Fixture

I have been speaking
to myself; rattling - numb -
on and on
about darkness
and how crowded it can be.
I have been speaking
to ears, stuffed with cotton.

I have been thinking
about this king named James
and his version
on how things went down.

I have been gnawing
on my finger tips
anxious about how I view myself;
their is little holiness
in these matters.

I have been shifting
my legs
bouncing on the balls of my feet,
caring less;
less about the solution.
My issue is with these
blinders,
(made in America)
assembled in my mind.
I can’t see them thus I can’t remove them.

It is not so much about indecision
as it is about my usefulness;
the trajectory to a meaningful end.
I have been bored, lately
as I read the books of others;
hardly comprehending
the context and even lesser
the wholeness
of the concepts.

I am mighty
in my approach to the impossible.
Though, it is easier
to believe in what has -
than what has never been.
I have been pondering
the futility in function;
how my desires - are a wash
a stale,
frozen intention.

My Journey begins at sunrise
and ends at sunset.
I concede I am only man,
as human as they come.

I do neither more, nor less
of my ability.
It is a normal consequence
for people of my type;
to play through long evil
so to acquaint myself
with quick death.

I light my own ‘cell’
as I realize my nothingness.

I am not greater than the sum;
only a slice of eternity,
becoming dim in my mortality.
Like a fixture
in the dining hall of the Lord.

December 2005

Undermine your own assumptions.

The greatest truth is this: Love is the bringer of life. It is why Love will always survive. We can fight our instinctive role in it's current or we can joyfully participate in the ebb and flow of it's life.

Is it safe in a "box"?
Is it not?
Whatever the structure
the safety is self induced
by the comfortable confines our own perception.

The spiritual path reminds us -- that we can no longer fool ourselves and even more - we are less consumed with fooling others.

(Winter) Poet

The winter --
there is no quick cure for it.
A singular event, drawn out
and as mortality has its way
no guarantee to see the next.

Embrace it, this once
as you beckon the “common thought”
that floats above you.
You are still young, Winter Poet.

But lo!
If you raise your sails --
be prepared to move.
(the wind will incite your command)

I myself have lasted long enough,
to laugh long enough.
Though the foam and the roll
have tilted me --
there has been enough joy in their experience.

For divinity losses not its order
if it thrusts us back
to the womb.
I should see the winter, again
for the first time.

Stillness is where thoughts - go - to die.

Extra Cheese and Finality

We’re brothers;
they say family trumps all.
It transcends all.
There is no divorce in all this.

(this may be a very expensive re-run
if money matters at all)

We populate the third rock
- for the time being -
and we make a beautiful and shiny collection.

And how are we subject
to the elements;
even if the worse of them are only in our minds.
We say hello
and from the other corner of our mouths
we say goodbye.

Hey, love is no big surprise.
We’ll all drink the champagne that came with the shellfish
or maybe wait until a better occasion...

but I don’t suppose we’d see each other
at the Democratic National Convention
no matter how funny that may turn out.

Anyhow, enough with the competition for God’s attention;
we all have a sense of humor.

To Scott

Untitled

It is not what you do in the light;
it is what you do in the dark.

It is not the medals you have been awarded;
it is the scars you have received.

It is not the hands you have shaken;
it is the lives you have touched.

It is not the dawns you have witnessed;
it is the days you have endured.

It is not the the treasures you carry;
it is the burdens you have lifted.