trouble finding friends...
no more voices were heard and
no more predictions made either.
I live with a middle class family
in a middle class community
with middle class neighbors...
I dress conservatively and save
what little money I can spare;
my kids are disrespectful,
I'm never quite "caught up"
around the house...
I've never been away from home
I am seldom sick which makes
me very much typical but
not necessarily successful.
if I were to be rude to my parents,
I would say: "I refuse to live by your
standards and rules and I refuse to
let you make me feel guilty..."
but it would all be ignored by them.
letters forming words
and the words make sense,
words forming sentences,
sentences forming paragraphs,
and a story is conveyed...
I cannot imagine that this
is not something for everyone.
once a year we seem to be on our best behavior,
once a year we seem to make things larger than they are,
once a year we forget who we dislike.
we learn to scheme together as we
battle each other for dominance,
we were as natural as partners as
we were as adversaries... there was
no room for compromise and no
giving-up once we had started,
we could never find the right room
in our hearts to let us compromise.,
once we start worrying
can we ever really stop?
isn't this what separates
the adults from the children?
senior citizens have learned
what's important and what's not
leaving time to grow old.
we stopped playing the game
long enough to sleep and eat,
after that our public self was
in control of all our patterns.
little boy blue
little boy abandoned
two years not knowing who
you were and why...
some said prayers
others planted flowers
while younger kids left
their toys beside the grave,
and... it made a good news story
until the cynics wanted to know
how many of those nice kids
would end up on drugs or
become pregnant or steal or
commit acts of violence.
even for all the rice in China some
still won't bargain with the devil,
it was easy for me as all I wanted
was someone who offered me love.
she came to me out of loneliness
and I offered her compassion,
soon she was teaching me...
then one day she just left.
we worked hard to keep our
land and once we gave it to
our children, they sold it.
we brought presents from China
to see if we could impress you
they were all made in Japan.
I was on the eve of something wonderful,
but I did not know how to explain it;
I felt a sense of wholeness
a sense of satisfaction
a sense of order...
I had found a way to accept myself
to accept my limitations
my own inner greed and reluctance;
I was on the eve of something special
and did not know how long it would last.
what kind of person would
lie on Christmas Day?
you tell me you always tell the truth
then you turn around and say you
did not tell the whole truth about
that you just did five minutes ago...
and you tell me you are honest?
what else has been this way...
I wonder? it makes one think.
B
I think you've been lying
to me all along... but, I guess
it's ok for you to lie to me just
as long as I don't lie to you.
C
whatever good feeling I've had
about you and Christmas is gone,
I cannot trust you and I don't want to
have anything more to do with you.
things happen in the strangest places, and
as soon as something begins to run smoothly,
there will always be an incident to make
it change from happy to unhappy... yes,
it is true... I know all about these things.
A
it was a common place event
simple enough, it would seem
all she had to do was listen.
B
we are all victims of discrimination
we never listen to their points-of-view.
complicated opportunities,
we will encounter during our lives,
today prepares us for each
adventure as we learn more
than we will ever forget.
they took away my land
and called it progress,
three generations farmed this land
and the city bought us out...
they gave us compensation
and took away my land...
and our pride was passed along
from father to son to son...
each one earning their right to
own the land and raise a family,
they took away my land and
gave me compensation... and,
the sons of my father's neighbors
who we fed when times were lean,
now own the banks who
now own my land... who plan to
turn it into highways and parking lots,
they took away my land
and called it progress.
the tug in the painting
all rusted with age,
reminded me of my water days
and a younger version
of what I had become,
I don't think of those day much anymore
and receive only one care from
the seventy six that I knew...
far removed from the sixties and war,
I see my past in watercolors now.
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