collide, and break,

And in this moment, each of our illusions is destroyed.

5/22/11

When something is no longer made, it is forever lost,

The methods of its fabrication been consumed by time.

Once vanished from humanity, its wake brings mournful cost,

As knowledge of its making is eroded from our minds.

Much like a deep amnesia or confusion forms with age,

The memories are lessened.  Details slowly fall from view.

Our common history, forgotten, faded, worn away, 

And all the lives employing these lost things will vanish too.

Each time an object once engaged and loved is tossed aside,

We have discarded nothing less than pieces of ourselves.

And thus, we must be wary of our progress and our pride,

Lest who we are is so undone, we disappear as well.

5/21/11

 

An automated mechanism banging strings and drums,
A marching band within a box, that sings, and strikes and hums,
And measures, in harmonic pulse, the gleeful melody,
Of raucous nickelodeons and brash calliopes.
But as I stood in wonder and amusement as they ran,
It slowly dawned that, watching them, this ordinary man,
Was not unlike these things he saw, but more or less the same,
A jumbled group of instruments, within a box, contained,
That calls and shouts and thumps without a purpose to its song,
Except, perhaps, the chance that someone else might sing along.

5/20/11
Kindness should be simply given out and simply met,
Tainted not by stains of shame, encumbrance, or regret,
Dwelling not and fast forgotten, quick, concise and brief,
Lest both sides be punished for the generosity.

5/19/11

Bad news somehow always seems to catch us unawares,
Every time misfortune interrupts our grand designs,
But instead of dwelling on how life is so unfair,
Should we not expect receipt of sorrow half the time?
Life delivers mirth and mayhem hopelessly conjoined.
Highs are counterbalanced by those moments which are low.
Should we not regard each day the flipping of a coin?
Then perhaps ill tidings would not disappoint us so.

5/18/11

I went inside a tube today,

And then the tube looked inside me,

And as it watched me where I lay,

I wondered how much it could see.

It saw through clothing, hair and skin,

These things were nothing to behold.

And then it deeply delved within,

Observing muscles, blood, and bones,

But can it’s metal eyes define,

Inclusive images of man?

Though flesh and fingers type these lines,

From whence they’re wrought shows not in scans.

5/17/11

The first thing people try to do,

To overcome their fear and shock,

When they encounter something new.

Is try to fit it in a box.

And if the substance, shape, or size,

Cannot be fit efficiently,

Containers shall be customized,

To keep the thing from roaming free.

Not everything is so defined,

Or permanently set in stone.

Or clearly one way all the time,

Alas, some things remain unknown.

Yet still, so many must insist,

Each has it’s place and nothing bends,

And they will, no doubt, argue this,

‘Till someone builds a box for them.

5/16/11

Flying about like a leaf in the wind,

Flittering, one undone task to the next.

Each chore resolves as another begins.

All. it would seem, achieves no great effect.

Volleyed and shot between desperate demands,

Speeding ahead, but still falling behind,

How much insanity must I withstand,

So I might give someone else piece of mind?

5/15/11

Upon a truck somewhere that spans a road from West to East,

A carefully collected group of artifacts is sent,

The fragments of a man's existance, numbered piece by piece,

Each one bestowed with great import, to help us not forget,

A feeling, a remembrance, or an odd envisioned scene,

Invoked by these few talismans, on which we count so much,

To take past moments, now become but something like a dream,

And bring them once again to life though objects that they touched.

I only hope someday the things I owned will be as this,

Effects both kept and cherished for the comfort which they hold,

A wooden chair, a lamp, a hanging picture, or a dish,

Which tell how good a life I lived by how much they console.

5/14/11

When someone pays for something, it becomes a work of art,

For those who estimate it's value in their minds and hearts.

Though it may move them, shock or soothe them, still they shall behold,

The ramblings of an amateur until the work is sold.

5/13/11

The dropper loves to mention names,

Of those he knows, who might impress.

His friends are fabulous and famed,

Yet his own worth, we're left to guess.

For names are just a cloak he wears,

To hide his simple, common skin.

A garment, threadbare, showing tares,

Betraying nakedness within.

Without it, he is left alone,

And must be seen for who he is,

To stand on merits of his own.

And not his great acquaintance’s.

5/12/11

We seek to solve life’s deepest mysteries,

By trying to unlock them with our pasts.

But such attempts are fraught with fallacies,

Our memories are magic looking glass,

Which shows us only what we wish to see,

And gives us comfort in the form of lies.

The answers we have sought are yet to be,

And as we live, our searching never dies.

5/11/10

We may call a person lazy when he shows no follow through,

But he’s really quite ambitious at the things he likes to do.

So, instead of laziness describing someone who’s remiss,

We’d be better off exchanging sloth for pure, base, selfishness.

5/10/11

The pieces of a puzzle lost,

And never found again,

Afflicts on us the bitter cost,

Of holes which shall not mend.

The larger image is conveyed,

Despite these missing shades,

And yet some question still remains,

Each time we cast our gaze.

For we suppose, but never sense,

What’s missing from the whole,

Perhaps an insignificance,

Or else, the heart and soul.

We must imagine and pretend,

The picture formed is clear,

Accepting what is gone, and then,

Embracing what's still here.

5/9/11

Gluttony, thy form is me,

As I indulge in wonton spree,

With disregard for consequence,

Decorum, tact, or common sense,

And worry not of things to come,

When festivals and feasts are done,

For then I’ll blame all maladies.  

Upon the fool I used to be.

5/8/11

She stuck me with her sharpened pins,

And said the wounds would heal.

Then, penetrating ‘neath my skin,

The needle's pricks revealed,

Ambiguous, unclear, effects.

And yet, to speak the truth,

If pinning down will force my rest,

I’ll take this aid forsooth.

     

5/7/11

Affliction from a backache's tenderness,
Is seen as adversary day to day,
Its stabbing spasms make one cringe and wince,
Its throbbing presence thwarting work and play.
Yet with this limitation of the spine,
And it's restrictions to mobility,
Emerges too, acuteness towards time,
And wariness against frivolity.
For with each extra effort introduced,
Comes impetus to make that stretch worthwhile.
With hurt inflicted after every move,
A fair reward must justify that trial.
Thus every choice we make in pain reflects,
The value which we place on each attempt,
And often demonstrates in retrospect,
Extents to which exertions are misspent.

5/6/11

Someone had a bad idea
And spoke it very loudly,
And those who heard it, though unclear,
Adopted it quite proudly.
With fervor they took up it's charge,
And put their plans in action,
Expanding their pursuit at large,
With great self satisfaction.
Like worker ants they crawled and danced,
About in frantic pace.
Preoccupied in their romance,
None noticed their mistakes.
Then finally, catastrophe,
From their misjudgments came,
And launched their newfound industry,
Deciding who to blame.

5/5/11
A fire cannot be cajoled,
To dampen down it's flames,
A mournful wind can't be consoled.
Hope stops not clouds nor rain.
There is no strength that can prevent,
The smallest wave's advance,
And no quick cure I can invent,
Will change my circumstance.
We are but wards in nature's care,
Enslaved by her design.
But, knowing this, and being fair,
She grants the gift of time.

5/4/11

Adrift upon an angry sea,

As waves tumultuously churn,

In tempest throes of memory,

For purpose we may never learn.

Horizons yield no distant shores,

Just aimless courses we must chart,

While fate and nature wage their wars,

The lost traverse the human heart.

5/3/11
Dismantling one's living room,
Proves quite an exercise.
Like scattered lint and dust we broom,
Our life is swept aside.
All structured comforts we embraced,
Which anchored us before,
Are in a few swift moves effaced.
By this straightforward chore.
And all the conversations shared,
When this space once was filled,
Hang silent in the vacant air,
Invisible and still.
The lives we lead may only lease,
Their presence for a time,
And all the rooms in which we meet,
Are cups of savored wine.
Which hold the essence of the day,
Until it comes to pass,
To have their contents drawn away.
Left only, spotted glass.

5/2/11

There is a child locked in a cell,

Where oft he sits and stares and cries.

It's iron walls protect him well,

From hurtful deeds and callous lies.

Yet, no one comes to care for him,

For no one is allowed inside.

From, time to time, he calls to them.

But none reply, and so he writes.

He pens a tale he cannot tell,

For no one hears.  And thus, he scribes,

About a child locked in a cell

Who often sits and stares and cries.

5/1/11

Today we move the loose debris,

Discarded during lifeless months,

The scattered branches, stumps, and leafs,

That blanketed the landscape's skin.

The fertile earth draws breath, now freed,

From coverings that block and shunt,

As reclaimed light and warmth received,

Infuse renewal from within.

The season's canvas now prepared,

Restores ambitions all at once.

This soft resurgence fine and fair,

Awakens minds and hearts to scheme.

Where once life languished and despaired,

There now erupts exuberance,

As fragrance carries on the air,

Sweet blossomed promises and dreams.

4/30/11

Sitting round a bonfire,

Staring at the flames,

Listening as the shrinking pyre crackles out our names.

Warning us in shadows,

Through the smoky gloom.

'As in life you burn and glow, you too shall be consumed'.

4/29/11

We dine outside our home tonight,
And toast our woes with fine repast,
To mock our demons and make light,
Of toils and trials we shall outlast.
We gather up what has been spilled,
And mend our wounds among our friends,
Then wish and curse and laugh until,
We must endure the world again.