Repentance Retrieved

curled about the body like a blanket

is the safety of age,

rock solid and permanent.

engrained memories of survival

on floats sail through the mind

like wind through the trees or

raindrops leapfrogging down

between dense leaves and branches,

flooding ground puddles beyond

their entitled borders...

safety resides behind the eyes

where moots of ideas collect

before being dispersed.

curled about the body like a shield

of a Muslim defender in the

infamous Crusades, do we yield

to a bigger power, just as unknown

to us now as before when our

thoughts had begun to form, and

we saw answers on our horizons,

mirage transformations, the closer

our souls got to righteousness.

undisturbed by our false belief are we

now in safe hands wanting the end

to swallow us whole as it did in

the books read to us when younger

or the dreams we formulated 

when we cannot protect ourselves.

time hands around us like a necklace

without precious jewels or ways

to expand it as it grows tighter.

July 14, 2025

On the Souls of Wolves

clueless
we are helpless,
our state of awareness
define us then...
particles
non glare thoughts
enter our minds
pincushions
for the wealthy...
soiled
our clothes fit
loosely around us,
bag-like
in appearance,
clustered together
in pride...
abandoned
the fathers are who
founded it all,
steaking nude down
city streets
attention called
our foolishness swept
untimely away...
madness
claws through skulls
memorizing numbers
dates and places
when life lived on
trellises of roses,
neighborhoods were clean
souls untarnished
with wind's filth...
convertible gaps filled
with evil actions.

July 13, 2025

Collective Consciousness

outside the window - seen today

rabbits and walkers focused

on maintaining their distance,

credible threats from the sky

docile rain washing the ground,

birds singing folk songs recalled

from a sixties fling in spring,

dethroned monks looking for chips

in the heart of a Baptist community,

willing participants who guard

the government's watchdogs when

on vacation, phones ringing in

unison like tolling church bells.

strangers reciting the Quran on

the corner waiting for the bus

cooking falafels in a pan,

using stolen zippo lighters...

a comedy of errors was replayed

by the local teams, forfeiting

before the ninth inning and

willing to refund tickets to

tomorrow's afternoon performance.

cops spin their wheels like delinquent

teenagers, measuring the rubber,

and those of us watching from our

air-conditioned seats toss

flowers instead of old coins...

our thoughts turn on a prepaid

dime, recognizing our limitations

looking through a dirty window.

July 12, 2025

Reality's Quicksand

light follows dark
day follows night
life follows creation
if you believe in that...
light on dark - dark on light
the painters' rule
sound and valid...
we dream of circumstance
without the pomp 
and ceremonies that
follow tradition...
normalcy is there if
you want it to be,
otherwise, you have
the unconventional,
the misaligned.
funerals of the past and
of our beliefs as weak
as they may currently be.
dawn brings beginnings
sunsets conclusions
dreamers read in-between
the lines only seeing
what was expected...
we note for future references
that we ignore like school,
educating ourselves with
experiences that both
lie and tell the truth
while not caring how
they might be perceived.
life matters not when
death is the final solution
and one that cannot
be avoided no matter
who we might know.

July 11, 2025

Borderline

inside the borders of the mind

grow disorders - a different kind

of insanity lingering there

among the scrawny pines 

living on the soft shoulders

of gathering thoughts - recusing

oneself from accusations laid

down by point of orders

tempered by pure energy...

feelings jammed inside feelings

no room to spare - no room for

the traveler who journeyed far.

the doors at memory's base

hauntingly remain while strangers

flow through hallways unobstructed,

encountering years of doubt

from dead feelings growing along

the banks of remembering as

streams flow parallel to the fears

of returning illusions, leaving the

eyes vulnerable to partial sight.

inside the mind - along its 

watchtowers and parapets, we

guard standing or sitting

if and when weather permits.

July 9, 2025

Space in Time

moments fill the mind like crashing

glaciers into the artic ocean,

winding streams of frigid currents

send polar bears scrambling,

knocks on the door signal the

collapsing of time, negotiated

treaties will the eskimos drift past

like melting icebergs floating

down towards ancient civilizations.

life lives on the outskirts of the past

not quite ready for the future but

certainly, wanting more than it has,

as would an infant whose gaze

always locks onto the future.

hazmat suits occupied with what

appears to be humans arrive on

the scene and begin spouting orders

given to them by four horsemen

who looked out of place while

while convey a sense of order.

transitions come from within

dicey situations are contrived

old age isn't always inevitable

but life always penetrate the present

with its ideologies, convincing

many not to look any farther forward

than is absolutely necessary...

we are what we think we know

while knowing what we must.

time was given an opportunity to

become real but chose to become

part of our illusive space instead.

July 8, 2025

Role Sensing

heat waves roll along the
ground like tumbleweed,
smart animals stay inside
birds shelter in trees
snakes cling to creek banks,
all of whom simply wait...
summer spills out temperatures
like perfume in the air
covering the landscape as if
it was an invisible blanket,
we denounce the heavens
and mother nature for being
so cruel so inconsiderate we
fail to understand the roots.
within ourselves we become
oblivious to all who doubt,
learning to pray if disaster
hits unexpectedly, sending
encrypted messages upward
hoping someone responds...
hypocritical and indiscreet
we are with our faith,
eliminating all other possibilities
first before the book appears,
earmarked and typecasted
we play our roles without
recognition or rewards,
seeing life as a footstool
for our eventual death, not
caring which way is up or down
since we live in outer space.

July 8, 2025

Feeling at Home

Sleepy kitty on the wooden deck lies
in from a night of hunting
prowling through the yards
neighbors in their beds unaware,
kitty-kitty is the name he goes by
given by previous owners
a street away but comes here to eat
and spend the day - belonging...
yellow and white are his colors
more like a tiger on his tail.
a clipped ear is his battle scar
never knowing how it happened...

Little boy is the name we gave
not knowing his point of origin,
two years ago in the middle of winter
two skinny cats begging for food
arrived at our back door - not more
than six months each they were...
the black and white was adopted
leaving the yellow one all alone...

Fat and healthy, he is nowadays
each morning looking forward to his arrival,
still not a fan of our three other cats,
outside he must remain...  content he
has become with that arrangement,
as we have as well - sometimes in the
early morning before humidity descends
I find myself sitting outside with him.
hoping it makes him feel at home.

July 7, 2025

An Earned Life

a five-year-old rug lays
across the decking
concealing most of the wood
from harsh weather...
a neighborhood cat lays
on freshly cut grass just
out of reach of my vision
bothered not by appearances...
a glass table in front of me
provides a home for my laptop
once the umbrella is opened
to its fullest reach...
coffee with cappuccino mix
sits in a Weigel's cup beside me,
following me everywhere
regardless of the weather...
storms across the south on either
sides of my location causing
flash floods and taking lives
are freshly in my thoughts...
dreams of earlier years push by me
like a gentle breeze or early morning
mist that seems to float by mindlessly
from house to house...
recollections borne from ageless memories
haunt me needlessly, recalling those
I want - forgetting those that bring
with it negative outcomes...
sister, brother, friends link their
stories with the ones my daughter
carries around in her purse
that seldom leaves her side...
rumors move from one mouth to the
other, changing and evolving over time,
rewriting the plots and drama to
satisfy one's current needs...
I simply sit on my back deck with bare
feet on this old rug with my Cappuccino
mix coffee, reflecting on why and how
my life ended up here in this chair.

July 6, 2025

Après le quatrième

morning stillness
a gentle breeze
seeping humidity
through the trees,
purple red flowers boast
backyard gardens
bending branches
like willow protecting
their habitats...
minor incursions from
restless squirrels and
chipmunks seldom seen
in the lonesome valley
summertime...
snakes curl under rocks
beside streams and ponds,
turtles bask on stones
flattened by age
wind and sun mostly
hidden in water...
spiders repair webs
trampled by movement,
ants dig holes underground
expanding territory...
decks occupied by humans
never noticing the
beauty of their environment
once celebrations end.

July 5, 2025