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?

The quiet ache of love
Beneath the bandage
Putrefies unless cleansed
That covered wound, which
Never healed from lack

It was so nice to see that honeyed-sky
Back from days of the cloudy tides
To watch the cherry, apricot, marmalade
Flowing now wide for many sunny days
I could if I were a mighty celestial hand
Dip and spread it on toast in every land.

We strut up and down the page.
Our poems are all the rage.
Our advice is more than sage
As we prance on poetry's stage.

Everyone reads our words, now.
Parades are given in city and town
To make our offspring proud.
Such a thing could happen.  How?

Yet, everybody surely knows
For neither fancy poems nor proses
Was such glory never shown!
When with a **** I am shaken.  O, woe,

For I suddenly am awakened.

I watch the
Velvety dusky rose
Which risings up from
The clinging horizon.
The sky desires it
More than the blue
This time of morning.
And draws it away
Into itself until
It is all gone
Into the bright
Light of a new day.

At the water's edge
A crow keeps watch
For what I do not know,

Yet it calls out
Every now and then
As if to give a warning.

The light tides
Rising and falling
As though breathing.

I hear, feel, the waves plight
As they struggle to move,
To gain any kind of momentum,

A sound like gasping.
Then with sudden stillness
All is quiet except for gentle lapping.

The muted softness of the pastels,
Soft enough to be an infant's nursery,
Gently filled the post-dawn sky.
I wondered what the sunrise would bring.
The warm glow began to simmer
Along the horizon on the eastern view
Like the start of the Smithy's forge
Blown from its soft glow into a blaze.
The sun came with its fire rising,
Arcing red-hot around the sun.
Within these moments, a new day, born.

The gabber-jaws
Come for us all
Peeking through curtains
Watching us as we live
Wanting something
Juicy for certain
Something to give
And to give
Gabber-jaws seek
Anything clean
They can turn *****
To use in elevating of self
Looking for your secrets
Big or the small
The good or the bad
They do not care a wit
They'll proclaim all
Just waiting for your fall
To climb your body
And be seen by all

We are revived
We are made new
We have become
Part of the young
Standing on shoulders
Who stood on the old
Solid foundations
Of so many others
Past and present
We become one
And tower above
Until we can all see

Her aching abdomen thumps with desire.
A universe resides within, waiting
For stars and planets to be born under a moon.

Ancestral entanglements wait for births
While weaving memory into a heavenly gauze.
It will catch the haunting inheritance of those

Before, present, and past.

Honeysuckle weeks
Filled with humid heat
Where the hot Texas sun plays
And I know where to seek
What it is that hang, unsung,
On an old broken fence rung.

I, in my bare feet,
Reach in, pluck a vine to retreat
Into the cool dense shade
Among the pecan grove, hid away
To sit and harvest drops
Of the sweet liquid inside.

As skilled child harvester, I sit,
Slightly pinch the blossom, then stop,
Free the flower from stamen with a slide
For Summer’s ephemeral gold drops
Unseen treats one only can get
During honeysuckle weeks.

What do I do
When what I suspect
Is true, really is true?
Do I cut all ties with you?
Will I peer through the fog
To peek at the truth?
Or pretend through blurry eyes?

Seung-Woo, the fruit ripens;
Cherry, plum, gourds on vines.

I made the baskets we need.
They will last our lifetime.

Seung-Woo, I flowered;
You picked me among all.

Here in our little house
We will flourish and gather.

Seung-Woo, our fruit ripens.
Come the harvest season

I will give you a son.

We were beautiful once.
Beautiful mom, handsome dad.
Such beautiful children produced.

But what is the use when scattered
From pillar to post all around this earth
And cannot find our way back to our home.

Butterflies makes themselves beautiful
From an ugly worm inside a strange case.
They are always able to find their way home.

I have a monkey on my back!
I pour it into my coffee cup
I give it a sip and a smack.
It is white and dreamy,
Oh, so thick and creamy
And yummy fluffed up.
I simply cannot get enough.
I'm up to at least 2 cartons a week
Do you think they have an Anonymous
For that?

There is just something about taillights
Whizzing past in the dusky path of night.
All are in such a rush as they drive fast,
And my imagination wants to follow
Wherever it is that they are going.

This poem began somewhat biographical due to aging eyes.  
It took a darker turn.  What else can you do with an unruly poem but write it?

I have imaginings trapped inside my mind
Yet, I fear that I may be going blind
Because lately this is what I find
I get bleary images and flashes of light
I try to focus with all of my might
It is no good, you know, it became a fright
No matter how I try, I can't adjust my sight

I said to them, in answer,
It can be that way with small-minded people

Remember the adoring eyes
Of some little boy or girl
Who looked up to you?

How'd that feel now that it's gone?
Knowledge is like a time machine.
With it you can change your history.

You can go back, you can get it, again.

The spirit of the snow is in the waters
Trickling down the mighty mountains
Flowing into streams, becoming waterfalls.

The spirit of the snow rushes to the sea.
It goes forward to waters bright and shining
To be taken up for next season's snowfall.

Turtles in vast oceans eats fish from waters.
Other creatures snack on remnants of flesh.
They in turn will be eaten by larger fish.

That same ancient spirit is in all.

We strut up and down the page.
Our poems are all the rage.
Our advice is more than sage
As we prance on poetry's stage.

Everyone reads our words, now.
Parades are given in city and town
To make our offspring proud.
Such a thing could happen.  How?

Yet, everybody surely knows
For neither fancy poems nor proses
Was such glory never shown!
When with a **** I am shaken.  Woe,

For I suddenly am awakened.

Stealthily moving through the forest,
Slinking in and out of trees, weeds, wildflowers, is the fox.
Red deer appear in an open meadow grazing.  Dusk is near,
The yawning day begins to close its bleary heavy eyes.  And
A distant raven caws a warning that he knows you are there.
Nature is not fooled by the games we play.

Our ancient genes carried us forwards, theirs, and ours.
Millenniums have passed by, and we each have stood
In one another’s presence.  The forest, the field,
**** and wildflower, the fox, the deer, the ravens.  
Not by pure magic, not by happenstance, but by design.
And we are so very blessed to be among one another.
  
A rich tapestry weaves like a comforting blanket around us.

A taste upon my lips
Fears of poison's bitter
realized

Just as forked tongues
Are cleaved in dualities
flicker

Thoughts gather
Like drops of venom
glimmering

You are a tightly
Coiled serpent who
lingers

Poised to strike a bite
At my forever-heart
wounded

I was done for
The moment I saw
danger

Never mind that
Lovely snake come
strike

A slow poison
Will eek into flesh
dying

Touch my lips
With your fervent
mouth

Taste what I taste
Poison upon my tongue
waits

Let us die
From the sweet
poison

Together

I thought that I could fly
So I stepped off the edge
Falling, falling, falling,
Into his big, strong arms.

I didn't know, didn't look too close
To see, he was standing on a higher ledge.
Then we were falling, falling,
In love, which crashed in pain.

Did he mean to project his pain?
Or find someone to use for blame?
Did he think that he could share
And his pain would just stay there?

We were young, foolish, and both blind.
So, we flew on, clinging to each other,
You, ******* my sanity dry all the while
And I thought my love could heal you.

Here is a truth when flying through clouds:
The thing is that an addict will
Always let you down in time
No matter how hard they try not to.

Mother comes to where she is most needed
Her gibbering womb speaks healing words
She tells of times when she was barren
She recalls the times when she gave birth
She speaks of pain in the blood of children
Written in red on black hearts of evil men
She gathers children birthed by others to her
Covers them with the volume of her skirt
Though she had not born them she nurtures
Calls them hers and continue to give them life
Her womb speaks of each one as equaled in love
She is eternally Mother and the world is her child

I see you're a bit damaged.
I'm a bit damaged, true.
After all we all at times fall.
Are we not human
With imperfect flesh?
Yes, at times, our lives
And our minds are a mess,
Yes, a big old ****** wreck,
Which others cannot seem
To avert their eyes away from.
Yet, they should look inward instead
Because they are damaged, too.
So, what is a human to do
But to make a tent of love
And protect all from
The damaging rains of hate.

breath
life
color
elements

you
me
the sea
a thousand shades of blue & green

In human relationships we start out on the teeter-totter of a fulcrum.  When one side of the relationship does something painful that affects the person at the opposite end of this balancing act the tetter-totter can become a slide.  At which point you must choose either to jump off or work harder to keep your balance so as to not go down the slide into anger and bitterness.  You may need to remove a harmful person from your life, jumping off the slide, as it were.  However, in life few things, if any, are worth punishing yourself with bitterness.  Yes, I said punishing yourself, because when a person spirals into anger and bitterness it is self-harm.

1: steadfast in affection or allegiance: Loyal//a faithful friend
2: firm in adherence to promises or in observance of duty
3: given with strong assurance: Binding//a faithful promise
4: true to the facts, to a standard, or to an original// a faithful copy

Choose the quality for yourself and in others.

What is race?
A construct of bigotry.

I am part Scottish
I am part German
I am part English and more.

I am not ashamed of these.
I am not expected to be
Nor to explain that heritage.

My blood is mixed
With African, with Native American
Why can't I claim it?  Why must I explain it?

Why should I disown any part?
To make you more comfortable?

I must admit, however,
That I am often ashamed
To claim "human."

Sitting in the clover among the grass
A peaceful bunny held its gaze.
I held my breath, and time was still.
It was the communion of creatures,
Each serenely in the rolling hills of clover.

Life with them is as though
We are playing the Hokey Pokey.

You put your whole self in
But they stop playing after an arm,
A leg, or simply, perhaps, a pinky.

They think they are the gateway
To all happiness.  They deeply believe this!
Without their presence there can be nothing.

It's like waiting for Santa Clause to arrive
In the parade or at the party.

Until they grace us with their appearance
Nothing can begin.

Empathic failure does not exist in them.
They are an unfinished puzzle and one
That can never finish,

Although they feel perfect while still in box.
Life with them is like some crazy dance
Which they lead but we will never learn.

A secret spoken is no secret:
I've only one forever love,
one true love,
Foolish woman that I am.

I know his name inside and out.
As well as he knew mine,
And in the many other forms
It took as we lay in love-talk.

As each one forms on my lips
Even now, I say, "Yes, I knew it."
I used it like a conation chanted,  
"one true love."

Though all knew the secret
No one spoke it out loud,
But perhaps whispered.

And it remained
A silent secret kept inside
like a whisper
Desiring to break out at times,
yet kept.

One forever true love,
He was mine, and I was his,
silent in our hearts.

Divorce can be harsh.
Yet our children always knew,
This secret, which somehow comforted.

He spoke my name one last time,
Our children proclaimed.
Then took our love with him to his grave.

I lived on, grew comfortable with our truth,
In my old age, "We'd only one forever love."

Out in the deep, they say
The octopuses play.
I stand desiring to see, but
Of course, it's hidden from me
So I dream, and I'm not even asleep.

I dream of an octopus garden
Coming clearly into view.
An octopus waves all 8 arms
Welcoming me and you.
Then we sit down to tea, wee!

"Feel free, feel free!" they chime.
"There's plenty here, you see.
We love the cracked lobster.
The sea cucumber sandwiches
Are divine!"

Come, join us in the garden, supine.

I watch him from afar
From across the bayou
He lies and sits next to
The building on a ledge
It is not his true home
It is his summer home
I guess as I watch him
Sleep all day, lie, and sit
Lie and sit, and stare
It appears that he sees me
As I see him seeing me there
On his roost, day after day
What is he thinking
When he sees me watching
Does he envy my comfy space
Does he wonder about my life
As I wonder about his life
When he is not there I worry
Has something happened
On rainy days he's not there
And I hope he has a dry place
Is as safe as the homeless can be
Does he panhandle nearby
Does he make enough to eat
Are others kind to him
Is he a ******* or insane
How can he sleep on cement
Long hours go by, he sleeps
Where will he go when it's cold
I wish that he would just go
Out of sight out of mind
But he will haunt me a while
Even when he's no longer there
But I wish that he would leave
My heart can't take in his pain
He has already filled it up

The sun is hiding from me.
From behind that building
It plays peek-a-boo with me..  
Before too long, it will move on,
And I will see it rise once more.

Yes, you’ve actually been lied to.
But ask yourself, “Can accept truth?”

Are you a truth warrior or
Only a warrior?

Doctor your wounds
And bind them in truth
Like a bandage that heals.

On the wings of forever love
Your name passes across my lips,
And onwards to the stars it passes.
The brightest star absorbs it into itself
And it is all the brighter for it.

Lies are like the man
Who planted a briar patch
And sat down to watch it grow.
Night and day, he watched it grow.
It came up with tendrils tangling
And suddenly he knew
He should have moved his chair.

He opens his teeth-filled mouth
And screams, “Bow or I’ll bite!”

One brave serf remains straight,
He does not bend at the waist.

So the mouth of the king swings,
Opens for a big bite, what a sight!

It’s only filled with paper teeth.

Watching an already tiny mind
Grow tinnier day by day
Treating other average humans
As simple throw aways

We lean in, look closer and find
Those with tiny minds too
Will one day thrown away
And all the quicker

Letting a snowflake melt on my tongue
Sitting for hours in the sun
Breathing in fireworks after they're done
In 2025, simply living in America