There is no malice
Hidden in my words
Truth be told though
- He is not okay

He is living large
Within his own mind
Back to his heyday
- The 1980s

But he is living it again
Where he was 'kinda' on top
- And

Had the public a bit fooled
- Wildly wealthy
Was the phony claim

He recently explained the
"one rough hour?' needed
- He's not healthy

If friends and family really cared
They would get the poor man help.

I want to see through your eyes,
For you see such beauty.

And you see such when looking at me.
Smoke and mirrors, I say.

You say, "No, I see you every day."
And so, my love,

I want to see through your beautiful eyes,
For you give me precious value as no one else.

And on those wings, alone, I soar.

Come, grieve with me
The bitter knowledge
Our beloved family tribes
Slaughtered by invaders,
Thieves of greedy intent.

I have put my seed
In this basket woven
By my ancestor's hand
Placed in those outside
Of our Nation to carry

Safely forward.  It had to be
Or we would cease to be.
Take this vessel of blood.
Spread it throughout
What becomes our Nation.

You are the bright new future
Sparkling like a dime lying in the dust of an imploded building
Waiting to be picked up, pocketed, and saved for goods much
           needed.
Spend wisely young one.

The poignancy of grief
Reaches deep
Down into a soul
Seeking answers to understand,

The search to know.

This fondness for 'lonely',
Desired desolate places, in grief,
Become a symbol of utter desolation
Of a soul so hurt it resides in total ruin

Absent of humankind.

I cannot hear your name
Without an apparent melancholy, and yet
I am indifferent to everything but your name.
You see my predicament,

I, causing my own stab to the heart, say
It over and over again.

You had completely satisfied all that my heart
And affections had hoped for or even wished.
“Baraye,” is a word meaning “for”
Or “because of” in Farsi.

1st draft
1.
She was like a juicy red apple unpicked
He could never resist

Each time he rode by he'd bite that apple
Reaching way up high

He returned, again and again
Until the day when

Nothing was left but core.


Final draft
2.
She was like a juicy red apple unpicked
He could never resist

Each time he rode by he'd bite that apple
Although for him hung way up high

He returned, again and again
Until the day when

Nothing was left but the core.

A little ditty

From sun-up to sunset
I love you the very best!
You're more special than the rest
Because you love me, too

Her clothes are tatty, ratty, and soiled.
He needs a haircut and a shave.  Hair grows down his neck!
They are talking, but to who?  Themselves? An unseen being?
They grow unkempt in a forgotten garden.  They are not weeds,
They are wildflowers.

How does renewal often begin?
With deconstructing.

I can't stop the feeling.
I'm breathing it in.
I'm mending already.

And I am ready to begin
Again.

When anger, rivalry & jealousy
Fade away we are left
With only deep-seated love
And with the DNA that binds us.

If there is a word
Glory in miniature
A contagion's caught

The earth sighs, we breathe in
A common breath.
Breathe, exhale. Breath in,
Exhaled.

Humanity sighs, we fear
A common breath.
Vapor floats, spreads out,
Breathed.

We hold our common breath -

I defiantly said,
"I don't need anyone
Or anything!"

Then took
A deep breath
And said, "I see."

If nothing else in this life had I.  Nothing
Sought nor found other than you,
My circle would complete its circuit
With my heart settled on you.

If I were a bird, able to fly, I'd stay,
Take feathers plucked from my chest
To make a feathered nest for you
And for us two.

I would throw colors at the moon
Should it be pale, and paint the stars
In lovelier hues all for you,
In a world made only for me and you.

It is love that makes one remember.
If no love, then what?  Then what?
No memory-

An ocean sonata washes over me
When I remember, remember you.
Devine Music-

It is love that erases pain from memory
As we dance through life.  Remember?
Soul seeking-

And, I will always have you, my love.

There are always haters
With solid deep seated hate
Willing to step up to use their hate

Inside, without true origin, it resides
It is a hate for the sake of hate

Make no mistake it is on both sides
It is that type of hate that now drives
And haters desire to get on the ride

If my heart had hands
Your name it would write.

If my head had arms
It would hold you with all might.

Since my heart and my head
Lead the way

My feet will carry me to you
Without delay,

Without delay, my love,
Should you but call me.

Go now,
I set you on your wobbly way
On rubber-legs that sway,
On tiny feet on which you play.

"Go now, little one" I say,
"One day, it will not be for mere play.
You will go and be on your way,
My darling."

Embrace the fact that we

Are all the same
Are not the same

Feel the same
Don't feel the same

Act the same
Act strange

Because we are
We are from the same

Dysfunctional family

It has been said that empathy is "Your pain in my heart."

Before we can have empathy for others, we must first recognize a couple basic truths.

1. They are human beings
2. They have the same feelings as you or anyone else.
3. They are deserving of the same basic rights as you.
4. They should be given the same dignity as any human should.

By showing empathy, you may help someone stitch their lives back together.

Dog gone those lawn people
Buzzing around like bees,
Swarming on mowers.

Rushing around with leaf blowers.
How they are bothering me!

Hitting piles of doggy poo which
My lovely neighbors leave behind,
Too lazy to own pets responsibly!

As if the noise was bad enough,
I have put up with the smell of that stuff!

You left a trail of breadcrumbs
That would lead back to you
Hungry little bird that I am
I ate them one and all.
Every one led me back to you.

Today is our only canvas.
We paint as if with colors
Chosen tenderly, carefully.

Love 'change.'
It can give you
A whole new perspective.

Overly expressive
An amped up mind.

I have to admit,
At times high on
My own supply.

It’s not always
Tangled, recessive,
This grind,

It is only my
Overly expressive mind.

Oooo, oooo, the wind has a sudden voice
Ice crystals like trinkets hanging in the trees ******
As the stiff wind blows and mourns, we mourn

Banks of snow are built, torn down, rebuilt
The howl is haunting as it cries in distress, and we cry
New snow atop hard-pack crunches beneath bare feet

We have walked the soles off our moccasined feet,
No water can quench our thirst, for no water is given
We have dried up, blown away, like the husks of corn

Oooo, oooo, the wind has a sudden voice, we do not

Evidence of absence
Does not mean
Absence of evidence

In the field

The gentle breeze
Blows the leaves
On the trees, they move

Lying on the blanket

Your touch, goosebumps
Appear on my bare skin
Branches rustle overhead

Now, alone

Even the thought of you
Can create the evidence
Of the heat of our passion

The night has fled
The sun is up, but
I watch a hole in the clouds
And wonder as it slowly slips by,

"When it reaches where
I know the sun to be,
Will it allow a shaft of light?"
And make my day bright?

I marvel at just how
And just why I
Get so sky-high
From watching clouds
Go by.

Believe me, I was once vibrant and young,
Strong but lithe and slight of frame, and pretty.
Filled with love of life and with hope,
I felt nothing could match my strength,
And throughout much of my life, few things did.
There was this whole world that was for the taking!

I strove with gusto to grasp much knowledge.
And flitted like a butterfly amongst it at my will.
Trees and fields were my currency, and
I felt rich in nature, which surrounded me.
It was what I valued, wealth spent judiciously.

I renewed and burned through storehouses of energy.
I wrapped myself in cloaks of green, wore flowers
Like talismans, encircled charms about the head and neck.
And I walked carpets of wildflowers as my path.
Nature, treasured, is imprinted on my soul to this day.
It is where I long to be, here and now, aging.

To my beloved family, I ask, only this request:
When life is done, sprinkle me among the pecan orchards,
Which was my first school, filled with many teachers, where
I, in studious quietude, spent my formative years. Remember
What shapes a person carries a person forward in life, yet,
Time, which we cannot alter, has its way with us, after all.

I dialed your number
Let it ring

Once, twice
Quickly hung up

Why would fear seize me
Dear old friend

Perhaps it is because
We occupied a place
Best forgotten

Classical Dictionary:
Scrapbook
Peaceful
Lady
Adore
Ballet
Embellish
Fondness
Balloon
Ephemeral
Love

Scrapbook, a Poem
The Peaceful Lady Adored Ballet
She often Embellished her Fondness
For Balloons for they were as Ephemeral
As Love

One set of blue eyes
Were crazy and to be feared
The other set of blue eyes
Were loved and revered

Beneath the one set
Was a mouth that screamed
Beneath the other set
Was a mouth with gentle smile

If you only knew the thoughts
Swimming through my head
In underwater bubbles in a brain
Floating around inside my head

I am inside and outside these thoughts,
Like fish jumping in a pond, they come
Suddenly, in and out of their environment.
Oh, if you only knew the thoughts

You might be amazed at my aquarium.

Straight ahead and out of my bed,
Every morning between 5 am - 7 am
I go out onto my balcony and photograph

From the dawning until the sunrise's completion.
It feels me with joy and admiration
And gets me out into the morning's pollution.

With this look
I give myself away.

With these words
It is much the same.

What I hide, I hid
Within a poem,

Without giving much away.

You woke me up
Tugging on my mind,
Swimming around.
I saw your eddies,
Before I fell asleep,
But you refused to bite.
So, now here we are,
Hook line and sinker,
You, 'idea fish' circling.
If I dangle the bait
Will I catch you,
You stinker?

He is like a cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong

Alternate version:
Mania Munch
He is like a zombie cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong
And then wears the skin, because
He believes he can embody its strength
He drinks from the skulls of his many victims
As he consumes their life's blood
And cares not a modicum, nor understand
Other people's fears, feelings, or lives, for
He is incapable of actual feeling or love
All he can do is feed his many manias
You must have a heart to be human

This lily-rose-faced one, 'er
With lips set in a romantic pout,
And hips like a blooming flower
Opening.  Fresh with dew
Her alabaster skin glistens,
A slender neck begging for pearls,
Her long black hair is unbound.

With coverings of arabesque cloth
And tassels of gold in their richness,
Her sumptuousness abounds
Everywhere, on tables, lamps, beds.
She is the freest of free spirits set to fly
At a breath's moment, you will find,
Should you be able to be clear-eyed.

Will she stay for long enough? No!
She has already spread her wings to fly.
Though through life, she only glides.
But do not blink for a second an eye,
You will find that butterflies live brief
Lives.  And they and their beauty
Eventually, they die much too soon.

You are frozen in time,
As though a bug in amber.

Awaken from your slumber
Before you run out of rhyme.

For Rumi us reminded to awaken!
Dawn's breeze is not to be forsaken

Because it has secrets to tell you.

To change an opinion
it is not disingenuous.
Life and opinions
are situational.

As we grow as a person,
hopefully, our opinions
grow and become
more nuanced.

It is a sign of maturity.

-In the style of Mark Nepo

I do not need to legitimate our hard-fought struggles.
My only wish was that you hadn’t given up on wanting
To continue this love after all the years and all of the things,
The things that had bloomed.  

For you found at the end in your dying bed, you could never stop.
"What I hold onto of you tumbles" from my heart into the depths.
"Like something that slipped through my fingers."
And I often scrabble to collect it.

For all that has been taken
I am receiving much more
The hope that has been delivered
I take it, but I give some to you

The beautiful thing with hope
Is as it is divided and given
It regenerates and becomes whole
Until the original hope grows

And doubles again and again
Like a cell as it creates its own copies
And doubles again and again
So just like cells, hope will divide until

There is more than enough to share

Sweets of the flower
Opening, full-throated
Beckoning the welcomed bee.

Gifts are exchanged.

“Come or go,” she says,
“You remain free.
As long as you return to me.”

Therefore, he does.

Busy hours buzz,
The gatherings of love
Under the warmth of the sun.

Heat fades into cooler climes.

As always, winter comes.
There is 'a comfort' in that.
All must fly -

Bees, birds, time. . .

We live; we die.
Like a flowered vine clinging
We have offered ourselves up.

It is for the greater good, after all.

Summer rushes heavy with rain
When it was dry we cried
- "Let it rain!"
In sudden bursts after wildfires
The ground was churning out
- Wildflowers!

Autumn gently poured color
On leaves clinging to trees
That drop.  We rake them into piles
For into these we must jump
With faces broad with smiles, until
Then winter snow starts to fall

And begins to cover all
- Down-like
Dressing the land in winter-white
Among the young
And the very young at heart
The cry goes out

"Snow angels!"  Before the spring.

The joy of spring
Our summer games

After a dream
Our oeuvre starts anew

A slumber which held
An image of you

You, so true
I become spellbound
For it is raining flowers

There is an unrecognized key to living a life satisfied, if not Fulfilled. It is not a secret.  It is much overlooked.  It is: cycles

There is an unrecognized key to living a life satisfied, if not fulfilled.
It is not a secret.  It is much overlooked.  It is: cycles

The sun rises on our lives, the sun sets, as well.
The world obits and whirls, the seasons change

Then change back again. Cycles, life is a cycle.  Spinning
In a controlled fashion.  We can count on it.  For

It will cycle back around to the start of day, of love, of life.
That’s the thing to mentally grasp.  We rise to the cycle of the day.

We hum along never thinking, “We are spinning, turning, cycling!”
Feel the groove of that.  We will rise, we will sleep, we will be . . .

Cycles remind us that there is a rhythm.  With rhythm we make music.
With music we sing and dance our way through the cycle of life.

Wrap that, like a comforting blanket, around your life
And cycle on.

I will come that day to you
When you do call me out
And I leave my father’s house.

When you to me do call
I will give to you my all,
For a house you build I long.

And I will sing a special song
Which only you will hear
When no one else is near.

Sprouts will grow in our fields
And 'round our table, here,
Where all feel safe from fear.

As our children spring up like buds.

Autumn is sleeping as Winter awakes.
We follow with the hope of snow wanting
For snowflakes.

We chase them through our Decembers
Searching, desiring to collect and adore;
Chasing old memories,

And wanting to make more.
Ephemeral like old lace they drift away
As they take our thoughts with them,

Not unlike age.

I took each flower
Given me by you
I placed them in a jar
To dry and to keep true
Forever thinking of you
Who knew  
That love could be
Like a dry, brittle flower
With no longer hope of life

An un-dam-able tide
Cafeteria Christians
Blowing on the embers

Uncomfortable truths
I grieved the fall long
Before the step to the edge

The monkey has a monkey
Which rides its own back
Really?  W.W.J.D.?

What about you?