The Task

writers write

painters paint

singers sing

and the rest of us

read,

view,

or listen

when their craft

is revealed

as if

we were waiting

for it to be so,

with nothing else

on our minds,

our eyes,

or our ears,

except this task.

8Jan17

Hidden

we the people are powerful
united in the vote of individual idealism
collectively conscious of influence
burdened by the legacy of blind faith
distorted hope guides our actions
wanton sexual predators we are
feasting on lust and innuendoes
infesting our attitudes on our foes
we the people are powerful
unlike any generation before us
and we control in a hideous way
all that was once kept hidden.

4Jan17

Rotten Betrayal

waves of distrust slam against the shores

of our recent future while we hide behind

the skirts of failure that cover our souls;

we were once all whole but no more

even though we recognize not that we

have fallen but the tragedy of once was;

greedy disloyalty placed us at odds with

the world and each other, leaving no 

margin for escape in life or in death;

internally bleeding out with each reminder

of how far we had drifted from our core

and like nature, rottenness betrayed us. 

4Jan17

Adornments

the world turns her
admiration away
from all that was
once who we were
as we become that
which is unrecognizable
and all that was adorned
by our relentless grace,
forgiveness, and
understandings in our
global pursuits of
freedom from which
all could benefit but
few actually wanted
to receive from us.

4Jan17

Sorry

how gently life lives and dies
changing the contours of lies
once solutions have been heard
and we sit down to meals of
homecomings and goodbyes as
we celebrate day's darkness
and the crowd of witnesses
waiting to be acknowledged
and forgiven for the free air
they continue to consume.

3Jan17

It's Relative

life descends upon us like locust
invading our homes, hearts, and souls,
leaving us wanting more than we
could possibly deserve in one lifetime;

death descends upon us like the night,
blocking our our sight forever and
taking away the light of opportunity
until we have a predawn burials;

life and death are soulmates and
are inseparable throughout one's
worldly existence as we prepare
ourselves for existence in another;

existence is relative and not so finite
as we had first imagined at the
beginning of it all when consumed
by our fertile bu naive awareness.

2Jan17

Eventually

splinters of life fall
through the cracks of
the wooden floor of
our minds just as
easily as light pierces

the souls of the dead
and they are abandoned
in the ground, waiting
for the reign of terror
to end as abruptly as
it had begun for them
when alive and will
had nothing to fear
save life itself which
it finally did them in
as it will happen to
all of us eventually.

2Jan17

If We Die

IF
childhood memories
float by unquestioned on their
journey to above.

WE
moments of time cease
to exist when the mind begs
a full disclosure.

DIE
lamenting failures
serves a purpose understood
by only a few.

1Jan17

One

three cats live
a few months
apart in birth,
one dominates,
one cowers,
one fights back,
but, of the three
one is pure
and refined,
living here
with dignity.

1Jan17

The Rush

four mental miners collaborate
to determine what will be and
when we will be there to see it,
leaving out the part of no return
and no choice but to go there,

but once they are discredited, a
new vision is formed that arrives
literally out-of-nowhere and we
rush to needy hasty conclusions.

28Dec16

Read or Write

whimsical words ride by on
decadent decorations that
must be eaten quickly less
they spoil on the palates of
the hungry and the poor;
we money creatures take
what is desired without any
thoughts or concerns as long
as it suits us or those who
might be like us to do so;
anxieties flourish in the
allies of the meek and mild
as they will always be in
line to be dominated by those
who cannot read or write.

27Dec16

Cause or Concern

underground streams hollow
out the rock through which
they travel to unknown destinations
deep inside the earth's soul and
are kept hidden from all of us;
and we, like patient servants
who seek no truth at all
follow blindly throughout the
day and night without cause
or concern for anything; but,
if the truth be known to us
then different directions home
we would take and different
thoughts we would have just
like those underground streams.

27Dec16

Lies

patch work rugs cover
the hardwood floors of
my mental journeys and
imaginations in this house,
where my thoughts are
manifested and I can
see its reality for what it
is worth when not cloaked
in the falsehoods of man
whose temperance for
details has been washed
down the throat with a
series of very cute lies.

27Dec16

From 1986 #14

we glance in

opposite directions,

you and I...

our eyes meet amusingly

we pretend not to notice,

quickly shifting

from side-to-side

as if our positions

were the intended purpose

of the adjustments;

each fears a

disinterested attitude,

casual disobedience,

civil or otherwise,

yet, we are

clearly left wondering

if perhaps

another day would

suit us better.

December

From 1986 #13

I sit and stare

like a cat,

(monumentally quiet)

out the window

from the same seat as before;

a disinterested appearance

a focal change when

looks, no one may tell,

can be deceiving;

I record these moments on paper,

slipping quietly out of view;

and, the patterns are

transcribed into characters

each feature delicately described;

their interwoven stories

for a mental narrative,

famous and aloof they become,

towards their creator

as if I was never there...

and still,

I sit

and stare,

waiting...

for new faces to appear

outside my window.

December

From 1986 #12

her feelings like tears slide

down the exterior of a wall

to its base at the pale floor;

the imaginary flowers

planted each spring wilt and

every fall, cones of salt are

scraped away, and the soil,

on which she stands, is made

fertile with her female instincts;

winter brings a chill and her

feelings are wrapped in the

web like fabric of a wool shawl,

cracked and brittle to the touch;

a burst of energy frees spring's

youthfulness and the innocence

of her feelings escapes from

under the weight of the wall;

she is delightful and petite

as her tears evaporate with the

rising warmth of an early sun;

she washes her hands like

Lady Macbeth, it sounds echo

down a porcelain hallway, a

mental place to insulate her,

to shield here from the seasons

and the thin currents of time on

which her feelings must ride;

the wall stand forever strong,

forever tall, forever solid.

December

From 1986 #11

 barely visible

a year passes

routine comes easy

blown dry on a windy day,

regular prayers have

all been said...

just another wall not

worth defending,

never ending.

December

From 1986 #10

the madness of yesterday's

tears rolls down his face,

he rewrites his epitaph

with each tear shed;

symbolic bandages on his

wrist demonstrate his struggle,

his bodily abuse,

self inflicted,

self induced...

each role he plays creates

a daily transformation,

a metamorphosis,

and while some adjust,

others appear

resolved and self contained.

December

From 1986 #9

her last days are spent

with tearful goodbyes,

embraces with colleagues

that need to last forever...

if only they could, and

fearful expectations over

acquiring new friends;

days pass her by as if they

were seconds on a clock,

and some days within

her file of memories, she

recalls for amusement

but does do this day;

slowly, she packs her life

in a properly sized box;

she feels what the others

cannot say and they, in

turn, smile at her responses;

a somber and reticent

climate encumbers her

as she fights off the

hollow emptiness that

occupies her mood;

she counts the years since

the current adventure

began and realizes it is

time for her to move on.

December

From 1986 #8

enunciated shadows

accumulate of the mind's

mirror as one journeys

past yesterday's evening,

spent inside restless images

of tomorrow's ordeal;

from behind the clouds,

the sun shows it has

awakened and hungry;

one's worried demeanor

was for naught as each

day we wonder if we'll

ever gain back lost sleep.

December

From 1986 #7

we wait in private cubicles
curiously alone with our
own interpreted dreams;
each phantom character
hidden from reality until a
passing stranger is cast
for the part and briefly
our fictional thoughts are
real as we vicariously
experience our fantasies;
someday, our minds will
combine and we will share
each others illusions.

December

From 1986 #6

sounds of the season
float by magically,
a devilish time,
beguiling,
bewildering and
romantic, careful not
exceed any limits;
foes capitulate their animosities
by extending their hands in
greetings but there are few takers
since the door-to-door carolers
have all passed away;
Merrily, we row our boats
down another man's stream,
not so gentle,
not so caring...




sounds of the season
float by aimlessly
as we walk up and down
plastic streets lined
with window envelopes,
encountering a distasteful
selection of limited possibilities
while mastering our rights
not to choose or be chosen;
greetings for the season
are measured by the activities attended
and our place on the list is recorded
and duly noted by all...



Sounds of the season
are better this year
than before.

December

From 1986 #5

the rays of the sun
push their point-of-view
through the spruce
and pine creating a
wooded cathedral,
majestic and grand,
an experience hardly
describable but
recorded on scrolls
by night and placed
inside mental altars.

December

From 1986 #4

we gossip in
two's and three's,
passing rumors
back and forth like
careless quarterbacks.

If only we could buy and sell
our speculations...

a career launched on
inside information as
everyone positions for
promotions and growth, but,
as everyone knows
it occurs only from the mud
on the shoes of another.

December

From 1986 #3

our eyes betrayed

yesterday's loyalty when

she recognized my sadness;

her hand warmly invited

my touch and

tomorrow's fears have

become today's desires.

December

From 1986 #2

she guards herself well
behind a castle in the storm;
memories grown from a
proper upbringing
slide easily onto the pantry shelf;
unattached and distant,
her friendships grow in the spring;
her fears are grouped
together like students who need
appropriate, individual treatment,
and mental discipline
on alternate Mondays, yet,
otherwise consistent;
she is a maiden in distress,
in search of someone
to whom she can belong.

December

From 1986 #1

our lives are tossed
about like a game of
darts, controlled by

feathers and someone's
flick of the wrist;
accumulated points
distributed throughout
the week provide an
ever increasing
back lash of opportunities.

December

Confidence

Hideous are the          

inner workings of your mind

that brought us in here.

28Dec16

Limited Escape

devils in the carpets
bit my feet
cutting the flesh
leaving droplets of blood
as I walk from
one room to another,
looking for the door
of premature escape;
there is no ascent
in the mind,
only descent into
deeper understandings
of the life left behind
and the realization
that no life for us lies
ahead in our future.

28Dec16

Life

mirrors surround me as if

it were life itself coming

back to take me home again

as briefly before it did and

I saw the beginning, an

enlightened offering of time

offering no solution to our

dilemma other than being

sent away to a place where

seeking stops and we cease

to be aware of that which

we know as truth, forever

and always remembering.

21Dec16

Redemption

music in the distance plays
a hardwood floor curls its toes
a couch with comfort holds the wall
rugs of connection hold it all;
what we doubted we no longer do
thoughts of freedom flow like water
endless joy hangs from the ceiling;
ribbons of life float through the air
cold snowmen deliver presents of hope
and we acknowledge what we knew
as the process redeems us all again.

21Dec16