Mother

When my fire went low
the embers in your eyes always
kept a cool, constant watch.

When my knees were bent and
my eye lids close to the ground -
my shoulders were certain to
find empathy in your touch.

When my expectations fell short
and life seemed broken for a spell,
without a word you guided me.

For now, if it is truly the journey
that will count - your example
has been sure enough
to find me, someday,
in your footprints.

Mothers Day 1999

Words - Dina Gardner

egg on my face again.
some walk on egg shells,
others wear it on their face.
i am weary
of the continual shame
in my room
i am safe.
"my cave" saves me
from the humiliation that
follows me persistently.
the adjectives i claim as my own
do nothing for my self respect.
they are just words,
but they cut like a razor sharp blade
removing any prospect of peace.
worthless, dumb, stupid...
words that have formed my identity.
a lifetime of articulate language
moving through my head
without control.
strength of mind has,
so far,
proven ineffective;
self-talk has been futile.
the inner voices
have been in command,
playing havoc in my mind.
the volume inside
takes on a world of it's own.
voices, be still.
let me rest in peace,
with egg on my face.

To Do, To Be

I may never see the result.
I may never be rewarded.
However, it will never change the reality
that I was meant to do, to be.
Placed right here, right now -
possibly, for this one act.
If I can be humbled by this possibility -
I will forever act in the will of My Father.

Affirmation: October 21, 2005

Today there is green, green grass beneath my feet;
my mind's eye can see it.
Today there is wide open space and freedom before me;
my soul can feel it.
I am not grounded by my poison -
no, not today.
Today I have defined my motives.
Today I fly. Today I am a giant.
Today I love; I am loved.
So Today -
I will not steal from tomorrow
to ease Today.

random notes (feeling inclined)

to all the poets
sitting on all the empty streets -
thinking less fondly about
the world, this crowded field, this box

to all the poets
standing atop cigarette buts - twisting
turning - their thoughts inward -
their insecurities, predjudices
awes and experience
their love, passions - pressing
out their definition of this
humanity -
on all those envelopes, palms, napkins -

writing about its sorrow
about its limited joys
about its glorified egos
about its depression, oppression, obsessions
- about it guinea pigs and rats - about its puppets
- feeling inclined to scribe the unfortunate
the misfortunes
to let the world know of its weaknesses, its faded beauty - its fate
to let the world know how we all feel -
the same

to all the poets
who speak for the masses - writing history as it happens
carrying out their "obligations" to
their fellow beings - their gods - their loved ones - their comrades
- oh amie! dear lover - to whom it may concern -
let me be the one to carry the cross
to bend my fingers backward
to bang my head to the wall - to script it all

to all the poets
who set aside their comforts -
that lie their motives on the table
their inhibitions - pains - misgivings

to all the poets
who fear what we all should fear:
ourselves

to all the poets
who dabble in battle with - understanding
and run it through their hand - through their pen
to "eek" out the last of their ink
on the last of their paper
all to let the world know -

to all the poets

To Logan

Sketches of the Real, November 16

Left behind?
You stopped moving.
The world - a mine
you stopped digging.

All this gold to fill my pockets
to mend the holes around my stomach
but all this silver could never
fill
the gaping hole between my ears,
the giant cavern in my chest,
the channel down my back,
where my spine once was.

The Young People's Guide To Life

There is nothing I can tell you about this life;
nothing I could tell you that you would understand.
The point-less-ness in advice.

I can tell you that nothing
happens by chance.
But that would only enable you or frustrate you.
I could tell you that all myths
started with a spark of truth,
but that would overwhelm you.

I might tell you that there is nothing
if their is not love.
But you have never really loved.
I would tell you that excess
speaks it's own terms
but today that is your joy.
I should say not to pollute you body.
(there is no way to dig your way out of a hole)
Moderation would be your argument.
I can tell you that expectations
fall short.
You should only expect breath and a beating heart;
nothing less, nothing more.
You would call me a simpleton, dazed.
I could tell you that a daisy
would teach you more about God
that any living being,
then I would be a madman, confused.
I might tell you that you are not young,
but mature, eternal and permanent.
Then you would question my sources.

So be young.
There is nothing I could tell you
that you would understand,
until you already understood it.

March 2006

"I Spy With My Dragon Eye"

I wish I understood, still
the magic of a cape;
burning energy foolishly for it's sake.
I wish I could wonder, again
why 'G' sometimes sounds like 'J';
why 'W' shouldn't be called 'double V.'

I wish I could relate, still
to the simple equation: A is for Apple.
I wish I could use, again
imaginary bullets.
"Bang!"
To know still, I wish
the freedom of jungle animals
and fresh, new coloring books;
to know the triumph in,
"No homework."

I wish I could play, still
in the tub until I was pruned.
I wish I understood, still
the taunting choice between
Lucky Charms or Cap'n Crunch.

I wish I understood, still
what it was like not to doubt;
mom and dad where the "know all" authority.
I wish, still
there was a bed I could sneak to
in the nighttime.
I wish I could still say, "Daddy."

I wish a small bag of Doritos lasted, still several days.

I wish I knew, still
how to have everything at my fingertips and be
bored.
I wish I experienced, still
taking a three month "holiday" every year.
I wish I remember
having my own room.

I wish I remember, still
when quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies
were all worth "1 monies."

I wish yellow was still "lellow."

Oh, I've been there
but I wish I understood, still you.
I wish I could still..."spy with my dragon eye."

I can't sreech like a dinosaur,
anymore.

Maybe I have twenty-seven years on you,
but you, still
have the world on me.

To London
March 21, 2006

darger, london, bailey

Never

Never was joy so great
as when
man
found himself -
hidden,
breathing still,
in the ashes of his own
regret.

In The Sunshine

I lie out, best I can - my ways to happiness;
left footprints in the sunshine.
The paths that found their ways through the shadows
are tucked away from you.
There is a course that reels out of me, from my torso
connected to my fibers;
extended lengths of my nerves.
I'll leave signs to better you. Read them please
for I lie out, best I can - my ways to happiness.

To Bailey and London
April 24, 2004

If Ever

If there was ever a time
in the coming of age
or the going of wisdom -
ever a princess with her crown
tightly hidden;
an angel with her halo packed away,
now is the time.

Take on your 'purple prose'
and share your character with your offspring.
You have something greater to offer -
you have life to claim.

To Heather
January 1998

Zero, The Perfect Number

It is only God who can take zero
and from it make billions.

Stick

God gave me a stick.

I knew it was all I needed
both then and now;
I carry it.
Has it been of any use?
Not particularly, but
it has been what it has been;
it is what it is -
so I carry the stick, still.

Not knowing the purpose
or the lack of.
I might need to carry the stick
or the stick might need to be carried;
it matters not either the way.

But,
I always consider The Source.
It is why, I still,
carry the stick

To Dina
March 23, 2006

I, Poet

There is nothing so fantastic in this realm that words cannot describe it.