My Contribution To This Earth

And my body will fall like a brick to this earth
stale and cold, lying peacefully on the ground of my own
Gethsemane:
This Garden of pain.

Lead tears may travel the long path down my cheeks,
but they cannot tickle a dead man.

And maybe a lone traveler, one hundred years hence
may stumble over this patch of grass
so bright and green, tall with sharp blades;
maybe to sit here for rest. If this be so, may their joy be great,
for this patch of grass just may be the most beautiful
ever known.

And below in the moist soil, my sacrifice to life,
which is so ironically, death.
My contribution to this earth.

In this place lodged between heaven and hell
where I have dwelled for such a short time.
This same place that has given me nothing,
save a broken heart and a tear stained face,

where I once prayed to my God:
“May I never forget the pain this world gave me,
so that I may never return.”

1992

I Am Drug

I am a drifter.
I am a splinter on the two by four of life.
I am a liar.
I am the fire engulfing your heart.
I am a broken down dream.
I am a seam on a ragged old pair of jeans.
I am absent.
I am a blister on your sole (soul?)
I am the last snow.
I am a ‘no’ on prom night.
I am night.
I am a bite from the dog next door.
I am a king.
I am a god.
I am a anticipating nod acknowledging your presence.
I am sound.
I am that pound on your front door.
I watch you sink.
I am in your bed, in the corner of your room.
I am fear.
I am a mirror of the world’s reality.
I am fearful.
I am just another tear.
You love me.
I hate you.

I am Drug.

Hail To The Men

May the dreams
of all who aspire
merge in choir
when but one of us
succeed.

Hail to the men
who need not the acceptance of others
to find purity, strength, wisdom. power and peace.
May I join their legion someday
and let the others judge me as I march
into the sunset of my own destiny.

Little Arrows

Lately
I have been practicing
shooting
little arrows.

My bones have been feeling
like a pencil, hollowed;
a tube
without the lead
running the length of it.
I have been pushing
large stones
through the park;
most are the size
of Volkswagens.
I have been killing
time
tearing pages from books;
using the covers as birds.
Lately
I have
been swatting flies
with a broad spatula;
saving them, storing
them in the kitchen sink.
I have been speaking
to my grandma
recently;
she is dead.
I have been walking,
throwing forward
my feet,
as on a tight rope wire;
I can’t afford
new shoes
or the price of falling.

Lately
I have been practicing
shooting
little arrows.

December 2005

The Compromise

Is it not true
what we do - or not do
we struggle the burden
to set to peace - the feuds?

All the ground gained
and lost - could blamed
on the compromise:
or certain shame?

Oh, when to give up a bit
or when to drown - with the ship.
When the debate
or when a tight lip?

Oh, all the quarrel - we rise
as our egos are tried;
but it is then we give - half
all for the sake of - compromise.

Adapted

Oh,
how I’ve adapted to my optimism
willing to accept life’s grander lessons
humble enough to recognize my own blessings
so to my pen I offer my present confession.

Oh,
how I’ve relied on my false stability
came to be convinced of my ‘honesty’
relying on a chemical support system, chronically
and now freed, thus far, into peaceful irony.