Biting wind
Numbing feet
Hands slowing down
Category: motivation
Two Five Three Six
Letters from my ancestors
Have each spelled out ten names
Two to be used in case of emergency
Five for female spawn
Three for patriarchal ties
And six as shadows of mine own heart.
I love each one as any man can
I’ve researched each story true,
Chosen from my memory
I’ve drawn each one out, too.
I hold my head up high for them;
Each they’ve passed to me their secrets.
In my hands I see their scars
So, too, I see their years.
Through their streets I have sure walked
I’ve also gone for a ride
Sitting in the back seat
Of a stuffed full 1965 Studebaker
Heading out on summer vacation.
I’ve opened the door on Union Street
To taste homemade crabcakes and beans,
I’ve rode the long trail home
Passed Devick Lake out on the range.
So each of the names I keep at the helm
Awaiting imminent deployment,
Like roses saved in a jar
A timeless memorial stored as fondness,
An old lined sheet of blank paper
Found in the desk of y’or.
One
One
Oneness
The Way
A single heart
Forest’s path is empty
Echo is just you
Thoughts are all your own
Beyond reason.. sure
And in good nature, hopefully.
One
Sun
Moon
Earth
One
One
Has distant friends
And one multiplied by anything
Becomes anything
One has its beginning
A small seed
A drop of rain
A heart beat
A tongue
One’s voice falls silent
One’s sight grows distant
One’s touch is careful
One’s feelings are forever lost
In a sea of comfort in one’s own
So one grows tired
This single heart
So one’s thought may stop
Even just for a divine pause
To find one’s way
Again
One
I’m Gone
I’m gone
It has taken me a while
But I sit here
Gone
Watching the elongating
Aloe vera leaves
Reach
So far from the road
That once brought me here.
I’m gone
My path long overwritten
Slight smile
Of downtrodden blades
And the omnipresent moss
Setting it’s tangles
Deeper than I can ever watch.
I’m gone
Noises from the party
Barely audible
Where my anxiety levels
Scream
An inability to be present
Sits waiting in blades of grass
I walk amongst alone.
Attitude
This work ethic is work
It is not play,
Play is different.
It resides on the same plane,
But is a different vein.
Attitude relates the two;
Notions of good and well,
Interested
And seeing life
From a perspective of fun.
Work ethic is motivated
Play is motivated
Peace must also be motivated
So that we can find
Within our depths
The actions to take.
Each state of being
Has the possibility
Of infinite attitudes.
Each attitude
Can be applied
To each action.
Actions and state of beings
Are choices on the same plane,
Choices that each take motivation.
Attitude chosen for one
Can easily be the attitude
Chosen for another action.
Upon the Cliffs
Who do you know?
Who beckons to you
When the waves are too high,
When streetlights are few?
For in our moment
Of memory
Sweetness so delicately
Ready upon thy tongue,
Who do we know?
Who shall exalt
Our being so readily?
Golden Dreams
I cannot remember my golden dreams of yesterday.
Will my words be understood tomorrow?
Each of these laid with patience
Upon flat laid twenty pound unlined and rounded corners
Shall surely carry dust until curiosity reveals,
But the binary figures carried on electricity
Floating lazily upon some unknown bandwidth
In a region East of the Alps
Well, those messages remain vague.
Those messages may die without a subscription fee paid,
And the backups may need debugging or rerouting,
Ciphers and codecs may no longer be backwards compatible.
Our graceful new line of important thinkers
Good looking important thinkers
Looking good getting there
Are too busy to see through the mirror.
What has been forgotten (by them)
Is no longer opened.
All expecting return on investments.
The new band copies the old band
But the old band wont fight back,
The old band has been to that rock show
And lost a tooth there.
Youth are changing
Renaming, rewriting, shaming,
And forgetting
At too quick a rate
To remember yesterday’s golden dreams.
The books aren’t borrowed anymore,
Libraries replaced by computer zones.
Just an endless scrolling in dark mode
So the blue light wont effect
Brain’s melatonin tonight
Because now we know too much
And what we know is unimportant
Logos lost our gravitas.
Words of the Universe
One cannot sway the Universe
Simply with words
This merely annoys those who must hear
And frustrates those who cannot speak.
One can speak to hear one’s voice,
Or speak-up to be a voice,
But to think a voice
Can change the world
Must take a lot of idle convincing.
Faint Echo
Transmission loss is inevitable
With such broad spectrum distortion
Carrying a candle through darkness
Is a miner for gold
Or coal
Or anything that matters
To the lords of the underground.
But when I yell
It echoes back to me
Around the field
From the trees
From the hill
Between the buildings and back,
Which gives me motivation
To try again
Though my understanding is faint
As I watch a blowing bag
Floating in the wind.
Today it is not dusty,
Though a slight breeze comes on,
It is muggy and heavy
An extra 30 pounds to a person
That sweats through a shirt
With the mere though of lifting
An arm in toil.
So where do I sit
In such heavy silence?
At the crossroads
With a miner on my shoulder
Torn down ligaments
Effortlessly gazing
But with sharp eyes watching
Everything being lost.
My Suffering
I am not a descendant
Neither an ancestor
I walk only
Upon land un-owned
I hear voices
That I may not know
And recognize patterns
Inside my zone
That don’t jive
With my dreams and goals.
So then shall I be reborn?
Shall I find within me
The God I shall be?
Listening and believing
Actions and ideals
In perfect synchronicity?
My barefeet stumble,
My pattern outlayed.
But I still step softly
In spite the growing
Disillusionment
Bearing down upon my
Alighted brow
So that this God in me
Is the God that you see
And my suffering
Is not the God that shall be
In you.