A home is like a holiday,
That one looks toward every night,
A miniature getaway,
Of relaxation and respite.
A few short hours to recline,
Before life's pressures reconvene.
A silent fall twixt beats of time.
The truth we live out in-between.
8/28/11
We wake to sounds of pounding rain,
And howling winds beyond our walls,
That make our shelter creak and strain,
As nature's unchecked fury falls.
The giants of the unseen heights,
Above the clouded canopy,
Decend for violent, crazed delights,
And godlike games of anarchy.
Beneath the turmoil of the air,
We strive to gain some small control,
But as the tumults toss and tear,
Despite our efforts, we must know,
That we, the helpless wriggling prey,
Of some great beast that has us caught,
Through slap and batter, pounce and play,
Must suffer what the fates have wrought.
8/27/11
We watch the mountain as it fades from view,
And vanishes behind a veil of grey,
The sky assumes a dark, opressive hue,
As, prematurely, night obscures the day.
All movement 'neath the ground, songs of the trees,
All living things that scurry, scratch and crawl,
Are silent as a pause in eulogy,
Awaiting, timidly, the hammer's fall.
8/22/11
A spouse is one with which to dream,
To plan and build with great resolve,
For through our love we are cajoled,
To strive and venture unafraid.
A spouse is one with which to scheme,
And think of ways to fix and solve,
The problems caused by all the holes,
Our mutual ambition made.
To trip and stumble to the floor,
Is much less fearful, come to find,
Your foolish falls accompanied,
With each unwary step you take.
A spouse is one whom you adore,
As partner in each heedless crime,
To face life's fortunes carelessly,
And laugh through every new mistake.
8/17/11
Flowers on the guardrail of a parkway running south,
Left there by a mourner who would wish the world to know,
Here the final breath of life ecaped a loved one's mouth,
On this spot a mortal soul surrendered and let go.
See her picture, as I pass in seconds, blurring by,
All she was, and did, and fealt, a glimpse that cannot last.
It would seem each memory is likewise in our minds,
Lives recalled in fleeting, fading, points as we rush past.
Flowers on the guardrail of a parkway running south,
Left there by a mourner who would wish the world to know,
Here the final breath of life ecaped a loved one's mouth,
On this spot a mortal soul surrendered and let go.
See her picture, as I pass in seconds, blurring by,
All she was, and did, and fealt, a glimpse that cannot last.
It would seem each memory is likewise in our minds,
Lives recalled in fleeting, fading, points as we rush past.
8/15/11
A quiet room lit by a single light,
A quiet room lit by a single light,
Serves as my shelter from the raging storms,
A bathysphere amid chaotic tides,
A chrysalis in which my life transforms.
This chamber is a Spartan, sacred place,
Where normal laws and pressures don't apply,
An outwardly reflected inner space,
A dream between the days I live and die.
8/14/11
I hear impassioned voices ring,
From some revival tent nearby,
The sermons boom, the gospels sing,
The proud pronounce and testify.
Their litanies of righteousness,
Were heard by homeless and the poor,
The weary vagrants craving rest,
They too could hear those prayers implore.
The hungry, seeking sustenance,
Received the word and felt the call,
And blessed as they might be by this,
Not one of them was saved at all.
I hear impassioned voices ring,
From some revival tent nearby,
The sermons boom, the gospels sing,
The proud pronounce and testify.
Their litanies of righteousness,
Were heard by homeless and the poor,
The weary vagrants craving rest,
They too could hear those prayers implore.
The hungry, seeking sustenance,
Received the word and felt the call,
And blessed as they might be by this,
Not one of them was saved at all.
8/9/11
Customer Service, among truly worthless of concepts in all of humanity.
If something malfunctions, the user's assumption must be that it isn't as advertised.
And yet we're cajoled to spend hours on hold in the hopes of some magical remedy,
By someone who's trained, not to aid, but explain in new language why we are not satisfied.
Customer Service, among truly worthless of concepts in all of humanity.
If something malfunctions, the user's assumption must be that it isn't as advertised.
And yet we're cajoled to spend hours on hold in the hopes of some magical remedy,
By someone who's trained, not to aid, but explain in new language why we are not satisfied.
8/8/11
A house is just a box we trust to thwart the elements,
To stall and stave as nature's rage assaults relentlessly,
And when the climate's brutal violence breaks this thin defense,
We stand perplexed by unexpected vulnerability.
The stalwart structures we erect are nothing to compare,
With ruthless storms, and all the forms they may precipitate,
All freeze and thaw, all natures laws, which we might find unfair,
Are but rejection of infections to eliminate.
We call it home, but all that's known and reasoned by this earth,
Are lifeless roots which shall pollute, and neither breed nor bud.
Our little box is just a pox, to seek out and reverse.
Thus shingles leak, foundations creak, paint peels, and basements flood.
8/6/11
The rain pores down but does not break,
The heavy, languid heat of day,
Through lightning strikes and thunder shakes,
The torrents fall, but swelter stays.
Although our clothes are soaked and wet,
And tightly cling against our skin,
The atmosphere induces sweat,
And storms call neither cold nor wind.
Inclement weather which we dread,
May often clear to our surprise,
But not all clouds bear silver threads,
Not all dark days yield brighter skies.
Not all dark days yield brighter skies.
8/5/11
Some times we strive and struggle to excel,
Some days we push to prosper and succeed,
When lesser effort serves us just as well,
And fate alone shall grant us all we need.
The buttons are depressed, the levers forced,
To work the great machinery of our lives,
We stand upon the helm to steer the course,
And foolishly believe it's us who drives.
8/3/11
Today another path occurred to me,
And seemed to cause a schism in my soul,
One half pursued a separate destiny,
My other half maintained its current role.
And for an instant both realities,
Were true as any moment foul or fair,
How much of life is what we know will be,
And not a coin descending through midair?
Today another path occurred to me,
And seemed to cause a schism in my soul,
One half pursued a separate destiny,
My other half maintained its current role.
And for an instant both realities,
Were true as any moment foul or fair,
How much of life is what we know will be,
And not a coin descending through midair?
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