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The meaning of life is found
somewhere between
a lover's sighs and a baby's cry.

Somewhere between
passion and pain,
between freedom and responsibility.

Between a life dreamed and reality.

The meaning of life is in the seeking,
the finding comes gradually,
perpetually,
and almost always accidentally.
This Poem is read in my newest you tube Moto-Vlog video along with
another poem I wrote called The Journey which is about the experience of motorcycling and traveling alone the Vlog is Time code so you can skip to the poems if you'd rather not watch the entire video.

https://youtu.be/Gk8xC3X-9Nc?feature=shared
Thanks!
One day I will choose
To quit you
But it won’t be some day soon
And I’ll probably keep saying that
Until one day I do
and still I have to stop and think, is it forwards, backwards, and do they know about Daylight Savings TIme, saving who from what,
I jokingly ask myself, to give my sweet angst, a a better coloration,
though these days, constant comets pass over us daily

but he is savvy smart, and yes, extraordinarily ****, and  knows my routines (he thinks), better than me, so when I drive  to  run in Santa Monica, alternating days, he texts in simultaneous harmony a minute after my too early alarm has me stumbling into semi-Cali-
quake-fulness

we are years apart, not so many that it's remarkable, just big enough gap, to make life problematical; his  career launched, serious guy,, me well, i'm a perpetual student, when not modeling, and my mom, GBH,  and my over pestering, now single parent, demonstrate her mathematical abilities by telling me how closehow close  is 30 is when one subtracts  my "aging pores," & how little sleep she gets because she in in her EST zone

but when he calls, he calls at irregular times, "to better gauge my mood," how he, my day surveils, so he can adjust to my chemical imbalance, an area of his expertise; and its sweet, and it works, and too often, I ramble while listens, for his day is ending, and mine is far from fulfillment

he is European, full of genteel words and english language quips,
especially since he believes he can still sway with his sophisticated
endearments;  but what he doesn't know in the late afternoon, his bedtime, while  he is conducting a sweet nothing roundup of   adoration, my hand slips between my legs, and my envisioning of his lean, broad body being in my interior so tight, for I have crossed my crushing legs behind his back pushing him inside, it nearly makes  breathing impossible

HE LOVES MY SOfT TONES, at this hour, my distracted noises, til he says you sound so tired, I'll let you go; and I willingly, comp-licitly, give him my heated best love notes, and teary gasps, when I mumble
see you soon, thinking in my dreams, for I know his schedule, and exactly when I'll be landing and exactly how long it will be,
till we, are within each other, without any interference, of lairs and
sun flaring interruptions,
from time
and space, those scientific laws of this tiring
annus horribilis
It is not about education
Ignorance
Stupidity
Perhaps acceptance?
To think that every aspect of life does not change is ludicrous
It could improve or get worse
Going forward is optimal
What is and what was should learn from the other
Some don't learn
Reason does not matter
Or does it?
Excuses
Resistance
Too much
Let the words and flow come
Be prepared to remember or jot them down
Be honored and hone your craft
Be proud you see things differently
You are sensitive and unlike the rest
High maintenance in ways they never would accept or understand
Be grateful
We want the world to be a better place
Poet's Prayer
It's everybody's job.

Détente, rollback, middle-ground.

Working it until an internal weakness is found.

Surround the town with wire.

Eventually their voices will tire.

It does not work with fixed plans. It does not take unnecessary risks. Impervious to the logic of reason, and it is highly sensitive to the logic of force.

For this reason, it can easily withdraw—and usually does when strong resistance is encountered at any point.
From the 'Checklist Before Commencing on a Dream.'

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4793791/checklist-before-commencing-on-a-dream/
Some poems seem to write
themselves;
I just move the pen.
Others are like lumps
of clay;
they refuse to be molded;
they need moisture and time.
This one is like
a robin that just learned
to use its wings.
It heads west, on a
gentle breeze, into
a tangerine sky.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMbrfKP2H38
Here is a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my latest book, Sleep Always Calls.  It is available on Amazon.  The latest video I did is a poetry reading at the Clear Lake Public Library.
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