sheltered inside our own
mental encasements,
we evolve singularly,
our failure seems a
simple pretense for an
ageless forgetful past;
we search in random secluded areas,
we live alone, beside the days
that pass too quickly,
as strangers among friends
and families surround us
like London's fog
seemingly too dense
too neutrally unavoidable;
a past time we pretend
extending our formal awakening
an enlightenment borne out
of a peculiar set of personalities
thrust up against us like a
subtle prankish nightmare;
morality becomes a fatherless
companion while persistence
settles into place as naturally
as a selected avocation.
Conquered Innocence
she seemed fair and free with
her broad eyes and long brows,
walking along the path
covered in a faint lining of
nature's tears,
paused and refreshed,
she seemed carefully excited
her instincts perched and ready
folded-up nicely
resting casually but securely
around her shoulders,
guarding her moments;
she seemed hesitant
carefully removing her inhibitions,
she appeared naked
and lying on the ground,
calling upon the wind to caress her,
her arms guided unseen pleasures
to her flesh and she was all but
satisfied with conquered innocence.
Out In Front
in front of us mourn the thousands
who shed more than tears and more
than the souls and wealth of nations,
in front of us the performers hid
thoughts in trailers on their backs
like the Ancient Mariner's Albatross,
in front of us are those who nature forget
but the world did not and their ruinous
disclosures brought them overdoses of grief,
in front of us came the victims of change
in twos and threes and by the hundreds to
reestablish social inequities of injustice,
in front of us they marched with banners
and placards and songs, chanting slogans
whispering about their private participation,
taking the fifth and suffering admonishment,
in front of us they came bearing their voices
not their arms accepting the everlasting scars
in relentless pursuits of happiness and peace,
their absent revolutions of consciousness.
Forgiven And Forgotten
lost in a world of ambiguity
trapped by the guardians of restraint
my eyes old and wrinkled watch
the grass grow taller week after week,
see the pine straw in the fields
its cornflake color captured by van Gogh,
in a continuous circle we move
live and react as we are told
breathe in solemn thoughts and perish
but the cycle perpetuates
yet never is fully completed...
as it approaches its completed tasks
an end... an absolution on our paths;
we are forgiven year after year and
month after month and week after week
and day after day for our indulgences,
my tired eyes cracked and wrinkled
sting with every release of tears,
my pupils change every years as colors fade
and are washed off in the shower,
an inverted mental pyramid appears
forming the images emulated and followed
without question or opposition
without regrets or any blind delays
and each night when we dream
we can just imagine a better world and
now believe tomorrow will be different.
I
our feelings lightly dusted
search for fingerprints
of true love
a physical condemnation
remotely controlled on an
abandoned battlefield;
undisturbed silence covers our
disfigured sentiments as we
clothed our isolation and
neglected the ethics of compassion;
our feeling rest in piles on the carpet
of someone else's house,
always seeking out the hard to get at
corners of our sleeping rooms, waiting...
II
Our habits grow weaker as time
steals our illusions and how we
remember that love falls on the
deafness of our memories,
of times cut cut short with
too much of each other,
a symbiosis it was claimed but
never was it actually reported;
time gave us patience and longing
not to be separated longer than needed,
our features blended our experiences
into a uniquely innocent prison
from which there was no escape...
III
Contradiction flows quickly now as the roots of
our discontent settle softly on the ground with
the autumn leaves that continue shedding colors,
wisps of cool air cool ride the wind currents
through the valley to the hollows of our lives.
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